Don Gutteridge - Minor Corruption

“I’m not a gossip, sir. And your commentsain’t helpin’.”

Betsy suddenly began to speak, but the wordswere slurred and jumbled. Nevertheless, there was an urgency behindthem.

“She’s tryin’ to tell us somethin’,” Auleensaid. “Sounds like a name of some sort.” She leaned over close toBetsy’s ravaged face. “What is it darlin’? You c’n tell Mama. Whodid this to you?”

Behind her, Thurgood dropped the blanket andmoved up beside his wife.

Betsy’s entire body began to tremble. Beadsof cold sweat seemed to burst out of her fevered skin. She openedher mouth and, thick-tongued, pupils dilated, she uttered herfinal, desperate words:

“Seamus . . . please . . . Seamus.”

A moment later they all stood stunned andlistened to her death rattle. Betsy Thurgood, along with heraborted baby, was dead.

***

Dora laid the quilt over the girl’s fifteen-year-oldbody. In these circumstances she tried to will herself to remainnumb, but it was getting harder and harder as time went on andyoung women kept succumbing in childbirth or its numerouscomplications. After a single hair-raising cry, Auleen Thurgood hadstumbled out into the kitchen, where her steady sobbing could stillbe heard.

“No use bawlin’, woman. She’s gone. There’sonly us now.”

Dora moved quietly into the main room of theshack. “I’m sorry,” she said. “If I’d’ve got here an hour sooner, Imight’ve saved her.”

Thurgood glared at her. His initial responseto Betsy’s death had been to let out a long, slow breath, then turnand lurch out of the bedroom.

“How much do you expect to be paid?” hesnarled, perhaps letting his anger keep him from feeling somethinghe could not bear.

“Nothin’, sir. I did what I could, and itwasn’t much.”

“You c’n help us out by bein’ a witness,” hesaid, pinning her with a stare that bordered on madness.

“What do you mean?” Dora said, packing herbag calmly so as not to give him the slightest impression that shewas intimidated by him. “I witnessed the girl die, didn’t I?” Shefelt deeply sorry for both the Thurgoods, but always reserved aspecial sympathy for the husbands and fathers, who seemed unable tovent their grief in appropriate or satisfying ways. Nonetheless,she was rapidly losing patience with Burton Thurgood.

“She named the man who did this to her,didn’t she?” he seethed, digging his fingernails into his palms.“She called out ‘Seamus’ with her dyin’ breath! And we all know whoMr. Seamus is, don’t we?”

“Don’t be absurd, man. Yer girl was in afever delirium. She didn’t even know we was in the room. And itsounded to me like she was askin’ for him, not accusin’him.”

“But you heard my wife ask her who the fatherwas, didn’t you?” He stepped towards her menacingly. “And there’sonly one Seamus within miles of here – up at Spadina!”

“Please, calm down. You’re terrible upset.You can’t go around accusin’ someone like Mr. Baldwin just becausehis name’s Seamus. And you’ll see things different in the mornin’.Now I got to go. I’ll let Dr. Smollett know and he’ll come and signthe death certificate.”

“I don’t need no advice from a butcher likeyou!”

Dora turned to leave. It was just then thatshe spotted a familiar object lying beside a stool near the door.She picked it up. It was a ladies’ hat, decorated with red andwhite beads and topped by a garish, green peacock feather. Sheturned back slowly, hat in hand.

Auleen gave a little cry and slumped backagainst the dry sink. Thurgood’s eyes widened, his anger drainingquickly.

“I’d know this awful bonnet anywheres,” Dorasaid, her own anger rising. “This is Elsie Trigger’s hat. Elsie’salready been here – and gone, ain’t she?”

“That’s none of yer business,” Thurgoodsnapped.

“Midwifin’s my business, sir. And I’ll askyou to tell me what that old quack was doin’ here before me. What did she do to Betsy ?”

“She – she come just like you did,” Auleensaid in a quavering voice. Terror stood straight up in her eyes.“To see if our girl was in the family way.”

“And you left her alone in there with a naïvelittle girl?”

“It was just fer a few minutes, wasn’t it,Burt?”

“Now I know why the girl bled to death!” Dorasaid, seething. “What I saw in there was no miscarriage, though itmay have started out as such. It was an abortion. And I know howElsie Trigger goes about it when she’s in a hurry.”

“We know nothin’ about it!” Thurgood said,his defiance ill-masking his fear. “It was between her and thegirl.”

“She come out of that room with a bloodyneedle in one hand and a five-pound note in the other!” Auleencried with the last of her strength.

“And I’ve never held a five-pound note in mylife!” Thurgood said. “The bitch told us Betsy’d had a miscarriageand everythin’ was fine. And she left.”

“You’re sayin’ that Betsy gave five pounds toElsie Trigger to abort the babe? I don’t believe it.”

“Why not? You heard what the girl said withher last breath. Seamus Baldwin got her with child and SeamusBaldwin give her five pounds to get rid of it.”

“She went to work up at Spadina at the end ofJuly,” Auleen said. Then she added almost plaintively, “And sheain’t been home once till this time. It’s got to be somebodyup there, don’t it?”

Dora heaved a Dora-sized sigh. “I gottareport all this to Dr. Withers, the coroner. You can tell him all this malarkey. But you better be careful who you goaccusin’ of what. It was Elsie Trigger who killed yer daughter, notthe father of the dead babe. And I’m gonna make sure she don’t killanybody else.”

With that, Dora turned and left the house.Behind her she heard Thurgood yell, “I’m gonna have vengeance fermy little girl! You’ll see!”

Dora kept on walking. In the moonlight aheadshe could see the outline of the buggy and pony. The boy wasslumped forward, fast asleep. Just as she reached out to wake him,she heard a door slam behind her, and seconds later, as the boy wasslowly waking up, there came an eerie sound of wood being choppedin the dark. Dora had just taken the reins when she was brought upshort by a huge, anguished, male cry.

What a world, she thought. What a goddamnedworld.

Marc was the last to arrive for the meeting inRobert’s chamber. Already there and seated were Robert; FrancisHincks, Robert’s good friend and next door neighbour; RobertBaldwin Sullivan, his law partner and cousin; and Dr. WilliamBaldwin, his father. Marc said his ‘good mornings’ and slipped intohis customary chair. This was to be a political strategy meeting,one in which final plans were to be made for bringing thoseReformers in the south-western part of the province up to speed onthe proposed merger of the radical French and English parties.Recent correspondence indicated that there were several holdoutsand at least two naysayers among the leading Reformers down there,and a decision had to be made soon as to how this possibleimpediment to their plans might be dealt with.

Hincks spoke first. As editor of the partyorgan, the Examiner , and a voluminous correspondent, Hinckshad an appreciative ear to the ground and a grasp of nuances thatwere invaluable in the pursuit of political ends. “I don’t think wehave any choice, gentlemen. There’s to be a general meeting of thewestern-district Reformers in just two weeks time. Our plan to forma secret coalition with Louis LaFontaine and the rouge willcertainly be discussed there behind closed doors.”

“It’s hardly secret any longer,” Dr. Baldwinsaid dryly.

“True,” Hincks said, “but the Tories don’treally believe it’s anything more than a clever ruse on our part tothrow them off the real scent. I suppose that a year ago I toowould have been among the skeptics. But since then I’ve had theadvantage of reading Louis’ letters and, of course, debating withhim in person.”