October
God only knows the date
Lady Balfour has sent for me with a note written in her childish hand-
This time do bring the Onion, she says, as ours are Scant this year.
The pig ready to be slaughtered. Keegan merry at the prospect & the Bride on fire to make sausages & head cheese & all the rest. I have not often felt the rich man but the prospect of our own pig filling crocks & smokehouse gives me nearly a swagger as I go about.
Except for the anticipation of the pig, I have felt a weight on me the livelong day. Something pressing at the heart’s core. I seem to be waking from a long sleep & realize I have not walked my Land since stepping off its borders with the Surveyor.
I do not know its Badgers & Weasels, its Oaks & Ashes, its Berries & Brambles, nor even its mite of Bogland-not least, I have failed to put the place under watch for Poachers & have no idea what occurs within its neglected borders, though Keegan does what he can. I have not sought different vantage points for pleasurable views nor often observed the Lough in its many changes of mood & spirit. I have but twice lifted a trout from its waters & not once explored the several Islands therein as I once thought to do. The Improvement of this demesne-however modest-coupled with our practice among the people, has greatly wearied me. I feel my mind at times full of mist, but would not confess this anywhere save in these mute pages.
While not surprised I was nonetheless dismayed when Nephew approached me for an advance of monies or other assets against his Inheritance. Though cursed with a morbid flatulence & the tendency to sloth, he is not without sufficient sensibility to make his way in the Lumber Business where he is partner. A hot anger flared in me but I made no rebuke, saying only that my Solicitor would not reckon this timely-which is the Truth.
A keeps a kettle on the Surgery hob & brews me a strong cup each afternoon. Should I demur, she tells me Missus wishes it, & thus I drink it to please them both. I found myself staring today at the top of A’s head as she stooped to pick something off the floor. I saw where the hair parted from forehead to crown, a path through a dark wood, her pink scalp a living world unto itself.
My Lord & my God, have mercy upon me.
Mid-October 1862
This week past we saw near eighty patients in the Surgery & twenty-four on rounds. I asked for A’s assistance throughout the week, thereby robbing C of her most valuable helper. A is like a daughter, says C who could not conceive in our many years of effort. I note here that A is a fine nurse by nature-I believe this may be her Gift from On High.
We must have more hands about Cathair Mohr & have hired on Jessie, a round lass of nineteen who throws back her head & laughs like any sailor. Tis rumored she is unafraid of work & proficient at scrubboard & iron. She will share A’s small room back of the Scullery.
I was looking two days past for Uncle’s early English fruit spoons in a repoussé pattern that is very handsome. As we were to have fruit compote that evening, I took C’s key ring & unlocked the sideboard & found the worn Velveteen box with its small clasp. I opened it & saw the spoons were missing. As C is the only one with access to the board’s key, or any key, I assumed she had the spoons in service somewhere but she said she did not.
There are certain things one grasps without head knowledge-tis the gut speaking.
I waited until Keegan was well away from the house & Fiona up to her elbows in dough. If I had seen their room crowded before, it was now so furbished with clutter & disarray that naught but a path, more a tunnel, was open through it.
The stink of the chamber pot was rife. I stepped to the dresser without hesitation, as if led there by instinct & opened the top drawer & there lay the spoons among a scramble of disheveled linens. Though I had gone looking, I was startled by the discovery, could not believe my eyes. My heart pounded like that of any thief. I slipped the spoons into my pocket & took them to C who was rightfully alarmed.
Put them back into the box, I said & let us see how things go. No, she said, let us use them as planned, in plain view. When Fiona served the table, I studied her carefully, not attempting to hide my gaze. I had set the spoons on the board where the compote would be placed. I saw or believed I saw the slightest flinching in her right shoulder as she spied them but when she turned again to the table there was nothing writ on her broad face but nonchalance.
C & I too harried to treat this pestering sore; we are managing to close our eyes to it, believing F would not have the gall to do it again, being so found out. C & A will be making a full inventory of all plate & dinner ware, even to the pots & pans & C will keep the keys with her at all times.
I have of course said nothing to Keegan & do not believe he is implicated-we will bide our time as F is after all a grand cook though slovenly in the kitchen. Further, I find the proximity of their room-to where I now sit to write-a Grievance. Why do I so often act without thinking? There stands the cottage with its greater comforts but The Bride of All the World wishes to be in the big house & with the servants’ quarters on the top floor yet unfinished, twas the only room available to satisfy her whim.
I find the master and mistress more often pressed to satisfy the caprice of servants than the other way round.
17 October 1862
We learned yesterday why Jessie is so rotund. She is pregnant into the fifth month.
After a morning of loud weeping and hand-wringing with C, all was again calm. If she had told us, she said, we would not have taken her on. She has no home to go to as her people have disowned her and the child’s father has run away to Antrim.
Ruse & subterfuge appear to be the ticket these days at Cathair Mohr, but as much to the point-when she came into the surgery seeking work, why did I not perceive that she was carrying a child? And how did C miss this?
I thought she was overly fond of the table, says C.
That alone should have been a warning, I say.
As to what we shall do in this predicament, C and I merely exchange a look-that is all we have time or energy to offer the other.
Keegan recommends a cousin as the man for overseeing the demesne. But taking his wife into account, I have had enough of Keegan’s staffing the place and will go down to my Solicitor who knows town puffs & able countrymen alike.
I took Balfour’s daughter a sweet when I called up with my Onion. You must thank the doctor, says Lady Balfour to the girl who is slow-witted as any tot. Balfour stands nearby, looking dour.
We’ve thanked the doctor well enough and bloody more, says Lady B’s grinding little consort. He’s built his pile upon the thanks we’ve given him. Balfour laughs, then, revealing teeth the color of sheep dung.
I hardly remember laughter of my own in recent times-yet this morning was able to enjoy the Medicine of mirth such as I had not done in years.
A reported to the Surgery at seven-thirty wearing a cap she had made. That she has never in her life seen a nurses cap is evident. Her version, albeit white, features a starched central peak banded at the base with bits of yellowing lace.
She goes about her work soberly, lighting the fire she laid last evening, putting the fresh linen on the table, pulling the little step stool out for the patient to clamber up.
Three anxious souls wait beyond the door.
And who is there for us this mornin’, sir?’ says A, bright as any penny.