Free A Death Along the River Fleet by Susanna Calkins Page A

should she prove to be their missing member. We do not know who among the servants might be trusted.”
    Lucy and the constable exchanged a glance. Even Dr. Larimer, good man that he was, seemed to believe that servants were naturally of a less sturdy character than the gentry.
    â€œMaybe,” Lucy ventured, “someone was commissioned to paint her likeness?”
    â€œA good thought,” Duncan replied. “I shall check their London home. Discreetly, of course,” he added hastily when Dr. Larimer gave him a warning look. Duncan frowned. “It is likely that their daughter is indeed dead, and I should hate to trespass on their grief. There might be others who knew her. I will make inquiries with the Lord Mayor, and approach only those individuals who might be discreet.”
    Dr. Larimer rubbed his nose. “Thank you, Constable. Perchance, though, there is another way to lift the fog from her memory,” he said.
    â€œHow?” Lucy asked, cocking her head. She was always fascinated by what Dr. Larimer was able to do.
    â€œIf we had other objects of hers, that might possibly help,” Dr. Larimer explained. “Objects, especially those that the woman may hold dear, may prompt a sensibility or other emotion that may help bring to the surface those memories that have been suppressed.”
    Lucy nodded. That made sense. But what other objects could she have? They had none, save the amulet and her undergarments. She thought about how she had first encountered the woman wandering around in the rubble by the River Fleet. She started to speak and then dropped off.
    â€œWhat is it?” Duncan asked her.
    â€œMy suggestion is foolish. I thought we might bring her back to where I first encountered her. Maybe there are other objects of hers there. We might find something that might prompt her memory?”
    â€œSplendid suggestion,” Dr. Larimer said. “Even the location itself could be enough to spur memory. Familiar locations, like personal belongings, have been known to stir powerful memories. Smells, too.”
    â€œI should not like to re-create the smell by the River Fleet,” Lucy said, wrinkling her nose as she recalled the horrid stench.
    â€œNevertheless, I think it is a good idea to take her back to where you first found her. Tomorrow,” he added firmly, as he saw the constable about to speak. “She must rest today.”
    â€œI will accompany you,” the constable said. “I do not think it is safe for you to go back there alone. I will be making inquiries in the morning, but would be free to join you later in the day.”
    â€œIf I were not seeing patients all day tomorrow, I would accompany you myself,” Dr. Larimer said. “Lucy, if you do take her over to Holborn Bridge, it is imperative that you ensure that she takes her tincture first and remains well rested enough for the walk. You must refrain from agitating her; we have seen how her spells are brought on when she is distressed.” He paused. “There is something about this young woman that concerns me greatly, and the sooner we can sort it out, the sooner we may return to the more trifling matters that fill our days.”
    *   *   *
    After the constable left, Lucy returned to the woman’s bedchamber. There she discovered Mr. Sheridan sitting on the bed beside the sleeping woman, staring down at her. The room was dark; the windows were shuttered so that very little of the late-morning light could find a way inside. Lucy thought the physician might have been holding the woman’s hand, but then saw that he was holding her wrist. The woman, breathing deeply, appeared to have fallen into a deep slumber once again.
    â€œHow is she?” Lucy asked softly, not wishing to disturb the woman.
    Mr. Sheridan scowled at her. “She is much the same as she has been. I gave her another tincture to ease her mind—she was restless and full of terrors.