danger followed Seward, and the jagged scar running down the left side of his face added to the implied menace.
“Edwin.”
“Garrett.” He sat with a huff, slamming the folder in front of him. “Where would you like me to start?”
“Where is Aidan?”
Edwin opened the folder. “As of last night, he is living in a rookery in St. Giles, a doss-house on Petticoat Lane.”
“Jesus.” St. Giles was one of the worst slums in London. Even the coppers loathed to enter it because of its maze of hovels and alleyways. Overcrowding, squalor, and the resultant stench, along with a generous helping of disease, completed the bleak picture.
“We’re friends, correct?” Edwin asked.
They’d known each other for years, originally met in Scotland one summer. Both were half Scottish and visiting relatives, so they gravitated toward each other and kept up a correspondence through the years. When Garrett ventured to London, they would meet and share a pint. “Absolutely.”
“Why are you taking this burden on yourself? Why haven’t you told your brother, Julian? Your father, the earl? Or Aidan’s brother, Riordan? Wasn’t he here in London with you? If I’ve overstepped the bounds, tell me.”
A fair question. “No, not overstepping. Guilt perhaps? Aidan’s decline was slow, over a period of years, and instead of reaching out and trying to discover why he behaved in such a manner, I became disgusted and ignored him. We all did. I turned away when he needed me most, and because of it, didn’t hear his cry for help under all the arrogance.” Garrett exhaled a shaky breath. “I also want to protect Julian and the rest from the worst of this.”
“I just met your brother a couple of months ago, but I have the distinct feeling he will be livid when he finds out that you didn’t inform him of his son’s discovery right away,” Edwin said.
“No doubt, but one drama at a time. Aidan means the world to me, both the twins do. They are much like brothers instead of nephews, and when we were younger, they often followed me about like eager puppies.” He paused, as speaking of this caused a lump of emotion to lodge in his throat. “I love them. Aidan especially. Though always in one type of trouble or another, he possessed a good-natured charm, which meant that I couldn’t stay annoyed at him for long. There is goodness in him. He’s worth rescuing. I aim to be the one to do it.”
“Fair enough. I’ll do all I can to assist you in your quest.”
“I appreciate it, Edwin.”
“To continue. As your brother suggested, we’ve been watching your family’s bank for close to two months. Last week, a man approached the building, hesitating, as if deciding whether to proceed inside. He fit the description, and resembled the small portrait that you gave us, so we instigated a surveillance. I thought it best not to contact Julian until we were sure of his identity.” Edwin flipped a page over. “The subject did not enter the bank, and my man followed him to the aforementioned doss-house on Petticoat Lane. He’s not alone. There are at least four or five others, with many more coming and going at all hours of the day and night.”
After clearing his throat, Edwin continued. “I had my man blend in with the great unwashed, and he got close enough to observe that the place is used for deviant pursuits. Opium. Orgies. From what my man reported, financed by thievery and prostitution. There are two women in there with the men. Probably prostitutes.”
Garrett rubbed the bridge of his nose. Aidan had hit rock bottom, sunk to the lowest depths. Hearing this, he was glad that he’d decided to keep the discovery from Julian. “They’re living in total filth,” Edwin stated. “I’m not sure if you have ever been to St. Giles…”
Garrett stood. “Let us head there with all due haste. Extract him immediately.”
Edwin shook his head, motioning Garrett to take his seat. “One does not casually wander into St. Giles. This will take planning and a number of men, more than I employ. Also, when we snatch him up, what do we do with him?”
Garrett arched an eyebrow. “What is your meaning?”
“Aidan is in no fit state to return home. Let me read you this: ‘Aidan Wollstonecraft is emaciated, wearing dirty, ragged clothes, hair long and unwashed. Appears glassy-eyed, stumbling when he walks. When he speaks, his words are slurred. The subject is suffering from acute addiction.’” Edwin looked up and caught Garrett’s worried gaze.
“Your nephew will need medical attention, long-term care for his withdrawal. I have taken the liberty of contacting a private sanatorium. It is north of here, in Hertfordshire, outside the village of Standon. It is run by a Welsh physician and the cost is expensive. But he has done miraculous work with those addicted to opium. It’s becoming a rising problem in all classes. The place is confidential and clean; I have inspected it myself.”
“Aidan is in such poor condition, then?” Garrett whispered.
“Aye. He’s extremely ill, physically and otherwise. I’m sorry it has taken us this long to track him, but apparently the group of hooligans that he’s running with move about often. We may have never found him. It’s only by chance we spotted him when he approached the bank.” Edwin paused. “If he continues down the path he is on, Aidan will be dead in a matter of months. When the dragon gets its claws in you…well, it’s a sorry state indeed.”
Shaking his head, Garrett said sadly, “I never would have believed Aidan to be weak of character and sink to such depths.”
“Society sees opium and its derivatives as merely a bad habit. Dr. Bevan and his predecessor, Dr. Hughes, see it as an addiction of which certain people are more susceptible than others. Not by weak character, but by a brain disorder. His treatment is humane, not like at the asylums. There Aidan could be diagnosed with moral insanity and never see the light of day again. You do not want your nephew to go to one of those places.”
No. He didn’t. Garrett had heard the stories. People were locked up in no better than a prison cell. Mechanical restraints were used, as well as inhumane treatments that involved dousing with water hoses and hours of endless prayer. “What is your strategy?”
“We head in at the break of dawn. There will be ten men all told. We seize your nephew, and the three of us will head straight to Standon. We will need a private carriage. Fresh water. A bucket in case he starts to vomit before we arrive. The journey will take several hours, and he’ll begin to go through withdrawal, which includes nausea, vomiting, aches, cramps, body tremors. His bowels could let go.”
Garrett grimaced. “You know a good deal about this, Edwin.”
“Aye,” he replied softly. “More than I care to. Dr. Bevan set me on the path of recovery. He’ll do the same for your nephew.”
Edwin? Succumbing to an addiction? The man stood for all that is tough and unyielding. If addiction could fell him, what chance did Aidan have?
“Then we shall make plans.” How in hell could he explain all this to his father and brother? What will Riordan do? The twins were close, or had been up until Aidan disappeared. He rubbed his forehead, as a sharp ache had taken root.
No matter. Aidan was family, and Garrett would do anything to protect him. If cloistering him away in a small village clinic would assist in his recovery, then he would do it. The Wollstonecraft men stuck
