‘Chaste, Sir Jocelyn?’
‘I knew his work, of old. It was not his fault; he, and everybody else it seems, was only operating within a tradition that exalts the terribly dull, the ineffably boring, the tediously prudish. But you: your bindings are as beautiful, as sensual, as arousing, as full of vigour as . . . well . . . as you are, Mrs Damage.’
I mewed involuntarily, and quickly made a show of looking at Lucinda’s doll.
‘What are you going to call her, Lucinda?’ I said, hoping my voice did not quiver.
‘Mossie,’ she said.
‘Mossie. How lovely.’
Oh, but he was dangerous, and I was not immune to his charms, for all that I could see through them. There would be too many ladies who loved him already, too many dandies scouting the style of his coat, the angle of his hat, and his fashionable turned-down collar. And even as I considered the demise of the stock and high-pointed collar that would surely become general because of Sir Jocelyn’s example, I was sensible enough to know that even my new status as Mistress Binder did not justify the way in which he spoke to me, and so immured was I by the boundaries of class, age, and education, that I was determined that my head would remain resolutely level in my transactions with this rogue.
Which was just as well, for, having so skilfully unlocked me, he cut to the purpose of his visit.
‘Lucinda.’ The bolts slammed shut again inside me. ‘At the risk of indiscretion, Mrs Damage, am I right in thinking that Lucinda suffers from Epilepsie?’
My eyes widened in alarm, and I reached for Lucinda and she for me in the same moment. Jack put down his tools.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Does she have convulsions? The Morbids? Falling Sickness? Oh, but I did not wish to alarm you in the slightest. I applaud your wish to exclude the authorities. I am not an advocate of institutions. Some may call me a radical, and they may well be correct, but I can safely say that not all doctors wish to lock people up. May I ask Lucinda a few questions?’
There was terror in Lucinda’s eyes, but the nobleman knelt down to be at her level. He was as disarming of the daughter as of her mother; he was gentle and teasing, and soon had her giggling. He smiled at her, and she smiled back; and despite myself, my cold loathing of doctors melted somewhat.
‘Now, Lucinda. A little frog came to my window the other night, to tell me that his dear old friend Lucinda sometimes comes over a bit peculiar. Is he correct?’
She chortled and exclaimed, ‘A frog!’ Then she nodded.
‘The frog was unable to tell me what happens to her when she feels like this. Can you explain it to me?’
‘Yes. I feel strange.’
‘Strange. Anything else?
‘And I feel like lying down.’
‘Lying down. And do you?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Anything else? Does your head hurt?’
‘Yes, and my eyes too, cos sometimes it’s like candles are flickering in them, but they’re not really there, cos we never have so many candles lit at once, and then sometimes I been sick, and then I wake up and there’s a fog inside me although I’m better.’
He listened intently, all the while crouching down at her level. He held his finger up. ‘Do you see my finger? I’d like you to blow on it as if it were a candle, but, you are not trying to blow the candle out. You must blow slowly, as if you want the candle flame to lie down. Now, inspire deeply, and take care that your shoulders don’t rise. Now breathe out, and make that flame lie down.’ She obeyed. ‘Well done, Lucinda. What a good girl you are.’ He ruffled her hair with his hand. ‘Whenever you feel funny, I want you to ask your mother to hold her finger up, and blow on her candle.
‘Now, observe. This peculiar contraption is called a pair of callipers. They are like the pincers of a crab.’ He showed her how they opened and closed. ‘But look, they are a most discerning crab. They will not snap at pretty little girls. They may tickle, but they are friendly callipers.’ She let him measure her head, and then he felt her head all over with his bare hands, and she watched as he made some notes in a tatty little book in need of a re-bind. He looked in her mouth, her ears and her eyes, and wrapped a tape-measure around her skull, and her neck, and her chest. He listened to her heartbeat, he tested her reflexes.
‘Would you help me, Lucinda?’ He opened his large black bag. ‘Do you see all these phials? They contain pills and powders. There are so many of them! But we are looking for the most special phial of all. It has a brown cap, with a piece of string tied around it. Can you see it?’
‘Here! Here it is! Shall I take it out?’ she said gleefully.