The Midwife's Revolt (The Midwife Series Book 1) by Jodi Daynard

Author:Jodi Daynard [Daynard, Jodi]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2015-04-06T16:00:00+00:00

The Cranch household was in a state of turmoil. News had already spread among the servants. Poor Mary was racing about the servants’ quarters, endeavoring to stop the panicked rumors from reaching her children or beyond the house. This time, however, unlike with Dr. Flynt, I sensed that the news could not be kept quiet.

“Show me to him, if you please,” I said to Richard at once, for I had no wish to be detained by anyone.

Richard led the way up the stairs. Mr. Thayer’s chamber was on the second floor, in the back. Mr. Thayer was right where they had left him: he lay upon the bed fully clothed, as if resting. He could not have long been dead. Feeling him, he was still warm, his muscles still supple. His eyes stared straight up at the ceiling.

“Would you give me a few moments?” I said to Richard, who leaned upon the doorframe looking very grim.

“Of course,” he said. “Should I send for Dr. Tufts? Or Constable Vesey?”

“Let me examine him first,” I replied, and, in a glance, Richard understood how loath I was to set the town in a panic.

He left me then, and I took a breath, composing myself for the examination I needed to perform.

I removed Mr. Thayer’s clothing and observed him, this time writing everything down. I began with the color of his face (bluish white), lips (blue, deepening to a plummy purple at the edges), and eyes (pupils greatly dilated). I moved down to describe his torso, assessed his body temperature (eighty-nine degrees Fahrenheit), and so on, until I reached his feet.

After finishing my exam, rather than endeavoring to turn him (for now he was becoming more difficult to move), I partially covered him with a bolster that lay folded at the foot of the bed.

I took a moment to compose myself before calling Richard. I looked one last time at Mr. Thayer before covering his face: though I had never liked the man and found him humorless and ill-mannered, I pitied him now. Mr. Thayer had died of no natural illness.

It is our limitation as a species that we are often blind to that which we do not expect to see. I knew this had been the case with me. I now saw clearly what I had not seen before. Mr. Thayer had been poisoned. Like Dr. Flynt, he had been murdered. Once the notion of poison arrived in my head, it lit easily upon a drug with which I was quite familiar. I owned a vial of it myself, and it had served me well for stubborn cervixes. Now it all seemed quite obvious: the bluish tint, the dilated eyes.

Dr. Flynt and Mr. Thayer had been poisoned with belladonna.

The question now became whom one could trust to tell. The decision could no longer rest with me alone. I decided to tell Richard my conclusion and hoped I would not find myself in trouble with the local constable. Why had I not come forth with Dr.

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