She met his eyes and nodded. He deserved the truth from her in that also. “Tell me more about Dr. Lambourn,” she said.
He pushed his hand through his hair, leaving it wilder than before. “Why? What difference does it make to you now? He’s gone.”
“Did you know his wife as well?” Again she sidestepped the question.
“I met her,” he said, studying Hester’s face to find what she was really seeking. “Very fine woman, handsome. Again, why? I can keep asking as long as you can keep dodging me, and you know that.”
“She doesn’t believe he took his own life,” she replied.
“Another one of your ‘lost causes’?” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I find it hard to believe, too, but they say the evidence is there. What else would it be? No one climbs a bare hill alone at night and cuts their wrists by accident, girl. You know that as well as I do.”
She felt foolish, but she would not give up. If Winfarthing did not believe Dinah, then who would? “How important was the research Dr. Lambourn was doing into opium sales and use?” she asked. “Should there be a pharmaceutical bill to control opium?”
He frowned. “Is that what he was doing? For whom? He would be in favor of such a bill, of course.”
“Are you?” she pressed.
“I’m insulted that you need to ask!” He said it sharply, but there was no anger in his face. “But it must be based on facts, not on religious or financial interests. Opium, in one form or another, is the only way most people have of dealing with pain. We all know that. God knows how many people get through the day on it-or the night.” He said it with a heaviness of heart.
“As far as I know,” she said, “what he wanted was for all remedies containing opium, which I know is hundreds-”
“At least! If not thousands,” he interrupted.
“Should be regularized and labeled as to quantity and suitable dosage,” she finished.
“Ah,” he sighed. “Poor Lambourn. Heavy vested interests against him. Lot of money in the import of opium. Even some of the best family fortunes are built on it, you know?”
“Enough to try to crush Dr. Lambourn’s report?”
Winfarthing’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that what you think? Political pressure? You’re wrong.” He sat up straighter in his chair. “Joel Lambourn wouldn’t have been persuaded by any man to cut his own wrists. He might have been a political innocent, but he was a first-class scientist, and far more important than that, he loved his family. He would never have left them that way.”
He blinked again. “He had two daughters, you know, Marianne and Adah. Very proud of them.” He looked at her almost angrily.
She looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? Reminding me of something I was trying to forget? I know it. Don’t treat me like a fool.” He sniffed. “Why did you come, anyway? Is this about Dinah Lambourn?”
“No.” She looked up at him. “Actually it started about Zenia Gadney.”
“Who the devil is Zenia Gadney?”
“The woman who was found murdered and mutilated on Limehouse Pier, over a week ago.”
“What has that to do with Lambourn? Or opium?”
“Nothing to do with opium, so far as we know,” Hester replied. “She bought the occasional penny twist, but so does half the population. Dr. Lambourn knew her quite well, well enough to go and see her once a month, and to support her financially.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” Winfarthing said instantly. “Whoever said that is either malicious or a lunatic, or both.”
“It was his sister, Amity Herne,” she answered. “But only after a little pressing. His wife agreed that she too was aware of it, but not of where Mrs. Gadney lived.”
“Mrs.? Was the woman married?” he said quickly. “Or is that a courtesy title?”
“Largely courtesy, I think, although people around her neighborhood thought she might be a widow.”
“Supported by Joel Lambourn? A colleague’s wife fallen on hard times?” Winfarthing still looked incredulous.
“Possibly,” Hester replied with some doubt. “When Dr. Lambourn died, it looks as if she might have taken to the streets to survive.”
“How old was she?”
“Middle forties, roughly.”
“There’s something wrong in this,” Winfarthing said, shaking his head. “Somebody’s lying. Has to be. Are you suggesting this poor woman was somehow connected with Lambourn’s death?”
Hester evaded the question slightly, answering with one of her own.
“If he wouldn’t kill himself because his report was rejected, and he doesn’t appear to have had any fatal illness-or any illness at all, for that matter-then he killed himself for another reason,” she said. “Could that have been an affair with a prostitute that was about to be exposed?”
Winfarthing’s face filled with acute distaste. “I suppose we never know people as well as we think we do. As a doctor, I have certainly learned that. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen-and heard.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps you would. But I still can’t see Joel Lambourn conducting an affair with a middle-aged prostitute in Limehouse.” His voice took on a more challenging tone, although it was the conclusion he fought, not Hester. “And if she were going to expose him, and he killed himself, that doesn’t answer your question as to who killed her, does it? Why do you care, girl? Was she one of the women in this clinic of yours?”
She shook her head. “No. I never met her, or heard of her before this. Limehouse is a distance from Portpool Lane, you know. It’s the manner of her death that is the worst. It’s my husband’s case.”
“Of course.” He grimaced, irritated with himself. “I should have worked that out. Well, I still find it hard to believe that Lambourn killed himself at all, over anything. I don’t mind some of life’s surprises, but I don’t like this one.”
“The alternative is that Dr. Lambourn was murdered as well, by someone who wanted his report suppressed,” she said, watching his expression to judge what he thought of the idea.
He nodded very slowly. “Possible, I suppose. There are fortunes made and lost in opium. I …” He hesitated.
“What?” she said quickly.
He looked at her, his face creased with sadness. “I would hate to think there is corruption deep enough to have a man like Joel Lambourn murdered, and labeled as a failure and a suicide, in order to cover up the misuse of opium and prevent a regulating bill that is much needed, not only for opium but for the sale of all pharmaceuticals.”
“Does that mean you won’t consider the possibility?”
He jerked forward in his chair, glaring at her. “No, it does not! How dare you even ask?”
She smiled at him with rare charm. “To make you angry enough to help me,” she answered. “But discreetly, of course. I … I don’t want someone to find you on One Tree Hill with your wrists cut.”
He sighed gustily. “You are a manipulating woman, Hester. Here am I thinking you were the only daughter of Eve who hadn’t the art to twist a man around your fingers. I’m a wishful fool. But I’ll help with this-for Joel Lambourn, not because you backed me into it!”
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “If you were looking for information to make the kind of report he did, what would you look for? Can you write it down for me, please?”
“No I cannot!” he said with sudden vehemence. “One Tree Hill is quite big enough for both of us. I’ll do most of it. I’ve got excuses, reasons. You can try the ordinary apothecaries and common shops, midwives-peddlers in the street. Just see what you could buy. Ask, do you understand? Don’t get it.”
Hester nodded, and left him a quarter of an hour later with their plans made and agreed.