A sudden, fearful death - Anne Perry [75]
His eyes were narrowed slits in a face almost bloodless. “She will never even be able to have a normal union with a man. She will be single all her life, and in pain—in constant pain. For God’s sake don’t go to a back-street abortionist!” His voice dropped again, curiously husky. “Have your child, Miss Gillespie. Whatever you think now, it is the better part than what you face if you go to someone else for the help I cannot give you.”
“I …” Marianne gulped. “I wasn’t thinking of anything so—I mean—I hadn’t …”
“We hadn’t thought of going to such a person,” Julia said in a tight brittle voice. “Neither of us would know how to find one, or whom to approach. I had only thought of a reputable surgeon. I—I hadn’t realized it was against the law, not when the woman was a victim—of rape.”
“I am afraid the law makes no distinction. The child’s life is the same.”
“I am not concerned with the child’s life,” Julia said in little more than a whisper. “I am thinking of Marianne.”
“She is a healthy young woman. She will probably be perfectly all right. And in time she will recover from the fear and the grief. There is nothing I can do. I am sorry.”
“So you have said. I apologize for having taken up your time. Good day, Sir Herbert.”
“Good day, Mrs. Penrose—Miss Gillespie.” As soon as they were gone, Sir Herbert closed the door and returned to his desk. He sat motionless for several seconds, then apparently dismissed the matter and reached for a pile of notes.
Hester came out of the alcove, hesitated, then crossed the floor.
Sir Herbert’s head jerked up, his eyes momentarily wide with surprise.
“Oh—Miss Latterly.” Then he recollected himself. “Yes—the body’s away. Thank you. That’s all for the moment. Thank you.”
It was dismissal.
“Yes, Sir Herbert.”
Hester found the encounter deeply distressing. She could not clear it from her mind, and at the first opportunity she recounted the entire interview to Callandra. It was late evening, and they were sitting outside in Callandra’s garden. The scent of roses was heavy in the air and the low sunlight slanting on the poplar leaves was deep golden, almost an apricot shade. There was no motion except the sunset wind in the leaves. The wall muffled the passing of hooves and made inaudible the hiss of carriage wheels.
“It was like the worst kind of dream,” Hester said, staring at the poplars and the golden blue sky beyond. “I was aware what was going to happen before it did. And of course I knew every word she said was true, and yet I was helpless to do anything at all about it.” She turned to Callandra. “I suppose Sir Herbert is right, and it is a crime to abort, even when the child is a result of rape. It is not anything I have ever had to know. I have nursed entirely soldiers or people suffering from injury or fevers. I have no experience of midwifery at all. I have not even cared for a child, much less a mother and infant. It seems so wrong.”
She slapped her hand on the arm of the wicker garden chair. “I am seeing women suffer in a way I never knew before. I suppose I hadn’t thought about it. But do you know how many women have come into that hospital in even the few days I’ve been there, who are worn out and ill as a result of bearing child after child?” She leaned a little farther to face Callandra. “And how many are there we don’t see? How many just live lives in silent despair and terror of the next pregnancy?” She banged the chair arm again. “There’s such ignorance. Such blind tragic ignorance.”
“I am not sure what good knowledge would do,” Callandra replied, looking not at Hester but at the rose bed and a late butterfly drifting from one bloom to another. “Forms of prevention have been around since Roman days, but they are not available to most people.” She pulled a face. “And they are very often weird contraptions that the ordinary man would not use. A woman has no right in civil or religious law to deny her husband, and even if she had, common