Free Minor Corruption by Don Gutteridge Page A

save Betsy’s life. He had to be helped from the witness-box.
    Dora’s testimony dealt exclusively with what
she saw upon her arrival – an aborted foetus, internal bleeding and
a raging fever – and her specific efforts to help the stricken
girl. The coroner did not ask whether Betsy Thurgood had made any
death-bed confessions or accusations, and Dora did not venture to
mention them on her own. Dr. Withers then gave a summary of his
autopsy findings.
    In short order, the jury found that the
victim had died at the hands of an incompetent and drunken
abortionist. A province-wide warrant for her arrest would be issued
in due course.
    So, Dora thought, Thurgood had definitely
thought better of dragging Seamus Baldwin’s name through the mud.
If he had been going to do so, this inquest would have provided him
with both the appropriate opportunity and a most public forum. And
just as well, too. There was enough unavoidable grief in the world:
folks didn’t need to manufacture it on their own.
    On Tuesday afternoon Robert and his father
put Uncle Seamus in a carriage and drove out to Spadina. Although
the old gentleman was up and around, he remained melancholic and
uncommunicative. He was like a court jester out of his humour, and
hence all the more pitiable. That he would be no use in chambers
for some time was obvious, but Robert hoped that a return to the
familiar surroundings of Spadina, Mrs. Morissey’s cooking, and the
constant care of the servants would conspire to re-ignite his
spirits and, yes, even his pranksterism. Betsy’s absence might be
the more noticeable out there, but she was gone from his life
wherever he might go or be. He was taken straight to his room,
where Faye Partridge and young Edie Barr found numerous excuses to
visit in an attempt to cheer him up. Herb Morissey, the gardener,
dropped by to boast about the summer-fat trout that were lying in
wait for a well-tied fly.
    On Wednesday morning Uncle Seamus came down
for breakfast, made brief but courteous conversation with his
brother and nephew, and expressed a desire to sit in the library
and read. Robert sought out Edie Barr and asked her to fetch the
domino set and take it into Uncle Seamus.
    “He taught you how to play, didn’t he, Edie?”
Robert said to her in the hall.
    “Yes, sir,” she replied. Edie, her flawless,
pale skin still blotched from periodic bouts of weeping, had taken
Betsy’s death as hard as any of the servants. The girls had been
close in age, and had shared a room since Betsy had come on steady
near the end of July. But Edie was putting on a brave face and, of
course, she was fond of Uncle Seamus and dreaded seeing him so
depressed. “I now beat him quite regularly,” she said. “But I’ll
let him win this mornin’.”
    “I’ve never seen you two together for more
than five minutes,” Robert said, “without one or the other caught
in a fit of laughing.”
    “I’ll do my best, sir.”
    “I have to go back to the city for an
important meeting, but Dr. Baldwin will be in residence for the
rest of the week. Go to him directly whenever you want help or
advice in caring for my uncle.”
    “I will, sir.” And Edie went off to fetch the
dominoes.
    Robert was just about to ask Chalmers for his
hat and coat when the butler emerged from the vestibule with a
pained expression on his usually imperturbable countenance. “What
is it, Chalmers?”
    “A person at the front door, sir, who
insists on seeing Dr. Baldwin.”
    “Did he give a name?”
    “I’m afraid he did, sir. It’s Mr .
Thurgood. From the mill. In his work clothes.”
    Betsy’s father. Robert had not spoken to him
except to offer his condolences at the funeral service. Betsy’s
monthly salary and a bonus had been hand-delivered by John Burge,
the Baldwins’ stableman and driver. The fellow must have come to
thank Dr. Baldwin for his kindness.
    “ I’ll see him, Chalmers. Show him into
the little den.”
    Burton Thurgood was shown into the den,