“Where did you go?” Dorset asked her.
“Sit,” Cambridge Sinclair, the twins’ brother, said. “And do not harangue your friend. I am sure she had her reasons for what she did.”
“We do not harangue!” Somer said.
“We are simply pleased to find her well.” Dorset took Ellen’s hand. “It is wonderful to see you again, dear friend.”
Ellen had told herself that tears were something for the weak. She’d wept until she had no more after her father’s death and then vowed no one would make her cry again. But she could feel them building inside her. Soon she’d burst into loud, noisy sobs right there in Detective Fletcher’s parlor in front of him and the Sinclairs.
Dear Lord, what must he be thinking?
`Her fingers started to tingle. She needed to get out of this room and compose herself. Rising before she lost control completely she said, “M-may I have the use of—”
“Of course, follow me,” the detective said interrupting her. He moved to the door waving her ahead of him.
“Ellen—”
“I’m all right, Uncle Bram. I will return shortly.” She could feel the panic welling up inside her. It had been many months since her last episode like this, but Ellen knew the signs of what was happening. She just needed a moment to collect herself.
She walked from the room, passing the detective who held open the door. Behind her, her two dear friends would be upset, wondering why she was walking away from them again. Uncle Bram would want to come after her.
“I will return your niece shortly,” she heard the detective say to her uncle and then a hand settled on her spine. Warm and solid. “Come, this way.”
Ellen walked as if in a trance. Willing herself to stay controlled and let no one see what she was feeling.
“Through here, Miss Nightingale.” He reached around her and opened a door.
“Thank you. I will only be a few minutes.”
He didn’t leave, just nudged her through and shut it behind him.
“Please go,” Ellen got out without a stammer. “I need a moment.”
“Ellen, you need to breathe slowly. You will pass out if you continue at that rate.”
The hands that turned her were gentle.
“Slow breaths in, Ellen.”
“I-I can’t.”
“Sit.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her down into a chair. He then dragged another forward to face her.
“What are you doing? I just need a m-minute.” Ellen tugged off a glove and clenched her hand, making her nails dig into her palm. The small sting of pain had often helped her to focus.
“Ellen, look at me.”
Her eyes shot to his. He was seated so close now. Dark eyes intent as they willed her to look at him.
“Inhale and exhale with me.”
“I-I can’t.” There was no point denying it. Her chest was being squeezed in a fist. It felt like she was breathing through a tiny opening.
“Listen to my voice, Ellen. Inhale for three.”
He counted as she struggled to haul in a breath.
“Out for four. That’s it, good girl.”
