Mr. Stearn nodded as he appeared to consider the idea. “Many people seem to be in search of any easy answer for whatever ails them.”
“Given my interest in chemistry,” she continued, gratified by his response, “I would like to test some of the products to determine the actual ingredients of the remedies. To see if it is even possible that they could cure anything. I could also interview physicians to ask their opinions.”
“I like it.” Mr. Stearn’s eyes lit with interest. “A survey of London’s miracle cures, or something of the sort. I can think ofno one better suited to write this article than you, Mrs. Greystone.”
Amelia smiled, appreciating his confidence in her. “There are so many products offered. Do you have a suggestion on how best to narrow them down to half a dozen or so?”
They discussed the details at length, with Mr. Stearn pulling out one of the morning’s papers to see which advertisements were the boldest and most outlandish. “I think our readers would be pleased to learn more about some of these—send your receipts to me and I’ll ensure you are reimbursed. At the very least, we will remind them to be cautious about their purchases and consider whether the promises made can truly be believed.”
“If I could accomplish that, I would be more than happy.” Amelia liked the idea of educating the periodical’s readers; after all, she truly enjoyed learning new things.
“Perhaps your efforts will help to motivate those making the remedies to be more honest,” Mr. Stearn declared.
“Then the article would definitely be a success.” If only she could’ve done something similar with the sanatorium before Louisa entered it. Her friend still weighed on her.
“We may lose a few advertisers over this, but the safety of our readers must take precedence over that.”
Amelia nodded in approval. That was one of the many reasons she respected Mr. Stearn.
He folded his hands on his desk and regarded her with a sympathetic look. “I read in the newspaper that your Inspector Field was injured in the bombing at Scotland Yard. How is he?”
Amelia had mentioned her friendship with Henry during one of her visits after she’d decided against writing an articleabout Mary Nettle, a woman who claimed to communicate with the spirit world. Henry had become involved when Amelia’s acquaintance with Mrs. Nettle had taken an unexpectedly dark turn—one involving murder.
“He was hurt quite badly, but I believe he returned to work today.” She hoped he wasn’t pushing himself too hard. A knock to the head…
“To think three bombs were set just like in February.” Mr. Stearn shook his head. “What is the world coming to?”
“It’s difficult to understand the desire to cause harm to innocent people to make a point.” There was enough heartache already in the world, as far as she was concerned.
“I suppose that’s the only way they think they will be heard.” He shook his head. “That certainly doesn’t make it right.” The editor leaned back in his chair. “At any rate, I’m pleased to hear Inspector Field’s life isn’t in danger. I hope they’re able to find who did this before another bomb is set.”
The thought alone was enough to shake Amelia—but dwelling on the possibility didn’t help. Nor did it ease her concern for Henry.
“As do I.” She returned her notebook to her reticule and stood. “I will see which remedies I can purchase and begin the testing.”
“Excellent. I look forward to learning what you discover.”
Amelia departed, pausing a moment as she stepped outside. The talk of another bomb exploding only increased her worry about Henry. Since the Fenians had managed to detonate one at Scotland Yard, would that satisfy them? Or would they doit again with the hope of destroying the building and as many officers as possible?
Was he, in fact, just stepping back into the same danger?
Fear threatened to steal her breath. Worrying over such things wouldn’t help. Her time would be better spent focusing on her article—anything to keep that fear at bay.
If she remembered correctly, there was an apothecary on the next street over which might carry some of the remedies she wished to test. She’d be able to start the process tomorrow if she purchased them today; the perfect distraction.
Setting aside her troubled thoughts as best she could, Amelia crossed the busy street, avoiding a cart rumbling past and nodding to a few passersby. It was good to step out of the house once again, to experience the bustle of the city as people hurried to wherever they were going.
As she walked, she watched a mother and daughter pass by holding hands, a familiar ache blooming in her chest. There were times when she wondered what might have happened if...
If Lily hadn’t succumbed to illness.
If Matthew hadn’t chosen such a disastrous path.
What might her life have been like with them?
She briefly closed her eyes, refusing to dwell on the question. Life had a curious way of unfolding, but not for a moment could she regret meeting Henry, and she much preferred to look forward than back. It was only Henry’s injuries that had her wondering about the path her life was taking, nothing more.
A man brushed past her without bothering to apologize. Amelia frowned at his rudeness but he paid her no mind, his gaze sweeping the street as if suspicious of everyone. She pausedto watch him, thinking the long, brown, heavy coat a strange thing to wear on such a fine warm day.
