The Lost Apothecary(67)
“It is all very bad, Eliza,” she whispered after she had shut the door. “You must go back to Nella immediately and tell her to leave. Both of you, as soon as possible, for she will be arrested and hanged—and you, too, possibly. They will not spare you on account of your age—oh, how impossible this whole thing is.”
“I do not understand,” I said, my lips trembling, words tumbling out. “You returned the jar and said all was well—”
“Oh, but it all fell apart last evening! You see, when my maid left yesterday, little did I know that she first divulged much to the constables. She told them I instructed her to put the contents of the jar into the glass, and she gave them a wax rubbing of the jar—it shows the little bear and the address. The address, thank heavens, has not yet been discerned, though I fear it is only a matter of time. And little use in returning the jar to Nella when the maid had already taken an impression of it, isn’t it? How terrible that maid is, and how cowardly! If she had any smarts, she would have stolen the jar itself to give to the police, but I suppose she was scared someone might walk in and catch her stuffing it into her gown.”
Lady Clarence sat on the bed and smoothed her skirts. “The image was printed overnight in a bulletin and put into the papers this morning, and shortly thereafter, a gentleman from St. James’s Square went straight to the authorities. Several weeks ago, following the unexpected death of his grown son—which they believed, first, to be gaol fever—he found a vial underneath the bed where his son died. He’d thought nothing of the vial at the time, until seeing the image in the newspaper. The exact image of the bear was on the vial he’d found!”
Lady Clarence paused to breathe, looking helplessly toward the window. “No address was on that man’s vial, thank heavens. I know little more than this, Eliza, but I have heard whispers between officers that there is another person, perhaps two, who came forward with something similar, look-alike containers that they discovered with the same little bear etching, and each of them has an account of an unexpected death among their close circles. Who knows how many there will be! But now there is talk of a repeat killer, and a great rush to identify the illegible address. They have deciphered a couple of the letters, so it is only a matter of time before they muster the mapmakers and trace every street.”
She ran her hand over the top of the dresser next to us, which was spotless until her fingerprints left an oily smear. “This matters greatly to me, of course,” she said, lowering her voice even further. “Late last evening, the bailiff confronted me about my maid’s claim that I killed my husband. And what could I do except deny it? So now, the illegible address is even more important to the authorities, as they intend to speak to the dispenser of the jar to determine who purchased it. And I am so glad you came, for how could I now escape such prying eyes to tell Nella of this? Would she give them my name? Oh, go now, and convince her otherwise! Tell her she must leave in an instant, otherwise they will find her and employ whatever tricks they must until she gives up her secrets.”
Lady Clarence shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “And to think I threatened to reveal her after she threw the powder in the fire! My God, how it has all turned against me. Go now, or we will all find ropes around our necks by nightfall.”
Of further questions, I had none. I did not care to know more about the man in the drawing room with the matching vial, or where the deceiving lady’s maid had run off to, or whether the poor Lord Clarence had even been laid yet in the ground. I knew all there was to know: it was more than Mr. Amwell’s spirit that haunted me now. The shadow of my mistake, which I thought removed only hours ago, had now returned with a vengeance. I must make haste to Nella’s at once. Except—
“What time is it?” I asked. The Tincture to Reverse Bad Fortune was, now more than ever, of utmost importance. Nothing else could save Nella, and me, from this predicament.
Lady Clarence gave me a surprised look. “There is a clock in the corridor,” she said. But as we made our way out of the room, I exhaled in frustration. The clock said it was not even half one; only twenty-eight minutes had passed since I stoppered the vial.
Out of the house I ran, pushing past the many uniformed men milling about in the foyer. Several of them watched as I left, and I overheard Lady Clarence tell them she turned me away for the vacancy. I dared not look behind me until I made it to Dean’s Court, and I was greatly relieved to see that no one had followed. To be very sure, I took a complicated, winding route back to the shop. When I reached 3 Back Alley, I shoved open the storage room door, and I did not even give Nella the courtesy of a knock on the hidden wall of shelves. Instead, I reached for the hidden lever and slid the door open.
Nella stood at her table, her register in front of her. She had turned it toward the middle. Her body was bent over the table, as though she meant to read one of her entries from long ago. At my abrupt entrance, she looked up at me.
“Nella, we must leave,” I cried. “Something terrible has happened. Lady Clarence’s lady’s maid, she told the authorities that—”
“You saw the paper,” Nella interrupted, her voice so thick that I wondered if she hadn’t taken a heavy dose of laudanum. “The maid gave them the wax rubbing. I know all about it.”
I stared back at her, stunned. She already knew of it? Why had she not yet left?