The Wrong Girl

by CJ Archer

  ***

  "Well?" I said, sitting up on the sofa. "What did you learn?"

  The two hypnotists stood beside me just as they had done before I fell asleep. Both frowned.

  "Nothing," Dr. Werner said, adjusting his glasses. "Absolutely nothing, I'm afraid. There is indeed something blocking access to that compartment."

  "Compartment?"

  Mr. Gladstone sat on a chair nearby. He didn't look at me, but down at his palms.

  Dr. Werner retrieved a clay model of a head that had been sitting on a table near the window. It was cut in half to reveal the brain inside. "Everything about us—our memories, our abilities and thoughts—are stored in different areas of our brains." He pointed to various parts of the head. "On rare occasions, access to these are blocked off. The blockage is usually caused by an accident, but I've known of cases where some other sort of traumatic experience has closed off the compartment where the memory of the experience is contained. It's the brain's way of coping with the event. Usually hypnosis will reveal to us what that event was, and by discussing it with the patient afterward, we're able to permanently unblock the blockage."

  "But not with me?"

  Mr. Gladstone looked up and shook his head. "Not with you, Lady Violet."

  "What does that mean?"

  The two men exchanged concerned glances. "It's almost impossible to say," Mr. Gladstone said.

  Dr. Werner cleared his throat. "In all likelihood, it means the event was so traumatic that your mind wouldn't cope if the compartment were unblocked, and the memories became accessible again."

  Mr. Gladstone winced as if he'd not wanted his employer to reveal that much. He opened his mouth to say something then shut it again and returned to studying his hands.

  "I see," I said. "Well, thank you for your help." I stood and hardly noticed when Mr. Gladstone stood too and took my elbow. I felt distant, removed, as if we'd just been discussing another patient and not my own situation. Perhaps the hypnosis hadn't quite worn off completely.

  "I'll call in your friends," Dr. Werner said.

  "Wait. Before you do, tell me, what would it take to unblock that compartment?"

  He paused at the door and glanced once more at Mr. Gladstone beside me. I felt the assistant stiffen and heard the air hiss between his teeth. "I don't know, Lady Violet. You may never regain those memories. That may not be a bad thing, however."

  Jack was standing just outside the door when Mr. Gladstone opened it. "Were you listening in?" I asked him.

  "No!" he said, unblinking. "Not at all."

  Sylvia made a miffed sound through her nose. "The door was too thick to hear anything through it."

  "I wanted to make sure you came to no harm," Jack said.

  "I'm quite all right. Thank you, Dr. Werner, Mr. Gladstone."

  "Wait a moment." Jack held up a hand. "What happened? What did you learn?"

  "Nothing, I'm afraid," Dr. Werner said. "I'm sorry your visit to London has been a waste of time."

  "Not a waste at all, Doctor," said Sylvia. "We have other activities to pursue during our stay."

  He bowed to her then to me. "I bid you good day, ladies. Mr. Langley."

  Mr. Gladstone took my hand and held it in a grip that had me quite alarmed with its firmness. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Violet. Perhaps...perhaps you'll come again and we'll have more success next time."

  "Or not," said Jack. "Send the account to Claridges. We leave in the morning."

  We left, but the feeling that Mr. Gladstone was unsettled never left me. Whatever the reason, he mustn't have shared it with the doctor. I should have questioned him, but a very big part of me didn't want to know. I had the horrible feeling it was related to the trauma Dr. Werner mentioned. I didn't want to dwell upon that at all. For now, I was of the opinion that what I didn't know couldn't harm me.

  Perhaps if I kept telling myself that, I might even have believed it.

  "Are you all right?" Sylvia asked when we were in the carriage.

  Jack lounged back on the seat and rubbed his hands down his face, over his jaw.

  "Go ahead," I said. "I know it's killing you not to ask."

  He huffed out a breath. "Did they...did anything...? Oh bloody hell. I should have stayed with you in there."

  "Calm down. Nothing untoward happened. You heard Dr. Werner say that his reputation is of the utmost importance to him."

  "So what did they do?" Sylvia asked. "What did it feel like?"

  I shrugged. "Like I couldn't keep my eyes open. Mr. Gladstone's voice was simply..." I shook my head, unable to describe its rich, modular tones, the way it hummed through my mind.

  "I know," Sylvia muttered. "His voice was as handsome as his face."

  "I'm not quite sure that's how I'd explain it."

  "So you just fell asleep?" Jack asked. "Then what?"

  "Then I woke up. How long was I in the room?"

  "Only ten minutes," he said. "You didn't experience anything while you were in a hypnotic state?"

  "Not a thing. No dreams, no consciousness of what was happening in the real world. Nothing."

  "Remarkable," Sylvia said, shaking her head in wonder. "What skill that Mr. Gladstone has. And to think, he's only an apprentice."

  "August will be disappointed it came to nothing," Jack said.

  "It was your idea," Sylvia pointed out.

  "Doesn't mean it was a good one." He turned to look out the window and she winked at me. She did enjoy vexing her cousin, but he didn't seem in the mood to toss it back as he usually did.