rintendent Blackburn as if he were the mad one.
“Oh, really? Exactly how many men in London fit my uncle’s description?” I asked. “I can count at least ten off the top of my head, one of them being the queen’s grandson, Prince Albert Victor Edward. What? Will you say the Duke of Clarence and Avondale is involved in these murders next? I’m sure the queen would love that. As a matter of fact”—I squinted at him—“you look as if you could be the duke’s younger brother yourself. Might you be involved?”
Superintendent Blackburn cringed at my inappropriate criticism of his inquest involving the second in line to the throne and himself. I took a deep breath, trying for calmness. I’d be of no use to anyone if I, too, were taken away in a Black Maria on suspicion of being a traitor to the crown.
I steadied my voice. “Surely that’s not the reason you’ve arrested him. You seem much too smart a young man to arrest someone on hearsay, Superintendent.”
Blackburn shook his head. “I do apologize for passing along the unpleasant news, miss. I am truly sorry.” He shifted on his feet, trying to maintain his balance while still perched on the ground before me.
“We’ve also found some rather disturbing diagrams and drawings of these mechanisms best described as…” he paused, the tips of his ears turning a slight pink. I motioned for him to get on with it. “Forgive me, I didn’t want to overstep my bounds. But they appear to be torture devices. Some ideas fit with mechanical parts Scotland Yard found at the murder scenes. They believe only someone with an intimate knowledge of the crime would be able to construct such… atrocities. As I said earlier, your uncle possesses such knowledge. Now we’ve got drawings of similar devices found in his laboratory.”
He nodded toward the officer who’d just located the hidden bolts. “Then there’s the matter of those parts. You’re an intelligent girl. I’m sure you can deduce what that dark substance is without my spelling it out. I truly want to believe your uncle’s innocent—there are all these things saying otherwise. I cannot ignore what’s laid out before me, even if I want to. The public wants this to be over.”
“I’ve heard there are at least four men in custody for the crimes,” I said, hoping to shed doubt on their case. “Two of whom are in asylums. Surely that works in Uncle’s favor. They all can’t be guilty.”
“We simply cannot take any chances. He’ll be looked after in Bethlem Royal Hospital, I assure you, Miss Wadsworth.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe this was happening. I gathered my enraged thoughts, corralling them into a cage, willing them to be tamed. Maintaining a sense of serenity was what I needed to do, but it was hard when all I longed to do was shake these men from their shortsighted stupor. Bethlem Royal Hospital, known to most everyone as Bedlam, was horrendous. Uncle could not stay there.
“You must believe me,” I whispered, angry tears burning my eyes. “I know how it looks, but I assure you my uncle is an innocent man. He’s brilliant, and shouldn’t be punished for finding the right avenue to search. He lives and breathes a case when he’s involved with it. I’m sure he’s got plenty of good reason to be in possession of those items. He probably did those sketches after attending the scene. You simply need ask him. This is how he works. You must know that.”
Superintendent Blackburn gave me a pitying look. I’d find no help here. He was duty-sworn and that was that. Blackburn wouldn’t release my uncle based on his denial of being involved alone. He’d need proof, even if it came wrapped in another body shroud.
I clamped my mouth shut and stood. If I stayed a moment longer I was in danger of being hauled off to Bedlam myself. Uncle might be innocent, but I’d definitely be guilty of slapping some sense into these brutes. With my parasol if need be. I motioned to Thomas, who was still glaring at the police collectively, then swept from the room like a storm rushing through the streets, cleansing all the grit in a mad downpour.
To Hell with them all.
An Afternoon Tea, 19th century
FOURTEEN
PROPER LADIES DON’T DISCUSS CORPSES
WADSWORTH RESIDENCE,
BELGRAVE SQUARE
14 SEPTEMBER 1888
Standing in the doorway of our dining room was like gazing upon something familiar yet undeniably foreign at the same time.
There were so many place settings laid out, I felt dizzy. Small topiaries were arranged on the table along with several towering bouquets of exotic hothouse flowers. Pink-and-white porcelain cups were awaiting their warm liquid, while their matching plates stood at the ready.
“You look as if you’re expecting the blade of the guillotine, Cousin,” Liza said, waltzing into the room. “It’s not as if you’ve been raised by wolves. You’ve missed only a few months of gossip. You’ll catch up in no time,” she said. “If you can deal with blood and other horrendous things, a little lace and tea will surely be nothing.”
I tore my attention away from the table and looked at my cousin. She sounded like my mother for a brief moment, and my nerves settled. I smiled. If Aunt Amelia was the embodiment of what all proper young ladies should aspire to, Liza was her shining protégé. Except Liza had a fascinating way of flouting tradition when it suited her romantic notions.
Growing up we saw each other only twice a year, but that hadn’t prevented her from saying we were the very best of friends. She was three months older, which, in her opinion, made her infinitely wiser on all matters. Especially those of the heart.
Her hair—somewhere between caramel and chocolate—was twisted into an intricate design about her crown. I’d love to fashion mine in a similar way. Her dress was made of watered silk and was of the most gorgeous lavender I’d ever seen. The stitching was superb. A flash of the last cadaver I’d sewn back together crossed my mind. Not to boast, but my stitches had been as good. Perhaps a pinch better.
“Isn’t it grand?”
“You could say that,” I replied before I could stop myself.
Liza turned to me, grinning. “You can play the gossip game nicely today, then go about your secret detective business tonight. It could be just like a novel!” She clapped her hands together. “How thrilling! Perhaps I’ll tag along with you on some of your adventures. Are there any handsome boys to flirt with? There’s nothing better than a little danger dashed with some romance.”
My thoughts turned to Thomas’s face. Liza laughed again, the sound like tinkling bells in a fairy tale. I flushed, struggling to regain my composure. “Not really.”