Of course, he had. Her heart squeezed at the thought.
“The explosion likely rattled his brain. It will take some time to heal. Doctor’s already warned him he will need to take it easy for a time.”
“How was that news received?” The timing wasn’t the best as he was at the start of an investigation, but wasn’t he always?
“He grumbled a bit but didn’t argue.” Fletcher shook his head. “He definitely isn’t feeling himself.”
“So it sounds.” Her chest tightened with worry, which made her even more determined to see him as soon as possible. Thank goodness she’d already met his parents, though it had been some time since she’d last seen them. Had Henry told them theywere courting? She hoped so, or they might wonder when she appeared on their doorstep.
The sergeant looked as worried as she felt. “After I see Henry to his parents, I’m going in search of Marcus to check on him. Henry will want to know how he is.”
“Good. The poor lad must be frightened after the experience.”A bomb at Scotland Yard. It was too much to take in, the more she thought about it. “Are there any clues as to who set the bomb?”
Fletcher scowled, his large moustache twitching. “More than likely, it was the Fenians, the Irish Republican Brotherhood. And it wasn’t the only one that went off last night.”
Amelia gasped as unease crawled down her spine. “Truly?”
The sergeant shook his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, though I’m sure the news sheets will be full of the details already—and what they don’t know, they’ll make up.”
“More than one. How many?” She’d read about the bombing campaign in train stations in February when there had been three set, though not all had exploded, but hadn’t expected the Fenians’ efforts to strike so close to home.
“Three in total. Luckily, no one was killed, though several were injured.” He heaved a sigh, weariness and worry in his eyes. “The whole situation is a mess. They can’t go around blowing up things and hurting the public without having the law come after them. I will say they’re getting good at the blasted things.” He sent her an apologetic look. “Pardon my language, ma’am.”
Good at making bombs. How terrible to become an expert at something that caused such harm. To use science to wage war.
“I wonder where they will cause harm next,” Amelia murmured, half to herself.
The sergeant grimaced. “Aren’t we all? Then again, that’s their hope. To stir the public until the government gives in to their demands.”
“Such a difficult situation.” And one she didn’t fully understand. “I know you’re anxious to return to check on Henry, and I’m sure Mrs. Appleton has something ready for you by now.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Greystone.”
“Thank you for taking the time to tell me yourself, Sergeant. I truly appreciate it.” To think, she might have read about it in the newspaper.
“Henry wouldn’t have it any other way as he couldn’t tell you himself. I’d wager he’ll settle in at his parents’ by this afternoon, if you have a mind to visit him.”
“I do, but if you’d please give him m-my regards—” Her voice broke with the words, even as he nodded.
“Of course.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Fletcher. And please take care of yourself.”
He nodded and strode out of the room, leaving Amelia to draw a deep breath. Still her thoughts churned.
Henry, hurt. Injured. Concussed with broken ribs. It shook her more than she cared to admit. Still, she closed her eyes and whispered a prayer, grateful that it hadn’t been worse.
Her eyes flew open with the question of what would happen if it were.If next time...
She couldn’t bear to finish the thought or ponder an answer to the unspoken question. Instead she lifted her chin and movedto the stairs. Though she intended to see Henry as soon as possible, with the hope that doing so would remove a portion of the doubt and worry holding her in its grip, the soonest she could do so was directly after luncheon.
Determined to pass the time as quickly as possible, she worked in her laboratory, even if her current scientific projects failed to truly hold her attention. At last, luncheon arrived, not that she was able to eat much of it when anxiety still held her so tightly.
Once it was done, she climbed the stairs for her bedchamber and rang for Yvette, her lady’s maid. It wouldn’t do for her to call on Henry at his parents’ home in widows’ weeds.
She brushed the sleeve of the gray gown she wore as she waited for the maid, realizing how often she dressed without much consideration. A year and a half had passed since Matthew’s death, and they had grown apart before that after Lily’s death. While she wanted to honor his memory, and they’d both always have a place in her heart, she also wanted a happy life. A second chapter.
Was that selfish? She couldn’t say at the moment.
