Mortal Arts (A Lady Darby Mystery)

“Yes. And if he is, bring him down to his room in the servants’ quarters. Either way, we’ll be waiting for you there.”

 

 

Gage hurried away before he could answer, toward the flight of servants’ stairs we’d used earlier. I had to practically run to keep up.

 

“Gage. Gage!” I grabbed hold of his arm just as he was opening the door and pulled him around to face me. “Would you mind telling me what’s going on?”

 

He wrapped his hand around my upper arm and pulled me into the dim stairwell. He cast a fleeting look up and down the stairs to be certain we were alone and then began speaking in a hushed voice. “All along we’ve suspected that Dr. Sloane was eager to have William Dalmay back at his Larkspur Retreat. You yourself suggested he might know something Sloane doesn’t want revealed. So he decided to control the situation. He put one of his men in position to keep an eye on Dalmay and report back to him.”

 

My eyes widened as I realized what he was saying. “Donovan?”

 

“That’s my guess. Did you notice that Dr. Sloane once worked in the same infirmary Donovan gave as a reference—the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh?”

 

I gasped, wondering how I’d missed that connection.

 

“I don’t think that’s just a coincidence.”

 

I scowled. “Did I tell you he’s been cozying up to my maid?” From his frown I could tell I hadn’t. “He wanted information from her—about me, about my past.”

 

He stiffened and his eyes turned watchful. “I hope you reprimanded the girl.”

 

“I did,” I replied, still trying to read his expression in the low light. “And I hope she’s had the sense to stay away from him since. I’m still considering sending her back to Gairloch.”

 

He turned away abruptly and guided me down the steps with a warm hand to my back.

 

“I still don’t understand,” I said. “Has he been manipulating us through Donovan?”

 

“Partly. But you remember Dr. Sloane sought me out and specifically asked me to investigate. I’m beginning to wonder if he knew all along that Michael and I were old friends, and so I would be more inclined to see his brother confined to an asylum than face a public trial. And . . .” he paused in his descent of the stairs to look at me “. . . most importantly, that I would be more eager to keep Dalmay’s crimes hidden from the authorities.”

 

I began to comprehend. “Dr. Sloane was relying on the fact that all of us would want to keep Will’s past and his current mental state secret. So if he could convince us through a series of incidents that William was a danger to himself and others, and that Michael was incapable of caring for him, he hoped we would then urge Michael to realize that his brother was better off at Larkspur Retreat rather than risk revealing his condition to the rest of the world.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

The entire scenario sickened me to the point that I felt physically ill. “That’s . . . that’s . . .” I stumbled over my words, unable to think of a description horrible enough. “That’s evil.” I clasped my amethyst pendant, running my fingers over the smooth, cold stone. My mother had given it to me as an amulet of protection, and I needed the comfort of it, and her, now. “Do you think that’s what’s really happening here?”

 

“That’s my theory.”

 

I leaned against the wall at my back, feeling a little weak-kneed. “And so Mary Wallace . . . He killed Mary Wallace just to make us doubt Will?”

 

Gage’s answer to this was slower in coming. “Possibly.”

 

“But why drag her into this?”

 

“She befriended Dalmay, didn’t she?”

 

“Yes, but if Dr. Sloane was so keen to keep the matter contained then why didn’t he nab Miss Remmington or Laura or me instead?”

 

“Perhaps it was simply a matter of opportunity. He could make Miss Wallace’s death look like an accidental drowning, keeping the authorities from investigating too closely, while still making all of us doubt.”

 

I shook my head, having trouble accepting all of this.

 

Gage stepped forward to cup my elbow. “I know it all seems unbelievable, but from the beginning I’ve had a hunch that nothing was as it seemed. And without declaring Will insane, and blaming all of this on him outright, I can think of no other explanation.” His gaze was so intent I couldn’t look away. “I’m trying to keep an open mind.”

 

For me. He was keeping an open mind for me. That was what he left unsaid. He was testing every avenue, even those that seemed somewhat ludicrous, so that I wouldn’t have to accept that Will might be beyond my means to help. Gage himself was not convinced this was anything but an outrageous theory, but he was willing to consider it, for me.

 

That realization warmed me from the inside out, blunting the icy fear Dr. Sloane’s potential involvement had caused me. “Do you think you can make Donovan talk?”

 

“I don’t know.” His features hardened. “But I’m determined to try.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

 

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