Death at Balfefield Abbey

Chapter 7, Cashelroe, 1903

Doctor Arthur Scott, a general practitioner with a comfortable house and pretty gardens, led Keating to the expansive garden behind the house to discuss his postmortem on Arabella Darley. He preferred not to waste a sunny morning in his "musty old office." They sat on white wrought iron chairs as a maid served tea and lemon drizzle cake, compliments of Mrs. Scott. The family's King Charles Spaniel lounged at their feet.

Middle-aged and balding, Scott had a figure that hinted at a fondness for food. The sun was high and hot, and he wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and a white linen suit.

"All the details are in my report." said the doctor, "and I have provided you with photographs taken at the scene, along with the gelatin dry plates from which they were developed." He waved his hand towards a square, wooden box that sat on the table between them. "I'm not sure I can add much further."

"All the same." said Keating, "I would be grateful if you would tell me how the matter unfolded from your perspective."

"Well, if you insist. Let's see, it was a beautiful day in early June, not unlike it is today, in fact, but perhaps not so hot.

"Sergeant Ryan called here, to the house, and said there'd been an incident up at Balfefield Abbey and he wanted me to accompany him there immediately. He was emphatic, although he refused to give me any details beyond the fact someone had died. He traveled here on his bicycle, so I suggested he leave it and ride with me in my carriage. The sergeant agreed but insisted we stop off in the town before proceeding on to the Abbey.

"In the town, he visited Kavanagh in his photography shop and enlisted him on our venture, although, we had to wait for what seemed an age before the man gathered his equipment and was ready for the journey."

"So, it was the sergeant's idea to take a photographer to the scene?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't mine. Indeed, at the time I was surprised at the inclusion of a photographer for the examinations we were about to undertake and only saw the foresight of the decision later. They proved to be very useful references during the inquest.

"While we waited for Kavanagh, Sergeant Ryan visited the town's undertaker and requested he follow us on to the Abbey.

"Finally, around midday, we got to the place. However, instead of going up to the house, as I had expected, we were taken towards a clump of trees near the lake."

"There's a lake on the grounds?" asked Keating a little surprised.

"Yes, a large artificial lake. I believe it was created shortly after the house was built."

"Thank you. Please carry on."

"The trees obscured the view at first, but when we got close to the scene it was evident a body lay on the ground. Someone, from the house I presumed, had placed a large, cotton sheet over it for the sake of decency. Blood had seeped through the fabric in areas approximating the head and abdomen."

"Who was there, at the body, when you arrived?"

"Only Constable O'Donnell. He stood sentry, so to speak. Later I learned he had ordered everyone to stay in the house and make themselves available for questioning by the sergeant upon his arrival.

"We dismounted and I went up to the body and carefully removed the sheet to reveal a most grisly and unsettling sight.

"I first studied medicine at the University of Edinburgh and have been in practice for over twenty years, so I have some familiarity with the internal workings of the human body. I leave it to the theologists to pontificate on the incorporeal. However, what I do know is we are all anatomical machines consisting of blood and tissue that are susceptible to disease and injury, and I have seen more than my fair share of both. Even so, this was truly shocking.