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Ten days they’d held me there. Ten days, with only the stink
of my own flesh for company. Not even a rat graced me with
its presence. There was nothing to attract it; they had
brought me no food. Only ale.
Footsteps. Then, the wrench of metal on metal as the bolt
was drawn back. The light hurt my eyes. For a moment, the
men in the doorway shimmered as if they were not of this
world and had come to take me away from it.
The prosecutor’s men.
They had come to take me to trial.
CHAPTER ONE
KATE
2019
Violet hated Graham. She absolutely loathed him. Why did he get to
study interesting things all day, like science and Latin and someone
called Pythagoras, while she was supposed to be content sticking
needles through a canvas? The worst part, she reflected as her wool
skirt itched against her legs, was that he got to do all this in
trousers.
She ran down the main staircase as quietly as she could, to avoid
the wrath of Father, who thoroughly disapproved of female exertion
(and, it often seemed, of Violet). She stifled a giggle at the sound of
Graham puffing behind her. Even in her stuffy clothes she could
outrun him easily.
And to think that only last night he’d boasted about wanting to
go to war! Pigs had a greater chance of flying. And anyway, he was
only fifteen—a year younger than Violet—and therefore far too
young. It was for the best, really. Nearly all the men in the village
had gone, and half of them had died (or so Violet had overheard),
along with the butler, the footman, and the gardener’s apprentice.
Besides, Graham was her brother. She didn’t want him to die. She
supposed.
“Give it here!” Graham hissed.
Turning around, she saw that his round face was pink with effort
and fury. He was angry because she’d stolen his Latin workbook and
told him that he’d declined all his feminine nouns incorrectly.
“Shan’t,” she hissed back, clutching the workbook to her chest.
“You don’t deserve it. You’ve put amor instead of arbor, for heaven’s
sake.”
At the bottom of the staircase, she scowled at one of the many
portraits of Father that hung in the hall, then turned left, weaving
through the wood-paneled corridors before bursting into the
kitchens.
“What are ye playing at?” barked Mrs. Kirkby, gripping a meat
cleaver in one hand and the pearly carcass of a rabbit in the other.
“Could’ve chopped me finger off!”
“Sorry!” Violet shouted as she wrenched open the French
windows, Graham panting behind her. They ran through the kitchen
gardens, heady with the scent of mint and rosemary, and then they
were in her favorite place in the world: the grounds. She turned
around and grinned at Graham. Now that they were outside, he had
no chance of catching up with her if she didn’t want him to. He
opened his mouth and sneezed. He had terrible hay fever.
“Aw,” she said. “Do you need a hanky?”
“Shut up,” he said, reaching for the book. She skipped neatly
away. He stood there for a moment, heaving. It was a particularly
warm day: a layer of gauzy cloud had trapped the heat and stiffened
the air. Sweat trickled in Violet’s armpits, and the skirt itched
dreadfully, but she no longer cared.
She had reached her special tree: a silver beech that Dinsdale,
the gardener, said was hundreds of years old. Violet could hear it
humming with life behind her: the weevils searching for its cool sap;
the ladybug trembling on its leaves; the damselflies, moths, and
finches flitting through its branches. She held out her hand and a
damselfly came to rest on her palm, its wings glittering in the
sunlight. Golden warmth spread through her.
“Ugh,” said Graham, who had finally caught up to her. “How can
you let that thing touch you like that? Squash it!”
“I’m not going to squash it, Graham,” said Violet. “It has as much
right to exist as you or I do. And look, it’s so pretty. The wings are
rather like crystals, don’t you think?”
“You’re … not normal,” said Graham, backing away. “With your
insect obsession. Father doesn’t think so, either.”
“I don’t care a fig what Father thinks,” Violet lied. “And I certainly
don’t care what you think, though judging by your workbook, you
should spend less time thinking about my insect obsession and more
time thinking about Latin nouns.”
He lumbered forward, nostrils flaring. Before he could make it
within five paces of her, she flung the book at him—a little harder
than she intended—and swung herself into the tree.
Graham swore and turned back towards the Hall, muttering.
She felt a pang of guilt as she watched the angry retreat of his
back. Things hadn’t always been like this between them. Once,
Graham had been her constant shadow. She remembered the way
he used to crawl into her bed in the nursery to hide from a
nightmare or a thunderstorm, burrowing against her until his breath
was loud in her ears. They’d had all sorts of japes—ripping across
the grounds until their knees were black with mud, marveling at the
tiny silver fish in the beck, the red-breasted flutter of a robin.
Until that awful summer’s day—a day not unlike this one, in fact,
with the same honey-colored light on the hills and the trees. She
remembered the two of them lying on the grass behind the beech
tree, breathing in meadow thistle and dandelions. She had been
eight, Graham only seven. There were bees somewhere—calling out
to her, beckoning. She had wandered over to the tree and found the
hive, hanging from a branch like a nugget of gold. The bees
glimmering, circling. She drew closer, stretched out her arms and
grinned as she felt them land, the tickle of their tiny legs against her
skin.
She had turned to Graham, laughing at the wonder that shone
from his face.
“Can I’ve a go?” he’d said, eyes wide.
She hadn’t known what would happen, she’d sobbed to her
father later, as his cane flashed through the air towards her. She
didn’t hear what he said, didn’t see the dark fury of his face. She
saw only Graham, screaming as Nanny Metcalfe rushed him inside,
the stings on his arm glowing pink. Father’s cane split her palm
open, and Violet felt it was less than she deserved.
After that, Father sent Graham to boarding school. Now he only
came home for holidays, and grew more and more unfamiliar. She
knew, deep down, that she shouldn’t taunt him so. She was only
doing it because as much as she couldn’t forgive herself for the day
of the bees, she couldn’t forgive Graham, either.
He’d made her different.
Violet shook the memory away and looked at her wristwatch. It
was only 3 P.M. She had finished her lessons for the day—or rather,
her governess, Miss Poole, had admitted defeat. Hoping she
wouldn’t be missed for at least another hour, Violet climbed higher,
enjoying the rough warmth of bark under her palms.
In the hollow between two branches, she found the hairy seed of
a beechnut. It would be perfect for her collection—the windowsill of
her bedroom was lined with such treasures: the gold spiral of a
snail’s shell, the silken remains of a butterfly’s cocoon. Grinning, she
stowed the beechnut in the pocket of her skirt and kept climbing.
Soon she was high enough to see the whole of Orton Hall, which
with its sprawling stone buildings rather reminded her of a majestic
spider, lurking on the hillside. Higher still, and she could see the
village, Crows Beck, on the other side of the fells. It was beautiful.
But something about it made her feel sad. It was like looking out
over a prison. A green, beautiful prison, with birdsong and
damselflies and the glowing, amber waters of the beck, but a prison
nonetheless.
For Violet had never left Orton Hall. She’d never even been to
Crows Beck.
“But why can’t I go?” she used to ask Nanny Metcalfe when she
was younger, as the nurse set off for her Sunday walks with Mrs.
Kirkby.
“You know the rule,” Nanny Metcalfe would murmur, a glint of
pity in her eyes. “Your father’s orders.”
But, as Violet reflected, knowing a rule was not the same as
understanding it. For years, she assumed the village was rife with
danger—she imagined pickpockets and cutthroats lurking behind
thatched cottages. (This only enhanced its allure.)
Last year, she’d badgered Graham into giving her details. “I don’t
know what you’re getting so worked up about,” he’d grimaced. “The
village is dull as anything—there isn’t even a pub!” Sometimes, Violet
wondered whether Father wasn’t trying to protect her from the
village. Whether it was, in fact, the other way around.
In any case, her seclusion would soon come to an end—of sorts.
In two years, when she turned eighteen, Father planned to throw a
big party for her “coming out.” Then—he hoped—she would catch
the eye of some eligible young man, a lord-to-be, perhaps, and swap
this prison for another one.
“You’ll soon meet some dashing gentleman who’ll whisk you off
your feet,” Nanny Metcalfe was always saying.
Violet didn’t want to be whisked. What she actually wanted was
to see the world, the way Father had when he was a young man.
She had found all sorts of geography books and atlases in the library
—books about the Orient, full of steaming rain forests and moths the
size of dinner plates (“ghastly things,” according to Father), and
about Africa, where scorpions glittered like jewels in the sand.
Yes, one day she would leave Orton Hall and travel the world—as
a scientist.
A biologist, she hoped, or maybe an entomologist? Something to
do with animals, anyway, which in her experience were far
preferable to humans. Nanny Metcalfe often spoke of the terrible
fright Violet had given her when she was little: she had walked into
the nursery one night to find a weasel, of all things, in Violet’s cot.
“I screamed blue murder,” Nanny Metcalfe would say, “but there
you were, right as rain, and that weasel curled up next to you,
purring like a kitten.”
It was just as well that Father never learned of this incident. As
far as he was concerned, animals belonged on one’s plate or
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Fig. 167.—Transverse section through the nasal cavities near their
centre (normal).
From the clinical point of view two varieties of this condition may
be distinguished—inflammation of the mucous membrane of the
maxillary sinus and inflammation of the mucous membrane of the
frontal sinus and of the horn core. These forms of inflammation
frequently lead to suppuration. The pus collects in the depressions
and divisions of the frontal or maxillary sinus.
This disease is much rarer than that of the frontal sinus, and only
within the last few years (Ries, 1899) has a really good description
been given of it.
The causation is imperfectly understood. Injuries to the
suborbital region and maxillary ridge, caries of the molar teeth, and
inflammation occurring during the development of general diseases
represent the principal causes.
The dominating and characteristic symptom of the presence of pus
in the maxillary sinus consists in incessant snorting, accompanied by
violent movements of the head and the discharge of purulent or
muco-purulent material.
At the beginning of these attacks of snorting, which are produced
by the reflux of pus from the sinus towards the nasal cavities, the
respiration becomes snoring and rapid, and the animal makes
sniffing movements as though the nasal cavities were partially
obstructed. After these crises, the respiration again becomes silent.
Contrary to what has been observed in purulent collections in the
frontal sinus, the discharge is unilateral, reddish yellow in colour,
viscous in consistence, and is accompanied by clots of a gelatinous
material or even of blood.
During the attacks of snorting, the discharge resembles that of
croupal or pseudo-membranous bronchitis, but the material
discharged is not moulded on the internal shape of the bronchi. The
masses of discharge are irregular in form, and appear as though
made up of fibrous tissue matted together. Attention having been
attracted by the discharge, exploration of the trachea and chest
reveals nothing; on an examination of the sinuses, however,
palpation and percussion betray a certain amount of sensitiveness,
together with partial or complete dulness, and the lesion is
discovered.
Diagnosis. Confusion between pus formation in the maxillary
and frontal sinuses can be avoided by careful examination.
Prognosis. The prognosis is not very grave; the animals maintain
their appetite, but become thinner, and the condition shows no
tendency to spontaneous cure.
Treatment. The only rational treatment consists in trephining,
an operation practised immediately above the maxillary tuberosity
and over the lowest part of the sinus (Fig. 164). This opening allows
the cavity to be washed out and the sinus drained.
Antiseptic treatment exactly resembles that of purulent collections
in the frontal sinus. Injections of astringents, dilute carbolic acid and
iodine solutions, etc., are recommended.
(FALSE STURDY.)
Causation. This disease of sheep, which sometimes produces
vertigo resembling that shown in gid or sturdy, is produced by the
growth of larvæ of Œstrus ovis in the frontal sinuses. The œstrus of
the sheep assumes perfect insect form during the fine days of
summer from July to September. The females swarm around the
flocks and attempt to alight on the animal’s head close to the nostrils,
where they deposit their eggs or larvæ. The larvæ crawl into the
nostrils, thence into the nasal cavities, the meatus, and finally the
sinuses, where they become fixed. In these sinuses they undergo
complete development, increasing from a length of about ⅒ inch to
from ¾ to 1 inch before their transformation into the nymph and
perfect insect. They remain in the sinus for eight to ten months.
When numerous and well developed they may fill the whole of the
cavity.
Symptoms. It is easy for a careful observer to note the time at
which the larvæ penetrate the sinus. During the hottest hours of the
day the adult insects are continually hovering over the flocks, and on
watching carefully one sees sheep suddenly become excited, tap with
their feet, rub their faces against any hard, resisting object in the
neighbourhood, plunge their nostrils into the dust, and snort
violently.
When the larvæ have penetrated the nasal cavities they produce
frequent attacks of sneezing by irritating the mucous membrane, and
cause an intense sero-mucous and afterwards a moderate muco-
purulent coryza. As long as the larvæ remain of small size, the
apparent results they produce are insignificant, as during the first
months of winter; but when they are numerous, and have become of
considerable size, they cause symptoms which might suggest an
attack of gid or sturdy.
Thus the bodily movements become spasmodic, the gait irregular,
and the animals show attacks of vertigo. They stagger and fall,
making convulsing movements, grinding their teeth and rolling their
eyes, while frothy saliva escapes from the mouth, etc.
Death may occur during such attacks, which, however, are happily
very rare. Most commonly the animals are simply dull and
somnolent. They feed badly, carry their heads low, and sometimes
hide themselves under the mangers or in corners.
In exceptional circumstances they bury their heads in the wool or
carry them high in the air in walking, while they lift their front legs
high, with a stepping movement.
Fig. 169.—Parasitic invasion of the sinuses and
cœnurosis (showing the seat of operation in either
condition).
LARYNGITIS.
Laryngeal diseases are common, but are usually only the local
expression of some grave general infection, such as foot-and-mouth
disease, gangrenous coryza, or tuberculosis. Pathological conditions
such as these can be disregarded for the moment, as they will receive
attention under special heads.
The two current forms of laryngeal disease are acute laryngitis and
stridulous laryngitis.
ACUTE LARYNGITIS.
BRONCHITIS.
CHRONIC BRONCHITIS.
Chronic inflammation of the mucous membrane of the large
bronchi and trachea may follow acute bronchitis, but it is also a
frequent termination of verminous bronchitis. It is found in fully
developed animals, adult or old, and particularly in those inhabiting
wet, cold valleys.
It is characterised by frequent paroxysms of coughing, which
appear on the slightest provocation, such as the action of cold air on
leaving the stable or of the air of a confined space on animals
returning from the open; concussion of the chest by the pleximeter,
squeezing of the loins, rapid movement, etc.
This coughing is accompanied by the discharge of mucus, which
rarely arrives at the nostrils, but is swallowed in passing through the
pharynx. Such mucus is always thick, greenish yellow in colour, and
without smell.
The respiration, although regular whilst the animal is at rest,
becomes accelerated on moving, and after attacks of coughing. It is
sometimes rapid and whistling.
Percussion discloses neither partial nor complete dulness, but
everywhere irregularly distributed mucous rattling and sibilant râles
are revealed by auscultation.
There is no fever, the appetite is maintained, and, what is an even
more important point, animals in good condition preserve their
flesh. Interlobular pulmonary emphysema and emphysema resulting
from dilatation are inseparable accompaniments of chronic
bronchitis, for which reason the flank respiratory movement is
frequently very marked.
The diagnosis is of only moderate difficulty, because although in
certain conditions the disease may be mistaken for tuberculosis or
emphysema, it can be distinguished by bacteriological examination
of the discharge, by an injection of tuberculin, by careful
auscultation, and by consideration of the general condition.
Lesions. The walls of the bronchi are thickened, the submucous
connective tissue is sclerosed, the muscular fibres are modified in
structure, and have become fibrous, while the epithelial layer is
desquamated and suppurating. The peribronchial tissue also
undergoes sclerosis, and in certain cases the smaller bronchi present
marked dilatations resembling small caverns (bronchi-ecstasis).
Treatment can never be more than palliative; the aim should be
to prevent the lesions becoming aggravated, and to check the
pathological secretion from the bronchi, but the lesions already
existent can never be removed. Tar water should be perseveringly
administered. Essence of turpentine in doses of 2 to 2½ drachms per
day in electuary (adults), creosote in doses of 1¼ to 1½ drachms,
and terpine in doses of ¾ to 1 drachm give the best results, and
produce a marked improvement.
PSEUDO-MEMBRANOUS BRONCHITIS.