“Or for soldiers and sailors,” Muldoon added.
“Is it possible someone tried to cure her through bloodletting?” Kendra asked Munroe.
He gazed at her, uneasy. “Bloodletting was done in the past for those afflicted with the disease, but it’s considered archaic now. Mercury is the prescribed treatment, even though the side effects are quite devastating.”
Yeah, like kidney failure, nerve damage and insanity, Kendra remembered.
“Maybe someone tried to avoid those side effects by returning to bloodletting,” the Duke said.
“But why would they, when it never cured a patient?” Munroe shook his head. “Besides, no reputable surgeon would have gone so far as to take all her blood.”
“What about an apprentice, someone still learning?” Kendra couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Barts, who pursed his lips, but remained silent.
“No.” Munroe was adamant. “Anyone with even the most rudimentary medical knowledge would never do such a thing.”
That leaves everyone without any medical knowledge, Kendra thought. Charlatans had always existed. In another 127 years, penicillin would provide a cure for syphilis, but for now, the disease was fatal. That meant anyone diagnosed with an STD would be vulnerable to swindlers hoping to make a quick buck off their desperation. Had a con artist promised Clarice that they could cure her via bloodletting, then bleeding her until it was too late?
Kendra looked at the dead woman’s wrists. The bruising from the restraints was no longer visible in the mottled flesh. “Are restraints used in the bloodletting procedure?” She recalled the leather straps that held the wherryman down while Dandridge sliced off his toes.
“No. It’s relatively painless. Although, I suppose there may be a few anxious individuals that need to be kept still so as not to pull out the needles.” Munroe paused. “After the body was stolen from me, it must have been stored indoors. The tearing you see is natural decomposition, not from animals. And it must have been somewhere cold, as decomposition was kept to a minimum.”
“The entire kingdom is cold these days,” Muldoon muttered.
The anatomist acknowledged the comment with a brief smile, then said, “She also had sediment in her hair, on her posterior side.”
Sam frowned. “Aye, well, she was dug up, doctor. I’d expect she’d have dirt on her.”
“She was in a coffin, not thrown into an open grave. And, as I said, the dirt was primarily on her posterior side. The body must have been placed on a surface that was covered in the sediment.”
Kendra was impressed. Trace evidence involving geoscience wouldn’t be recognized as a forensic tool until the early twentieth century. “Is there any way to determine the type of sediment and where it may have come from?”
Munroe looked intrigued. “I’m acquainted with a man who might be able to help. Mr. Randolph Engel is a mining surveyor. He assisted William Smith when he worked on England’s canal system. He became interested in catastrophism and has made a remarkable study of geology.”
“Catastrophism?” Kendra frowned at the unfamiliar word.
The Duke said, “It’s an attempt to resolve the discrepancies between the biblical account of the Great Flood—basically, a sudden, cataclysmic event that created the earth’s geology—and the theory that the earth was formed by a more gradual process. I have read articles penned by Mr. William Buckland, who argued in favor of sedimentary deposits left by the Great Flood.”
“Mr. Engel takes an opposing viewpoint.” Munroe turned to Kendra. “He lives in Cambridge. Do you want me to contact him and ask if he’d examine the sediment?”
“How long will that take?” Kendra dreaded the answer.
Munroe smiled. “If he’s at home, maybe as early as tomorrow evening.”
“Can you find out if Clarice was being treated by someone at St. George’s?” she asked, and saw the flicker in the anatomist’s eyes.
“Yes, I can do that,” he said. “But if anyone at St. George’s would have treated her by bloodletting, there would have been talk. And I would have heard about it.”
“Would you have heard about any of your colleagues expressing an interest in curing syphilis?”
That brought a fleeting smile. “Everyone’s interested in curing syphilis—or any disease that plagues humanity. We discuss these things all the time in the Metamorphosis Club—” His breath caught in his throat, his eyes flashing to hers as he realized what he’d just said. He quickly shook his head. “No member would siphon off all the woman’s blood in an attempt to treat her, my lady.”
“What about to experiment on her?”
Munroe’s jaw tightened. Kendra thought it was telling that he didn’t immediately refute what she was suggesting.
“Someone first took her blood. Now her eyes and uterus,” Kendra said. Rebecca, who hadn’t been in the room when that was revealed, gasped, but Kendra remained focused on the doctor. “You said the removals were done in a professional manner. Someone with medical knowledge. Even more, someone with a surgeon’s skill. Could you get me a list of Metamorphosis Club members?”
“Are you planning on quizzing them all? We have nearly forty members.”
