William Monk 09 - A Breach of Promise

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. Anyonecould 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 public gallery upon him and the heat burned up his cheeks at the realization that they must think him a fool. It was not his reputation that bothered him, but the fear that they were right.
    “You have no confidence towards your client now, except that of the truth,” the coroner said quietly. “What reason did Melville give you for breaking her betrothal to Miss Lambert?”
    “She swore that she had never intended to become betrothed to her,” Rathbone answered, looking directly at the coroner and avoiding catching the eye of anyone else in the room. “She said it had happened by misunderstanding, which I had difficulty in believing at the time, but now it seems very readily explainable.I think she was genuinely very fond of Miss Lambert, in a manner of friendship, as one woman may be to another. She must have been extremely lonely.” He found it difficult to say, and was not even sure if he wanted to expose such private grief to the stare of others. He doubted himself even as he spoke. “Isaac Wolff was the only person she could trust. Perhaps with Miss Lambert she was able to come closer to the pretty and feminine things she would like to have been able to share in herself but knew she never could. She might have allowed her guard to slip, and without being aware of it have given the wrong impression.”
    There was a soft murmur from the public section. He did not turn to look, although he could imagine Zillah’s face. It might be some comfort to her that the deceit was not meant.
    The coroner