My courage built, and an idea struck me at once: I would approach the house, pretend interest in Lady Clarence’s vacancy, and perhaps learn the reason for so many visitors, so many constables. I stepped away from the shrub and walked casually toward the house like I was ignorant of the fact that a man died there, victim of a poison I prepared with my own hands.

Several men stood near the entry of the house. As I approached the front steps, I began to overhear fragments of their hushed, hurried conversation.

“He’s in the drawing room—came straightaway—”

“—image on his vial matches the maid’s wax impression, an identical match—”

My skin felt suddenly dewy with sweat, and one of the vials slipped deeper into my gown. I made my way slowly up each stair, remembering my feigned purpose for coming to the Clarence estate. No matter what I might see or hear, I could not forget myself. I approached the front door. No one minded me as they continued to converse.

“—have been reports of other deaths, similar in nature—”

“—repeat killer, perhaps—”

I stumbled, one foot tripping the other, and began to fall forward. Two arms appeared to catch me, and a constable with a scar on his left cheek lifted me back into a standing position.

“Lady Clarence,” I gasped. “I have come to speak with her.”

He frowned. “And for what purpose?”

I paused, my mind a cluttered mess of herbs and names and dates, like a page from Nella’s register. Repeat killer. The words echoed in my mind as though someone whispered them behind me. A bright light flashed behind my eyes and I feared I may collapse to the floor, but the man continued to hold me. “Maid—” I stammered. “I am here to speak with her about the vacancy for the housemaid.”

The man tilted his head at me, still frowning. “The lady’s maid left only yesterday. Has Lady Clarence already posted a vacancy?” Then he turned to look behind him, as though wanting to ask it directly of the mistress. “Come with me,” he said. “She’s in the parlor.”

We went in together, the constable leading me through the overcrowded foyer smelling of sweat and sour breath. Several more officers stood in a circle, discussing what appeared to be a drawing in a newspaper, but I could not make out the image. Above a side table lacquered in black-and-gold paint, an enormous mirror reflected the horror in my eyes. I turned my face away, wanting badly to escape this place of angry, red-faced men. I shouldn’t have come at all.

Lady Clarence sat in the parlor with a pair of constables. The moment she recognized me, she stood and let out a great breath of relief. “Oh, heavens,” she said. “Have you come about the vacancy? Come, let’s discuss and—”