“How fare ye?” Alex asked, taking a seat opposite Kieran in front of the fire. He hefted his sore leg onto a tufted footstool and massaged his aching thigh muscles.
Kieran appeared . . . tired. He had lost some weight since autumn, his waistcoat loose around his middle.
“No’ bad. Yourself?”
“Och. I’m fine.”
Alex finally met Kieran’s gaze, noting the haunted sadness there.
Kieran rolled his eyes, likely seeing a similar expression on Alex’s face.
“A bunch of bloody eejits, we are, eh?” Kieran tossed back the rest of his whisky.
“Aye. Ignoring our troubles, I ken.” Alex dug his fingers into the outside of his upper thigh, watching as Kieran set down the glass.
Was Kieran back to using the bottle to numb his pain?
“Dinnae worry about me, Doctor.” Kieran settled back into his wingback chair, noticeably not reaching for the whisky bottle to fill his tumbler. “I’m finished with trying tae drown my sorrows in whisky. But a nip every now and again takes the edge off a lonely night.”
Alex nodded, a tightness in his chest easing.
They talked about inanities, the long hand on the mantel clock moving past one in the morning. Kieran had arrived in London earlier in the day.
“Did ye find what ye hoped?” Alex asked. “This captain who said he had fished a woman from the ocean?”
“Aye.” Kieran nodded. “I did. The woman he found even vaguely matched Jamie’s description, but turns out, she was a Christian missionary. He returned her to the English missionaries working there—”
“Wait? Reverend Gillespie?”
“Aye. That’s the man’s name.” Kieran raised an eyebrow. “Though I’m a wee bit surprised to hear it on your lips.”
Alex sucked in a slow breath, his mind racing.
Here was confirmation then, was it not? A definite connection between the Reverend Gillespie andThe Minerva. The S. Smith who had met Alex at the coaching innhadto be tied to Reverend Gillespie’s missionary efforts. How else could he have known about Jamie? Smith was likely Gillespie himself. The coincidence was too great.
Alex continued to knead his leg, breathlessly telling Kieran everything he knew of Reverend Smith/Gillespie. The more Alex revealed, the more agitated Kieran became, until his friend was up and pacing the floor.
“But who is this person with memory loss that the reverend described?”
Alex shrugged. “A member ofThe Minerva’s crew, I assume. How many people did this captain save?”
“Just the one. Just the woman.” Kieran’s voice rose, his hands in his hair. “Did the reverendsaythis person was a man?”
Alex paused, searching his memory. Surely, the reverend had indicated as much. But the more he thought about it, the more Alex was uncertain.
“I cannae say for sure,” Alex said.
“So . . . this person with the memory loss . . . she could be my Jamie.” Kieran’s voice bounded around the dim room in his excitement. “Think about it, Alex. It makes perfect sense. The captain fished Miss Eilidh Fyffe out of the water and deposited her with the only other group of British people in the South Pacific, the missionaries led by Reverend Gillespie. The missionaries cared for Jamie and brought her back when they returned to Britain. If Jamie lost some of her memories, no wonder she hasn’t contacted us.”
“It is within the realm of possibility,” Alex agreed in a low tone, subtly encouraging Kieran to do the same. There were others asleep, after all.
“It makes sense, aye?” Kieran tempered his volume but still paced before the fire. “Jamie was increasing and didnae have a wedding ring on her finger. If she awoke and had lost her memories, it’s plausible that she and the reverend would assume she had been ill-used. Reverend Gillespie contacted you specifically as he wished to take our measure, to ascertain what had truly happened to Jamie aboard the ship.”
Kieran swallowed and looked back to the fire, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
Alex took in a slow breath.
This person with amnesiacouldbe Jamie herself. It was certainly the most promising lead they’d had, to date.
