Quicksilver - Amanda Quick [109]
“Once inside the household, you began to take charge,” Mrs. Crofton said. “You manipulated Lady Hollister, who was too mentally unbalanced to understand what was happening.”
Virginia looked at Mrs. Crofton in surprise.
“I found the Hollisters’ housekeeper,” Mrs. Crofton explained. “She answered my questions, but she must have slipped a drug into the tea she served me.”
“It was the same drug that we used on you, Miss Dean,” Alcina said. “After Mrs. Crofton was unconscious, the housekeeper sent a note to me, informing me of what had happened. We had made a bargain, you see. I paid her a great deal of money to ensure that she would notify me if anyone came around asking questions. I sent Jasper to collect Mrs. Crofton.”
“Gaining control of Lady Hollister must have been a simple matter,” Virginia said. “It did not require any talent to manage her, and through her, the entire household. But Hollister would have been another problem altogether.”
“My father was a rather dangerous man.” Alcina smiled. “But when you discover a man’s passion, you know what is required to control him.”
“How long did it take you to realize that he was raping and murdering young prostitutes in that mirrored chamber below the mansion?” Virginia asked.
“Not long at all. I realized almost at once that something very odd was going on, of course, but Hollister kept his secrets surprisingly well. It was not as if he went about practicing his hobby every Saturday night. He often went weeks, sometimes months, between kills. But eventually the fever would come upon him and he would go off into the night to find a suitable victim.”
“How did you learn the truth?” Virginia said.
“Jasper followed him one night,” Alcina said.
“When I realized what he was doing with the street girls, I began to conceive my grand experiment,” Welch said. “I had already discovered Mrs. Bridewell and her clockwork curiosities, and I had developed my theory. I was anxious to perform some experiments with the devices.”
“You convinced your father to let you run those experiments on his victims,” Virginia whispered.
“He was very enthusiastic about the plan when he realized that I was his son. He certainly got into the spirit of the experiments, I must say.”
Virginia did not think she could be any more horrified than she already was. But a new chill slithered down her spine. She stared at Welch.
“You helped your father murder three street girls in the basement of the Hollister house, and then you murdered Mrs. Ratford and Mrs. Hackett,” she said.
Welch scowled. “You speak as if I were a common criminal. I am a scientist. I have been carrying out experiments with glasslight for years, but it wasn’t until I accidentally discovered Mrs. Bridewell’s inventions that I was able to conceive of a way to realize the full potential of my work. My father and I worked together to perfect the process of infusing the death energy into the mirrors.”
“Why did you stop using streetwalkers as your victims?” Virginia asked. “Why take the risk of killing Ratford and Hackett?”
“It occurred to me that if the subject that was to be extinguished—”
“You mean the murder victim,” Virginia said.
Welch ignored the interruption. “If the subject was possessed of a talent that was sensitive to glasslight, the energy given off at death would have a natural affinity for mirrors and be far more readily absorbed by the glass.”
Mrs. Crofton glowered at him. “What is the purpose of all this murdering? Why are you trying to infuse paranormal energy into mirrors?”
“Of course you do not understand,” Welch said impatiently. “You are a housekeeper, not a scientist.” He turned to Virginia. “But surely you, with your great talent, can perceive the potential of my work, Miss Dean.”
“As far as I can tell, your only goal is death by glasslight,” she said. “Where is