“Should I not decide that?”
“Goose. Gander.”
He crossed his arms and opened his mouth to speak.
“If you plan to say anything to me about knowing my place and what I should or should not do as a lady, a daughter of a peer, about scandal or reputation or propriety, this will become a most unpleasant journey.”
Delie covered her mouth with her hand. Lewis closed his.
The carriage slowed and stopped, and Eloise motioned to Cordelia to stay inside. The footman opened the door and helped Eloise out, then she watched as Lewis left the carriage, studiously observing where he placed his hands, the way he balanced his weight as he exited.Interesting.Then she turned to examine their destination.
She did not recognize the neighborhood, which seemed to be made up of boarded up stores, storage buildings, and manufacturing. She heard the distinctive cadence of a blacksmith’s hammer, the cacophony of men shouting orders, a rhythmic pattern of street vendors calling to each other. The smells—pungent and acrid—made her nose twitch. Before her, a two-story brick building had windows stained black with soot and a single wooden door that had once been white but now carried similar black streaks and gray smudges from hundreds of hands.
“One of your morgues?”
He gripped her elbow. “Yes. Top floor. The bottom is a clinic for any who might be able to pay a few pence.”
The stench hit as soon as he opened the door. Rotting meat, soured clothes, and a metallic scent all merged with a sweeter smell, as if floral perfume had been poured over an overflowing chamber pot. Eloise swallowed hard but refused to wince or shirk away. They passed through a room filled with medical equipment, then up a dark and narrow stairwell. The odors intensified, and Lewis pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her.
“Breathe through your mouth.”
Eloise took the cloth and nodded her thanks. She shook it out and put it over her nose.
A door at the top of the stairs led to a large room filled with long tables, at least twenty of them. Each table contained a human body, and while some were covered with blankets or sheets, some appeared to have been frozen in the midst of a grotesque surgery. Eloise felt the bile surge into her mouth, and she swallowed hard, determined not to gag, much less vomit. She pressed the handkerchief tighter over her nose.
Two men worked on one corpse, both wearing brown leather aprons streaked with red and black smears. The older one looked up as the door closed, his eyes stark when he spotted Lewis... and Eloise. He put down his instruments and wiped his hand on a rag tucked into his waistband.
“Lewis! Are you insane?”
“We’re here to see the boy.”
The doctor’s shoulders sagged and he nodded at Eloise. “Relative?”
“Sister,” Lewis said.
The man nodded and pointed at a nearby table. This body lay under a rough woolen blanket. “I have not had a chance to start on him yet.”
“Probably a good thing,” Lewis muttered.
“I do know he apparently died from being strangled.” He put a hand up on his neck. “There are bruises.”
Lewis nodded, then looked at Eloise. “Are you ready, my lady?”
No. Never. She would never be ready for this. Please, dear God, please.“Yes.”
The doctor studied her a moment. “Are you certain?”
She shook her head. “But it has to be done, does it not?”
The two men glanced at each other, and Lewis slid an arm around Eloise’s waist, holding her tightly. The doctor reached for the edge of the blanket and pulled it back.
Chapter Seventeen
Tuesday, 19 July 1825
Campion’s Gentlemen’s Emporium
Seven in the evening
