Jonas shook his head, disbelieving their current circumstances. They had come so far yet lacked all the answers they needed. Already, he felt he had been gone too long. “I must get back to Margaret.”
He turned and reached for the door handle.
“Is the baby all right?” Rebecca asked before Jonas and Ainsley could leave.
Jonas stopped. Both he and Ainsley turned to look at Rebecca wearily. “What did you say?” Jonas asked.
“What baby?” Ainsley knit his brow. “There is no baby.”
“I just thought …” She gestured to Ainsley. “You are her brother. That must make you the father of her child.”
Ainsley shook his head. “Margaret doesn’t have a child.”
Rebecca swallowed. “My apologies. I thought you knew.” She turned from them, rubbing the back of her neck.
“What were we supposed to know?” Jonas asked, pushing past Ainsley.
Rebecca hesitated. “She’s with child. I could tell by the shape of her and the way she touched her lower abdomen. I’ve seen enough pregnant women to know the look. I thought you knew.”
Chapter 26
Ainsley left Rebecca’s flat in such a state of shock he could barely put one foot in front of the other. It seemed near impossible that Margaret could be in a state of motherhood. Ainsley knew of their attachment but had been blind to just how close they had actually become. He had been concerned with his own troubles, his own demons, his own feelings of love, that he had not realized exactly how much was at stake. His work to clear Jonas’s name went beyond his friend, even beyond the feelings of Margaret. His work to save Jonas from capital punishment meant he was saving the father of his unborn niece or nephew. So much of their future selves rested on the outcome of this investigation.
By the time they reached the street Jonas was running again but he wasn’t running home to New Town. He was forging ahead to the one place he had been avoiding since arriving in Scotland, and there was no telling what he might do.
Ainsley caught up to him before he made it to the door, and placed himself between Jonas and the main entrance to Mr. Locke’s pharmacy.
“Out of my way, Peter.”
“Don’t do this,” Ainsley said, seeing the rage in Jonas’s eyes. He pressed on Jonas’s shoulders, pushing him back to the street. He’d push him the entire way home if it meant avoiding a confrontation. Ainsley regretted leaving Margaret’s side now. He wished he had stayed, thus allowing Jonas to stay. He wasn’t supposed to be roaming the streets anyway, as per his conditions of release, and an assault charge against a woman would most certainly injure their case grievously. “She’s not worth it. We need to get home to Margaret,” he said, taking hold of Jonas’s lapels and hoping he would see reason.
Jonas shook his head and pressed against Ainsley’s weight. “She’s going to tell me what she gave her.” He wanted in that door. He wanted to face the woman he knew had harmed Margaret. “She’s going to tell me so I can save my child.”
Ainsley wondered if Jonas would hit him, if their friendship, after all they had been through, could withstand such a confrontation.
After a moment, Ainsley released him and held his hands up in surrender. He did not move out of the way and instead turned to try the knob. The door was locked and no lights were on inside. “It’s far too late,” Ainsley said. When he turned back Jonas was gone.
Ainsley saw a flash of coat fabric at the corner. There must have been another entrance and of course Jonas knew the location of it. This time, Ainsley was not quick enough. Jonas used his body weight and slammed into the door, ripping the trim from the doorjamb.
“Eloise!” He slipped into the darkness of the storeroom.
Ainsley followed, calling Jonas’s name in a frantic whisper. They made their way through the dark, following the light to the base of the stairs. Ainsley heard movement on the floor above and moved quickly to prevent Jonas from going any farther. He caught him at the midway point of the stairs.
“Eloise, I know what you did!”
Jonas looked close to tears. The desperation was evident. Both his love and his child were in danger and Ainsley wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t respond in the same way.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mr. Locke appeared in the light at the top of the stairs. His weakened body was hunched over the bannister. “Get away from here, you … you rabble. We have no more love for you.”
Ainsley winced at the man’s words and knew Jonas felt the full weight of them as well.
“I have no quarrel with you, Mr. Locke. I love you as a father, nay more so, but your child is a thing of the devil,” Jonas said. “Where is she?”
He did not push against Ainsley. Instead, he stood partway up the stairs, looking up at the man to whom he owed his entire existence.
“She is not here,” the old man croaked. Even in the dim light Ainsley saw Mr. Locke’s eyes flicker to the other end of the stairwell where Jonas and Ainsley could not see.
“She gave something, a poison, we suspect,” Jonas said, taking a few steps higher on the stairs, “to the woman I love.”
“Love?” The man looked flustered and confused. “Is it not Eloise you love?”
“No, sir. I have never loved that woman. I could never love such a woman. She is the devil and only proved as much today for what she’s done to Margaret.”
“You promised to marry her out of duty to me,” Mr. Locke said, ignoring Jonas’s accusations. “Not that I would encourage her to have you, not after what you have done.” The man’s voice shook as his hand did on the railing.
“I have promised no such thing.”
Ainsley slipped past Jonas and caught Mr. Locke’s arm.
“Unhand me,” he said incredulously.
“Allow me to bring you to your chair, Mr. Locke,” Ainsley said, as gently as he could. He imagined his own mother as old as him, confused and weakened.
With a trembling body, Mr. Locke nodded and allowed Ainsley to guide him back to the doorway of his workroom.
“I never imagined in all my life that Jonas would bring such violence, such scandal.”
As the man spoke, a shadow moved at the end of the hall. By the time Ainsley looked up, it was gone.
“Don’t you think of coming as far as that top step, Mr. Davies,” the old man called out, even as Ainsley helped him back into his chair.
“I am not your enemy, Mr. Locke,” Jonas said from the stairwell.
When Ainsley looked back he saw Jonas had taken a seat at the stair second from the top and had lowered his face into his hands.
The old man scoffed at Jonas’s words and focused his attention on Ainsley. “I gave that boy everything, everything. And see how he repays me.” The man gestured widely, punctuating his stress. Ainsley grabbed the man’s wrists in an effort to bring his attention to him.
“Mr. Locke, we need your help,” Ainsley said soothingly. “My sister, Margaret, is very sick. I am a doctor like Jonas—”
“Yes, yes, I remember you.”
Ainsley smiled. “We don’t know what has made her sick.”
“How am I supposed to know?” He threw up his arms in frustration and leaned back into the cushions of his chair. “Wait, Margaret, did you say? The Miss Margaret who came and had tea this afternoon?”
Out of his peripheral vision Ainsley could see Jonas had lifted his head from his hands.
“Yes,” Ainsley answered. “She is my sister.”
“Oh, she is a lovely woman. Very kind. I could see as much in her eyes.”
Ainsley nodded.
“What are her symptoms?” The old man closed his eyes and folded his hands somewhat in front of him.
“Fever, vomiting, muscle cramps,” Ainsley said.
“Erratic pulse,” Jonas interjected from the hall.
“Her hands are curled like this.” Ainsley demonstrated it for Mr. Locke.
“Is … is the girl arching her back?” he asked.
Ainsley and Jonas nodde
d eagerly.
“Yes, that’s right,” Ainsley said quickly.
“Oh my, my.” Mr. Locke shook his head.
“What is it? What has she been given?”
Ainsley looked up and saw Jonas had come into the room. Mr. Locke was so struck by the realization he no longer cared that Jonas was there.
“Strychnine. Oh, that’s some powerful stuff.” The man’s hand shook as he brought it to his mouth.
“Is there an antidote?” Jonas crossed the room and headed straight for Mr. Locke’s shelf, where he kept all his potions and ingredients.
Mr. Locke raised a bony hand to the top shelf. “Coniine,” he said.
Jonas pushed aside a few small jars, searching for the right one, before finally pulling it from the shelf. “It’s here,” he said, turning back to Ainsley and Mr. Locke. His elation was short-lived. “Thank you, Mr. Locke.”
The old man looked ready to cry and waved off Jonas’s appreciation. He kept his eyes trained on Ainsley so he wouldn’t have to look at Jonas as he went for the door. “It’s hemlock,” Mr. Locke said. “She mustn’t be given too much. Only a few drops. Any more than that will surely kill her.”
Ainsley nodded and saw Jonas waiting at the door. “Go, Jonas. I’ll catch up.”
Giving one last look to Mr. Locke, Jonas left, the vial of antidote held firmly in his grasp.
When Ainsley looked back to Mr. Locke he saw that the confusion in the old man had returned. “Mr. Locke, can you help me understand how strychnine is administered? Is it ingested?”
“Oh yes,” Mr. Locke said. “Or through the respiratory system. Ingestion takes hold faster but a large enough dose to the mouth and nose will surely kill someone.”
Ainsley took the man’s hand in his own. “Thank you, sir.” He tried to pull away but the old man held fast.
“You think my Ellie did this?”
Ainsley swallowed. “Yes, sir. I do. I don’t entirely know how but …” He allowed the rest of his thoughts to go unsaid. “Thank you for your help,” he said, slowly pulling his hands away. “I must return to my sister.”
Mr. Locke slowly released Ainsley’s hands but did not look at him. Instead, the man sat in the cushions of his chair with his gaze locked on something across the room. As Ainsley circled the top of the bannister he heard the old man speaking to himself.
“Oh Ellie, what have you done to that lovely young woman?” he said, before lowering his face into his hands.
Chapter 27
They jogged the dark, damp streets of Edinburgh, with Jonas in the lead. They charged through ankle-deep puddles and ploughed through standing groups of pedestrians who insisted on taking over the walkways. Only when they had run the better part of a mile did Jonas slow his pace, allowing Ainsley to say what had been turning over in his mind since they left Rebecca’s.
“Someone had to have known Rebecca was a young woman, not a homeless beggar,” Ainsley called out to Jonas, who was five or six paces ahead of him.
Jonas walked quickly and with a determined purpose. “What of it?” he asked as he looked over his shoulder without slowing his pace.
“It must be someone from the university then,” Ainsley said. “Someone who would have also known she was in no position to refuse such remuneration.”
“She could have refused,” Jonas said, his anger still evident in his tone.
“Could you have?”
When money had been scarce and fees were needed to be paid, both men had gone into the night in search of new cadavers they could claim in the name of science. Jonas would not accept any money from Ainsley, even after learning of his true parentage. His income would be made through his own efforts, he had said, though it need not necessarily be entirely honest. In the end, some conquests were obtained legally, others were highly questionable. Ainsley had done it for Jonas’s sake as much as he did it for the thrill.
“I doubt you would have said no, given your position,” Ainsley said, shouting against the rainwater that poured from the downspouts and along the gutters.
At Ainsley’s words Jonas stopped but did not turn.
“You and I have done worse things. All those late nights in the cemeteries, searching for fresh graves, begging family members of the recently deceased to turn their loved ones’ bodies over to us? Was that not done out of desperation?”
Jonas turned, his eyes betraying the true depth of his fury. “Only because I did not have the heart to ask Mr. Locke for a penny more, knowing he could not afford it,” he roared back.
“Then you know of Miss Stewart’s desperation. She has no one to ask even if she could overcome her pride.” Ainsley closed the gap between them.
Jonas waved a hand and charged toward home. “You’ve become soft, Peter.”
“I’ve become reasonable.” Ainsley jogged to reach him and had to quicken his steps just to keep pace. “We have more information than ever before. We are close, Jonas. Closer than we have ever been.”
“I cannot afford to be close.” Jonas’s merciless stance was punctuated by his determined strides. “My child and, God willing, my future wife lay dying and all because of that woman.” He growled at the thought of it and Ainsley saw him curl his hands into fists. “I should have ransacked that building, brought her out of hiding, and choked the life out of her while making him watch.”
“Why didn’t you?” Ainsley asked. “I thought for certain you would have, given the look in your eyes.”
Jonas gave a quick sideways glance before refocusing on the path before him. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it, not after I saw the look on Mr. Locke’s face.” Jonas closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side as Ainsley wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“You are not weak,” he said soothingly. “Merely reasonable. Not every problem can be solved with violence. We must pick and choose our battles, and right now Margaret needs us to help fight hers.”
Ainsley gave him a quick pat on the back and started a slow jog. He waved for Jonas to follow him. Together, bolstered by the energy displayed by the other, they ran the rest of the way home.
***
As soon as they entered the door to the house Jonas raced upstairs, leaving Ainsley in his wake. Giles stepped out of the dark parlour. He looked pained and concerned, but distant.
“Ezra sent word to me about Margaret. I came home straightaway.”
Ainsley nodded.
“John and Mrs. Crane have been standing guard alongside Mr. Thornton, a friend of hers from London, I understand.”
“A childhood friend,” Ainsley added.
John appeared at the top of the stairs.
“How is she?” Ainsley asked, starting to head up the stairs. Giles fell in behind.
“Very ill,” John said. “Her muscle cramps are the worst I have ever seen.”
Ainsley paused at the top of the stairs and waited for both men to draw close. “It’s strychnine,” he said keeping his voice low. He glanced over their shoulders down the hall. He did not wish to alarm Mrs. Crane or Mr. Thornton.
“Strychnine?” John’s voice betrayed his disbelief.
Out of breath, Ainsley could only nod.
Giles ran a hand through his hair and pushed back into the wall. “Out of everyone, I believe, I liked her the best.”
Ainsley nodded. His friend’s comments, added to those made by Mr. Locke, resonated with him deeply. Margaret was the one everyone like best; their parents, their friends, and anyone else they came in contact with.
Ainsley made his way down the hall and noticed John was quick to follow him.
“The ointment was clean,” John said.
“It wasn’t in the ointment.”
“Then—?”
“I don’t know.”
Ainsley stopped at the door to his room and pulled the vial of lavender oil from his overcoat and handed it to John. “Test this, if you can.”
John eyed the jar and held it up to the sconce on the wall. “What do you suspect?”
“Nothing. I just want to be sure.” He slid past the threshold and headed into Margaret’s sickroom.
Jonas was kneeling at the side of the bed. Blair had backed away to the bureau, a look of both confusion and trepidation on his face.
“Her body has emptied of all possible liquids,” he said to Ainsley. “Mrs. Crane and I have kept vigil.” Blair wiped the sweat from his brow.
“You are a good man, Mr. Thornton,” Ainsley said, patting his shoulder. “Thank you for all you have done.”
“Peter, can you retrieve my medicine dropper?” Jonas asked without turning from Margaret. He had one hand on the back of her neck, readjusting her shoulders on the pillows.
Ainsley went to the bag at the bedside table and produced a small dropper with a red rubber end. Jonas used it to pull a small amount of the coniine out of the bottle while Ainsley moved to the opposite side of the bed. He pulled a chair from against the wall setting it close to the bed, but nearer Margaret’s feet.
“How much will it take?” John asked from the door.
“A drop or two,” Ainsley said. “Anymore and she will die.”
A look of alarm overtook Blair’s face. “What is it?” he asked, a slight shake in his voice.
Ainsley raised his eyes to Jonas, who seemed disinclined to answer while he concentrated on perfecting the dosage.
“It’s coniine,” Ainsley answered. “An antidote.”
The entire time, Blair did not move from his place near the door, his face frozen in a state of fear and ignorance. Surrounded by doctors and men of science, he was entirely out of his natural element. “For what?” he managed to croak.
Ainsley hadn’t wished to answer. Telling him what Margaret had contracted meant that he as a brother had been derelict in his duties. He had grossly underestimated how much danger she had been in.
“Strychnine,” Ainsley answered matter-of-factly.
The mood in the room was raw. Any movement, even the slightest shift, seemed to send a shockwave through the space. Jonas moved with purpose, as if ignoring everyone else in the room. John hovered, more in the hall than in the actual space, while Blair looked on helpless. And Ainsley was happy to work as intermediary if it meant taking his mind off the poison they were using to cure his sister.
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