Chapter 13
Thirteen
Amelia took a moment to lean against the door, drawing in a slow deep breath. Henry’s injury had shaken her more than she cared to admit. Grief, an emotion she was all too familiar with but had no place here, nevertheless clutched her tightly once more.
Henry hadn’t been killed, yet her mind—and heart—seemed determined to mourn him. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Perhaps it was mourning the hope that she’d paid her dues, and tragedy would not darken her door again.
Ridiculous, but her heart ached all the same.
She gathered her emotions and walked slowly down the stairs and across the hallway toward the drawing room, reminding herself that all was well.
Henry would recover, though he was clearly in great pain and discomfort.
Things could have been much worse. The thought was enough to have her offering a silent prayer of thanks that he was still with them.
Better to focus on that rather than give in to the urge to cry.
This was no time for tears. They wouldn’t help Henry or her.
“How is he?” Mrs. Field asked from where she sat in a chair by the window, needlework in hand.
“Tired and hurting but still not wanting to take the laudanum.” Amelia forced a smile as she neared, taking a moment to study the older woman.
Though Amelia had only met Henry’s mother twice before, her intelligence, good humor, and kindness had been on display each time, just as they were today. Now, however, shadows darkened her eyes.
“He sounds like his father.” A mixture of exasperation and worry laced her tone as she smoothed the stitches of her needlework.
The term squeezed Amelia’s heart, given what Henry had told her about being adopted. He surely couldn’t doubt how much both his parents loved him. “I warned him that he might need to relent if his headache doesn’t become more manageable.”
“Good.” Mrs. Field gave a decisive nod. “That will save me from having to do so.”
Amelia laughed. “He has at least agreed to some whiskey.”
“You have made excellent progress, then.” Mrs. Field set aside her work to rise. “Let us get him a glass before he changes his mind.” She walked to the sideboard, which held several decanters, before glancing at Amelia. “May I ask how you’re holding up, dear?”
Emotion welled in Amelia’s throat, and she had to swallow it back before answering. “It…it isn’t easy to see him hurting.”
“No, it isn’t.” Mrs. Field poured a generous glass and replaced the decanter’s stopper before looking at her again. “Even more so for you, given what you’ve been through.”
Amelia pressed a hand to her heart as she shook her head. “I know it’s n-not the same as when Matthew—” She couldn’t say it. Not now, when everything felt so raw again.
“No, it isn’t.” The firm tone nearly had Amelia taking a step back. “But it’s only natural that something like this would bring forth difficult memories.”
She drew a relieved breath. To have her distress described as natural reassured her in an unexpected way.
Mrs. Field smiled. “Perhaps a sip of whiskey might aid the pair of us as well.”
“Tempting, but I will be fine.” Amelia cleared her throat, hoping she wasn’t overstepping her bounds. “May I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“How do you bear it?” She shook her head, realizing she wasn’t explaining herself very well.
“First with your husband and now with Henry. To know they face danger each and every day when they go to work, to be unsure whether they will return…” Was she strong enough to endure the fear of losing him on any given day?
Sympathy shone in Mrs. Field’s eyes. “I won’t lie.
It wasn’t easy, it still isn’t. But I have come to realize that such things could happen to any of us.
A tree might fall on the house and take our lives.
A coach could strike us as we cross the street.
A fever could turn in the night. Life is finite.
I decided years ago to keep my attention on enjoying time with those I love rather than worrying about what might happen. ”
“Very wise, but easier said than done,” Amelia murmured.
Her hostess’s smile tightened. “I am not always successful. Days like this are a test.”
“In many ways.” Amelia smiled. “Thank you for sharing that. It is very...helpful.”
Mrs. Field held out her hand, and Amelia took it. “I just have to say how happy Thurmond and I are that Henry found you.”
Amelia’s breath caught, and some of the weight in her heart lifted. “As am I. He is a wonderful man, and I greatly admire him.”
“I know he feels the same about you. In truth, I was beginning to fear the only love he’d find was his work, so I’m especially grateful the two of you are—”
“How is our patient?” Mr. Field entered the drawing room, glancing between them as if to gauge for himself based on their expressions.
“Hurting enough to agree to a whiskey but not laudanum,” Mrs. Field advised with a warm smile. She handed the drink she’d poured to her husband. “Perhaps you should have a word with him.”
He took the glass with a sigh. “Can’t say that I blame him, I don’t care for the stuff either. Makes my head heavy. Maybe this will be enough to take the edge off his pain. If not, I’ll return for the decanter,” he suggested with a teasing smile directed at his wife.
“You will most definitely not.” Mrs. Field waved him away. “That would only give him a headache of a different sort.”
Her husband chuckled as he headed for the door. “True enough.”
Mrs. Field shook her head with a wry smile. “Will you join me for tea, Mrs. Greystone, while Thurmond keeps Henry company for a time?”
“I should like that very much. Thank you.” A cup of tea was just what she needed. Returning to Henry’s side while upset wouldn’t aid him, and it was lovely to spend a little time with both his parents, sharing their concern for the man they all loved.
Loved. In some ways, Amelia’s upset was made worse by their declaration to one another so recently.
Since that moment the future had felt light and sunny and full of hope.
Now she couldn’t see beyond the next hour or so.
She liked to think that was temporary, until Henry recovered; but only time would tell.
Soon the two ladies were settled in chairs, a tea tray and a selection of sandwiches and biscuits before them. Amelia was more than grateful for the distraction, taking comfort in the ritual.
“I am pleased we have a few more minutes to visit together,” Mrs. Field said after a sip of tea. “Henry mentioned your experiment on fertilizers, and I have been quite anxious to hear the results.”
“Oh, yes. I meant to share them with you.” With everything going on, she’d nearly forgotten.
Amelia had conducted the experiment over the last couple of months to see what helped pea pods grow the best. “As he might have shared, I tested five different methods, including crushed eggshells, used tea leaves, ammonium nitrate dissolved in distilled water, plain soil with nothing added, and finally one with both tea leaves and eggshells.”
“Fascinating. Your knowledge in the field is impressive. And what did you discover?”
“The ammonium nitrate was by far the most effective.” She frowned as she mentally sorted through her findings, not wanting to bore Mrs. Field with too many technical details.
“That result was a little disappointing, though, as I would prefer to use a more natural additive. And it seemed to produce more leaves than actual pods, which is obviously not the true desired result.”
“How interesting.” Mrs. Field frowned as she selected a sandwich. “Natural would be preferable.”
“Definitely. The combination of tea leaves and crushed eggshells was fairly effective. While the improved results were modest, I tend to think the benefits of stronger stems will eventually yield more pods in the long term. Further experimentation and documentation are needed to know for certain.”
“I can’t imagine how you have come to know so much about chemistry and experimentation. I truly admire you for it.” The approval in Mrs. Field’s expression warmed Amelia, easing the cold which had clutched her since learning of Henry’s injuries.
“Thank you. I enjoy it very much and look forward to more testing.” Amelia hesitated, uncertain whether it would be wise to share her hopes for helping Henry.
Yet if she wanted an honest relationship with Henry’s parents, the sort that truly mattered, this was her chance to begin as she meant to go on; with the hope they appreciated her forthrightness.
Where to start? “I am in the process of learning more about forensic science methods,” she began cautiously. “The knowledge could prove helpful to Henry on occasion.”
Mrs. Field’s eyes widened with surprise, but Amelia couldn’t determine whether she approved or not. “How...interesting.”
“Yes, it is. I’ve acquired a book which shares various techniques and am hoping a few might be of assistance in his cases.” She hesitated when the older woman’s expression didn’t change. “In an unofficial capacity, of course.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Field nodded slowly. “I confess, I never would’ve thought to aid Thurmond in such a manner.”
Amelia’s breath caught, and she dearly hoped she hadn’t somehow offended her.
Her hostess gave her a brief smile. “Perhaps taking a more active role in investigations would have made knowing he was in danger easier to bear.” She nodded again, this time more decisively. “Listening to what little he chose to tell me was less than satisfactory.”
Though Amelia’s interest in chemistry allowed her a more natural way to aid Henry, she had to hope she would have helped Henry regardless.
Then again, the whole reason they’d met was because of her husband’s murder.
That crime had forged the basis for their relationship, or at least put them on a different footing than most couples.
“I must share that I tend to pry as much information from Henry as possible.” Amelia smiled as she set aside her empty cup. “Thank you for the conversation. It has helped steady my nerves more than I can say. I believe I will check on Henry again before I take my leave.”
“I’m sure he’d like that—and please feel free to return tomorrow. He will heal all the quicker if we can keep him from thinking on his pain or his cases too much.”
Amelia nodded as she rose. “I’m sure you’re right, though I fear the task might be more difficult than we hope.”
She liked to think she knew Henry well enough to guess that he was already pondering how to proceed with each of his cases, including who had set the bomb, as well as the questions about the sanatorium.
Maybe she could find a way to aid him, at least in regard to the latter.