Page 96 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
“It was during that meeting,” he continued, “when I asked Finch to look into the Vales. I hadn’t intended to keep it from you, Rosalynd. There simply wasn’t time. It was only two days ago.”
I nodded slowly, my fingers tracing the rim of my glass.
“I understand,” I said. And I did. But understanding didn’t mean the hurt vanished entirely.
Still, we were both trying. And in that quiet moment, with only the fire to witness it, that counted for something.
“What did he find?”
Steele took a slow sip before answering. “Nathaniel Vale maintains a very convincing laboratory at Vale House—specimens, hybrid records, exotic plants. But it’s for show. The real work happens in Whitechapel.”
I shuddered. “Whitechapel?” The area where the Ripper mutilated his victims.
He nodded grimly. “He’s leased a derelict building there under an alias. A warehouse—black-bricked, windowless, tucked behind a butcher’s yard. Locals call it Ash Yard. Smoke’s always pouring from the chimney, but no one ever sees anyone go in or out.”
A cold thread of unease slid down my spine.
“Finch managed to get inside. It’s a working lab—distillation vats, rows of tubes, crates labeled as ‘tonics.’ He’s set up a large-scale production.”
I stared at him. “Of what, exactly?”
“Opium distillates. Morphia. Laudanum base. Aconite. And something else Finch couldn’t identify. What he’s creating is not intended as medicine.”
My mouth went dry. The first night Vale had come to dinner at Rosehaven, he’d revealed he was studying laudanum as an experiment. But what Steele had just described went beyond mere experimentation.
“He’s manufacturing narcotics, Rosalynd.”
“And he’s selling them?”
“Not directly,” Steele said. “He’s keeping his hands clean. But someone is moving the product. The shelves were half-empty.”
I gripped my brandy glass more tightly, the fire’s warmth doing little to ease the chill that had taken root inside me. Vale was manufacturing drugs that had the power to cloud the mind, control a body, ruin people’s lives. And all done for profit. Despicable didn’t begin to describe him.
Steele leaned back slightly. “He’s still within the law, technically. The Pharmacy Act controls sales, not production. But mass-producing unregulated narcotics in a hidden lab? That tells us everything we need to know.”
“Could Henry be involved?” I asked.
“Doubtful. He hasn’t the brains for anything that elaborate. His plan is to marry Lillian Travers and get his hands on her dowry. Her father craves respectability after making a fortune in railways. He welcomed Henry as a suitor . . . after Phillip vouched for him.”
I could only imagine how Steele must feel, knowing his brother had done such a thing. But perhaps he hadn’t known the full extent of Henry’s depravity.
“Your brother?—”
“He didn’t know about Elsie’s murder,” Steele said quietly. “If he had, he never would’ve spoken on Henry’s behalf.” He paused, then added, “I’ve sent him away—to Thornburn Abbey.”
That decision couldn’t have been made lightly. There was clearly more to Phillip’s story—something dark enough to warrant exile to the family estate. But Steele offered no further explanation. And I would not press him. Some things deserved to remain private.
“What about Lady Harriet?” I asked, eager to turn the subject away from his brother.
“She controls the household. The staff don’t like her, but they obey. When Finch asked about Elsie, most wouldn’t speak. But one brave soul said the young master ‘hadn’t done right by her.’”
I swallowed hard. Confirmation. Not that I needed it. Too much evidence pointed to Henry as Elsie’s seducer.
“Something more caught Finch’s attention,” Steele said. “He spoke to a contact—someone with access to financial records. The Arcendale estate is managed by a trust. Most funds are accounted for. But one—a quiet account, rarely used—was recently assigned to a man named Mr. A. Drayton.”
“Drayton?” I asked, the name unfamiliar and yet somehow unsettling.
“There’s no listed connection between him and the Vale family,” Steele said. “Not on paper, anyhow. Finch thought it odd. So do I, especially since a great deal of money is flowing in and out of that account.”
