“I see. Mr. Campbell, can you shed any light on the events that led to your wife’s death?”
Campbell’s jaw worked silently for a moment. Then he said, “I don’t know anything about the particulars.”
“Did you realize that she was with child?”
“No.”
“She didn’t speak to you of it?”
“She never talked about such things. Wouldn’t be proper.”
“When did you first notice something was off?”
Campbell seemed to relax a little. Maybe he had been expecting accusations, and realized now that there were none forthcoming.
“The house,” he said. “It was out of order when I came home from work on Tuesday evening.” Campbell shifted in his chair.
“That was unusual?”
“She knew nothing about keeping house when we married, but then from what I’ve seen of French Canadians, they don’t put much value on cleanliness. I had to teach her what it means to keep a house, the way my mother had. A place for everything and everything in its place. No fingerprints on the windows or anywhere else, for that matter. Floors polished, stove blacked, laundry cleaned and pressed and mended, good plain food on the table when I came through the door. Waste not, want not. Children who know their place, and don’t speak lest they’re spoke to.
“But that day, as soon as I came in the door I knew there was trouble. The boys were sitting at the kitchen table like so many poppets. Big eyes, like they knew they had a hiding due. My oldest boy was holding the baby, trying to keep it quiet.”
“If you’d just go on,” said the coroner. “Tell the story as it comes to you.”
Campbell frowned. “There’s not much to tell. She had lost track of time, she said. She had a headache. She got headaches now and then, but my belief is, you work through the pain. Don’t let it get the best of you. But she did. That Tuesday night, she did. Put cold meat and bread out, something I wouldn’t tolerate normally. A man needs a hot meal. But I made do. She cleaned the kitchen, took care of the boys, and sat down with the mending.”
“Did she say anything about arrangements for the next day?”
“She asked if she could take the boys to my brother’s farm.” A flush of color appeared on Campbell’s cheeks. “So she could get the house cleaned proper. I almost said no and by God, I wish I had.”
Anna could almost hear the unease around her in the gallery. Most of the onlookers had been disposed to feel sympathy for Campbell, but his brusque manner was making that difficult. Even Comstock looked unnerved.
“She seemed unwell, that Tuesday evening.”
“As I said.”
“You didn’t call a doctor.”
“Rich people call a doctor for every little thing,” he said. “The rest of us make do. She said she’d be right in the morning, and I believed her. And so she was. Now I’m thinking nothing failed her at all. It was just her way of putting me off the scent, not asking about things being out of order.”
Hawthorn gave a doubtful low hum. “Tell us about that Wednesday morning.”
Campbell didn’t try to hide his impatience. “She went about her business, as she always did. Breakfast and seeing to the boys and so forth. Getting them ready for the train.”
“Did you see her off at the Grand Central Depot?”
“Look,” Campbell said. “It was nothing out of the ordinary. I went to work; she got herself and the boys to Grand Central by omnibus. I don’t hold with cosseting. My mother raised six boys to good men, and she did it with the Bible in one hand and a hickory switch in the other.”
“All right,” said Hawthorn. His tone was short. “Then we’d like to hear about Wednesday evening when you got home.”
“She was in bed,” Campbell said. “Vomiting into a basin, curled up under the covers. So I got my own dinner—cold meat, again—and read the paper like I always do. I heard her moving around some and so I went to check and she was trying to get a bottle of laudanum open. I opened it for her, and I went back to my paper and then to bed. That was at about nine.”
“Did Mrs. Campbell wake in the night?”
“I slept in the boys’ room. It was her idea, thinking I shouldn’t catch the bug that had her so sick.”
From the jury Dr. Stanton cleared his throat. “You didn’t notice blood, I take it? There would have been a great deal of it.”
Campbell looked distinctly uncomfortable. “She told me she had her monthlies, and I left it at that.”
Abraham Jacobi said, “Were you disappointed to hear that Mrs. Campbell’s menses had started?”
For the first time Campbell looked confused. “I don’t follow you.”
“We heard testimony that you were hoping to increase the size of your family as quickly as possible. Something about a wager with your brothers. The news that your wife wasn’t with child, then, was that a disappointment?”
Beside Anna, Sophie went very still while Campbell’s neck and face flooded with color.
“That’s a private matter. Who told you that? Whose testimony?”