A Rip Through Time(40)

“Catriona?”

I spin to see Isla in the doorway. I quickly smooth my dress and straighten. “I apologize if I am not to be in here, ma’am. I thought I saw something outside.”

She walks up beside me and peers out the window.

“It is nothing,” I say quickly. “A passerby who looked suspicious, that is all.”

“Ah, well, you are quite welcome to sit in here when it is empty, Catriona. As it seems everyone else has retired to their quarters, please have a seat. We should talk. I am most distressed to hear of the attack you suffered.”

“I am fine, thank you. There are only the lingering effects of this.” I point at the bruise on my temple. “I will not disturb you further. I’ll retreat to my room—”

“Please sit.” Her voice is honey-sweet, but that “please” is a formality slapped onto a direct order.

I lower myself into an ornate armchair. She takes the more comfortable settee beside it.

“Tell me about this injury, Catriona,” she says. “My brother says you were unconscious for more than a day.”

I nod.

She waits for me to go on. Keeps waiting, as the grandfather clock ticks past the seconds.

“What do you wish to know, ma’am?” I say.

“Whatever you can tell me. While the medical sciences are my brother’s domain, I am always interested in them, even if my traitorous stomach disagrees.” Her smile is light and self-mocking, but her gaze stays fixed on me, as sharp as her brother’s.

“Tell me all about the effects,” she says. “What you have experienced. I am dreadfully interested, and I hope you will indulge my curiosity.”

Indulge her curiosity, my ass. Over the next thirty minutes, Isla Ballantyne interrogates me like a suspect in the box. An apt description, because she does suspect me of something.

So far, everyone has bought my story. Blow to the head muddling my mind and my memory. Gray, the medical expert, accepted it at face value. Both McCreadie and Mrs. Wallace have their doubts, thinking “Catriona” is up to some trick, but they’ve stepped back to watch and judge. Isla dives in with a razor-sharp scalpel. Without even a skeptical raised eyebrow from her, I still feel my story falling apart around me, eviscerated by her questions.

“Well, that certainly is interesting,” she says when I’ve finished.

“The mind is a mysterious thing.” Even as I say the words, I want to smack myself. They’re ridiculously trite, and her lips twitch a little, but she says, with all solemnity, “It is indeed.”

“Is there anything else you needed, ma’am?”

“No, Catriona. You are free to enjoy the remainder of your evening.”

I rise before she says, “Oh, there is one last thing.”

Every muscle in my body tenses, and I have to rearrange my features into some semblance of blankness before I turn to her. She’s taking what looks like a small pill from a tiny box. When she pops it into her mouth, I catch the distinct odor of peppermint.

“Yes, ma’am?” I say as she closes the box.

“You didn’t notice my locket when you cleaned my bedchambers, did you?”

“Ma’am?”

“My locket. The one I always wear, except when I travel.” She catches my blank look. “Ah, yes, your memory.”

Do I imagine a sardonic twist on that last word? I don’t think I do.

She continues, “It is an oval locket. Silver and rather simple in design, with a distinctive rod of Asclepius on the front.”

“Rod of…?”

“A staff entwined with a serpent. It was given to my grandmother by my grandfather.”

“A gift between your grandparents,” I say, as a sick dread settles in my gut.

“Yes. It is the only locket I own, and therefore if you have seen one, that would be it.”

“I did not clean your quarters before your arrival, ma’am. Mrs. Wallace aired them out and told me I was not to enter.”

“Well, if you do see the locket, please let me know. There are several pieces of jewelry missing. That plus a ring and a set of earrings from my late husband.”

The dread congeals as I repeat, “From your late husband. Yes. I can see how you would be concerned. Those would be of great sentimental value.”

“No,” she says flatly. “Only the locket is. My grandmother gave it to me on her deathbed, in recognition of the fact that we shared something in common. She had secretly trained to be a doctor and yet was recognized as no more than my grandfather’s assistant. I received training in the pharmacological sciences, but have no hope of being recognized as more than a woman who dabbles in herbal remedies.”

When I say nothing, she waves her hand, mistaking my silence for disinterest. “I say that only to impress upon you the personal value of the piece, Catriona. I do not care about the other items. Only the locket.” Her gaze meets mine. “If it found its way back into my bedchamber, I would not question where it came from. I would only be glad to have it back.”

I nod and mumble, “I understand.”

“I sincerely hope you do. Now please enjoy the rest of your evening.”





FOURTEEN


The rest of my evening is spent tearing through Catriona’s room looking for that damned locket. What the hell had the girl been thinking? Mrs. Wallace must have already caught her stealing from Isla’s room, which is why I’d been forbidden to air it out for the mistress’s return. After being caught and let off with a warning, Catriona steals the very necklace Isla is guaranteed to notice missing.