The moment was so quiet and so intimate that Bernard, standing in the doorway, glanced at his feet in discomfort. Instead he exited, and returned a few seconds later with a brief rap of his knuckles on the cracked door.
“I saw a maidservant about to come up with your dinner, so I figured I would bring it myself,” Bernard said, depositing a plate of roasted chicken on the small desk pressed against the hall. He sat down in the only other chair in the room. “I hope I’m not disturbing anything, my love?”
“Of course not,” she said, looking away.
“Good. And he’s— How is he doing?”
“He’s going to be fine,” Hazel said, looking down at Jack’s face. Had he always been that beautiful? Had his lips always curved in a Cupid’s bow that way, so that a fingertip would fit perfectly in its arc? Had his ears always been so soft and downy, curled like shells? Had his hair always been so thick and curled? His chest, she could see even through the bandages, was broad but concave at the collarbone. Hazel wanted to rest her head against it forever.
“I suppose now you might be able to tell me what the hell is going on,” Bernard said, trying to make his voice sound friendly.
Hazel described it all, the bodies that she had found missing limbs and organs, and then, finally, what she had seen when she sneaked into the Anatomists’ Society. “They’re taking poor men and women from the streets and selling their bodies, piece by piece. He uses this—this ethereum to cause them to be unconscious while he operates, and then he— Beecham had something else, some vial of something that he used during the surgery to make the parts take. I don’t know how, exactly, I don’t know what it is, but Jack—I mean, this boy and I barely escaped with our lives.”
“And this boy is—？”
“He’s a resurrection man. A body snatcher who sold corpses from graveyards to physicians and anatomists to study from. I bought from him. To study for the examination. But he’s a respectable man—he is. He works at Le Grand Leon. He’s a good man.”
Bernard nodded, showing no reaction on his face but never looking away from Hazel. He remained silent for a full minute, and so Hazel began again.
“Bernard,” Hazel said, her voice grave. “Something serious is going on. Something real. I don’t know how many are dead or how many are going to die or be hurt still by Dr. Beecham. I need you to go to the police constable about it, or tell your father about it, but you need to be the one to do it. They’ll believe you; they have to believe you. You’re a viscount.”
“Son of a viscount.”
“It doesn’t matter. You know it doesn’t matter. I tried to talk to the constable, and he all but ignored me. But now I’ve seen it with my own eyes, Bernard, I swear it’s true. You believe me, don’t you? He gave Baron Wolford a new eye today! Next time you see Baron Wolford, he’ll have a new eye! Tell me you believe me.”
“I believe you, Hazel,” Bernard said. “After all, you’re my fiancée. You and I are supposed to trust each other.” He stood stiffly. “I’ll go then, and see you soon.” He kissed Hazel dryly on the cheek. “Until then, my love.”
Hazel didn’t take her eyes off Jack. If she had, she might have seen the thing that raged like smoking coals behind Bernard’s eyes.
35
IT WAS TWO DAYS BEFORE JACK felt well enough to travel by carriage to Hawthornden Castle, and another week—of Cook’s porridge and Hazel’s attentive bandage changes—before he felt well enough to walk. The stab wound scabbed over without infection, and the day after Jack had managed a slow amble around the castle gardens without doubling over in pain, he told Hazel it was time for him to go back to Le Grand Leon.
“Just to check on some of my things,” Jack said. He had a few pounds safely hidden in a knothole in the ceiling boards, and two clean shirts—though Hazel had cleaned and scoured the one he’d had on when he was stabbed, it was still stained pink with blood at the breast, and he was never comfortable in the itchy fine fabrics of the shirts he borrowed from Hazel’s brother, the one who died. Hazel agreed, so long as he promised to return that evening.
“You need a fresh dressing and bandages if you’re going to heal properly. Just what you’d need, to deal with an infection at this stage.”
“Ay, fair enough.” He hesitated, then leaned as if he were going to kiss her. But instead he blinked quickly a few times and clenched and released his fist. “Goodbye, then,” he said, and turned before Hazel could respond.