arah watched Miss Mann carefully remove the plate from the camera, handling it like a newborn. Her gaze was trained intently upon what she was about, but she still noticed Sarah’s attention.arah watched Miss Mann carefully remove the plate from the camera, handling it like a newborn. Her gaze was trained intently upon what she was about, but she still noticed Sarah’s attention.
‘You made an excellent subject, Miss Fisher. You could sit for a painter with such poise.’
It was a pleasant thought, but Sarah could not imagine ever having such a luxury of time.
‘I would be most interested to know what happens next,’ she observed. ‘The calotype process is a matter of chemistry, is it not?’
Miss Mann looked at her with a degree of consternation that made Sarah fear she had misspoken.
‘Or am I mistaken?’
‘No, you are quite correct. I was simply taken aback. Most of our subjects are more apt to believe it the work of fairies and angels. And that’s just the clergymen. Do you have an interest in chemistry?’
‘I have read Professor Gregory’s work, but I have not had the opportunity to practise experiments.’
Miss Mann seemed pleased with her answer, which in turn pleased Sarah.
‘Would you care to accompany me? I can show you how it’s done.’
‘I’d like that,’ she replied.
They strode towards the house together, the plate still clutched possessively in Miss Mann’s hands.
‘You took Mr Hill’s instruction very well,’ she said.
‘I am a housemaid. I am used to doing as I am told.’
‘You would be surprised. The most subservient of people can nonetheless struggle to follow instructions, while the mighty are prepared to humble themselves when a portrait is at stake. I once photographed the King of Saxony, and had you been there that day, you might have believed I was the monarch and he my subject.’
‘You photographed a king?’
‘Yes. He turned up at Rock House unannounced, Mr Hill and Mr Adamson’s reputation having reached him abroad. Unfortunately, neither of the gentlemen were at home. I told him I could carry out the procedure and he gladly acquiesced.’
Sarah was agog. She thought of the leering squirt rolling pills behind the druggist’s counter not a mile from here. Clearly there were some customers who did not always believe that ‘only a man will do’.
‘And was he pleased with the result?’
‘Enchanted. He said it would have pride of place in his palace. Though as the name Jessie Mann is of less renown than Hill & Adamson, I suspect it will be theirs and not mine attached to it.’
‘That is unjust,’ Sarah stated.
Miss Mann did not reply, for what else could be said?
She led them into a room in which newspaper had been affixed to the window to block out the light.
‘We need relative darkness for the preparation of the calotype paper,’ she explained.
Sarah went to close the door, out of habit.
‘Leave it for now, otherwise I won’t be able to show you anything.’
Miss Mann indicated a table laden with bottles and shallow trays. ‘A piece of good-quality paper is first washed in a solution of silver nitrate then a solution of iodine. Once dry, this iodised paper is dipped in a mixture of gallic acid and silver nitrate, and it is this which is placed in the frame that is slid into the back of the camera.’
Miss Mann held up her right hand, which was streaked with black. ‘It is a dark art,’ she said. ‘The silver nitrate stains the skin.’
‘How did you come to be involved with Mr Hill and Mr Adamson?’ Sarah asked, watching as Miss Mann pinned a piece of prepared calotype paper to a wooden frame.
‘My brother Alexander and Mr Hill are friends,’ she replied. ‘I am a supporter of the Free Church, and have been helping him with the photographs for his Disruption painting. His interests have extended beyond that now, of course, which makes me wonder sometimes if the painting will ever be done.’
‘What exactly will the painting depict?’
‘It will be a representation of the meeting at Tanfield Hall that followed the mass walkout from the General Assembly by two hundred ministers and elders. As Mr Hill wishes to depict all who were present, he is using calotype to record their faces, that he may work from the photographs.’
Sarah thought of her grandmother, who dispensed wise words as well as herbal remedies. Where there are men, there will be dispute, she once said. Put ten of them in a room and soon enough you’ll have two groups of five.
Sarah watched Miss Mann carefully prepare the next plate.
‘You must have a remarkable knowledge of chemistry to be able to do all of this.’
‘Only as it pertains to the photographic process. Mr Adamson is a patient teacher. Why do you ask?’
Sarah paused for a second. She felt oddly dishonest to be speaking about this, though she was bearing no false witness.
‘An acquaintance of mine died recently, and when she was found, her body was contorted as though she had suffered a fit of some kind. There seems a possibility that she took a poison, though unless I can discern what, I will never know whether she died accidentally or . . .’
Sarah let the other possibility remain unspoken.
Miss Mann put down the framed sheet she was holding. ‘I am most sorry to hear that.’ She placed the stained hand on Sarah’s arm and spoke softly. ‘Was it likely that your friend meant herself harm? I mean, did she have reason?’
‘I believe she was most troubled. But it makes no sense that she should choose a means whose effects would be so unpleasant.’
‘Your description does remind me of something,’ Miss Mann said. ‘A relative of mine was suffering from a neurological palsy. She was given a tonic medicine which helped for a while, but she kept increasing the dose. It brought on increasingly severe convulsions and eventually killed her. Her body remained in a contorted pose for a long time after. It made it impossible to lay her out properly, which caused a deal of additional distress for the mourners. There was some concern that they wouldn’t be able to chest her. You know, fit her into a casket.’
‘Do you know what was in the tonic?’ Sarah asked.
‘Yes. It contained strychnine.’