Mr Folcwalding's reasons seem perfectly believable. I have no doubt that in that place it must be hard to get illnesses treated in a modern way like in London. But...

"I have to admit, sir, I'm uneasy with your connection with Dr. Blayze. He sounds like an unsavoury fellow, and using me as an unwitting courier was dishonest. Hard to believe that the parcel contains only medicine."

He shrugs, with an air of bafflement. "He surely has his own reason for avoiding exposure, but you must understand: ill people around here cannot wait. I had no option." He spreads his hands in utter sincerity.

I lift an eyebrow, but can't really put my finger on the reason for my uneasiness, because the presence of the maid upsets me quite a bit. She is a bizarre creature: helpful and even pretty, in a strange way, but she must have had a bad accident in the past. Or maybe she was born with some defect, the most evident of which is her mismatched eyes. Somehow I feel it is good that the owners of this house hired her, because it would be hard for her to find a honest job otherwise.

Yet she IS weird. Like many people I've noticed in the village. Like many things that have happened since I've arrived here. In this setting, my judgement seems warped. How can I blame Mr Folcwalding for buying medicines from crooks in London?

"All right," I reply reluctantly, and plunge on, driven by some strange instinct, "but listen, I *am* a doctor, and I know chemistry. If I had the means, I could try to give a hand around here."

And maybe help this girl with whatever her conditions is, I think in a rush of compassion.

"I accept your invitation gratefully, Mr. Folcwalding," I decide. "This will give me the occasion to look around a bit and know people."

As he smiles with satisfaction, I wonder... a butler making invitations to his master's gala?...