Three of the physicians followed this lead, but the rest of the jury—Comstock the most vocal—did not. They wanted to hear the rest of the testimony, especially that of Mr. Campbell himself.
“Given the missing Campbell boys,” Stanton said, “it seems sensible to interview the father, especially.”
“Very well,” said Hawthorn. “As Mr. Campbell is still out of the city looking for his sons, we will continue with Dr. Sophie Savard Verhoeven.”
The whole room seemed to lean forward as Sophie left her seat and approached the dock. Even when she had taken her place, there was an expectant hush. Jack had the idea that they would be disappointed, if they were looking for drama. Sophie was utterly calm, her expression neutral. She wore a gown of leaf green, some kind of figured brocade, Jack thought, cut loose in the style his sisters called rational, for some reason he had never been able to pinpoint. The only jewelry she wore was a brooch at her throat and most probably a ring or two, but like Anna she hid her hands with gloves.
Her manner was polite and professional as she answered questions. There were a lot of them, far more than Anna had gotten from the jurors. And they were more personal, about her childhood and the reasons she came to New York, her experiences of the war.
Abraham Jacobi changed direction and asked her very specific questions about her training as a doctor, and she answered those questions with more warmth.
“You are in private practice,” Stanton said to her. Not a question, by his tone.
“I am attached to the New Amsterdam and the Colored Hospital as well as a number of clinics and infirmaries,” she corrected him. “And I am sometimes called to consult on difficult cases.”
Stanton gave her a doubtful look. “Oh really? And who calls on you for your”—he paused—“expertise?”
Just a flicker of anger on Sophie’s face, but before she could answer, the doctor who ran the German Dispensary spoke up.
“She has consulted on a number of cases for me,” he said. “And with great success.”
Stanton made a muffled, disbelieving sound, and Thalberg took the chance to say more.
“Dr. Savard Verhoeven is especially skilled when it comes to problematic presentations. I have seen her manage deliveries I thought impossible. She is also an excellent diagnostician and professional in all her dealings.”
Before the conversation could be taken any further, Hawthorn interrupted.
“In that case,” he said. “I would like to hear Dr. Savard Verhoeven’s diagnosis of Mrs. Campbell’s condition.”
The room was very silent while Sophie considered, her gaze on her own folded hands.
Finally she looked directly at Hawthorn and spoke to him alone. “She gave birth to a healthy boy when I attended her on Easter Monday. Her labor was long but not particularly difficult. It was her fourth full-term delivery and she coped quite well. The word diagnosis is used when there is some kind of disease or injury. A woman who is pregnant and gives birth without trouble is not ill or injured in any way. What I can say is that I noted symptoms of extreme melancholy and even depression in Mrs. Campbell after the birth of her son.”
“And that is unusual?”
“Not in and of itself,” Sophie said. “Women react in different ways to giving birth. But Mrs. Campbell was very forthright about her feelings.”
“She told you she was unhappy.”
“Yes.”
“In what way?”
Sophie paused. “She talked about her husband’s insistence that they have six boys. The idea frightened her, because she believed he would not—” She cleared her throat. “He would not desist in his attentions until he had reached that goal. She said it was a competition he had going with his brothers.”
“Which brothers?” asked Comstock, as if to catch her up in a lie.
“She didn’t say,” Sophie answered him. “She only said ‘his brothers.’”
“Did she tell you she was frightened?” asked another juror, the one with the beard the color of tobacco juice.
“She said that it would kill her to have another baby too soon, that she couldn’t bear the thought.”
“She was asking you for contraceptives,” Comstock announced to the room.
“Yes,” Sophie said. “She was.”
“And you gave her—?”
“Nothing,” Sophie said, quietly. “Because of the laws that forbid me to provide her with the help she needed, I gave her nothing, and now she is dead.”
“She is dead because she violated the laws of God and man,” Comstock shot back at her. “She reaped the terrible harvest of her sins. And somebody helped her, at least as far as providing the information she needed. Was it you?”
Conrad stood to speak, his voice projecting easily through the room. “My client has rights under the law, and I am here to see that they are protected.”