Chapter 2

Lancaster, England, 1819

“ Y ou’ve sufficient for the house, have you, sir?” the woman said, looking skeptically at Simon, who nodded.

“Oh…yes, it’s quite adequate. And servants?” he asked.

The woman – a rotund creature in an ill fitting black dress –raised her eyebrows.

“Well…the last doctor managed with just a manservant, and a cook. And he kept most of the rooms shut up,” she said, as Simon looked around the empty consulting room and nodded with satisfaction.

The house was adequate, owned by the woman – a Mrs. Fielding – who stood in front of him. It had served as a residence for the former doctor in the parish, who had left Lancaster under something of a cloud, owing several hundred pounds in debts. This was to be Simon’s first practice. He had concluded his medical studies and shunned the possibility of a position at one of the great city hospitals in favor of a position on the edge of Lancaster, which included the Burnley Abbey estate, home to the Duke of Lancaster.

“He left under something of a cloud, didn’t he?” Simon said, and the woman nodded.

“Yes, he owes me three months’ rent – though I’ll never see it. That’s why I’m eager to learn if you have the means to pay, sir,” she said.

Simon smiled, and from his pocket, he took out an envelope containing six months’ rent, and the wages of whatever servants Mrs. Fielding could arrange for him. She looked at it in surprise.

“Will that be adequate?” he asked, as she counted the money.

“Oh, yes, sir, more than adequate. I’ll have the house opened up immediately. I know two girls who need positions as maids, and Mrs. Asquith can start in the kitchen at once. You’ll only have to lodge at the inn for a few days. I’ll have the place furnished for you, too,” she said, her attitude changing at the sight of the money Simon had proffered her.

“Very good. I’m looking forward to beginning my work,” Simon said, imagining how he might furnish his consulting room.

“And what brings you to Lancaster, sir?” Mrs. Fielding asked.

Simon had always wanted a rural practice, but the parish held another attraction, too, and Simon had been appointed by the heir to the Duke of Crawshaw as physician to a school for blind children – sight loss being a particular interest he had developed during medical school. He hoped to make a study of the children, and perhaps write up a monograph on the subject of childhood blindness, using the school as his study.

“I’m to work for the heir to the Duke of Crawshaw. Lord Crawshaw – Ernest Howard,” Simon replied.

He had responded to an advertisement in one of the medical journals, and he and Lord Crawshaw had corresponded, though they were yet to meet. It had been something of a risk for Simon to take up the position, but on seeing the advertisement, he had felt an immediate sense of the possibility of doing practical good in relation to the school, and had not hesitated in responding.

“Ah, yes – the school for blind children. It’s an admirable foundation. They’re to be housed in the dower house, I believe – on the Burnley Abbey estate. There were some problems with the previous building. I don’t know anymore than that,” she said, and Simon nodded.

He did not know much about the project himself, but he had read several accounts of a similar school in Manchester, and had been impressed by Lord Crawshaw’s determination to provide an education for those disadvantaged by sight loss.

“I’m going over there this afternoon. I want to get started with my work at once. If you can have the house opened up, and see to the appointment of the servants, I’d be grateful. If you need any more money to cover the expenses, don’t hesitate to ask,” Simon said.

He knew his position was a privileged one. His peers at the medical school were forging careers for themselves, but Simon had the luxury of not needing to make money, and he could afford to take any position he desired. He had his considerable allowance from the estate and would furnish the house and keep it accordingly.

“That’s very good of you, sir. And it’s a worry off my mind, too. I had such trouble with the last doctor…” Mrs. Fielding said, and Simon smiled.

“Well… I hope we’ll get on very well, Mrs. Fielding. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be getting on. Could you direct me towards the dower house?” he asked.

“Certainly, sir. Have your carriage take you a mile or so further along the road here, then turn into the gates of the estate. You’ll see the church – Saint James’ – up ahead, but if you follow the drive for about half a mile, you’ll come to the dower house. They’ve made a lot of changes there to accommodate the children. But I believe his Lordship’s just set off on a grand tour of Europe. He just got married, you see – to a merchant’s daughter. Times are changing, aren’t they?” Mrs. Fielding said, shaking her head.

Simon smiled, knowing she would be equally surprised if she knew it was the heir to a dukedom standing before her. Simon had mentioned nothing of this in his correspondence with Lord Crawshaw. He only wanted to be a physician and had no intention of using his rank or privilege for his own gain, even if his wealth had proved useful in securing the house.

“They are, Mrs. Fielding – for the better, perhaps,” Simon replied.

The woman shrugged, and Simon thanked her again, before stepping out of the house – now his own – and making his way to the waiting carriage, instructing the driver to take him in the direction of the dower house.

“It’s a fine estate, sir,” the driver replied, and Simon smiled.

He was beginning to like his new home – the country was pleasant, the people friendly, and the prospect of doing good was evident.

“It seems so,” Simon said, climbing into the carriage and pulling down the window.

***

“ N ow, don’t waste a moment. You should be on your way to Venice,” Isobel said, as Ernest came up to where she and Alicia were standing by the waiting carriage.

“It’s very good of you, Isobel. Are you sure…” he began, but Alicia stopped him.

“She’s sure, Ernest. Now come along, we should be going – we’ve got a long journey ahead of us, first to London, and then on to the continent,” she said, taking her new husband’s arm and leading him towards the carriage.

Isobel followed them, kissing them both, before they climbed into the compartment.”

“You’ll write, won’t you?” she said, and they both nodded.

“Every day,” Ernest replied, and closed the door. Pulling down the window, he and Alicia leaned out.

“They’re going now,” Isobel called out, and the others turned to wave them off.

“Goodbye, Ernest, goodbye, Alicia,” Isobel’s mother called out, and the duke raised his hand and waved.

“The happy couple, off on their adventures – enjoy your grand tour. I want every detail of it described to me when you return – and to the children, too,” he called out.

Ernest grinned, waving from the carriage window, and Alicia caught Isobel’s eye.

“Be happy, Isobel – I know you will be,” she called out, and the carriage now drove away.

The school was open, and the teachers were ushering the children inside, under the watchful gaze of the matron. Isobel had a great deal to do, but she was confident in her own abilities, and grateful to her brother for placing his trust in her as he had done. She wanted to do the best she could, and now she approached the mother of Timothy Powell, smiling at her, as she placed her hand on Timothy’s shoulder.

“We’ll take good care of him, Mrs. Powell – you can visit whenever you wish,” she said, noticing the woman had tears in her eyes.

“Thank you, my Lady. You’ve been so kind. I know he’s going to have the best start in life. I wonder…he’s not been feeling very well these past few days. It’s probably just nerves, but…could a doctor look at him?” she asked.

As it happened, Isobel was expecting the doctor Ernest had hired to care for the poor of the district at any moment, and she assured Timothy’s mother he would be well taken care of.

“I’ll let you know what the doctor says,” Alicia promised, and taking Timothy by the hand, she led him inside.

The rest of the crowd had dispersed, and the children were now being introduced to their new surroundings, allowed to feel their way along the walls, where ropes had been attached to aid their movement. Isobel knew the school would make a huge difference to their lives, and she was proud of what her brother and Alicia had achieved.

“And I, too,” she told herself, for Isobel had worked tirelessly to bring about the good works so many would now benefit.

She was about to close the door, knowing she had a great deal of paperwork to see to, when the sounds of an approaching carriage caused her to pause. Glancing along the road, she saw it, and now she watched as it came to a halt outside the dower house. The driver jumped down, hurrying to open the door, before unloading a large trunk from the back. Isobel watched as a figure now emerged from the carriage – a tall, strikingly handsome man, with short black hair, dressed in a black frock coat, over a white shirt, with a black necktie, and wearing black breeches. He carried a bag in his hand, and stepping down from the carriage, he caught sight of Isobel standing at the door.

“Good day to you. I understand you need a doctor,” he said, smiling at Isobel, who smiled back at him, somewhat lost for words at the sight of the handsome man, now arrived in their midst.

***

F or a moment, Isobel did not know what to say. She had not expected a man like this to arrive at the school. In her mind, a doctor, a physician, was an elderly man, with graying hair and a red nose, shabbily dressed, and with a slight whiff of medical tonic about him. But this man – this doctor – was different. He could only have been a few years older than Isobel herself, and his face was flushed with youthful enthusiasm. He stepped down from the carriage, looking up at the dower house and smiling.

“Oh…are you…the new doctor?” she asked, feeling foolish for not having known him, or realizing he was not as she had expected.

The man nodded.

“I am, yes. Simon Wilkinson. Doctor Simon Wilkinson,” he said, striding up the path towards her and holding out his hand.

“Oh, I’m Isobel… Isobel Howard. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, and the doctor took her hand in his.

He had a kindly face – handsome – and a striking scent of cologne about him. Isobel’s heart skipped a beat. He really was very attractive, even as she knew better than to allow her thoughts to be distracted by good looks.

“You’re the matron, are you?” he said.

Isobel blushed.

“No, I’m not the matron. I’m the headmistress,” she said, and the doctor looked at her in surprise.

The title was self-given, and it would soon be taken away from her when the official appointment arrived. But with her brother gone, Isobel was in charge, and she had no intention of being dismissed on the basis and assumption of her sex. Was it really so surprising to him to find a woman in charge of such an establishment? But Isobel was forced to remind herself of womanly limitations. Women did not become doctors, or physicians, or surgeons. They rarely took on any position of responsibility, even in teaching, and so perhaps it was unusual for the new doctor to encounter a woman in authority.

“Is that so? Well, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. But if you’re Isobel Howard, you must be…” he said, blushing with embarrassment.

“Lady Isobel Howard, daughter of the Duke of Crawhsaw, and sister to Lord Ernest Crawshaw. Your employer,” Isobel said, raising her eyebrows.

The doctor gave a curt bow.

“Forgive me. I wasn’t expecting…well, I was expecting Lord Crawshaw himself. I’ve only just arrived in the district,” the doctor replied.

“He offers his apologies to you. He and his new wife have just this day set off for the continent on a grand tour. They make their way to Venice. It’ll be some time before they return. But I’m sure you and I can manage,” Isobel said.

The doctor nodded. He was a pleasant man, though nothing like Isobel had expected him to be – if she had had any expectations beyond mere appearance. Physicians were so often rough men – army or navy surgeons returned from far flung places to practice medicine in retirement. But Simon was different. Very different. His clothes and mannerisms were those of a gentleman. He would not have been out of place in the drawing room at Burnley Abbey, or that of her parents. She was curious as to his origins, even as it was hardly her place to ask.

“I’m sure we will, yes. I’ve corresponded with your brother enough to know what’s expected of me. I’ve admired his work from afar for some time. They’re seeing remarkable results in Manchester, and I’m sure it’ll be the same here, too. I’m looking forward to seeing it,” Simon said.

Isobel nodded. But she was not about to have the school turned into a place of study and observation. The children were to be given an education, and they were to be treated with love and kindness. That was all that mattered.

“And are you looking forward to working here, too, doctor? My brother employed you for practical matters, not simply to observe,” Isobel said, and the doctor blushed.

“Absolutely. I’m keen to help in any way I can. I’ve made considerable studies of blindness, and I want to see how those studies can be put into practice,” he said.

Isobel nodded. He was na?ve – there was no doubting that – and she wondered if he had ever seen the difficulties so many of the children at the school faced. Many of them came from poverty, and it was not only the fact of their blindness preventing them from reaching their full potential.

“I’m sure you’ll find some interesting case studies, doctor. But what the children really need is love and attention. They need to realize – like my father did – the possibilities of life, rather than its limitations,” Isobel said.

She did not like to think of the school and its children as the subject of an observation. Her brother had founded the school with the simple intention of helping those in need. He had his reasons, of course – the guilt he had felt over his gambling problem. But those things were behind him now, and Isobel did not want him to return from his grand tour and find she had not been an adequate steward of her brother’s hard work and dedication.

“Absolutely, Lady Isobel. I hope I can play my part in that. Will you show me around?” the doctor asked, and Isobel nodded.

“Gladly so. In fact, one of the children is complaining about not feeling well. Perhaps you could look at him?” Isobel said, and Simon nodded.

“I’d be glad to, yes,” he said, and Isobel held out her hand, ushering him in the direction of the door.

She did not know what to make of the doctor. He seemed somewhat out of his depth, not knowing, perhaps, the realities of medical practice. It was one thing to read of such things in books and journals, but quite another to be faced with the realities of disease and injury. Back inside, Isobel could hear the sounds of the children at their lessons in what had previously been the drawing room.

“Now, children. I want you to use your imaginations – each of us had a mind’s eye. We might not be able to see with our own eyes, but in our imaginations, we can conjure up the most wonderful images. I want you to imagine a beautiful riverbank. Look at it for a moment, see the river meandering through a meadow of wildflowers, hear the flow of the water, smell the sweet perfume of the blooms…” the teacher was saying.

Isobel and Simon stood in the doorway, watching the children – a dozen in total – at their lesson. Each was sitting at their own desk, and several helpers sat around the edge of the room, ready to respond to the children’s needs. It was a remarkable sight – a remarkable achievement – and it brought a smile to Isobel’s face as she watched.

“They all deserve the same chance as those who can see – that’s what my brother believes. That’s what we all believe,” Isobel whispered, and the doctor nodded.

“It’s very impressive. I’ve read about this kind of immersive practice – to teach through imagination. It’s remarkable,” he said.

“But we’re not just reading about it here, Doctor Wilkinson, we’re making it happen,” Isobel said, for she wanted to remind the doctor they were not in the pages of a medical textbook now.

These were real children, with real needs, and now she beckoned him to follow her to the next classroom, intending to witness his bedside manner for herself. Timothy Powell was sitting at the front of the classroom – once the dining room. He and the other children were making patterns with rice, and Isobel went over to him, kneeling down in front of him. He sensed her presence, holding out his hands to touch her face.

“It’s you, Lady Isobel,” he said, patting her cheeks, and Isobel smiled.

“Very good, Timothy. You’re right. And I’ve brought the doctor to see you. Your mother told me you weren’t feeling very well. I’m sure we can make you better, though. Take my hand,” Isobel said, nodding to the teacher as she led Timothy out into the hallway.

Simon was waiting there, and as he stepped forward, Timothy held out his hands.

“I have to touch you first,” he said.

Isobel smiled, glancing at Simon, who looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked, raising her eyebrows, and wondering if the new doctor would live up to the reputation preceding him…?

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