Page 15 of Death at Fournier Downs
“Doctor Ryder, if I remember correctly from our introduction?” Wilkes said.
“That’s correct,” the doctor said with a timid nod.
The coroner waved his hand. “Go on.”
“Yes, as I said, I am Lady Bainbury’s physician and, though I hesitate to offer what are private dealings between myself and the lady, I can confirm that the countess was indeed melancholy after suffering two miscarriages this last year.”
“When did these occur?” the coroner asked without delay or surprise.
“Ah, yes, well, I do have the exact dates in my notes in my office, but if I recall, the first was in September, and the second was early March.”
Doctor Ryder didn’t exude confidence, which Hugh thought a little odd. His own good friend, Grant Thornton, the fourth son of the Marquess of Lindstrom, and thus left to make his way in the world, had become a physician as well—much to his father’s discontent and the ton’s ridicule. Thornton was anything but wavering.
“And when did you observe her melancholy?” Wilkes asked.
“We met regularly. Often weekly. I would prescribe a tincture to help her, as she was quite distressed in not being able to provide a child for the earl.”
Hugh recalled something the duchess said when he’d met her at Greely Park. “The earl and countess wed how long ago? Nearly three years?”
Doctor Ryder, Lord Edgerton, and several others exchanged quizzical looks, while Wilkes speared him with a look of warning. As it was a question, rather than a comment, he remained patient.
Fournier replied, “Just under three years, yes. They married a few months after the duchess and I.”
Hugh gritted his molars, understanding why Fournier would recall the time so clearly. Audrey had been betrothed to Bainbury first; the poor woman laid out on the table now had, in a way, taken her place. “And you say only just this last year the countess became distraught over not bearing a child?” That seemed oddly…belated.
“Who is to say she was not distraught beforehand?” Lord Edgerton replied. “Perhaps she has been unable to carry a child to term since they wed.”
“That is speculation, my lord, whereas we must deal in fact,” Wilkes replied, earning a sneer from the baron. “Doctor, have you any knowledge of any previous miscarriages? She had a physician in London as well, I presume.”
“Yes. Doctor Lewis. She did not mention any previous, ah, delicate conditions.”
Wilkes paced next to the table, silent for a few moments as if deliberating upon the information that the doctor provided. From his time as a foot patrolman, Hugh knew some melancholy women threw themselves into the Thames or consumed an overdose of laudanum to put themselves out of misery. However, Lord Edgerton’s claim, along with Doctor Ryder’s feeble suggestion, didn’t convince him that the countess would take such drastic measures.
Wilkes came to a stop at the head of the table. “Does anyone have any further evidence to present?”
Hugh glanced at the duke. Audrey had testimony; as she was not permitted to give it herself, it was the duke’s responsibility to share it. Lords Webber and Edgerton also turned to Fournier. There was no question the magistrate had shared Audrey’s claims with the baron; he’d likely already spread the tale far and wide.
Fournier appeared pained as he took a breath and stepped forward. “Her Grace was riding on Fournier Downs parkland Tuesday afternoon. She saw Lady Bainbury running through the woods a distance from where Her Grace was with her horse. My wife called out to her, but the countess appeared frantic and did not respond. Her Grace followed in the direction the countess was taking and came upon her body in the old citrine quarry pit.”
Hugh cleared his throat, annoyed by the duke’s omission of one key piece of information. “I have heard this testimony from the duchess as well and would like to add that Her Grace also heard a woman’s scream shortly before she found the countess at the quarry pit.”
Fournier narrowed his eyes on Hugh but confirmed the additional information with a terse nod.
“So then, the last person to see the victim while she was alive was Her Grace, the Duchess of Fournier. Her Grace is also the person to have found the body,” Wilkes summarized.
Though these were just facts, hearing them lined up next to one another and the tone of Wilkes’ voice put Hugh on alert.
“That is correct,” the duke replied.
“Was the duchess riding with an attendant? A companion, perhaps?”
“No. She was alone, as she usually is when riding.” The duke looked unperturbed, clearly not catching on to Wilkes’ line of questioning.
“And what would you say was the duchess’s relationship with the deceased?”
“They were very good friends.”
“No tensions between them? No animosity?”
