Veronica took a deep breath, asserting control over the riot of emotions she was experiencing. “There were so many of them, whimpering in the darkness. Lashed to horrible, mechanical implements of torture. They were barely human, Maurice: animals in the shape and guise of Amelia, borrowing her appearance, her voice. But they were not her. They had nothing to do with her.” She broke off, stifling another sob. “And they babbled. They babbled prophecies, scratching them into the walls and the floor with their fingernails until their fingers were nothing but blunt, bloody stubs.” Her body trembled and she let out a low, heartfelt moan at the memory. Tears streamed down her cheeks, spattering her dress like unwelcome rain.
Newbury stopped pacing and stood before her, his face etched with concern. “But I saw her, Veronica! I saw her with my own eyes. Fabian explained to me how successful his treatment program was proving and then led me to her room. She looked well. Thin and tired, but well.”
Veronica’s confusion was like a thick London fog. She only wished she had the means by which to navigate through it. “Do you think she knows?”
Newbury shook his head. “Indeed not. I believe she is quite ignorant of the truth. I didn’t speak to her for long, but what she did say made it clear that she regarded Fabian very highly indeed, and that she felt whatever restorative treatments he had been administrating were working. She said the seizures had almost completely stopped, with only a handful of reoccurrences when they had pushed the treatment too far.” Newbury shook his fist at the wall in frustration. “How did he do it?”
“I don’t…,” Veronica started, before she realised it was a rhetorical question. Newbury was thinking aloud.
He returned to his pacing, pressing his fingers nervously together to form a spire before his chest. “It could be a side effect of his treatment, an unexpected by-product.” His words lacked their usual conviction. He was testing theories, running through scenarios in his mind. Veronica knew that Newbury didn’t really believe it.
“No.” Veronica shook her head emphatically. “This was deliberate. They’re trying to harness her abilities, trying to use her to predict the future.”
“They?” Newbury looked puzzled.
“Fabian and the Queen,” she replied.
Newbury frowned. “You think the Queen is aware of this?”
Tired and exasperated, Veronica abandoned all pretense of polite conduct. “Don’t be so blind, Maurice. Think about it. Fabian is the Queen’s personal physician, and he has her ear. Think about what he is offering her, what Amelia could do for them if they could harness and channel her abilities. A monarch who can predict the future! Of course she’s aware of it. She’s probably behind it!”
Newbury stared at her, agog. She could tell she was getting through to him, so she pressed on. “We have to get her out of there. This can’t be allowed to go on.”
Newbury turned and paced to the window. He stood with both hands on the window ledge, looking out at the street below. He was silent for a while, then he turned to face her. “Veronica, you are talking about going against the Queen.”
“Yes, and I’m talking about saving my sister.” She met his gaze, her eyes blazing with defiance.
“This is bigger than we know, Veronica. We must consider the implications. All of them.” He turned back to the window, lost in thought.
Veronica didn’t know what to think. Everything was spiralling through her mind, a confused mess. She had no idea what to do next. All she knew was that she had to help Amelia, and whatever Newbury said, the longer her sister stayed in that dreadful place, the more danger she was in.
“Sykes!” Newbury snapped his fingers, and Veronica gave a start. He turned to her, suddenly animated. “Edwin Sykes is the key.”
“What about Edwin Sykes?” she said angrily. Now was not the time to be worrying about the case.
“Duplicates, Veronica!” he said, rushing over to her side. “There has to be a connection. Why didn’t I see it before?”
It was Veronica’s turn to look astonished. “Of course! You think Fabian is still connected to the Bastion Society, that Sykes was copied in the same way as Amelia.”
Newbury shrugged. “I don’t know. But it seems like too much of a coincidence for there to be no connection.” He dropped into a chair opposite her. He looked tired, but enlivened nonetheless. “Fabian told me about their strange occult philosophies. They believe in the passing of the soul from one body to the next. Perhaps there’s some explanation in that?” He shrugged. “We must tread carefully, Veronica.”
Veronica nodded.
“And we must think of Amelia’s health.”
“Her health! He’s duplicating her and torturing the copies! Treating them like animals!” She felt the anger beginning to swell inside her again.
“Yes. I know. And I promise you, Veronica, that we will get her out of there. We will find a way. But I saw her. I saw her in her room, and she is quite well. The real Amelia. The one that really matters.” He paused, as if to allow the weight of his words to sink in. “We can’t simply go barging in there to extract her. Not only because of the consequences with Fabian and the Queen, but for Amelia’s own health as well. You saw how ill she was in that Wandsworth sanatorium. Do you think we could do any better?”
Veronica hung her head. She knew he was right. Of course he was right. What would she do with Amelia if she had the opportunity, right then and there, to get her out of the Grayling Institute? Bring her home to Kensington, where she could be attacked with killer assassin machines? Where there were no nursemaids or doctors or medical equipment that might help her? Perhaps worse, where the Queen would know she was hiding. Veronica hadn’t considered that before now. Amelia had become an asset. She had a value to the Crown. Victoria wasn’t likely to let that slip away without a struggle. And Veronica knew what lengths the Queen would go to in order to recover her property. She’d been charged with doing just that, on more than one occasion.
Nevertheless, Veronica could not allow Fabian to continue. What he was doing was immoral and maleficent, and she would not allow Amelia to be a part of it, whether her sister was aware of her exploitation or not.
She reached out and took Newbury’s hand. It was an impulsive action, and she did not really know why she had done it, other than for the reassurance it might offer. It was cold and clammy to the touch. “So what next? How do you propose we continue?”
Newbury leaned forward in his chair, bringing his face level with hers. “We need to gain some perspective. We need to understand what’s going on. Only then can we begin to formulate a plan.” He squeezed her hand. “I swear to you, Veronica, we will do what is right for Amelia. You have my word.”
Veronica gave a weak smile. “Thank you. I…”
“I know,” he finished. He released her hand and stood, brushing himself down. “Tonight I shall return to Packworth House and the Bastion Society. If we can get to the bottom of their strange little club, perhaps it will help shed some light on your sister’s plight. In the meantime, I will consider our options.”
Veronica rose from her seat to stand before him. “ You shall return to the Bastion Society?” She wiped at the tears that were still trickling down her cheeks.
Newbury looked resolute. “Well, it may be dangerous. You’re in no fit state for that sort of business.”
She glowered at him. “With respect, Sir Maurice, I should argue that I’m presently in a better state than you.” Newbury gave a sad smile, acknowledging the truth of her words. “Besides, I can’t stay here. I can’t sit and do nothing. Not after what I’ve seen today.”