A Scandal in Battersea (Elemental Masters #12)(16)

Nan considered that question for a long moment, because there certainly had not been anything particularly sane about that vision. “I don’t think so,” she said, finally. “Although it is clear that your vision was not of the real London of here and now, and personally I find it difficult to believe that what you saw was a reflection of some future reality.”

At that, Amelia blinked, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Then I must be going mad. You—you were in my head, you saw what I saw! How can that be anything other than madness?”

Nan smiled reassuringly at her. “Yes I was in your head,” she repeated. “That is what I do. I see and hear what others do, and I can read their thoughts. I am what is called a telepath. And you are what is called a clairvoyant.”

The girl wiped her tears from her face and blinked at them. “There is a name for what happens to me?”

Nan considered her for a moment. She had been under the impression that Amelia must be of the age of majority, but looking at her now that she had been put to rights, Nan revised that downward. She could not be more than sixteen—possibly as young as fourteen.

This time Sarah answered. “Did you think you were the only one?”

“I—” Amelia hesitated. “I never heard of anyone doing such things except in ghost stories and the like. When it first started happening I was quite certain I was going mad, and I begged my family to send me here before I could do something to shame them all.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “My sister is going to be coming out. I couldn’t bear to spoil that for her. My family is going to tell people I have gone to Switzerland to a finishing school. Not even the servants know I am here.”

All right, at least that part of the story is true.

“Then Doctor Huntley discovered that the horrible things I had been seeing were actually true.” She shuddered. “But I still didn’t know what to do about them. They were happening miles from me. I wasn’t seeing them ahead of time, so there was nothing I could do to stop them from happening, and he said the police would never believe me if I spoke to them and described the murderers.”

And there’s the first lie. Or at least, the shading of the truth.

“I couldn’t make the visions stop. And I couldn’t see anything but what was . . . imposed on me. I couldn’t see pleasant things, no matter how hard I tried for Doctor Huntley.” Tears spilled over her cheeks again. “I don’t want to see these things! And I can’t make them stop!”

Nan patted her hand. “That is why we are here. I am afraid Doctor Huntley is . . . far out of his area of expertise,” she said, a little grimly. He’s a mere child playing with explosives, is what he is! she thought, but did not say. “Would you object to coming away with us, to a school where there are children who also have these abilities? They would be very much younger than you,” she added, as John Watson nodded significantly, and gave Mary his hand. “But you will be taught how to control this—and, if you truly do not want to make any use of it, how to shut it down.”

John and Mary left, presumably in search of Huntley. Amelia wiped her eyes with the edge of the sheet, looking even younger than her years. “It would be . . . not so bad if I could see pleasant things,” she answered after a moment, and managed a wavering smile. “Think of how jolly it would be if one could go to the theater from one’s own bed!”

“And think of the money you’d save on tickets!” Sarah replied, with a broad grin.

Her smile faded. “But if what I saw was not real. . . .”

“I think it might have been a metaphor,” Nan said quickly. “You have been seeing horrid things for some time. You know now these things were real, and all were happening in London. Perhaps deep inside, you have come to think of London as a terrible, apocryphal place, full of monsters, and when another horrific vision began, instead of seeing that exact scene, your mind just created a scene out of that metaphor rather than subjecting you to another terrible murder. Just like when you dream of flying, it just means you want some freedom from some tedious task or other.”

She didn’t believe that, of course. Not in the least. She wasn’t sure what she believed, but it wasn’t that. And what had the child meant when she muttered “The Book!” over and over? Evidently Amelia didn’t remember that part.

“I do always dream of flying right after I’ve had to do something dreadfully boring,” Amelia replied, and the tight lines of her face relaxed, she sighed, and let go of her death grip on the covers.

Then she yawned, hugely, and her eyes began to flutter. “I’m dreadfully sorry,” she began, and yawned again.

“You didn’t sleep for two days,” Nan reminded her. “Go on, put your head down. I doubt you’ll have another such vision any time soon, and by that point, we’ll have arranged for you to go to that school.”

“I really shouldn’t . . .” but Amelia’s willpower had been exhausted by her struggle against that vision; helplessly, she slid down into her bed as her eyes closed, and in moments, she was fast asleep.

“Can you do anything to keep her from getting another vision?” Sarah asked anxiously.

“I think she’s so overtired there isn’t a chance of her having one until she’s regained her strength,” Nan replied. “Well, think about us. We couldn’t do a thing with our abilities if we were tired. I just hope John and Mary can put the fear of retribution into that Huntley character. I don’t think he was trying to help her turn her visions off at all. I think he was experimenting with drugs to strengthen her ability. I think he had some notion of profiting off it, and I think the last concoction he gave her is responsible for that fit she went into.”