Thereafter, Mrs Bradshaw prepared all her mistress's food: tea, toast, gruel, and once a little arrowroot, always first tasting it, but either Dr Palmer or Eliza Tharm brought it to the bedside. Dr Palmer diagnosed English cholera. Growing anxious when she was no better by Saturday, and still could not keep any food down, he sent for Dr Bamford. Since by now diarrhoea had given place to the opposite condition, Dr Bamford prescribed some pills containing calomel and colocynth, and an opening draught. On the Sunday, Sarah called, and Annie admitted that she felt very ill indeed. She added: 'You must not come here. Stay with your sick mother—she has you alone to rely on. Your brother George is worse than useless in the circumstances. I'm in safe hands.'
All this time I was away in London on a holiday, and had no inkling of what was afoot.
Dr Bamford called again on the Monday. Observing that only one of his pills had been taken, he engaged Annie in conversation. Yet she felt too reduced to answer his questions audibly and, besides, he is very deaf. Dr Bamford suggested that Dr Knight, Annie's former guardian, should be sent for from Stafford. Dr Palmer, now much distressed by her illness—especially since his mother was also seriously indisposed, and being nursed night and day by Sarah—at once summoned him by a telegraphic message. Dr Knight drove over, and saw Annie the same afternoon. He is even older and deafer than Dr Bamford, and had to rely on Dr Palmer for an account of her symptoms. Having listened carefully, he pronounced her to be dangerously sick, and gave orders that she must not take anything fluid or solid for three hours. Then he went out, called on Dr Bamford and a few friends, and finding his patient seemingly better when he called back, prescribed a small dose of diluted prussic acid to relieve the retching. In the evening he returned to Stafford.
According to Eliza Tharm (and I believe her), Dr Palmer was very attentive to Annie, constantly kissing her hands or brow, stroking her checks and appealing to her: 'Pray get well, darling! Make a strong endeavour, for my sake and little Willie's.' She smiled faintly up at him, and murmured: 'It's best this way.' He gave her effervescing mixtures, and she intimated that they were most refreshing and made her feel better. Meanwhile, Mrs Ann Rowley had taken Eliza's place as a day-nurse; but Eliza remained on night duty.
On the Thursday, Sarah came to visit Annie again, found her asleep and, not wishing to disturb her, stole away.
On the Friday, Ben Thirlby, called in as a last hope, prescribed brandy and arrowroot, but this was never given Annie; for she died about dinner time. It was September 29th; well I remember hearing the news at Rugeley railway station on my return that afternoon.
I immediately made it my business to question Eliza Tharm, Mrs Rowley, and Mrs Bradshaw. Mrs Bradshaw told me that she had tasted, as well as cooked, every item of food or drink that went up to the poor lady, except for the medicine, which wasn't her affair. This Mrs Bradshaw is a good, honest woman as ever lived; but I could see that she suspected Dr Palmer of poisoning her beloved mistress—for she threw him hateful looks. Mrs Rowley, on the other hand, trusted him completely, and testified to the sincere and beautiful love between the two. Annie had whispered to her once: 'I'd do anything in the world for him, Mrs Rowley, indeed I would; and he for me, I believe, don't you?'
When Annie was at her last, Mrs Rowley rang the bell for Dr Palmer. He tiptoed into the bedroom and stood hesitating, aghast at the change in Annie's face. Mrs Rowley said: 'I fear your wife's dying.' He appeared stunned and hurt. He didn't come quite round the bed, Mrs Rowley says, but remained at the foot, staring down at Annie with a dazed look. Then he walked away into the next room, Mrs Rowley doesn't know why, and though he was back only half a minute later, she had died in the meanwhile.
'She's gone,' sobbed Mrs Rowley, and the news sent him stumbling out again. Mrs Rowley sat by the bed for the best part of half an hour, hoping that she had been mistaken, and that Annie was only in a deep coma. When she at last rose to fetch Dr Palmer, he was found in the next room, straddling a chair, with his arms folded on the rail and staring stupidly before him. She took him by the shoulder, and whispered: 'Come, Doctor, be a man!' He seemed not to hear, so she poured a little brandy into a tumbler and set it to his lips. At this he came to himself, muttered: 'I think I must have been asleep,' rubbed his cold hands together, and returned to the deathbed, where Mrs Rowley left him to indulge his grief.
As soon as I could find the time, I sought out Eliza. A wild look in her eye informed me that she was frightened. I drew her into the small room used for*sewing, and said: 'My girl, you need have no fear. Dr Bamford, Dr Knight, and Mr Tnirlby have all signed the death certificate to say that your mistress died of English cholera. There'll be no Coroner's inquest, you may be sure. But I want the truth! Now, I suspect poison, though I cannot suspect Mrs Bradshaw, or Mrs Rowley, or Dr Palmer, or yourself, of wilfully murdering my beloved friend. If it were not manifestly impossible for her to poison herself without detection —except perhaps at Liverpool—I should think that she had taken her own fife. Come, speak up, or I'll call the Police!'
The strange story that Eliza told completely satisfied me of its truth. Annie had asked her to slip certain powders into the gruel or tea while nobody was watching: she pretended that they were a charm procured from a wise woman over at Abbot's Bromley, and designed to restore her husband's love. Eliza believed Annie, and did as she was bidden. On the Thursday night, Annie whispered: 'Let him know quietly, when it's all over, that I have done it because I love him so. Suicide is the second crime I've committed for love of him, Eliza; but I trust God will pardon me, as our dear Lord Jesus Christ pardoned the woman in the Gospel "because she loved much".' So Eliza guessed that the powders must have caused her mistress's death.
I have lately learned that the poison was antimony, which she probably read about in her husband's medical books, and of which he kept a supply in the surgery. Yet even if I had known of this at the time, I should still have concealed my knowledge. Annie was dead, dead by her own hand, though using Eliza as a cat's paw, and nobody came under the suspicion of administering poison. Eliza had acted not only innocently, but nobly; for I could see that she was deep in love with the Doctor herself. An ill-natured girl would never have put the love-philtres in a rival's gruel to make her more attractive. Why, then, should I stir up trouble by speaking the truth? Dr Palmer was, she had hinted, in a terrible state of indebtedness, and would be ruined but for the insurance which she had urged him to take on her life.
When I told Eliza: 'For your sake, I'll remain silent. You have been a good girl, I believe!', she fell on her knees and kissed my hands. She must have delivered Annie's message to the Doctor; as I judged from his behaviour at the funeral, where he stood in the pew, with tears coursing visibly down his face, and sobbing loudly throughout the service. When the sad moment came for the coffin to be lowered into the Palmer vault, he cried aloud: 'I want to die, O God! I want to go to Heaven, with my darling treasure!'
Afterwards he said to me: 'I shall never forget your love and loyalty to my poor wife! But oh, how desolate my life will be henceforth.' He laid a peculiar emphasis on the words 'love' and 'loyalty' which was, I suppose, his way of hinting that Eliza had reported our conversation, and that he thanked me for my promise to keep silent.
When the funeral had ended, he drove little Willie over to my brother's house, with all his clothes and toys, where my sister-in-law hugged him affectionately, saying: 'I'm your new mamma now, and hope you'll love me as I do you.' Dr Palmer promised to visit the child often and, what is more, kept his promise. He doted on Willie. But foul-minded people said that this was a sham, to conceal a guilty passion for my sister-in-law. How I detest this gossip-ridden town!