Page 47 of The Shadow Key

‘Do they, though?’ Henry shoots back. ‘Asylums will provide drug upon drug to a patient without knowing anything concerning the root of the disorder. Such places … they are enough to turn even the sane mad. Indeed, I cannot be induced to think their so-called cures to be of any benefit at all.’

‘That, Dr Talbot, is a matter of opinion. But it does not signify – it is where I believe Gwen Tresilian should be. Alas, his lordship would not allow it, ignored my recommendation. He felt she was better kept at Plas Helyg.’

The coil tightens. The quill scratches on. Henry tries another avenue.

‘You attended Dr Evans at his death, I understand.’

The quill pauses on the curve of a P.

‘I did.’

‘Heart failure, apparently.’

‘Correct.’

‘Odd, though. I am told he was generally in very good health. Climbed a mountain the week before.’ Henry licks his lower lip. ‘Was a post-mortem done?’

The doctor pauses from his task, raises his head, a wiry eyebrow raised.

‘Such practices are not condoned in these parts.’

‘Why not?’

Beddoe frowns, lays the quill flat beside the unfinished list.

‘Because,’ he says, ‘it is wholly unnecessary. People here tend to die from natural causes, as was the case with Dr Evans. Heart failure, that much was clear. If he’d recently climbed a mountain that can come as no surprise, not at his age.’ The older doctor pauses. ‘But you evidently think otherwise.’

Henry hesitates. ‘Not necessarily. The man was elderly. Even so …’

He thinks of what Evans’ sister had said – Wynn looked terrified. As if he had been frightened to death! – the strange vial he found in the gatehouse. Henry touches the inner pocket of his coat where it sits nestled against his chest.

‘What did you think of the contortion to his face?’

‘What contortion?’

A beat. ‘Mrs Evans intimated—’

But Beddoe is brushing him off. ‘The fancy of females, to be sure. I noticed no such thing.’

‘I do not see why she should lie.’

The older man levels a hard look at Henry across the desk.

‘I hope you might, as a fellow man of science, take my professional opinion over those of a mere woman?’

Henry stares. ‘Might I see the coroner’s report?’

‘There wasn’t one.’

A beat. ‘There wasn’t one?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

Beddoe sighs impatiently, sits back in his chair, steeples his fingers again. They are thin and grey, like riverweed.

‘Because there were no suspicious circumstances.’

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