Chapter 3
At the door, Siobhan’s hand found his. She led him into the parlour. A man stood in the centre of the room, a black bag in his hand.
Richard stayed still while his father spoke. His mother answered in her clear voice. The man listened. He did not look around.
His father said the name. “Mr Burton.”
He mouthed it once. Bur. Ton.
The man bowed once. Not deep. Not hurried. “My lord. My lady.”
His mother inclined her head. “My son, Richard.”
The man turned. “Good morning,” he said.
His voice did not change.
Richard watched his hands. One held the bag. The other hung empty at his side. Neither reached.
A hand laid on his shoulder. Siobhan.
“He will be well, I assure you,” the man said.
Siobhan curtseyed. The door closed behind her. His mother and father stood.
“If possible, I would like for you to remain. It reduces speculation,” the man said.
They sat.
“Let us begin with what is ordinary,” the man said. “May I examine you? I will be touching your person.”
Richard nodded.
“May I lift you?”
Richard nodded again.
The man lifted him onto the table. He set his bag beside him, then leant closer.
“My name is Mr Burton. I am a surgeon. Do you know what that is?”
Richard nodded.
“Can you tell me?”
Richard pressed his tongue through his teeth. Drew it back. “Doctor.”
Mr Burton nodded. “You are correct.”
He laid his palm on top of Richard’s head. His lips moved. Then he removed it. He touched Richard’s shoulders—pressure, release—then stepped back.
Mr Burton lifted him clear of the table, held him for a beat, and set him down. He made a grunted sound.
“Very well,” he murmured, looking at an open journal.
Richard looked. It was full of numbers.
Mr Burton opened the bag then. He took out things. Shiny things. He looked at Richard’s tongue longer than anyone ever had.
“May I see?” he asked and stuck out his own tongue.
It looked funny. Richard copied him.
Mr Burton touched his tongue with a small shiny thing that felt cold. He pressed it on his tongue several times, each differently. He wrote in the journal and drew lines. Then he turned the page so Richard could see. Richard leant in.
“Do these lines—ridges—give you pain?”
“No.”
“Is it difficult to chew your food?”
“No.”
“Does your mouth tighten when you speak?”
“Yes.”
“If you fall,” Mr Burton said, “what do you do first?”
“Get up.”
Mr Burton inclined his head. “Truly?”
Richard nodded.
Mr Burton did not say more.
He wrote, then set the book aside. He took out a small jar. It held pins in water. He held it up toward his father and his mother.
“The best Damascene steel sewing needles in neutral spirits,” he said.
His father made a sound in his throat. Richard did not look at him.
Mr Burton knelt until his eyes were level with Richard’s.
“You may ask me to stop,” he said. “At any moment.”
“Why?”
Mr Burton blinked. He pulled a dark cloth from his bag and covered Richard’s eyes. Darkness came cleanly, as if the room had been put away.
Something scratched down his leg.
“Did that pain you?” Mr Burton asked.
Richard shook his head.
His shoe and stocking came off. A hand held his foot. Mr Burton’s hand.
“This will hurt,” he said. “Tell me true.”
Richard nodded once.
Pressure, then sharpness came into his heel. Richard tipped his head towards it. The pressure eased, then vanished.
“No blood,” Mr Burton said quietly.
The cloth lifted. Light returned. The room returned.
“Well done, sir,” Mr Burton said.
Richard looked up at him.
And smiled.
* * *
Matlock House, March 1787
Richard sat on the rug with his blocks set in a line. Across from them, he had arranged cannon at the ends, soldiers in a line facing the wall. Horses were grouped to the left of the cannon.
“Why are the horses at the ends?” Siobhan asked from the chair by the window.
“Siege.”
“And the men in the middle?”
“Point.”
“I don’t understand,” she replied.
Footsteps came in the passage. They stopped at the door.
Mr Burton entered without knocking. He did not greet Siobhan. He came to where Richard sat and lowered himself until they were level.
“Good morning,” he said.
Richard looked at him.
Mr Burton waited.
“Good morning,” Richard said.
“Very good,” Mr Burton said. He inclined his head. “When we speak together, you must answer aloud. You do not show me. You do not point. You tell me. Do you understand?”
Richard nodded.
Mr Burton did nothing.
“Yes,” Richard said.
“That is correct,” Mr Burton said. “When someone wishes to touch you, you must answer.”
Richard watched him.
“You must say yes,” Mr Burton went on, “or you must say no.”
He waited.
“Do you understand?”
Richard nodded.
Mr Burton did nothing.
“Yes,” Richard said.
“That is correct,” Mr Burton said. “May we speak alone?”
Richard looked at Siobhan. She did not move. He turned back.
“Yes,” Richard said.
Mr Burton did not look at Siobhan. He waited.
Siobhan stood. She curtseyed to Mr Burton, then to Richard, and left without speaking. The door closed.
Mr Burton returned his attention to Richard. “We will follow an order,” he said. “Always the same one.”
He held up one finger. “Hands.”
A second. “Feet.”
A third. “Mouth.”
Richard watched the fingers.
“This is the order,” Mr Burton said. “Every time.”
Richard nodded.
Mr Burton waited.
“Yes,” Richard said.
“Begin,” Mr Burton said.
Richard held up his hands.
“Speak,” Mr Burton said.
“Hands,” Richard said.
Mr Burton nodded once.
Richard bent to his feet.
“Feet,” he said.
Mr Burton watched.
Richard opened his mouth.
Mr Burton raised one finger.
Richard closed his mouth. He tried again.
“Mouth,” he said.
Mr Burton inclined his head. “Again.”
Richard started with his feet.
Mr Burton said nothing.
Richard stopped. He went back to his hands.
“Hands,” he said.
Mr Burton waited.
“Feet. Mouth.”
Mr Burton nodded.
“This is how we will do it,” he said. “Every day. Same order. Same words.”
Richard sat very still.
“Begin,” Mr Burton said. He took Richard’s hands and turned them, palm up, palm down. He released them. He lifted one foot, then the other, and set them down. He opened his own mouth first. Richard copied him.
“That will do,” Mr Burton said.
He rose. Inclined his head. Went to the door and opened it. He did not look back.
After he had gone, Richard sat where he was. He touched his hands. Then his feet. Then he opened his mouth and closed it again.
He moved the horses behind the standing soldiers.