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“Elizabeth!” he sputtered. “You . . . you . . .”

“I what? I know things I shouldn’t? Of course I do. String tells me. You might as well let Grace come out from behind you. She doesn’t need your protection—she needs you to do as she says.”

Grace pushed Thornhollow’s arms away to look at Lizzie.

“Out with it, Grace,” Lizzie said. “I know you’ve got a voice, same as the rest of us. String says so, and tells me more than you ever would even if you used it.”

“Elizabeth,” Thornhollow said quietly. “String did not tell you these things. You’ve learned them on your own by watching Grace and—might I add—eavesdropping outside my office for who knows how long.” He closed the doors, giving Lizzie a dark look as he did. He tried to usher her to a chair but she shook him off.

“Enough with manners. I’ve had manners my whole life, and they’ve done nothing for me. I know things, things that most everyone would rather not have said aloud in public, and I keep my mouth shut. I do it to keep the peace and let everyone have their secrets. But no longer!”

She stamped her little foot, the same ferocity that would flash itself occasionally at Nell now out in full force. “I know what he did to you, Grace. Thornhollow can have his ideas of how I learned it, but I know it all the same. I’d rather you told me yourself, Grace. Time and time again I gave you chances to speak, to let me hear your voice and share your woes with me the way I did mine with you. But you—” She turned on Thornhollow so quickly he stepped away from her. “You’ve got her shut up tight like a drum for fear of bringing a storm down on your head. Don’t you ever accuse her of not thinking of how her actions affect your career, sir. She’s more loyal than you’ll ever know, her very tongue stoppered against her only friend left living, her troubles hers and hers alone just to keep your deception safe.”

The girl suddenly slumped, all her energy poured into her words and leaving her body a drained shell. “Say something to me, Grace Mae,” Elizabeth said, tears streaming down her face. “Let me hear your voice, and I swear I’ll see that man hang for you.”

Grace stepped forward on shaking legs, past the dumbfounded Thornhollow. “Hello, Lizzie,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to give you this.” The tiny blue bottle went from her hand to Lizzie’s, and it was the other girl’s turn to be surprised as she removed the stopper, the smell of rosewater and bergamot filling the doctor’s office as the two friends embraced.

THIRTY-FIVE

“It’s a circus in town,” Thornhollow said, hand brushing idly over the tips of the new spring grass. “Every newspaper in the state has a reporter here, and I heard someone say a fellow from the Times has taken permanent residence at the inn ever since the indictment.”

“It got worse after Mr. Pickering said he’d seek the death penalty,” Elizabeth said, picking over the sandwich she’d packed for their picnic by the lake. “I could hear the carriages rattling into town from my room.” She unwrapped another sandwich, holding it out to her friend. “Grace, put that down. It doesn’t say anything different since the last time you read it. You need to eat.”

“I know it,” Grace said, eyes still on Alice’s most recent letter. “It’s so very difficult to bear. She doesn’t understand why her father’s not come home, and Mother is so frantic trying to dispel the rumors that she has no time for her child.” Grace folded the worn letter and put it back in her pocket, turning her attention to food, though she had no appetite.

“Will your mother come for the trial?” Thornhollow asked.

“I can’t see that happening,” Grace said. “She won’t want to be anywhere near when they read the verdict. Deep down she knows it’s true.”

“Except, it’s not,” the doctor said.

“She’s lived with him. And some of the women on that list I supplied for the grand jury were friends of hers at one point.” Grace’s lips thinned as she remembered putting their names to paper, digging up memories of women who had left parties at her former home with tears on their faces and bruises forming on their arms. “Years of seeing women used and disposed of when no longer entertaining tells her it very well could be true. She’ll not want to stand in public when the rest of the world learns what she’s always known.”

“She deserves her own punishment for blocking her ears against you,” Elizabeth said, her feral side lurking closer to the surface in the days before the trial.

“And she’ll have it, Elizabeth,” Thornhollow said, tossing what remained of his food into their basket. “I’ve moved in society long enough to tell you that a stain of this magnitude will spread to Grace’s mother as well. She’ll not be received anywhere.”

“Which for her will be worse than any hangman’s rope,” Grace agreed. “Tongues will wag and her name will be on them. A punishment to fit her crime of stopping my own.”

“I do so love your voice,” Lizzie said, reaching out to touch Grace’s arm. “String said it was there, and hearing it these past months has been nearly worth the wait.”

Thornhollow cleared his throat. “You do know not to mention String when—”

“Yes, Doctor,” Lizzie snapped. “How could I forget with the constant reminders?”

“All right,” Grace said, patting her friend’s hand. “He’s only trying to ensure that everything follows the course we have planned.”

“And speaking of that,” Thornhollow said, “what are your plans for tomorrow, Grace? I hope it goes without saying that you’ll be nowhere near the courthouse.”

“It seems my plans are in direct opposition with your own, then.”

“Grace, be reasonable,” Thornhollow said. “I understand the importance of this for you, but having you anywhere near your father is out of the question. Not to mention the logistics are ridiculous. A mental patient can’t simply attend a court proceeding, first of all, and secondly if your father spotted your face in the crowd, the game would be up.”

“Of course a patient would attract attention,” Grace agreed. “But a widow in the press of the crowd wouldn’t. And under her veil could be any face at all.”

“And where do you propose to secure widow’s reeds?”

“Your sister had them sent to me. She’s also been in correspondence with Janey, and they’ve agreed that with my aversion to crowds it would be best to get me out of town, with your blessing—which, of course, she provided a signature that really was remarkably like your own. You’ve been so busy preparing for the trial Janey’s been far too intimidated to question you about it.