he and Sir Charles do not leave after breakfast tomorrow I will have to take action. Newbury is already ill. I will introduce a poison to his meal. I have some hidden in the potting shed. A slow, deadly poison that will offer up all the symptoms of a heart complaint. He will be dead by late afternoon, and no one will suspect a thing. I know you will think me clever and brave for taking such decisive measures.
Tomorrow night, we will be together!
Isambard
Dear Alice
He knows! I can see it in his eyes! That damnable Newbury. He knows our secret!
He is a sly one, I’ll give him that. He did not join us for lunch. After all of my efforts! I had taken great care to create an opportunity to be alone with his food. I dosed his soup with the poison, and took my place at the table just in time for Sir Charles and Felicity to arrive together (after doing Heaven knows what, alone, in the gardens!).
Newbury, however, sent his apologies, claiming he was feeling unwell and would retire to his room for the remainder of the afternoon. Throughout the meal I could do nothing but imagine him creeping around upstairs while I was trapped in the dining room with the others. He was searching for you, Alice, rummaging around where he’s not wanted, trying to expose our secret. To take you for himself
Well, tonight I draw a line. I’m coming for you, dearest. Tonight I shall make my move. I can wait no longer. We shall flee this place, together. I shall make the preparations. Be ready, my love!
Isambard
Dear Alice,
I can barely bring myself to write a word. All is lost. Newbury and Sir Charles are conspiring in the drawing room. I overheard them talking this afternoon. Newbury has seeded insidious thoughts in Sir Charles’s mind. He uses words such as ‘erratic behaviour’ and ‘unhinged’. He makes out that I have lost my mind!
I have no doubt, now, my dear. They’re coming for me. I have such little time left. We shall not get away.
Hold on, my love. Our secret is exposed. I’m coming now to bid you farewell before they tear you from my arms. Newbury will not have you! I will die before I give you up.
Know this, my sweetest Alice: I have always loved you!
Isambard
Miss Veronica Hobbes placed the sheaf of letters on the low table beside the chaise longue. Her shoulder was still strapped from the bullet wound she had received two weeks earlier, during her encounter with the rogue agent, Dr Aubrey Knox. She winced as she moved, turning to regard the man standing over by the window. She was wearing a serious expression on her pretty face. “These letters are clearly the work of a madman, Sir Charles. What the devil is going on?”
Sir Charles Bainbridge offered her a heartfelt shrug. His bushy grey moustache twitched as he spoke. “The world is going to pieces is what, Miss Hobbes. Dr Isambard Ward was a good man. I spent many of my formative years in his company. It’s a damnable affair. I can hardly believe it myself.”
Veronica felt lost. “Believe what? What exactly occurred? And what of Sir Maurice?” she added, with trepidation.
Bainbridge crossed to where Veronica was resting on the chaise longue. He glanced at the pile of letters. “It was meant to be a relaxing break. I believed I was taking Newbury to a place of sanctuary, a place where he could cast off his dependence on that wicked poppy.” He sighed heavily. “Little did I imagine that an attempt would be made on his life, nor that I was planting him directly in the middle of another mystery.”
“So, what? Dr Ward had lost his mind, and fixated on Sir Maurice, believing him to be a villain? But who is Alice? And what did Newbury want with her?”
Bainbridge smiled; a sad, tired smile. “Alice was once a maid in Ward’s employ. What’s clear now is that he developed an obsession with her, a deep passion that I’d venture she did not reciprocate. I believe it was this unrequited love that drove him to commit the most heinous of crimes. He became
Tomorrow night, we will be together!
Isambard
Dear Alice
He knows! I can see it in his eyes! That damnable Newbury. He knows our secret!
He is a sly one, I’ll give him that. He did not join us for lunch. After all of my efforts! I had taken great care to create an opportunity to be alone with his food. I dosed his soup with the poison, and took my place at the table just in time for Sir Charles and Felicity to arrive together (after doing Heaven knows what, alone, in the gardens!).
Newbury, however, sent his apologies, claiming he was feeling unwell and would retire to his room for the remainder of the afternoon. Throughout the meal I could do nothing but imagine him creeping around upstairs while I was trapped in the dining room with the others. He was searching for you, Alice, rummaging around where he’s not wanted, trying to expose our secret. To take you for himself
Well, tonight I draw a line. I’m coming for you, dearest. Tonight I shall make my move. I can wait no longer. We shall flee this place, together. I shall make the preparations. Be ready, my love!
Isambard
Dear Alice,
I can barely bring myself to write a word. All is lost. Newbury and Sir Charles are conspiring in the drawing room. I overheard them talking this afternoon. Newbury has seeded insidious thoughts in Sir Charles’s mind. He uses words such as ‘erratic behaviour’ and ‘unhinged’. He makes out that I have lost my mind!
I have no doubt, now, my dear. They’re coming for me. I have such little time left. We shall not get away.
Hold on, my love. Our secret is exposed. I’m coming now to bid you farewell before they tear you from my arms. Newbury will not have you! I will die before I give you up.
Know this, my sweetest Alice: I have always loved you!
Isambard
Miss Veronica Hobbes placed the sheaf of letters on the low table beside the chaise longue. Her shoulder was still strapped from the bullet wound she had received two weeks earlier, during her encounter with the rogue agent, Dr Aubrey Knox. She winced as she moved, turning to regard the man standing over by the window. She was wearing a serious expression on her pretty face. “These letters are clearly the work of a madman, Sir Charles. What the devil is going on?”
Sir Charles Bainbridge offered her a heartfelt shrug. His bushy grey moustache twitched as he spoke. “The world is going to pieces is what, Miss Hobbes. Dr Isambard Ward was a good man. I spent many of my formative years in his company. It’s a damnable affair. I can hardly believe it myself.”
Veronica felt lost. “Believe what? What exactly occurred? And what of Sir Maurice?” she added, with trepidation.
Bainbridge crossed to where Veronica was resting on the chaise longue. He glanced at the pile of letters. “It was meant to be a relaxing break. I believed I was taking Newbury to a place of sanctuary, a place where he could cast off his dependence on that wicked poppy.” He sighed heavily. “Little did I imagine that an attempt would be made on his life, nor that I was planting him directly in the middle of another mystery.”
“So, what? Dr Ward had lost his mind, and fixated on Sir Maurice, believing him to be a villain? But who is Alice? And what did Newbury want with her?”
Bainbridge smiled; a sad, tired smile. “Alice was once a maid in Ward’s employ. What’s clear now is that he developed an obsession with her, a deep passion that I’d venture she did not reciprocate. I believe it was this unrequited love that drove him to commit the most heinous of crimes. He became
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