After cleaning the mess in the kitchen and seeing Henry up to his room, Trinket made her way back to the laboratory. She went to knock at the door but found it ajar. Booker hadn't locked it?

"Fickle man," she mumbled as she proceeded down the stairs.

Booker was standing by Alice, timing her pulse with his pocket watch. As she joined him at the operating table, he closed the watch and returned it to his vest pocket. "She's doing well," he said. "I think it's safe to bring her upstairs."

Without even waiting for a response, he set his attention on the workbench behind him, busying himself with the gears and bits of metal scattered atop it.

She turned to Alice and gently brushed back her hair. The lady gave a soft moan, her eyelids fluttering. "Henry will be glad to hear it," Trinket said.

"If I work quickly enough, I may be able to stay on schedule," Booker said.

She nodded. "Has infection set in?"

He appeared beside her, fidgeting with Alice's bandages while dutifully avoiding her eyes. "No, it seems fine for now. There's no telling what the next few hours could bring, though. Keep a close eye on her. If she appears to be developing another fever, have her chew on some mint leaves and then come and get me. I'll leave the door unlocked, but be sure to watch that Henry character. I don't want him wandering down here."

"I don't think Henry is the type of person to put his nose where it doesn't belong."

"Really? Because I think that is precisely the sort of thing a man sleeping with a married woman would do."

"I meant with regard to your work."

Booker sighed. "Yes, but he seems stupid enough to accidentally get lost and end up down here. It would be a shame to have to kill him before I got paid."

She widened her eyes, and he raised his eyebrows. Surely he was joking? But the usual playfulness in his gaze was missing, so she wasn't so certain.

"I will be vigilant in guarding both Alice and the door," she said.

Still not meeting her gaze, he gave a nod. "Let's get her back upstairs before she wakes."

~

Trinket had a fitful sleep that night. The voices taunted her relentlessly while dozens of cockroaches swarmed her bed. After hours of tossing and turning, she finally rose with the sun and headed downstairs to get an early start on breakfast.

The hallucinations began to die down by the time she brought a tray of cheese and toast up to the lovebirds, but her lack of sleep was made obvious by her uncontrollable yawning.

"Miss Trinket," Henry said with a sigh of relief when he opened the door for her. "So glad to see you."

"I thought you two might like some breakfast. And don't worry, I didn't burn it."

He chuckled nervously as he stepped aside to let her in. Alice was lying comfortably on the bed, seeming far more lucid than she had the last time she'd seen her. But there were dark circles under her puffy eyes, and considering her wet cheeks, Trinket guessed she'd been up all night crying.

Setting the tray on the side table, Trinket took a seat on the end of the bed. "How are you faring this morning?"

Alice shrugged and attempted an unaffected smile. "As good as one can be with one less foot."

Her voice was tight and strained. Turning her attention to Alice's covered legs, Trinket asked, "May I see?"

"Why would you want to see?" Alice asked, unable to hide her repulsed surprise.

"To be sure no infection is setting in. I promised Mr. Larkin I would keep an eye on the stitches while he was busy downstairs."

Alice gave a wordless nod and quickly averted her gaze as Trinket pulled back the blankets to reveal the bandaged leg. A little red. Nothing alarming, though. She ran her fingers across the skin. Warm, but no warmer than it should be.

"Looks good," she said.

"I beg to differ," Alice mumbled.

"And do you still feel feverish or achy?"

"Not terribly."

Trinket laid the back of her hand against Alice's head. Cool and dry. Thank goodness. "Everything seems to be stable."

"Thank heavens," Henry breathed.

"Is there anything special I can bring you to eat?"

"I'm afraid I have no appetite this morning," Alice said.

"My love, you need to keep up your strength," Henry said, taking his sweetheart's hand in his own.

"It could be the lingering effects of the ether," Trinket said. "The toast should be easy on your stomach. And if you continue to feel nauseous, I can ask Mr. Larkin for something to help."

"Thank you, Miss Trinket," Alice said.

Leaving the couple to themselves, Trinket returned to the kitchen and made up a cup of strong black tea. As she waited for it to steep, she put together another plate of cheese and toast for Booker. She was still a little upset with him, but she'd be the bigger person and attempt to make amends.

She balanced the tray on her hip as she paused at the laboratory door, hesitating to knock. That maniacal look in Booker's eyes flashed through her mind. Would her intrusion only make things worse?

Shaking her head, she pushed aside her concerns and gave a loud knock. There was no response. Remembering Booker's promise, she tried the doorknob.

Unlocked.

Though unsure about whether this was the best course of action, she nudged the door open and carefully made her way down the stairs.

Booker was hunched over one of the workbenches. Not wanting to startle him, she cleared her throat before moving further into the laboratory. His shoulders twitched slightly, but he did not speak or acknowledge her presence.

Stubborn man.

She brought the tray of food over to the writing desk and set it down. Still, the moody doctor did not tear his eyes away from his work. Taking up the cup of tea, she moved closer to the workbench, determined to make things right.

"Mr. Larkin, you should really stop to eat something."

His attention remained on the mechanical foot that was taking shape before him. "No time."

"Not even for a cup of tea?"

"It'll have to wait."

"It's black and strong, just the way you like it. I'll even go back upstairs and burn it if that will tempt you."

He went still for a moment before glancing up at her. He was wearing a pair of goggles, and the smaller lenses attached to it magnified his dilated eyes, making them look comically large.

She barely managed to choke back a laugh. It didn't go unnoticed by Booker. He slid the goggles up onto his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pushing himself away from the bench, he rose to his feet and accepted the cup.

There was a long silence as he took a sip of the tea and stared down at the piles of gears and wires scattered atop the workbench. What was he thinking? Was he angry? Or did he feel bad about his behavior? Would he apologize? Should she? What was she supposed to do to fix this?

"You're rubbish at dinner," he said at last, flitting his gaze to her, "but I'll admit to your skill with tea."

Relief spread through her entire body as she smiled. "Have you slept at all?" she asked.

"Sleep is unnecessary."

"But don't you need to be well-rested in order to concentrate?"

"I have my ways, don't you worry." He took another sip of tea. "How is Alice?"

"No sign of fever or infection."

"Good."

"She's a bit distraught about having lost the foot, though."

"She was going to lose it in a few more days anyhow."

"I know. It's just a lot for her to deal with."

"It's this or admitting to her father where she was when she broke her foot. I'd say owning up to the truth would be easier, but love makes people do stupid things."

She stooped down to take a closer look at the mechanical foot. "Yes, it does, but if it didn't, what would the poets write about?"

"We could use less poetry as far as I'm concerned."

She gestured to the foot. "This is amazing. It's hardly been two days and it already looks complete."

"Looks are deceiving. I still have plenty to adjust and test. I don't want it to just look like a foot. I need it to work like one as well."

"You learned about gears while apprenticing a clockmaker, right?"

"Correct."

"Surely he didn't teach you how to create these sorts of things, though?"

"No, but I didn't need anyone to teach me. I'm very clever."

"And humble."

He smirked. "Humility is for chumps, my dear."

Her heart warmed at the familiar address. "So how did you learn to do this?"

"I simply took what I knew about watches and clocks and applied it to my studies in biology. Combining the two wasn't all that difficult with an imagination like mine."

She glanced down at the foot again. "It's truly amazing. If only more people were open to the concept of mechanical limbs."

"Well, most geniuses aren't appreciated during their lifetime."

"Are you saying all you need to do is die for your inventions to take off?"

"Possibly. But the public are not the ones I'm trying to impress."

He placed the empty teacup on his desk. His eyes grew distant as he gazed down at his work, as if thinking back to another time. Or was it forward? It was hard to tell. All that was certain was that he was thinking of something he wanted more than anything in the world.

"It's a shame your creations can't help you catch the Wolf," she said.

He snapped out of his daze and turned to her. "Yes, well, unless it loses a foot or whatnot, I'm afraid my hunting skills will have to suffice."

"You hunt?"

"Only wolves. And only recently. Thank you for the tea, my dear, but I really must return to work."

With a short nod, she retrieved the cup from his desk. "Please eat something," she said as she headed over to the stairs. "You'll be no good to us if you starve to death."

He smiled. "I'll try to remember that."

Feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she made her way back to the kitchen and started on her daily chores. After a few hours of cleaning and washing, she went to go check on Alice and Henry. As she passed by the laboratory door, she noticed an empty plate on the small table beside it.

A smile twitched across her lips, and she tried not to revel in her victory.

When she knocked at the guest room door, she was greeted by a whispered invitation to enter.

Alice was sitting up in bed, Henry sprawled out beside her, his head in her lap as she gently stroked his hair. He was out cold, softly snoring while his lover watched over him with a smile.

"He's slept so little these past few days," Alice said.

Trinket knelt before the bed. "Well, he's been awfully worried about you."

"He's so, so good to me. I don't deserve him."

"How are you feeling?"

Alice sighed. "Fine."

"Truly?"

She shrugged. "What choice do I have but to be fine? We have to do this. For the sake of love, we must."

The forlorn lady continued to run her fingers through Henry's hair, her lower lip trembling and her eyes watering.

"It's still a lot to deal with," Trinket said softly.

"It shouldn't matter anyhow. Henry vowed that he would love me even if my face was burned with acid or all my hair fell out tomorrow. With a love like that, why should I be upset about having a metal foot?"

She spoke the words "metal foot" as though they were bitter on her tongue.

Trinket bit her lip, unable to find any comforting words to offer her. After a moment or so, she gestured to Alice's leg. "Do you mind if I check it?"

"I suppose if you must."

Alice closed her eyes as Trinket lifted the blankets. It looked just the same. No better, no worse.

"Are you still feeling nauseous?" she asked as she laid the blankets back down.

"Only when I think about what I'm to become."

Trinket's heart sank at the woman's despondency. "Alice, I—"

"No, no, don't worry, Miss Trinket. I shouldn't be complaining. Not when you and Mr. Larkin have done so much to help us." Her eyes wandered back to Henry.

"How long have you two been together?" Trinket asked.

"Three years. We met through mutual friends. I hadn't been married six months, and my husband wasn't one for socializing, so when Henry began to pay me particular attention, I was flattered and more than happy to flirt in return. Eventually, one thing led to another, and . . ."

Trinket cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"We began meeting in secret," Alice continued. "I thought it was only a silly love affair and that we'd inevitably grow tired of it and break things off. But the more we saw of each other, the deeper we fell."

"And you've managed to keep it a secret all these years?"

Alice's cheeks colored. "I'm not exactly proud of my behavior, Miss Trinket. My husband is not a bad man, but ours was never a marriage built on love. Few marriages in my social circles are."

Trinket gave a sympathetic smile.

"Perhaps if I had met Henry before my husband, things would be different now. But timing never works in love's favor, does it?"

"I don't know very much about love I'm afraid."

Alice heaved a dreamy sigh. "You should fall in love. There's nothing like it in the world."

You don't deserve love.

Menace.

Monster.

Murderer.

The thick scent of blood filled the air as the voices cackled, repeating their accusations over and over.

Her chest tightened. They were right. She didn't deserve love. She didn't deserve anything good.

Murrrrderrrrerrrr.

"Well, I'll let you two be," she said suddenly, desperate to keep from falling apart in front of Alice. "Please let me know if you need anything."

"Of course. Thank you, Miss. Trinket."

With a quick nod, she slipped out the door and hurried down the hall to escape into her own room. She buried her head beneath her pillows and began to mutter the words to her song.

"Ah, poor bird, take thy flight—"

Menace!

"Above the sorrows—"

Murderer!

She clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Of this sad night . . ."

Of that sad night.

You monster.