“Oh, good,” her aunt said after reading it. “I’m pleased to hear that.”
Amelia drew a relieved breath to have Louisa’s handwriting confirmed. Given the number of letters her aunt and Louisa exchanged, there could be no doubt.
Yet her aunt’s brow furrowed. “I confess, I still find the information she shared earlier about the place odd. It just seems like a drastic approach.”
“I thought the same. I respect her desire to improve her health, and that she feels like it’s holding her back from living her life. But still...”
“Yes. I considered writing to her parents to see if they had any news and see if they mentioned any concerns, but I wasn’t certain what to say,” her aunt admitted.
Amelia knew of Mr. and Mrs. Elmcroft, as they lived in the same town as her own parents. “Please don’t do so on account of what I shared. I wouldn’t want to alarm them when I have only suspicions—and we have her admission of health in her own hand.” She took a sip of tea as she pondered the issue. “In truth, the part of the sanatorium we saw was nice. Well-maintained, recently updated. The kind of establishment which would appeal to those with funds to spare.”
“Louisa did speak with another patient who gave a glowing report.”
Amelia nodded. That had to be enough. “Then we shall hope for the best and look forward to celebrating once she emerges transformed.”
“I hope it’s everything she wanted and more.”
The conversation moved on to other things, including the experiments Amelia intended to conduct at the school. They finished their tea, and Amelia viewed the room the headmistress suggested she use. The children already had aprons, which they wore for their chores, so those could be used to protect theirclothing. Amelia would need to bring beakers and other equipment, as well as the required chemicals.
“The children are quite excited at the prospect of conducting experiments, Mrs. Greystone,” the headmistress said with a smile, only to hesitate. “You…did say it wouldn’t be anything dangerous, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Amelia reassured her with a wry smile. “No need to worry. In fact, I have conducted one of the experiments with a child before with good results, for both the chemicals and the child.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. Perhaps we have a budding scientist amongst our students.” The woman shared an excited look with Aunt Margaret, who nodded in response.
“I hope so,” Amelia agreed. “It is a fascinating field, one that is advancing quickly.”
“Isn’t it? So many changes in our world these days, most of them for the better.”
Most, but not all.
Amelia had witnessed it with the mudlarks when a scientist had tested poisons on them. The thought was enough to make her shudder. Why some used their knowledge and skills for nefarious purposes was something she’d never understand—and hoped never to witness again.
Six
“Field?”
Henry had barely walked through the door of Scotland Yard when he heard his name called from the Director’s office. He’d just returned from a quick luncheon with Sergeant Adam Fletcher, a friend and colleague who assisted him with many of his cases. Over a pie that was a little dry, and a pint which was not, they’d discussed current cases including the recent theft, having interviewed the jewelry shop owner earlier that morning. Henry had also shared the details of his trip to the sanatorium and his suspicions of the place, though it wasn’t an official investigation.
“You’re wanted—never a moment’s rest,” Fletcher murmured with a smirk.
“Chances are whatever it is will involve you, too.” Henry tipped his head to suggest the sergeant follow him.
John Reynolds, the Director of the Criminal Investigation Department and Henry’s superior, waved them into his office. “Ah, Fletcher. You might as well both hear this.”
“What is it?” Henry asked, not bothering to take a seat. Reynolds tended to be short on time and words.
“There may be more to the sanatorium situation than you thought,” Reynolds advised with a sigh as he picked up a sheet of paper from his desk.
“Oh?” Henry had mentioned the place to his superior that very morning after visiting with Mr. Compton’s physician, as he’d been late to the office to do so.
The doctor hadn’t been happy with his patient’s decision to enter Hollowgate Heights and certainly didn’t approve of their practices, but he’d also known with certainty that the senior Mr. Compton’s days were numbered. Word of his death had come as no surprise. The physician did not think his death suspicious in the least.
Upon hearing that, Director Reynolds had advised Henry only hours ago that there was no point in opening an investigation into the sanatorium, and Henry hadn’t been able to argue. While the medical ‘treatments’ they offered raised some eyebrows, little could be done without actual evidence of wrongdoing. People were free to stop eating, or endure enemas, if they wished. His own suspicions weren’t enough.
“We just received word from a Mr. Charles Dunn in Fitzrovia that his uncle, Walter Dunn, was a patient there and recently died while staying at Hollowgate Heights.”
“Do we know why he went there?” Henry asked, his interest immediately caught.
