‘Were you afraid of becoming deaf?’ asked Frances.

Mrs Antrobus exhaled softly through trembling lips, and a tear glimmered at the corner of one eye. ‘Oh, Miss Doughty, I would never make light of another’s affliction – my own dear late mother was hard of hearing in her final years, and I know what a trial it can be – but sometimes, in my darkest hours, I am ashamed to say that I have prayed to be made deaf. A mother who is deaf will never hear the laughter of her children, but she may still play with them. The voices of small children, even my own beloved boys, cause me the most exquisite pain. Our physician, Dr Collin, said that I needed rest and quiet and prescribed a tonic mixture. But I saw him whisper to Edwin, and later my husband confided in me that Dr Collin believed I was suffering from hysteria, that I had experienced such a fright from the exploding firework that I had started to imagine that all sounds were dangerous, and since – as some doctors believe – there is a connection between the ears and the womb, it resulted in my curious condition.’

‘Do you believe that is the case?’

‘No, Miss Doughty, I believe it is the kind of nonsense doctors talk when they do not know the answers.’

Frances was unable to restrain herself from a little laugh and was astonished and mortified to see Mrs Antrobus flinch at the sound. ‘I am so terribly sorry.’

Mrs Antrobus waved away her alarm. ‘Please do not distress yourself,’ she said kindly. ‘But to complete my story, Edwin truly thought that I was losing my mind and it was for this reason that he made a will which placed his brother in control of his property.’

The door opened admitting Miss Pearce, who brought a tray of tea things. The tray was wooden and lined with a folded cloth while the vessels and plates were of wood as were the spoons, and the teapot was encased in a quilted cover. The tea was poured and the wooden bowls delivered to Frances and Mrs Antrobus, then Miss Pearce departed.

‘Do you trust your brother-in-law to act properly under the will?’ asked Frances. While it was not possible to know how much Lionel Antrobus might have lost had a later will been made, his current control must, she knew, give him the opportunity to abstract funds if he was so inclined.

‘I have no evidence that he is doing anything he should not, but I have no entitlement to see the financial records, and, even if I did, these things may be given a false gloss and I would not see what lay beneath. If Lionel is not acting as he should that will not become apparent until the will is proved. If I cannot show that my husband is deceased that will not be until October 1884.’

Frances sipped her tea. ‘So, to return to my earlier question, what was it that made your husband change his mind?’

‘I told him that I was not satisfied with Dr Collin’s opinion and asked to see other doctors. He agreed, and that was when we learned that my disease was as much a mystery to medical men as it was to us. Each man had a different opinion. One doctor said that there was nothing the matter with me. He said that I was afraid of losing my husband’s love and nervous about his absences from home on business and was merely feigning the condition in order to keep him by me. Another suggested that as I had been shocked into it I should be shocked out of it by the loud ringing of bells. The distress that that supposed cure caused me was sufficient to make us abandon the idea very quickly. I was bled with leeches, purged, given some nasty acid to drink and galvanism applied to the nerves of my face. Yet another doctor was obsessed by the idea that he had discovered a disease new to medical science and made a great nuisance of himself, hoping to find fame through my suffering. Then, at long last, we found that I was not mad or deluded or pretending – or even alone; others, both men and women, had had this affliction before, but it was rare and known only to those who make a special study of the ear. Edwin promised that once he returned from Bristol he would change his will. But his mind was very occupied with business matters and it seems he failed to make an appointment to see his solicitor or send him a letter regarding his intentions.’

‘Who is your solicitor?’ asked Frances, hoping it would be her own advisor, Mr Rawsthorne.

‘Mr Marsden. I cannot say I like him a great deal but I have heard he knows his business.’

Frances tried to conceal her disappointment. Mr Marsden regarded her with the kind of derisive contempt he afforded all women who aspired to professions he thought should be reserved for men. At their every meeting he lost no opportunity to belittle her undoubted achievements in the capture of criminals and mention her failure to secure a husband.

‘Do you still consult a medical man?’

‘No, I believe that medicine has done all it can do for me, which is nothing at all.’

‘What I propose to do, Mrs Antrobus,’ said Frances, examining the list of names once more, ‘is start by speaking to all those people who were your husband’s closest associates in the six months before he disappeared. He may have said something to them or they may have noticed something in his manner that could be a valuable clue. I will of course interview his partner, Mr Luckhurst, as well as his brother and Dr Collin. Are there any other names you could suggest? I see that you have not put the names of the other medical men on this list.’

‘Oh, I hadn’t thought to do so. I suppose I did not think of them either as my husband’s friends or associates. Some of them only visited once, and that was several years ago. Let me consult Charlotte and we might be able to recall their names. It was only Dr Goodwin who called more often. He was more kindly than the others.’

‘What of the doctor who was such a nuisance?’

She made a tiny grimace. ‘Oh, Dr Dromgoole, yes, he caused a great deal of annoyance. He actually suggested that my condition was due to tobacco fumes I had inhaled from my husband’s clothing. Quite ridiculous. Edwin was furious with him – in fact I don’t believe I have ever seen him so exercised – and told him not to come here again. The man actually wrote to the newspapers proposing this idea but then Dr Goodwin, who is a great expert in these things, wrote to the papers to show what a foolish man Dr Dromgoole was. I saw that Dr Goodwin knew something of my affliction and wrote to him and he agreed to see me. It was he who told Edwin that it was my ears that were affected and not my mind. He was an honest man, and while he brought relief of a kind, he also told me that there was no cure.’

‘When did you last see Dr Dromgoole?’

‘It was … perhaps four years ago.’

‘And Dr Goodwin?’

‘I think he last made a professional call about a month before Edwin disappeared. After that I could no longer pay his fees, and in any case there was little more he could do for me. When he heard about Edwin he made a courtesy call, but I have not seen him since.’

Frances added those names to the list. ‘What of the servants you employed just before your husband disappeared?’

‘We had a parlourmaid, Lizzie, and a cook, Mrs Dean, and Mrs Fisher who came in twice a week to clean. I doubt that they will know anything. There is just one maid-of-all-work now; we engaged her not long after Edwin disappeared, and Charlotte keeps house and cooks. Our means are limited but we do not starve. There are effects that in a household so straitened as ours we might have thought to sell, but of course until Edwin is declared dead and the will overturned they are not mine to dispose of. If I was to sell so much as a teaspoon I am sure Lionel would notice and fly into a perfect rage.’

Mrs Antrobus poured more tea into the wooden cups and Frances took advantage of the pause to compose her next question.

‘I feel I must apologise in advance for what I am about to say. In my profession I often see the very worst kinds of behaviour and therefore have a suspicious mind and am obliged to ask about matters which might cause offence.’