was the light I saw inside, the innocence and joy of life. Doctor, I hope you realize that I wouldn’t have written to Falsteed if I had any concerns—”
“It’s all very well, Grace. I can’t fault you for making emotional connections with other humans.”
Grace toyed with the glass he’d abandoned on the desk, and the only sound in the office was the scratch of chalk against slate.
“You do realize the danger your sister is in?”
The question was asked quietly, though the weight of it tore a hole through her heart.
“Yes,” Grace said, the single word spoken aloud more horrible than anything she’d ever heard in the asylum. “I had thought that when the temptation was removed he would no longer . . .” Her throat closed on her words, and the tears that filled her eyes drowned all thought.
She put her hands over her eyes, the sobs that she choked down racking her body. Cool fingers closed around her wrists and the doctor knelt in front of her. “Grace,” he said quietly. “The fault does not lie with you. It never did. You are not a temptation but simply a target for another’s black sin.”
“I wish it were not so,” she cried, tears flowing freely now. “If I had somehow invited his actions, made him feel . . . what he felt, then going away would bring it to an end. Alice would have nothing to fear, and no one need ever know.”
Thornhollow removed his hands from her own, fishing in his pocket for a handkerchief. When he spoke again his voice was matter-of-fact. “Has there been any indication in your letters that his actions have transferred to her?”
“No.” Grace shook her head, taking the offered handkerchief to dab her eyes. “Merely the beginnings, mirrored exactly as they were with me. She has some time yet.”
Thornhollow sighed heavily. “That’s a relief, at least.”
“Doctor,” Grace asked. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I simply do not know.”
But his eyes were on the blackboard.
TWENTY-FOUR
His indecision was replaced with action by nightfall. An urgent knocking at Grace’s door interrupted her dressing for bed, and Janey’s irritated countenance in the hallway did not bode well.
“Why he can’t just leave you alone for the time being, I don’t know. We can’t all keep that man’s hours.”
Grace twisted her hair into a simple knot as they descended the stairs together, the nurse’s steps still heavy with her anger. “I tell you, it’s not right, Grace. Sometimes I think he forgets that you’re a patient too, you know. He may need your assistance from time to time, but you need your sleep. A few more interruptions in your schedule and I may see fit to say so.”
Grace listened mildly as they crossed to the large front doors, which stood open, letting in the cold air. Thornhollow’s carriage waited outside, Ned at the ready.
Janey took off her own wrap, draping it over Grace’s shoulders with a frown still on her face. “I’m quite serious, Grace. You’re my charge as well as his, and if I think his activities are interfering with your best interests, I’ll speak up.”
Grace grasped the nurse’s hand in a flood of affection, squeezing to communicate her thanks. Janey looked at her, a sigh hitching deep in her chest. “You’d be devastated if I put a stop to it, though, wouldn’t you? Your eyes are brightest before you step into that carriage, Grace, though the darkest circles are on your face the next morning.”
Janey impulsively pulled her into a hug, and Grace’s back stiffened. “Sorry. I get too close to you girls for my own good. Go on, then,” she said, giving Grace a playful push out the door. “Go do your work.”
The nurse watched as the carriage clattered off into the night, shaking her head, arms close around herself for warmth. “Those two,” she muttered. “There are days I think we’ve incarcerated the wrong one.”
Grace’s question as to their destination died on her lips as she closed the carriage door behind her to find they were not alone.
“Mrs. Jacobs will be joining us,” Thornhollow said, arm wrapped around an awkwardly long package as they bumped their way across the river. “It’s not the usual activity that takes us out tonight, as you’ll see.”
“It’s dark, Doctor,” Mrs. Jacobs said, her face pressed directly against the glass. “My Mellie, she don’t like the dark. Cries something awful and calls for me in the night.”
“So you’ve said.”
“I can hear her. She’s thirsty.” Her