She walked briskly past the dark entrance to an alley, not noticing the man standing in the shadows until he moved out. She jumped several inches when he fell into step beside her.
“Tobias.”
“A pleasant day for a walk, is it not?” Tobias asked.
“Must you lurk in dark alleys? I vow, you nearly gave me an attack of the vapors. What on earth do you think you are doing?”
“You could not resist a firsthand look at the good doctor, could you?” Tobias did not trouble to hide his mocking smile. “Did you let Darfield put you into a trance?”
“No. As it happens, I am not a suitable subject.”
“That does not surprise me. You would not find it easy to surrender your will to another.”
“No more than you would,” she shot back. “Only consider how stubborn you have been whenever I have offered to see if I could give you some relief from your wound.”
“You have provided me with exquisite relief of another sort on a number of occasions, madam. I am very satisfied with your therapeutic treatments.”
“That is less amusing than you can possibly imagine,” she muttered. “What are you doing here? Good grief, sir, you followed me, did you not?”
“I will admit that I was somewhat curious. Well? Did you learn anything useful?”
“Our primary client is a mesmerist, and the murder victim had some skills in the science,” she said stiffly. “I admit that the fact that another one of our clients, Mrs. Rushton, happens to be seeing a mesmerist bothered me. You are the one who taught me to be wary of coincidences.”
“Given the number of people who consult mesmerists about poor nerves, it would be more astonishing if it transpired that Mrs. Rushton had not sought therapy for hers,” he said dryly. “Well? Were you satisfied with your inquiries in that direction?”
She cleared her throat. “Quite satisfied.”
“You are convinced that Darfield is a legitimate practitioner?”
“Indeed.”
Tobias glanced thoughtfully back over his shoulder toward the green door. “Judging from the patients I saw going into his establishment while I waited for you, he appears to specialize in the treatment of ladies.”
“Yes. Yes, he does, as a matter of fact. He is an expert in the treatment of female hysteria.”
“What the devil is female hysteria, anyway? I’ve often wondered.”
“It is somewhat difficult to describe to an untrained person,” she said very coolly. “Suffice it to say that it is an extremely profitable complaint so far as those in the medical and mesmeric professions are concerned because the patient neither dies nor recovers from her disease. One gets a great deal of repeat business.”
“As is the case with Mrs. Rushton.”
“Yes.”
“Something to be said for a profession that encourages repeat business.” He took her arm and started across the street. “How does Dr. Darfield treat female hysterics?”
“Why are you suddenly so curious about such an arcane medical subject?”
“I could not help but notice that the ladies who were admitted to his rooms seemed to go up those steps with a great deal of enthusiasm. I also recall that Mrs. Rushton spoke glowingly about his treatments. I assume Darfield’s mode of therapy is not only effective but painless.”
“Indeed.”
He drew her to a halt and stood looking past her toward the green door on the opposite side of the street. She did not care for the dangerously thoughtful expression in his eyes.
“I also could not help but notice that you very nearly flew down those front steps a moment ago. You appeared quite eager to leave.”
“I am in a hurry. I have a number of things I wish to accomplish this afternoon.”
“Did something happen in Darfield’s rooms, Lavinia?”
“Nothing of any significance,” she said airily. “As you surmised, Mrs. Rushton’s visits to him are entirely unremarkable and in no way connected to our case.”
“You’re quite certain that there is nothing in this that I should know about?”
“Tobias, I vow, on occasion you are like a dog with a bone.” She made a show of checking the time on the little watch pinned to her pelisse. “Gracious, where has the day gone? I wanted to do some shopping on the way home.”
“About Darfield’s therapeutic techniques-”
“Do not concern yourself, sir. I assure you that Dr. Darfield’s method of treating nervous disorders in ladies falls within the accepted boundaries of traditional and well-established medical and mesmeric practice.”
Chapter Sixteen
Emeline watched the gardener carefully while Anthony questioned him. She felt a good deal of sympathy for the poor man. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, nervously twisting his cap, and gave short, unhelpful answers. He was clearly uncomfortable, although Anthony had gone out of his way to be polite and soothing in his approach, just as he had with the other servants.
“Have you ever witnessed anyone going into his lordship’s dressing chamber at an unusual time? Late at night, perhaps?” Anthony asked.
“Never even seen his lordship’s dressing chamber. Never seen his bedchamber, for that matter. Never been upstairs.” The gardener cast his eyes toward the ceiling as though peering toward an invisible metaphysical realm. “Worked ‘ere for seventeen years. Kitchen’s the only room I’ve ever seen inside the house.”
“Of course it is.” Mrs. Rushton, seated at the head of the long wooden table, spoke with conviction. “Gardeners have no business beyond the kitchens.”
Anthony’s jaw tightened. Emeline sensed his impatience. This was not the first time Mrs. Rushton had interrupted.
This morning’s investigation, which she and Anthony had begun with such great enthusiasm, had not gone well. None of the staff had been forthcoming. All had been ill at ease, and Emeline was quite certain she knew why. It /was not guilt that made the maids, gardeners, and housekeeper so anxious. It was the fact that Mrs. Rushton had insisted upon being present during the questioning.
Anthony thanked the gardener, who was only too eager to escape. He caught Emeline’s eye and shook his head very slightly. She closed her notebook with a sigh.
“Well, then,” Mrs. Rushton said, “that is the last of the lot. Did you learn anything helpful, Mr. Sinclair?”
Anthony gave her a winning smile that, in Emeline’s opinion, did nothing to conceal the irritation in his eyes. But Mrs. Rushton did not seem to notice. She was clearly quite taken with him. She had, in fact, paid virtually no attention whatsoever to Emeline from the moment she had been introduced to Anthony. There was a peculiar expression in her eyes whenever she looked in his direction, which was rather often.
Emeline decided that if she had seen that expression when a gentleman eyed a lady, she would have accounted the man an out-and-out libertine and debaucher of the worst sort.
“We won’t know the answer to that until we compare notes with Mr. March and Mrs. Lake,” Anthony said. “Thank you very much for your time this morning, Mrs. Rushton.”
“Not at all.” Mrs. Rushton got to her feet. She kept her attention on Anthony. “You will contact me immediately if you learn anything concerning the bracelet, will you not?”
“Of course.”
“I would appreciate a personal report from you, Mr. Sinclair,” Mrs. Rushton said, lowering her voice to an intimate tone. “I feel that I can speak comfortably with you, sir. Indeed, I find it very reassuring to know that a gentleman possessed of such an obviously vigorous physique is assisting in this investigation.”
“Thank you for placing your confidence in me, madam.” Anthony gave Emeline an urgent look and edged toward the kitchen door. “We will keep you informed of our progress, one way or another. Now, my associate and I must be on our way.”