The Gilded Hour

THE CORONER INSTRUCTED his clerk to call the inquest to order, and the murmuring in the courtroom trailed off. Sophie took a last look at the notes laid out before her, shuffled them into a pile, and folded her hands in her lap. Beside her Anna was scribbling already, all her attention on the first of many blank pages she would fill before day’s end. The jury would think her inordinately attentive, but Sophie had gone to school with Anna and she knew better. Her cousin scribbled as she listened, writing down odd words that taken together made little sense; when she got home, she would hand all the closely written pages to Mrs. Lee to use as tinder for the fire.

What Anna needed to know, she retained without writing down; she took notes for another reason altogether. As a girl she had disliked being called on in class and found that most teachers would leave her be if she looked busy. It wasn’t that she couldn’t answer questions, only that she wanted to decide which ones to answer. Some teachers left her this small vanity, and others did not, but nothing kept her from her scribbling.

Cap had often stolen her notebook away to read those random words out loud, like an actor on a stage. But they weren’t children anymore, and Cap was at home where he belonged, fighting for every breath.

She made herself focus on the proceedings.

Judge Benedict’s courtroom had been made available for the inquest, given the number of witnesses, the size of the jury, and the overwhelming public interest. Sophie had hoped that Judge Benedict himself would be absent, and was relieved to see that he was. Benedict and Comstock together were a disaster for any woman who came to their combined attention.

Because it was an inquest and not a trial, Hawthorn had some latitude in how he ran things. He handpicked the reporters—just three of them—to sit in the back of the courtroom—and he had spent some part of the morning considering case by case people who applied for permission to sit in the gallery. The ones he turned away were the ones who were there hoping for scandal and in particular, news of the missing Campbell boys. The whole city seethed with rumors and supposition about those little boys. They rarely left Sophie’s mind.

The coroner was saying, “This is an inquest into the death of Mrs. Janine Campbell, nothing more or less. We are here to decide whether her death was the result of malpractice and criminal abortion, and if so, the police will then be responsible for locating the responsible individuals and bringing them into a court of law to be tried. The jury may also rule that Mrs. Campbell died of self-inflicted injuries amounting to suicide. Given the complexities of the case, I have asked physicians to hear the evidence. They are free to ask questions at any time. Persons admitted to the gallery may also ask questions but should first apply to me.”

There were different kinds of evidence, he went on to explain. They would be considering the autopsy and physical items found at the Campbell home, and also they would discuss the deceased’s state of mind.

He said, “This is not an inquiry into the whereabouts and fate of the Campbell sons. The subject will come up but will be kept within bounds. I also want to remind both the jury and those sitting in the gallery that the question of pregnancy is irrelevant. Under the law, it doesn’t matter if the deceased was actually with child. The operation itself is illegal, in any case.

“This final point. The chief of police has submitted the results of a preliminary investigation, and on that basis both Dr. Savard and Dr. Savard Verhoeven have been cleared of any direct involvement in the illegal operation. They are here because they were the last physicians to treat the deceased and their testimony will be relevant.

“However, it has been pointed out to me that one or both of them may or may not be guilty of a different but related crime, that of supplying information and instruments to the deceased that made it possible for her to carry out the operation on herself.”

Sophie didn’t look at the jury box. She had sworn to herself that she would not, because there was nothing to be gained by it. She knew exactly who had reminded the coroner that dispensing medical advice of certain kinds was illegal, and he was sitting just fifteen feet away.

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