Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(41)

“Yes, I do.” Alastair knelt next to Jacynda’s chair. She studied him in return.

“Good afternoon, Jacynda.” A nod in response. She did look better. Her hair was clean and clothes fresh, though he could still see the bruises on her neck. “Did you have a good day?” Another nod.

“Fred,” she said, pointing to the stuffed animal in her arms.

“That’s his name is it?”

She nodded. “I saw some sheep today.”

“You like sheep?” he asked, reminded of similar conversations he’d had with his sister when she was a young child.

“I think so. They’re wooly. They smell.” She wrinkled her face in thought and then shook her head like a stray memory had wandered through her mind and then promptly got lost again.

Mrs. Butler was watching the exchange closely. “Are you sure you still want me to go out tonight?”

Alastair rose. “Most certainly. You and Davy deserve some time off after all the work on this house. I’m sure he’ll enjoy the lecture about the Antarctic. He seemed quite interested when I mentioned the penguins.”

“It’s just that the house isn’t—”

“It’s so much better than when I first stepped inside. You have done wonders. You can’t work day and night, or your health will give way again. Go out and have a good evening.”



“What about her?” Mrs. Butler asked, looking toward Jacynda.

“We’ll be fine. I am hoping to hear back from a specialist in brain diseases. I sent him a letter this morning. Perhaps he can find a way to help her.”

“That would be a godsend. Well then,” she said, putting down the last dish, “I’d best be going. I’m to meet Davy at the lecture hall.”

Alastair beamed, pleased at how matters had fallen out. “Enjoy yourself, Mrs. Butler. Have a late supper if you wish. You can afford it now.”

She shook her head in wonder. “I can’t quite accept that yet.”

“You will, in time.”

At his request, Jacynda dutifully followed Alastair and then snuggled on the couch. He covered her lap with a blanket. In the distance, he heard the kitchen door close as Mrs. Butler hurried off to meet her son.

The parlour was even tidier tonight. Mrs. Butler had put the maid-of-all-work on her knees, scrubbing the floor for all she was worth. Even the rugs looked as if they’d been given a good beating.

“Another quiet evening,” Alastair mused. He could get used to this if his companion were more like her old self. They’d grown closer during all the events of the last few weeks. They’d shared their secrets and found a common bond. They might have shared this house together as husband and wife.

But not now.

There was a playful giggle from his companion. Jacynda was playing hide-and-seek under the blanket with the stuffed animal. If she was a child, it would have been amusing. Instead, it broke his heart.

He recalled his encounter with Evelyn, how unsure he’d felt around her. It’d never been that way, but he sensed she’d changed since the summer. There was an edge to her now, a tenuous self-assurance. He’d seen only a glimmer of that during their engagement, but now it seemed stronger. He wondered where it would lead.



Weary of brooding, he opened up the evening’s paper and read the account of Keats’ indictment while his companion stared into the fire. What was she thinking? Did she realize how much of her memory she’d lost?

“Would you like me to read to you?” he asked.

She nodded eagerly and he set about relating various short articles to her. The first was about the preparations for Bonfire Night.

“Have you ever seen fireworks?” Alastair asked. Jacynda shrugged. “Then we shall have to ensure you do.”

A knock on his front door, hard and heavy.

“Sounds like a copper,” he grumbled, rising.

Only one was a police officer—Inspector Hulme—and the other a nattily dressed man with piercing eyes and mutton-chop sideburns.

“Doctor,” Hulme said curtly. “I understand that Miss Lassiter is here.”

“She is,” Alastair responded just as curtly, not inclined to be polite.

“We need to speak to her.”

“And you are?” Alastair asked, eyeing the other man warily.

“Wilfred Arnett, Crown Prosecutor,” was the tart reply. “I am in charge of the case against Detective-Sergeant Keats.”

“I see. Come in, gentlemen.”

Jacynda was still staring at the fire. When she looked up at the men, her eyes went wide.

“Do be cautious, she is not of sound mind at present,” Alastair warned.

“Wescomb said something to that effect,” Hulme replied. He moved forward only a few paces and then stopped as she physically shrank from him.

“Miss Lassiter, I need to ask you a few questions about Sergeant Keats.”

“Who?” she asked, eyes darting from him to the other man in bewilderment.



“Keats. You know him.”

She shook her head.

“Now see here, Miss Lassiter—”

She skittered off the couch and ran to Alastair’s side, hiding behind him like a toddler would when confronted by a big dog.

Arnett stepped forward, frowning. “What’s this, then?”