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“Roses,” Uncle said. “She mentioned a vase full of fresh roses on the nightstand.” Thomas didn’t so much as breathe as he swung around, his gaze landing on me. Either unaware of the sudden tension in the room, or maybe because of it, Uncle handed me and Thomas aprons. “Focus, the two of you. Let’s see what answers we can find on our own.”
I glanced at my untouched tart before setting it aside. It was just as well that I complete this portion of our work without a stomach full of sweet lemon curd. I placed my hands on the flesh like I’d been taught, pressing my blade hard enough for the skin to part like ruby waves as I dragged my scalpel from shoulder to sternum and exposed the red layers of flesh.
A sense of calm entered the room as I repeated the process on the other side, my Y incision nearly complete as I slid the blade down the torso. Without waiting for further instruction, I doused my rag in carbolic acid and wiped my weapon down before sinking it back into the flesh. In moments I’d removed the heart and viscera, handing them off to Uncle to be weighed and cataloged by Thomas.
He caught my eye briefly, looking up from his notes, his expression unreadable. I glanced at the liquid matter splattered up my pale sage velvet sleeves like tiny embroidered petals. Just as quickly as he’d studied me, he was back to his own work, his brow crinkled in deep concentration. Perhaps I’d imagined that his attention was directed toward me.
Once we’d taken note of every detail, I pulled the tray with the stomach close, preparing to do a full dissection of it. I’d be looking for any signs of poison. A drop of perspiration hit the metal surface, quickly followed by another. I jerked my attention up. Uncle removed a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted at his brow. It was quite cold in the basement of this house, especially in the dead of winter.
Petals of red bloomed over his cheeks. Not embarrassment. He appeared to be suddenly burning up with fever.
“Are you feeling all right?” I asked, trying to keep the concern from my voice. The last thing I wished to do was annoy Uncle. “Thomas and I can handle this if you’d like to rest—”
“It’s nothing. I forgot my overcoat again and caught a chill.” Uncle waved off my worry. “Mind your work, Audrey Rose. Stomach contents. Open it up now; unfortunately we haven’t got all evening to study this body. General Inspector Hubbard will be here within the hour, and he’ll expect answers. I suggest we try not to anger him again.”
“Very well, sir.” I picked up another scalpel, readying myself for the dissection of the stomach. I tried ignoring Uncle’s hands as he gripped the edge of the examination table, his knuckles as white as the bones I’d just exposed. In quick, careful motions, I opened the outer layers of the organ.
“It appears—Uncle!” I cried as he collapsed against the table, the medical tools clattering onto the floor around him. “Uncle!”
I moved swiftly to his side, slipping my hands under his arms, trying to lift him back up. It was of no use; he’d lost consciousness. His head fell forward, his spectacles askew. I shot a look in Thomas’s direction. “A little assistance, Cresswell?” I tilted Uncle’s head back, my fingers searching out a pulse. It
was faint, but it was there. He must be more ill than he’d let on. His lids fluttered, but he did not open his eyes again. “Thomas?”
I glanced up. Thomas stood against the wall, his fist gripping his stomach, his face screwed up in pain. The world became a narrow corridor, void of sound. Irrational horror spread through my limbs, weighing me down as much as my uncle’s body.
Poison.
“Thomas!” I shouted, watching helplessly as he staggered forward, trying to get to me. I gently set my uncle on the floor, making sure he was on his side in case he began vomiting. I did not want him to asphyxiate on it. I sprang up, my heart now beating ten times too fast as I limped over and caught Thomas the moment before he slammed to the ground. I gripped him to me fiercely, as if I could protect him from this invisible demon. “You’re fine,” I said frantically, smoothing his damp hair back. “You’re going to be all right.”
A cough racked through him and he wheezed a laugh. “Are you commanding that?”
“Yes.” I held his face between my hands, staring into his eyes, watching his pupils dilate. I forced the tremor from my voice, not wanting to scare him. “I command you, and if there’s a God, then I command Him and His angels, too. You will not die on me, Thomas Cresswell. Do you understand? I will kill you if you die!”
Another coughing fit had him trembling in place. He could no longer speak.
“Help!” I screamed as loudly as I could. “Come immediately!”
I clutched Thomas tightly, forcing my mind to become the leader my heart desperately needed. It was clear they’d been poisoned. I focused on identifying which kind. Uncle twitched from his place on the floor, his breath coming in deep wheezes. His face was splotchy, as was Thomas’s. I almost lost my battle with tears as I studied him.
Thomas gripped his stomach, indicating they’d ingested it. Think. It was both a command and a plea to myself. If I could identify the poison, I could find an antidote.
“Miss?” The maid from earlier stopped short, her attention bouncing from Thomas to Uncle to me, sitting there, cradling my dying love. A look of unadulterated fear entered her features. I wondered if she thought I was the monster who’d done this. “Are they…”
“Ring for a doctor immediately!” I said, thanking the marvels of technology for having a telephone in this old house. “Tell him there’s been two poisonings. Possibly arsenic, given their symptoms, but it’s working through their system at an advanced rate. It might be belladonna or something similar. Maybe even some strange combination of them all. Tell him he must come at once. Do you understand?”
She nodded too many times, her own body trembling. I made my voice harsher than it needed to be to wake her from her own daze.
“Hurry! They haven’t got much time left.”
FORTY-FOUR
AN AVENGING ANGEL
GRANDMAMA’S ESTATE
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
16 FEBRUARY 1889
