The Affinity Bridge (15 page)

Victoria let out a rasping chuckle. “We do hope so, Newbury. Women like that are difficult to find. Make sure you keep her close.” With that she turned the handles on the sides of her chair and retreated slowly into the darkness.

Newbury fumbled his way back to the door in the dim light, turned the handle, and left.

Sandford was waiting by the fire when Newbury emerged from the passageway. He turned to look at the younger man, and then picked up a tumbler from where he’d left it on the mantelpiece.

Newbury accepted it gratefully and took a long swig. The alcohol attacked his palate, causing him to splutter slightly. “Brandy?”

Sandford nodded, his lips curling in a wide smile. “For the cold, sir.”

“Thank you. Very considerate of you, Sandford.” He downed the rest of the drink, feeling the warmth spreading through his chest. He knew that Sandford was an old hand at this sort of thing, and that the reason for the brandy had, in truth, little to do with the cold. The man was simply used to seeing agents return from an audience with the monarch, and the brandy was a restorative offering to steady their nerves and put colour back into their cheeks. Newbury was thankful for the opportunity to do just that. He’d never found it difficult to talk with Her Majesty, but the sheer weight of expectation and nervousness always left his nerves jangling for the rest of the day. Today, of all days, he needed to head back to his lodgings and try to relax, to ponder all of the disparate elements of the case and see what shape they were beginning to take. Not only that, but in answering one mystery he had inadvertently opened up another. He now knew what had agitated the Queen so much about the airship disaster, but he was faced with an even more difficult question to answer: What was a Dutch royal doing onboard a passenger-class vessel bound for Dublin? He needed a breakthrough, and, at the moment, he wasn’t sure where to look next.

Newbury placed the glass back on the mantelpiece and moved to fetch his coat and hat. Somehow, Sandford was there before him, and he thanked the butler as he helped Newbury on with his coat. “Sandford, my thanks. I’m sure it won’t be too long before I’m giving myself over to your hospitality once again.”

Sandford nodded. “Best of luck, sir.” He opened the door for Newbury, momentarily allowing a gust of air into the room, stirring the newspapers that lay on the table. It was cold out, but the day was still young. His head buzzing with thoughts and the warm glow of alcohol, he stepped out into the grey fog and slipped away into the busy streets of London.

_{Chapter Eleven}

The visiting room was cold and impersonal; clinical, even. Veronica was convinced that it wasn’t supposed to feel so unwelcoming, even for a hospital. Her parents were paying a small fortune towards the upkeep of the place, after all. The least they could do would be to provide a few cushions and a bit of colour around the place to brighten things up. No wonder the majority of the patients were so miserable and lifeless. Veronica firmly believed that people were inspired by their surroundings, and that a dull and dreary hospital would reflect badly on the mood of the patients, especially in an institute such as this, which catered for the clinically insane. She knew Amelia would agree. She resolved to make a point of talking to Dr. Mason about it at the next available opportunity.

Veronica sat with her hands on her lap, waiting for the nurses to fetch her sister. She felt uncomfortable and ever so slightly on edge, as she always did when she visited the asylum. She’d travelled to Wandsworth early that morning, taking care to ensure no one saw her leaving her apartments in Kensington and hailing a cab. She hadn’t told Newbury where she was going, and consequently she hoped that he hadn’t attempted to call on her with news of the case. If he had, she’d just have to tell him that she’d decided to go out for a stroll. She was meant to be taking the day to recuperate, after all.

She glanced around. One of the nurses sat on a stool by the door, looking out into the corridor. This would be her guard, she supposed, the woman posted’ there for the duration of her visit to ensure that her sister didn’t stray towards violent tendencies, or that Veronica didn’t attempt to sneak her any proscribed articles such as cosmetics, cutlery or photographs of the family. It was ridiculous, of course. Her sister had never hurt anyone in her life, and Veronica had no intention of causing difficulties for Amelia by bringing her any gifts that would cause her emotional unrest.

Dr. Mason believed that the less contact the patients had with their families, the easier they would find it to settle in to their new environment. In fact, the last time Veronica had spoken with him, he’d admonished her for the frequency of her visits, citing all manner of recent papers on the subject and claiming that the regularity of her calls was working against the treatment programme he had instigated for her sister. To Veronica, it seemed like an archaic way to try to make someone better, isolating them from the people who loved them. Besides, she knew it was a pointless exercise, anyway, although she didn’t admit that to Dr. Mason. It wouldn’t do to have him think that she disagreed with his diagnosis. Only, Veronica knew that her sister was far from the lunatic that the doctor had led her parents to believe. She wasn’t mad. She just happened to be able to see into the future.

Veronica looked up at the sound of footsteps from the corridor outside. The nurse who was sitting on the stool turned to look at her in acknowledgement, and then a moment later another nurse in a white uniform led Amelia into the room. Veronica’s heart leapt. She stood, moving to embrace her sister.

Amelia was painfully thin, and dressed in a loose-fitting outfit comprised of a grey woollen blouse and matching skirt that Veronica thought would be better suited to a prison than a hospital. Her hair was raven-black and long, loose around her shoulders, and her pale skin and soft complexion gave the impression that she was even younger than her fragile nineteen years. She looked scared, although her face lit up as she entered the visitor’s room and saw her sister coming towards her.

“Veronica! You came.”

Veronica embraced her, feeling the press of her bony shoulder blades through the prickly fabric. “Of course I came!” She led Amelia to the sofa where she had been sitting and bade her to take a seat. “Are you eating enough? You’re so terribly thin.”

“I eat well enough, sister. The food here is passable.” She forced a smile. “Anyway, what news do you bring from the outside world? Do our parents send word?”

Veronica looked uncomfortable. “No, Amelia, no word from home.” She patted her gently on the back of her hand. “But I’m sure they will call soon.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know how Dr. Mason likes to hold them at bay.”

Amelia glanced at the door. The nurse was still sitting on her stool, staring out into the corridor, as if there were something more interesting to engage her attention out there. Amelia sighed. “I don’t understand it, Veronica. They must know by now that they’ve made a mistake. It’s clear that I’m not a lunatic. I’m convinced the seizures are a medical condition. They must be able to control them with drugs or remedies of some sort. They
must.”
She looked into Veronica’s eyes. “I want so desperately to come home.”

Veronica felt tears welling in her eyes, and blinked them away, forcing herself to be strong for her sibling. “I know, Amelia. I know.” She looked away, unable to see the pleading in her sister’s eyes. “Your illness is unique. The doctors need time to study it, to find a way to help you. I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.”

Amelia nodded, biting her bottom lip. She brushed her fringe away from her eyes. “Well, that’s enough about me! Tell me about yourself, Veronica. What have you been up to? This hospital is so drab and boring that I need to hear stories of the real world. I like to think of you going about your business out there, all pretty and professional in your smart clothes.”

Veronica smiled. “I think your expectations of my life are rather fanciful, Amelia. I work in a museum. I’ve spent the last week transcribing Sir Maurice’s essays and researching academic papers on the druids of Bronze Age Europe. It’s good work, but it’s quiet. Hardly the stuff of high adventure!”

Amelia nodded, a twinkle in her eye. “You forget, sister, that I’m able to see more than you think, even from in here. I fancy your recent exploits are far more engaging than you care to let on.” She smiled, dismissing the issue. “So, tell me, have you scandalized the museum terribly with your forward-thinking ideas?”

Veronica laughed. “There have been a few raised eyebrows, certainly. Although I try to abstain from truly ruffling any feathers. I’d rather hold on to my position for the time being.”

“And what of suitors?” The nurse by the door looked over, obviously interested in Veronica’s response. “I hear that Sir Maurice cuts a dashing figure about town.”

“Amelia, really.” Veronica blushed. “Sir Maurice and I have a strictly professional acquaintance. He’s a handsome man, I admit, but I—”

“-protest too much, clearly.” Amelia cut in, chuckling. “Come now sister, I’m only playing with you.” She scratched at her arms where the woollen shirt was evidently irritating her skin.

Veronica was suddenly serious. She put her hand to Amelia’s cool cheek. “Have you had any more episodes this week, Amelia?”

Amelia shrugged. “A few.” She looked away, noncommittal. “And…”

“And they were just as unpleasant and unwelcome as they usually are.” She looked up at Veronica again, searching her face. “I do wish they could find a way to make them stop. The things I see….” She trailed off, clearly distraught.

Veronica hugged her close, her voice soothing. “I know Amelia. We’re doing all we can, I promise.”

She felt Amelia go limp in her arms.

“Amelia?” She held her by the shoulders. “Amelia?”

Suddenly, Amelia’s thin body began twitching jerkily, her muscles going into spasms as Veronica tried to hold her still. Her eyes rolled back in their sockets, her mouth foaming as she shook wildly on the sofa.

“Amelia!” She glanced at the nurse, who had only just realised what was happening.

“Help in here!” The woman came away from the door, running to Veronica’s side. She took hold of Amelia and eased her to the floor. She continued to twitch violently. “We need to restrain her so that she doesn’t hurt herself.”

Veronica dropped to her knees, clamping her hands over Amelia’s legs. Her face was etched with concern. “What now?”

The nurse didn’t look up from where she was struggling to hold Amelia’s arms by her sides. “Now we wait for the doctor.”

Amelia started to babble something incoherent in the midst of her tortured seizure. Veronica tried to make sense of the garbled words, tears now streaming freely down her cheeks. There was something about fire, screaming and trains. Other than that it was impossible to tell what Amelia was saying, as her body, wracked with nervous energy, fought against their grip in random, violent spasms.