Chorus of the Dead

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Take her up instantly,

Loving, not loathing.

"This should be a very interesting case for you, Dr. Ainsley," Bennett said. The two were jostled in their seats by the road's unforgiving roughness. "I'd be interested in getting your opinion on the matter." Bennett paused for a moment. "Has Dr. Crawford shared any of his knowledge about this case?"

"Only what was detailed in your letter," Ainsley answered. "A child is dead, her sister is gravely ill. I assume from the same affliction."

"Your assumption is correct though perhaps you can validate that for me scientifically." Dr. Bennett took in a long breath and straightened his waistcoat as he shifted in his seat.

"I'd be happy to assist in any way I can." Ainsley said, aware that Dr. Bennett would surely inform Dr. Crawford about his performance while he was there.

Ainsley could see the hints of a smile on the old doctor's face. "Since you are already here, perhaps you can be of some use. I'd like for you to examine the body."

"You said Mrs. Lloyd refused consent for an autopsy?"

"Right she did. We must make our observations discreetly, without giving away the nature or purpose of our enquiry." Bennett paused and shifted nervously in his seat. "The girl who passed away is Josephine Lloyd." Bennett paused for a moment and glanced out the window of the carriage. He gave a breath of despair as he ran his hand over his face. The man was weary, Ainsley thought, perhaps he grew more tired than Ainsley himself.

"What troubles you Dr. Bennett?"

"There are three girls, Elizabeth who is quite matronly now, nearing twenty-five, has not shown any signs of disease... praise be to God." Bennett pressed his hands together, raising his gaze to the sky as if saying a little prayer or thanks.

Ainsley smiled slightly at this but said nothing. God had very little to do with the workings of science.

"The twenty year old Lillian is quite ill and has not left her room for weeks. I had feared she would be the first to pass away but I was quite wrong. Josephine, the youngest, is the one we bury in the morning. Her departure was quite unexpected."

"And the one who remains ill--"

"Lillian?"

"Yes, Lillian, how advanced is her condition?"

The old man pursed his lips in thought, letting out a deep breath of exhaustion. "I can regrettably say, we may be attending her wake before long. Mrs. Lloyd will not allow her to attend Josephine's funeral. We must find the cause for this calamity, we must find it soon or we will lose Lillian too."

Ainsley had seen many illnesses take out entire families, leaving no one immune. The suggestion seemed logical. "Have you ruled out Consumption? Scarlet Fever? Small Pox?"

"Yes, I explored those options vigorously. I am perplexed. Their father, Mr. Lloyd died not two months ago. Pneumonia, or so I thought at the time."

Ainsley leaned back in his seat, assured that he could find the root cause, though he was not so convinced he could save the woman who remained ill. "And such a diagnosis would explain this resurgence. The family is of sickly disposition. Do not carry this burden on your shoulders."

Bennett laughed at his young apprentice's words. "You are that experienced to comfort me thus?"

Ainsley smiled and leaned forward in his seat, despite the rocking motion of the carriage. "I know the facts as you present them to me. It would not be an entirely strange thing to see a family fall prey so easily. I saw such afflictions numerous times during my years in London. Entire families wiped out by a single sickness that you or I could stave off easily."

"How many of those sickly London families were of poor class and diet?" Bennett challenged. "I suspect a great deal of them. I could argue that the Lloyd's are a family of great wealth, property and, in effect, good health. So why have three people fallen ill and succumbed so easily? I have a belief there is more here than meets the eye Dr. Ainsley. There is something happening to this family."

"You have reason to suspect foul play?" Ainsley asked finally.

Bennett hesitated and his voice was tainted with concern. "I have found nothing to substantiate my gut feeling..." the old man's voice trailed off.

"What would that 'gut feeling' be, Dr. Bennett?"

The old doctor gave a forced, uneasy smile and said, "Poison."