“Yes. Though he had to exert his position and authority to do so.” It made sense that the Royal College would not want word of one of its members’ radical actions made public to taint their reputation more than it already was by Dr. Knox’s part in the infamous Burke and Hare case. Dr. Knox had purchased the bodies of the victims Burke and Hare had murdered, believing they were robbed from graves like most of the bodies he procured for dissection. Or so he said. Public opinion had recently turned against the anatomist and lecturer at the Royal College, blaming him for providing incentive for the killings, at the very least.
Of course, Dr. Sloane’s sanctions must have occurred years ago, prior to the Burke and Hare scandal, otherwise Dr. Sloane wouldn’t have been conducting his experiments in a lunatic asylum on remote Inchkeith Island instead of in Edinburgh. Unless he had been doing both.
I shivered at the thought.
In any case, while I could understand the Royal College’s desire to keep his actions quiet, I heartily disagreed with them. The man’s perfidy should have been made known to the public to protect families from unwittingly consigning their loved ones to Dr. Sloane’s care. Families like the Dalmays. Although I still could not comprehend the old Lord Dalmay’s decision to confine his son to an institution like the Larkspur Retreat, I wanted to believe he would never have given him over to Dr. Sloane’s care if he’d known about the man’s unorthodox experiments and the reprimand he’d received from the Royal College.
“Does he mention what these experiments were?” Gage asked.
“No. But I think we can only assume that some of Will’s drawings depict them.” And the idea that he might have done these same things to his daughter, his own flesh and blood, made me sick to my stomach. I could tell Gage’s thoughts had followed the same path, for his brow furrowed in concern.
“Perhaps it is these experiments, and not the identity of the girl he claims Dalmay murdered, that Dr. Sloane is so eager to keep secret. After all, the man was already sanctioned once for his actions. And quite possibly lost his daughter because of them, though I suppose there’s no proof. He could easily have blamed her death on her melancholia. But, either way, it would explain the tight security at Larkspur, and why Michael was never allowed past Dr. Sloane’s office.”
I nodded, worrying my lip. “Both possibilities give him reason enough to want to see William silenced and returned to his care.” I studied Gage, who was rubbing his hand over his brow in deep thought. “Do you think it’s possible that’s what is happening here? That Dr. Sloane is somehow manipulating events in order to discredit William and see him brought back to his asylum, whether by frightening Michael into recommitting him or dragging the authorities into it?” The idea seemed ludicrous, but without blaming William the list of other suspects was quite short.
“Perhaps,” he replied, sounding unconvinced.
I could tell he was trying to consider other options for my sake, and I appreciated it. But by the very fact that he needed to try, I knew the circle of blame was tightening around Will. There were just too many facts that pointed to him. Too many things we would be forced to overlook if we were to attempt to shift the blame elsewhere. If William were not who he was, if neither of us cared for him, I knew we would already be interrogating him and demanding an explanation.
“It’s time to talk to Will,” I declared, knowing I needed to be the one to say it.
Gage nodded slowly.
“No more handling him with kid gloves. We need answers. Mr. Wallace deserves to know what happened to his daughter so she can rest in peace.”
I turned away, unable to bear the compassion in Gage’s eyes. I might have been determined to get answers, but I was not looking forward to hearing them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Once we had explained the morning’s discoveries to Michael and our renewed intentions to question his brother, he insisted on joining us, first and foremost to inform him of Miss Wallace’s death. He asserted that if his brother had not harmed her—as he said he believed, though his eyes belied him—then Will would need his support. We could not force him to leave the matter to us—Will was his brother, after all—and I thought his refusal to abandon him somewhat admirable, under the circumstances.
However, Michael’s confident words did not translate to his behavior. He was so jumpy and anxious I was afraid his emotions would be conveyed to William. In an effort both to better control the situation and to relieve him of the weight of such an onerous duty, Gage offered to do the talking. After all, he was far more accustomed to such charged situations than Michael or I, and quite skilled at putting people at ease in order to question them. But Michael insisted he would do it. That Will was his brother, and he needed to be the one to speak to him.
So when we entered Will’s bedchamber, finding him seated by the same window Gage and I had found him gazing out before, it was Michael and I who took the seats next to him while Gage and Mac stood by the door. His bright smile at our arrival quickly faded at the look on his brother’s face and he waited in quiet anticipation for whatever Michael had come to say.