A Breach of Promise - Anne Perry [146]
“The symptoms before death include increased heart rate,” the doctor continued. “Very loud, audible even at a distance from the patient. Often the patient becomes aggressive, disoriented and suffers hallucinations. The police informed me they found one or two items knocked over, consistent with blurred vision.”
Rathbone sat rigidly, his shoulders hunched, his fists tight. His mind was drenched with misery as he thought of Keelin Melville frightened, half blinded, knowing she was dying, hearing her own heart pound until it burst.
“Yes … yes. I do not argue with your conclusion, Doctor.” The coroner shook his head, his voice cutting across Rathbone’s thoughts. “If you found belladonna within the body then that is sufficient. How long before death would it have been consumed? I take it it was consumed? It was not injected, or absorbed through the skin, or breathed in?”
“No sir, it was swallowed. Death can take anything from a few hours to a few days, depending on the dose.”
“And this dose?”
There was complete silence in the courtroom. Rathbone did not look around, but he could imagine everyone waiting. Why? To know what piece of evidence, what revelation or event had finally been more than Melville could take? Did they need the moment of decision?
“A heavy dose,” the doctor replied, pursing his lips. “Sometime during the afternoon.”
“Are you sure? Could it not have been after Miss Melville returned home?”
“No. It doesn’t work that quickly.”
“Or in the morning, before she came to court?”
Rathbone found he could hear his own pulse beating. Could it have been that early? Was it over Wolff’s disgrace? Perhaps there had even been a quarrel with him?
“No sir,” the doctor said with certainty. There was not even a shadow of doubt in his face or his voice. “If she had taken that much before she came to court in the morning, she would have been showing unmistakable symptoms by midday at the latest. No one could have mistaken it. She would have been dead by the afternoon.”
“Are you quite sure about that?” the coroner persisted, his face wrinkled with concern.
“Quite,” the doctor assured him.
“Can you tell us whether the belladonna was taken in liquid or powder form, or a tablet? Or if it was taken with food?”
“I cannot tell you whether it was liquid or powder, but it was not taken with food. There was very little food in the stomach. The poison probably acted as effectively as it did for that reason.”
“How might one obtain belladonna?”
The doctor shrugged.
“The plant grows wild in all manner of places. Anyone could obtain it. All parts of it are poisonous. Various medical powders can be made from it for the treatment of several conditions.” He shrugged very slightly. “Even for enhancing the beauty of the eyes. It enlarges the pupils. Hence the name—‘beautiful woman’—belladonna.”
“Thank you.” The coroner nodded. “I have no more to ask you, except whether you can tell us if there is any evidence to show whether the deceased took this by her own hand or not.”
“I have no way of knowing. That is a police matter. I can only say I know of no way in which it could be accidental.”
The coroner pursed his lips, nodding again slowly. He dismissed the doctor with thanks and sipped a glass of cold water before calling Rathbone to the stand. Even when he sat back facing the court again, it was obvious he was disturbed more than usual by the details and the reality of death.
“Sir Oliver,” he began slowly, “you were Keelin Melville’s counsel during the case for breach of promise brought by Barton Lambert on behalf of his daughter, Miss Zillah Lambert.” It was made as a statement, but he waited as if for a reply.
“Yes sir. I was,” Rathbone agreed.
“When did you become aware that Miss Melville was indeed a woman, and not a man, Sir Oliver?”
“After her death, at the same time as we all did,” Rathbone answered. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the small