A sudden, fearful death - Anne Perry [76]
“At least knowledge would take away some of the shock,” Hester argued hotly. “We had one young woman in hospital who was so mortified when she discovered what marriage required of her she went into hysterics, and then tried to kill herself.” Her voice rose with outrage. “No one had given her the slightest idea, and she simply could not endure it. She had been brought up with the strictest teachings of purity and it overwhelmed her. She was married by her parents to a man thirty years older than herself and with little patience or gentleness. She came into the hospital with broken arms and legs and ribs where she had jumped out of a window in an attempt to kill herself.” She took a deep breath and made a vain attempt to lower her tone.
“Now, unless Dr. Beck can persuade the police and the Church that it was an accident, they will charge her with attempted suicide and either imprison her or hang her.” She banged her fist down on the chair arm yet again. “And that monumental fool, Jeavis, is trying to say Dr. Beck killed Prudence Barrymore.” She did not notice Callandra stiffen in her seat or her face grow paler. “That is because that would be the easy answer, and save him from having to question the other surgeons and the chaplain and the members of the Board of Governors.”
Callandra started to speak, and then stopped again.
“Is there nothing we can do to help Marianne Gillespie?” Hester persisted, her fists clenched, leaning forward in the chair. She glanced at the roses. “Is there nobody to which one could appeal? Do you know Sir Herbert said his own daughter had been assaulted and had become with child as a result?” She swung around to Callandra again. “And she went to a private abortionist in some back street who maimed her so badly she can now never marry, let alone bear children. And she is in constant pain. For Heaven’s sake, there must be something we can do!”
“If I knew of anything I should not be sitting her listening to you,” Callandra replied with a sad smile. “I should have told you what it was, and we should be on our way to do it. Please be careful, or you are going to put your arm right through my best garden chair.”
“Oh! I’m sorry. It’s just that I get so furious!”
Callandra smiled, and said nothing.
The following two days were hot and sultry. Tempers became short. Jeavis seemed to be everywhere in the hospital, getting in the way, asking questions which most people found irritating and pointless. The treasurer swore at him. A gentleman on the Board of Governors made a complaint to his member of Parliament. Mrs. Flaherty lectured him on abstinence, decorum, and probity, which was more than even he could take. After that he left her strictly alone.
But gradually the hospital was getting back to its normal routine and even in the laundry room they spoke less of the murder and more of their usual concerns: husbands, money, the latest music hall jokes, and general gossip.
Monk was concentrating his attention on learning the past and present circumstances of all the doctors, especially the students, and of the treasurer, chaplain, and various governors.
It was late in the evening and still oppressively warm when Callandra went to look for Kristian Beck. She had no real reason to speak to him; she had to manufacture one. What she wished was to see how he was bearing up under Jeavis’s interrogations and less-than-subtle implication that Beck had had some shameful secret which he had begged Prudence Barrymore not to reveal to the authorities.
She had still no firm idea what she was going to say as she walked along the corridor toward his room, her heart pounding, nervousness making her mouth dry. In the heat after the long afternoon sun on the windows and roof, the air smelled stale. She could almost distinguish the cloying smell of blood from bandages and the acridness of waste. Two flies buzzed and banged blindly against the glass of a window.
She could ask him if Monk had spoken to him, and yet again assure him