I spent the rest of the day in a fog. I performed tasks without being aware of what I was doing. The attack felt as though it had happened in some distant nightmare.

It did seem that Father’s little plan was working. As soon as the signs went up, people began wandering in. If it keeps up at the prices we were selling, it certainly won’t be enough to save the pharmacy, but it might amount to enough to purchase a carriage and leave Kingsbrook.

Around one in the afternoon, among the handful of customers, I glanced out the window. I guess I had been unconsciously keeping a lookout, and sure enough, there they were: Patricia Fleming and her little herd out for their royal stroll.

She turned her head towards the pharmacy and we saw each other. Instead of her customary condescension, she actually appeared concerned, but it was only for a moment before she continued on.

Father and I worked the store for the rest of the day, which was indeed one of our busiest, but that is not very high praise.

Once we closed the pharmacy, we returned home. I went to my room and have been trying to scrub Mr. Carrington’s blood off the sleeve of my shirt.

I assume Father is drinking down the hall.

I shall try to sleep, but I’m worried of what horrors tomorrow will bring.

Good night.

October 1st, 1900

I spent all of yesterday nervously glancing out the window, expecting Mr. Carrington to suddenly arrive and smash the glass, but he never appeared.

We were able to sell off a good portion of the store’s inventory. It’s all at a loss, but we’re only accepting cash and all accounts have been closed so that we can have the money in hand.

The disappearance of Katherine Carrington is still all that anyone talks about.

Amid the bustle this afternoon, I happened to catch a glimpse of Patricia Fleming and her cadre walked across the square. However, this time, she stopped and looked at me through the pharmacy window. She was clearly concerned. She even made a step towards the pharmacy, but then continued on with her friends.

I thought it was strange but it only occupied my thoughts for a moment before I was forced to continue helping customers.

We stayed open later than usual in the hopes of selling more of our stock. Father’s worried that the more days we stay open, the more likely a collector will eventually come calling.

We closed around nine o’clock after managing to clear out roughly a third of the storeroom. Father and I were both exhausted by the time we arrived home and went straight to bed.

October 2nd, 1900