Philip Kerr - Dark Matter

Finding Mister Woston beyond the Lion Tower, I spoke to him.

“Mister Woston? How was Doctor Newton when you brought him here this morning?”

“He was himself, Mister Ellis, as always.”

“The Doctor has suffered an attack of illness,” I said. “Some kind of fit or stroke, perhaps. I know not how best to describe it except to say that he is no longer quite himself, as you say. And that perhaps it would be best if you were to fetch Miss Barton. But try not to alarm her unduly. It would spare her much worry while she travelled here. Perhaps you might just inform her that her uncle urgently requires her presence in his office at the Tower, and she shall understand everything for herself when she gets here.”

“Shall I fetch a physician, too, Mister Ellis?”

“Not yet, Mister Woston. I should like Miss Barton to see him first.”

Upon her arrival in the Mint office, about an hour afterward, Miss Barton greeted me with a cool civility but then, seeing the attitude of her uncle, demanded to know why I had not brought a physician to him immediately.

“Miss Barton,” I said. “If you will permit me to explain, summoning a physician may create some gossip about the state of Newton’s mind. If he has suffered a stroke, then he is beyond any physician, to say nothing of Their Lordships. But if the condition is merely temporary, then he will not thank us for bringing a physician into his affairs.”

She nodded. “That is true enough. But why do you mention Their Lordships so? Has my uncle some business with them?”

I showed her the letter I had found in Newton’s hand, which seemed to occasion within her breast some kind of hysterical reaction against myself.

“You vile and despicable dog,” she said bitterly. “I see your atheistic hand in this, Mister Ellis. Doubtless you have brought my uncle’s reputation into Their Lordships’ disrepute by your saying about him in public what you have said to me in private.”

“I can assure you, Miss Barton, that nothing could be further from the truth. Despite what you may think of me, I owe a great deal to the Doctor, and would not injure his reputation for all the world. But even if what you say were true, none of this is helping him now.”

“What do you propose, sir?” she said stiffly.

“Your uncle has referred to an occasion upon which he suffered some sort of mental breakdown once before,” said I.

“Indeed it is so. It has always vexed him most considerably that Mister Huygens spread a rumour that my uncle’s mind was lost to science. For he is a proud man and a most private person.”

“Indeed he is, Miss Barton. The most private person I ever knew.” Somewhat pointedly, I added, “There is so much about him that a person is never made privilege to, that I wonder how anyone can say he knows Doctor Newton at all.”

“I know my own uncle, sir.”

“Good. Then perhaps you will recall what happened before. Was anything done to promote his recovery?”

She shook her head.

“No? Then it is my own opinion that we should let this take its course. And that his great mind will heal itself of this malady. Until that happens, I believe we should keep him as warm and comfortable as possible.”

Gradually she seemed to apprehend the wisdom of what I had proposed, and contented herself with arranging anew the blankets and pillows with which I had surrounded her uncle’s person.

Miss Barton had visited the Tower before — to visit the Mint, the Armouries and the Royal Menagerie — but this was the first time in my presence; and saying very little to each other, for we were neither of us sure how much Newton could hear, we sat as stiff as any two statues, observing him and awaiting some change in his person. It was a most unnerving situation: Newton almost like a dead man, and yet not dead, perhaps seeing and hearing everything but unable to move or speak. And the two of us with full hearts and bittersweet memories.

“What could happen to him,” she asked, “if Their Lordships believe him to be a heretic?”

“I fear he would lose all of his preferments,” said I. “He might even be charged with blasphemy, pilloried, and then imprisoned.”

“He would not survive being pilloried,” whispered Miss Barton.

“No,” I said. “That is also my opinion. If he is to answer these charges effectively, he must have all his wits, I think.”

“We must pray for his recovery,” she said, finally, and with emphasis.

“I am sure your own prayers would help, Miss Barton,” I offered lamely.

Upon which she got off her chair and knelt down upon the floor.

“Will you not pray with me?” she asked. “For his sake?”

“Yes,” I said, although I had little or no appetite for prayer. And kneeling down beside her, I clasped my hands and closed my eyes while, for more than an hour’s quarter, she muttered away like someone most devout. For myself, I remained silent and hoped that she would assume that the hopes of my own heart were echoed in her prayers.

Toward the middle of the morning, she and I started to relax a little so that we began not to notice him. By dinnertime it was as though he were not there at all; and when Miss Barton’s stomach rumbled loudly, I smiled and offered to fetch us both something to eat from The Stone Kitchen. When she agreed with some alacrity, so that I saw how hungry and thirsty she really was, I went to the tavern, returning quickly with our food. Alas, it was too quickly, however, so that I discovered Miss Barton doing something upon the pot, for which I felt some shame and pity to her poor blushes, not to mention some anger with myself. And when I returned to the office again after a decent interval, our conversation was stiff again because of our embarrassment.

But at last she permitted that I might have done the right thing by her uncle.

“I think you have done right, Mister Ellis,” she said, “not to have brought a physician here.”

“I am very glad to hear you say so, Miss Barton, for it has worried me this whole morning.”

“I spoke unjustly to you earlier this morning.”

“Pray do not mention it, Miss Barton. It is quite forgotten.”

Day gave way to evening, with our vigil continuing, as if watching Newton were an act of religious observance. I lit a fire which warmed the room, and offered to fetch Miss Barton a shawl, which she declined; and as darkness finally chased off the last glimmers of daylight, I lit some candles and placed one close to Newton’s face so that we might apprehend any palpable change in his physiognomy; and holding the candle up to Newton’s eye, I saw the dark matter at the centre of his iris shift most perceptibly, so that I began to suspect that my master was not so very disturbed in his mind as to be reduced to the level of some living corpse. It was an experiment which I encouraged Miss Barton to repeat, to the satisfaction of her own mind that all might yet be well.

Sleep gradually o’ertook us both, and it was dawn when Melchior, leaping into my lap, awakened me. For a moment a rigidity of neck and limb kept away thoughts of any other than myself, and I forgot why it was that I had slept in the office at all; but when, a moment later, I looked for Newton in his chair by the hearth, I saw that he was gone from there, and, jumping up, I called out to Miss Barton most anxiously.

“It’s all right,” said Newton, who was standing by the window now. “Calm yourselves. I believe that I am quite recovered. I have been watching the sun come up. I recommend it to you both. It is a most enlightening spectacle.”

Miss Barton smiled delightedly at me, and for a brief instant everything that was precious to me seemed to have been restored, although in truth Newton still seemed distant to us both. I think she even kissed him and then me, on the cheek; and it was as if Miss Barton had drunk from that river in Hades which induces forgetfulness of the past; so that the two of us stood beside Newton, marvelling at his recovery and all the while grinning like horses and finding pleasure in each other’s company.