Amanda Quick - Quicksilver

“It is always good to hear positive testimonials about a doctor before one books an appointment,” Virginia said. “But I must admit I am not keen on the notion of a medical procedure that involves an electrical device. It sounds rather dangerous.”

“According to what I have heard, Spinner’s treatment is very safe. I have been assured that the vibrating device he uses to induce the therapeutic paroxysm is of the most modern design and extremely efficient.”

“The treatment he prescribes is for female hysteria,” Virginia reminded her. “Neither of us actually suffers from that condition.”

“How difficult can it be to fake an attack of female hysteria, for goodness’ sake?”

“Good point,” Virginia agreed. “In any event, after what I went through last night, I’m certain my nerves are very fragile indeed.”

“Of course they are,” Charlotte said enthusiastically. “So are mine. I doubt very much that Dr. Spinner is overly exacting when it comes to establishing a diagnosis, in any event. After all, the one thing everyone knows about patients who suffer from female hysteria is that they represent a great source of repeat business for a doctor.”

“The disease doesn’t kill the patient, but the patient must be treated on a regular basis in order to achieve a therapeutic effect.”

“In short, the hysteria patient is the ideal patient,” Charlotte said. “Furthermore, those in the medical profession are convinced that spinsterhood itself is enough to produce hysteria in women. Something to do with the problem of female congestion. We both qualify as spinsters now. Very hard on the nerves, they say.”

“I expect an unfortunate marriage would be equally hard on the nerves.” Virginia shuddered. “Only consider poor Lady Hollister’s situation. She must have suspected that she was wedded to a monster, but there was nothing she could do about it. In the end it obviously drove her mad. I would much prefer the problem of female congestion.”

“Let’s be honest here,” Charlotte said. “Neither of us would have put up with a creature as vile as Hollister any longer than it took to determine his true nature. Had he married either one of us, he would have expired on his honeymoon.”

“Well, there is that,” Virginia agreed. “But you and I both possess a considerable degree of talent, and with strong talent comes strong intuition. I doubt very much that either one of us would have married such a beast in the first place. We would have sensed the monster in him.”

“We both know that one of the reasons we are facing spinsterhood in the first place is because of our talents.” Charlotte wrinkled her nose. “Strong intuition is all well and good, but it certainly gets in the way of romantic relationships. Just think, Ginny, we will both be twenty-seven years old, and neither one of us has found a man we could love with any degree of passion. Which is why we really must give serious consideration to Dr. Spinner’s therapy.”

“I agree, but I’m afraid I won’t be free to try Spinner’s treatment until after I’ve finished assisting Mr. Sweetwater with his investigation.” Virginia put down her empty cup and rose from the table. “Let us hope that my nerves survive intact long enough for me to seek medical therapy for my hysteria and congestion when this business is completed.”

Virginia left the bookshop a short time later. It was late afternoon, but the fog had brought on an early twilight. The buildings on either side of the narrow street loomed in the eerie gray dusk. The vaporous mist was so thick that she did not notice the carriage in front of her town house until she was close to the front steps.

Owen vaulted down from the cab and came toward her. He wore a long, dark coat and a low-crowned hat pulled down over his eyes. At the sight of him, a thrill of excitement flared deep inside her. It had been this way when he had walked into her study yesterday. She responded to his presence in a way that was new and intoxicating to her senses. It was also somewhat disorienting. She had never experienced this reaction around any other man.

She paused at the bottom of her front steps, aware of a pleasant sensation that she had not experienced for a very long time. It took her a heartbeat or two to recognize the feeling. In spite of recent events, she felt happy, a little exhilarated.

She smiled. “Mr. Sweetwater. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I have been waiting for you,” he said coldly. “Your housekeeper told me that you had gone to visit a friend.”

The sparkling excitement inside her was instantly transformed into irritation. The one great, extremely positive aspect of spinsterhood, she thought, was that a woman was not obliged to answer to any man.

“I am returning from paying a call on a very good friend,” she said crisply. “Not that it is any of your affair, sir.”

“Under the circumstance, I had hoped that you would have the good sense to exercise some caution when it comes to your daily schedule. I told you that I have people watching your house at night, but I did not think it necessary during the day.”

She raised her chin. “What did you expect, sir? That I would lock myself in the house and sit by the fire until you concluded your investigation? I’m afraid that will not be possible. I have a living to make.”

“I comprehend that fact. But I do not like the idea of you going out, unescorted, while there is a killer running around who preys on women with your talent.”

“I am not an idiot, Mr. Sweetwater. This afternoon I walked along crowded streets and spent some time in the company of my friend in a shop. I was never alone at any time. I did not stroll down dark alleys or take shortcuts through empty parks. I even managed to refrain from accepting rides in carriages with strangers. Not that any strangers offered me a ride.”

He contemplated her with faintly narrowed eyes. “You are correct, of course. I have no right to tell you how to go about your daily life.”

“Is that an apology?”

“No, an observation. There is no point in my apologizing, because I will very likely lecture you again on the same subject in the near future. You can probably place a wager on it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m trying to keep you safe and catch a killer, damn it. And because between the two of us, I am the one who has had some experience in dealing with the monsters.”

“I do realize that your intentions are honorable, sir,” she said, gentling her voice a little. “The problem we have is that you are obviously accustomed to issuing orders, and I am not at all accustomed to taking them.”

“I can see that.”

“I’m certain we shall muddle through. Now, then, why did you come here to see me today? Have you some news?”

For a moment she thought he was going to ignite the embers of their disagreement into a full-blown quarrel. But evidently concluding that he did not have logic on his side, he abandoned the field. She suspected the retreat was only temporary.

“Later tonight I would like you to accompany me on a visit to the house of one of the glass-readers who was murdered, Mrs. Ratford,” he said. “I noticed at least two mirrors on the premises when I went inside. Perhaps you will be able to perceive something helpful in one of them.”

Anticipation ghosted through her. “Yes, of course.” She went up the steps to the front door. “There is no reason to stand around out here. Won’t you come in? I’m sure Mrs. Crofton will want to serve tea. I fear that if I do not invite a few more guests into the house, she will grow bored and quit.”

Mrs. Crofton opened the door. She gave Virginia a disapproving look.