Chapter 3
Three
Amelia released a heavy sigh, not her first since she and Henry had left the hired hackney cab and boarded their train to return to London.
She had been certain that once she knew all was well with Louisa, she could turn her attention to other things.
Her experiments in her attic laboratory, her latest article idea which needed reviewing, her growing affection for Henry which was apparently returned.
So why was it that the brief message continued to worry her?
She risked another glance at Henry, wondering at his thoughts.
“You’re certain it was her handwriting?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Amelia nearly smiled. How nice to think she wasn’t the only one questioning the situation.
“Fairly certain. As certain as I can be. I’ve received letters from her in the past, and one just before she entered the sanatorium.
I am sure she wrote the message—she doesn’t seem to be under duress based on her usual neat penmanship. ”
“And did it sound like something she would normally say?”
Excellent question. “Yes?” Mostly. Rather, it might be. It could be.
Henry looked at her with a raised brow as the train rumbled onwards. “Meaning?”
“I suppose I can imagine her saying it, but it’s rather odd that she didn’t thank me for coming by, or say how much she looked forward to seeing me once she finished her treatments.”
“Perhaps she was in the middle of one, and that was why the message was brief,” he suggested. “Mr. Duffield might have been telling the truth.”
“I had the same thought.” She shook her head, trying to shake free the worry that had taken hold. “I’m being ridiculous. We might not have set eyes on her, but she responded. If she had written ‘help’ or ‘I can’t wait to leave’ or something of the sort, I would be truly worried.”
Henry nodded, his attention shifting to their fellow passengers but without any of the rudeness which the gesture from another might suggest. She’d travelled around London with him often enough to appreciate his observation skills.
He might appear relaxed, but she tended to think he was ever on guard.
His dark brown hair was combed to one side and had been recently trimmed, something he didn’t always take the time to have done.
His brown woolen suit fit his broad shoulders nicely.
Other than his usual sideburns he was clean-shaven, a look she preferred.
A few minutes later, he cleared his throat.
“I don’t think it would hurt for me to meet with the family of the sanatorium patient Arthur mentioned, the one who recently passed away.
While he found no suggestion of a suspicious death, and I don’t want to upset grieving relatives, a few questions to ease all of our minds could be helpful. ”
A wave of relief swept through Amelia. “I would appreciate hearing what they have to say.” She glanced out the window at the green fields which would soon give way to the city’s sprawl, her thoughts still meandering on Hollowgate Heights.
“There’s something about the sanatorium that I find very…
unsettling, despite having now visited it. ”
“What little we saw suggests the place is more than comfortable for their guests,” Henry’s emphasis on the last word had her smiling in response, “but we don’t know for sure without seeing the patients’ rooms.”
“That term alone makes me uncomfortable—as did what Miss Elmcroft said about the facility when we last met.”
“And that was?” Henry frowned as she tried to remember precisely what her aunt’s friend had said.
“Hollowgate Heights offers modern methods to regain health in…in a picturesque setting.” Amelia couldn’t say why the exact words had remained in her mind.
“It was the way Miss Elmcroft said it, as if she had memorized the advertisement and was pinning all her hopes on the promise.” Or had been convinced by someone that it would change her life for the better.
How many people desperately longed for a cure for what ailed them? Who wouldn’t go to drastic lengths to attain it?
Henry hummed in thought. “The picturesque setting certainly proved true. I can understand why the idea of modern methods would appeal to some people when more traditional efforts have failed.”
“From what Aunt Margaret told me, that is how her friend felt. Louisa has tried many things to improve her health. A few worked, but only temporarily.” Amelia heaved yet another sigh. “Far be it for me to stand in her way of the chance for potential progress.”
“Yet the isolation is somewhat concerning,” Henry murmured. “Though I suppose that makes sense as well. The restriction of visitors provides an opportunity for them to focus solely on their health under medical guidance.” He held her gaze, a question in their depths.
“The entire experience was nothing like I expected,” Amelia admitted, exhaling slowly.
A locked door, no visitors allowed, a grumpy porter, and Louisa’s odd message.
“Did Louisa know about the isolation before she decided to go there? And how strange that we didn’t see any staff other than the porter.
Almost as though no one was even there. I confess, I am still worried. ”
Henry took her gloved hand in his. “As am I. As you said, there’s something about the place that feels off, though none of what we witnessed is illegal.”
“No evidence in sight,” Amelia suggested with a smile, warmth flooding through her at this public display of his regard.
As Henry’s occasional unofficial investigative assistant, she had been involved in several of his cases and understood the importance of it.
“We need proof to truly look into the place.”
His lips twisted ruefully. “While I always appreciate your help, I’d prefer to keep you at a safer distance from investigations than has been possible in the past.”
“And I’m sorry, Henry, but I don’t think that’s meant to be,” Amelia teased as she met his gaze, hoping he agreed.
“I do believe we must resign ourselves to the fact that I am destined to be involved in the majority of your cases.” When he opened his mouth to reply, she held up a hand to stop him even as she smiled.
“However, I will do my best to stay out of danger. This time.”
Exasperation mixed with amusement briefly tightened his features. “I dearly hope so.” The worry in his brown eyes with their long lashes warmed her. “I don’t care to see you on the receiving end of a knife again. Ever. Or any other weapon, to be precise.”
While that was exactly what had happened nearly three weeks earlier, it felt like years ago.
Amelia preferred to forget it, too. No danger could surely come between her and this man who had respectfully waited for her to be out of her widow’s weeds before even attempting a friendship.
And now—now they had both admitted that, in time, they might want more.
“I would say the same of you,” she countered. “But given your chosen profession, I know that’s impossible.” The danger of his position concerned her greatly, yet she tried not to dwell on it. After all, a person could be accidentally killed in any manner of ways.
She only hoped fate was kinder to her from this point forward, as she’d already endured enough grief in her life. She’d lost her daughter to scarlet fever four years ago, and her husband had been killed eighteen months ago. How could she possibly endure losing anyone else?
“Does it reassure you to know I am rarely reckless?” The humorous glint in his eyes helped lighten the heavy topic.
“I would prefer ‘never’, but I suppose I will settle for ‘rarely,’” she countered.
His chuckle reminded her how much she enjoyed his company.
Thus far, she’d hesitated to put a definitive name on her growing feelings for Henry, but moments like this suggested that time was coming to an end. The thought had her adjusting her position on the seat, suddenly conscious of her proximity to him.
She told herself that loving him didn’t make her vulnerable, but another voice suggested it did—especially when he so frequently faced danger.
Was she prepared to spend her future worrying about him each time he was late returning home?
In truth, the question had never occurred to her before. And it worried her.
“What is it?” Henry asked quietly.
Though tempted to share her feelings, along with her worries, now was hardly the time. Not when they were surrounded by strangers and would soon arrive at the train station where they would go their separate ways.
“Only my ongoing concern about Miss Elmcroft.” Amelia forced a smile and patted her reticule where the message remained.
“However, I am relieved that she said all was well. I must take her at her word.” After all, why would Louisa lie?
“And I hope the science behind the doctor’s methods is truly effective, and she can return to us hale and hearty. ”
“Rest assured that I will do some additional research on Hollowgate Heights, though I will have to do it after my official duties as we don’t have an investigation open.”
“I didn’t mean to make extra work for you,” Amelia began, already feeling regret. “You already put in enough hours—”
“It’s all part of the position. Besides, I won’t be able to let the matter rest until we learn more. Until you can rest easy.”
“If you’re sure.” An idea took hold. “Perhaps I could—”
“No,” he interrupted with a wry look before she could continue. “There is no need for you to visit the victim’s family, nor investigate anything. I will do so.”
“How is it you can so easily read my thoughts?” she asked curiously, unable to deny how much that pleased her.
“I have witnessed you in action often enough to guess what you might be thinking.” The warmth in his expression caused a flutter of awareness to run along her skin.
“Very well,” she agreed, albeit with reluctance. “But know I stand at the ready to lend a hand when the need arises.”
“If.”
Amelia smiled. “When.”
His smile returned. “I shall keep that in mind.”