Tasha Alexander - Dangerous to Know

“I feel no surprise at seeing you again,” the doctor said, standing as we entered the room. “I know I did not send you away yesterday satisfied.”

I introduced Cécile. “I am most impressed with your facility,” she said. “As a dear friend of Madame Prier’s, I know it must have given her comfort to know her daughter was so well looked after while she was here.”

“I’m only sorry Edith didn’t stay with us,” he said.

“Did you have any reason to believe she’d try to escape?” I asked.

“I’m not sure ‘escape’ is even the proper word. She wasn’t locked up or restrained. I wouldn’t have encouraged her to walk out the front door if I’d seen her try, but it’s not as if she was a prisoner.”

“Why do you think she wanted to leave?”

“I couldn’t possibly say.” He didn’t look at me as he replied.

“You told us she had a gentleman who visited her regularly. Was she romantically involved with him?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Lady Emily. But unless her family has specifically instructed me to reveal the details of Mademoiselle Prier’s case, I cannot tell you anything more.”

Cécile and I had come prepared. She passed the doctor a letter from Madame Prier—she’d convinced her to write it while I had talked to Toinette. He read it, folded it, creasing the edges with care, and rubbed his eyes. “I can assure you there was nothing romantic between Edith and the man who called himself Myriel.”

“We know Edith was with child,” I said, leaning forward.

He sat, motionless.

“Laurent Prier told us the whole story.”

No reply.

“Did Edith Prier flee because of what you did to her?” I asked.

Now he moaned. “She ran because of what I did, yes, but it’s not what you think. Not if you’ve talked to Laurent.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t do what he asked of me. I couldn’t bring myself to harm the child. But all of that is irrelevant now. And it doesn’t pertain to Edith’s case, not so far as her family is concerned. I know what I’ve done, and it’s something from which I won’t be able to escape for the rest of my life. But it isn’t any concern of yours.”

“It is if what you did directly or indirectly led to Edith’s murder,” I said.

“I’m in the business of saving lives, not ending them, Lady Emily. Understand that and you’ll know my guilt, though heavy, is not what Laurent told you.”

I mulled over Dr. Girard’s words as our carriage wound its way back along the river towards the bustle of Rouen. If his business was saving lives, and he hadn’t done what Laurent asked, what had become of the child he claimed not to have harmed? My head was throbbing with questions by the time we reached the Priers’. I looked at Cécile and sighed as we alighted from the carriage.

“I’m not looking forward to this evening.”

“I could not agree more,” she said. “But perhaps tonight will be better than the others we’ve spent here. We may even be able to convince Toinette to stop talking.”

And so laughter flowed from me as we entered the sitting room. Laughter that turned to ebullient joy when I saw my darling husband waiting for me. He rushed over and scooped me up in his arms.

“I came here with Gaudet this morning to follow up on a lead and couldn’t resist seeing you before you leave for Paris,” he said.

“I’m so pleased,” I said, kissing his cheek. Cécile, giving me a knowing look, exited in search of Madame Prier.

“I missed you,” he said.

“You shouldn’t have sent me away.”

“How are you enjoying Rouen?”

“It’s been beyond fascinating,” I said, and briefed him on all I’d learned about Edith. I did not, however, go into the details of my own ghostly tinglings.

“Girard must have let Edith have the baby and then sent it somewhere. It’s no surprise a man of medicine wouldn’t want to have helped things along , as Laurent told you.” Colin tapped his fingers on his knee. “Who would have taken the child?”

“You agree the baby’s still alive?”

“I do. Think on it. Edith discovers she’s with child. Her brother wants her sent away so the situation can be dealt with, one way or another. The good doctor isn’t willing to do what Laurent wants, but knows he can hide the birth—Laurent was the only one visiting—and send the baby somewhere safe.”

“Of course.” I looked at him. “We have to find the baby.”

“It could be anywhere—years have passed.”

“Edith escaped because she wanted to find it. She must have got in contact with Vasseur somehow. He left the Foreign Legion, came for her, and they went in search of their child. And the mission led to her brutal death.”

“It makes more sense than a random killing,” Colin said.

“Does it make more sense than thinking the Ripper’s come to France?”

“At the moment I’m inclined to say yes. Random violence is rare, and although the manner of Edith’s death is reminiscent of the Whitechapel murders, it may be that whoever killed her was deliberately copying his more famous colleague to set the police on the wrong track.”

“A theory not originally your own, if I recall.” I smiled. “So what will you do?”

“We can’t discount the possibility the murderer has come over from England. But this information of yours makes me want to change tactics.”

“New tactics that perhaps don’t require shipping me off to London?”

“So long as there’s no evidence of a madman marauding through Normandy in search of prey, I think I should be able to keep you safe. But are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to go home? Or to Paris with Cécile?”

“It’s as if you don’t know me at all,” I said. “Can you possibly believe I’d rather be anywhere than with you? I’d be so happy I wouldn’t even object to you keeping me safe.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Shall I convince you?” I asked. After a brief and extremely pleasant pause, we returned to the matter at hand. “Do you think Edith knew where the child had been sent?”

“We’re going to have to question Girard again. My guess would be that she didn’t—there would be too great a risk of her trying to get in contact. But it’s possible the baby hadn’t been sent far.”

“He could have easily sent it out of the country.”

“True, but let’s suppose someone—perhaps this man who visited her—told Edith where the child was. She escaped and wound up dead within a reasonable drive of Rouen.”

“So you draw the conclusion that she’d gone as far as she needed to find the child?” I asked. “She might have only just begun her journey.”

He grinned. “You’re right. I do adore your mind.”

“You’re too kind,” I said. “But I must ask—have you made any progress with our friend Sebastian?”

“ Your friend, Sebastian. Let’s be clear on that point. He’s not shown a single sign of being around. I’ve been working on the assumption he followed you here.”

“I wish I could say I’d seen him and recruited him to the Crown’s cause.”

“This is one bet, Emily, you’re not going to win.”

“I’m sure you’d like to believe that. But I’ve not time to discuss it at the moment. Will you excuse me?” I asked. “I want to speak with Laurent. He may prove himself useful yet.”

I applied my usual method for locating Laurent—following the sound of moody Beethoven up the stairs to his room. This time, I didn’t bother to knock on the door, opting instead to head straight for the passage between our two chambers.

“You’re quite good, you know,” I said, coming up behind him as he sat at the piano. “Do you compose as well?”