“It was clear to all of us how much it affected you,” Gage elaborated. His voice was calm and unhurried, as one would speak to a sobbing child or a riled animal. “But was there something more to it?”
I watched him, wondering what he was hinting at. For whatever it was seemed to be disturbing Michael greatly. He jumped up from his chair and moved toward the fireplace, leaning over the flames with his hand pressed against the mantel.
I watched as Gage and Philip shared a look of grim anticipation. It stretched my already taut nerves past my endurance. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can’t be so awful,” I told our host. “What could William possibly have done that has you so rattled?”
Gage’s eyes were solemn, and I frowned at him in confusion.
“I’m not certain he did anything,” Michael said to the fire. He heaved a sigh and pushed away from the hearth. “In fact . . .” he scraped a hand back through his hair “. . . I don’t know why I’m giving Dr. Sloane’s words any credence at all.”
“The man who controls the lunatic asylum?” I asked in surprise.
He nodded. “He told me something when I returned with my petition signed by the local magistrate to collect William. Something I never believed, something I still don’t believe. But . . .” His words trailed away.
“This girl’s disappearance is making you doubt him,” Gage guessed.
Michael nodded wretchedly, sinking back into his chair.
“What did Dr. Sloane say?” Philip prompted.
“He said . . .” He swallowed and tried again. “He said that William had . . .” he choked on the words “. . . raped and murdered a girl, a fellow inmate in the asylum.”
I felt as if all the air had been sucked from my body. All I could do was stare at Michael in shock.
“When?” Gage seemed to be the only one with the presence of mind to ask questions. “How?”
Michael shook his head. “I don’t know. I told him he was lying. I never wanted to hear any of the details.”
“And he only told you this after you returned with the petition forcing him to allow you to remove your brother?” Gage’s tone of voice held a tinge of skepticism in it—one most would not have heard, but I did—and I blessed him for it.
“He kept telling me I was making a terrible mistake by removing William from his care, but I refused to listen. The man was an oily, underhanded bastard.” He pounded the arm of his chair with his fist. “I was not going to leave my brother in his institution.” His breath rasped in and out of him as if he was imagining doing bodily harm to this Dr. Sloane. But then his face crumpled, and I could see the fear and doubt return. “But what if I was wrong?”
“You’re not,” I declared. “It doesn’t matter what kind of gammon this doctor tried to feed to you. He obviously can’t be trusted. Just look at William.” I gestured toward the ceiling. “He clearly did not prosper under his care. I would rather see your brother consigned to perdition than returned to that man’s tender mercies.”
Michael began to look more hopeful, and then Gage spoke up. “Now, let’s not be too hasty. I agree that this Dr. Sloane is not the right man to handle Lord Dalmay’s care. And he certainly seems capable of lying to get his own way. But we must ask ourselves why he would do so. Why would he be so anxious to keep Lord Dalmay in his care that he would fabricate a heinous crime?”
“My father was paying him a significant amount of money every year for my brother’s upkeep,” Michael said.
I gestured to our host. “Well, there you go.”
“But I told him I would no longer pay the fee,” he added in dismay. “I said I refused to lend support to such a dishonest establishment.”
“But if you hadn’t gotten your brother released, would you really have done that?” Philip asked, looking at his friend kindly for the first time that morning. “Would you really have been able to withhold the funds without worrying that this Dr. Sloane would have punished William for it?”
Michael sank his head into his hand. “I don’t know.”
“And Sloane would have seen that weakness. So it still could be about the money.”
“Were you allowed to visit William in his room?” I asked Michael. “Were you allowed inside the asylum at all?”
“No. Not past Dr. Sloane’s office, at any rate. He has burly guards stationed at each of the doors, and I wasn’t allowed even a peek past them into the confines of the asylum.”
“Not even when you returned that last time to collect your brother?” Gage asked in some surprise.
He shook his head. “No. William was brought out to me.” His face darkened. “They had him in chains.”
Anger sparked inside me, and I stoked it, wanting it to burn away the other uncomfortable emotions churning in my gut. “Then William’s release could mean the loss of another valuable commodity for Dr. Sloane.”
The three men turned to look at me.
“Secrecy.”
I could tell I had grabbed their attention, particularly Gage, who seemed to be mulling something over in his mind that he didn’t like.