Sprawled upon a cotton mattress in my scant and cheerless attic room, I lay awake beneath the beams for many hours that night, conveying the same, constant string of worries through my mind.

I dreaded first and foremost for Frederic's safety. So shaken by a second encounter with the unexplainable in two days, I had not lingered at Glasten clock tower long enough to see his lamp in the upper window of his home. I decided I would visit him again at the lab on the morrow and tell him of the ghastly thing I had seen.

Two, were the urgent and indignant words left by telegraphic dispatch from Nina, my sweetheart, who had somehow uncovered that I'd stayed yet another night injured in hospital without telling her.

In combination it spelt my second sleepless night that week, but despite it I arose early with the waning winter sun, dressed in a mid-grey three piece with trousers of the kind donning a fashionable crease down the front, and a crimson tie about my collar. Though I lived at no particularly refined address, I clothed myself so that the average passerby assumed no differently. I combed my hair and let it fall into its naturally off-centred parting – though now grown past my jawline, Nina liked my hair longer.

I descended the stairs, addressing Mr Rawlings' housemaid without accepting the usual tea she'd prepared for me.

I could not decide which task would fare me worst: my sweetheart's wrath or my accomplice's dismal findings on yet another elusive, nightly horror. Heading north from Clement Street would lead me by the de Veyra estate; heading east would take me close enough to Saint Kristopher's Chapel to warrant visiting Corgaine's laboratory, built so purposefully close to its cemetery. After toying with the outcomes of both, I determined that I should first head north and save my relationship.

Yesterday's rainstorm was unrelenting, and the weather remained wet, overcast and dismal. Its gravity was no rival to the guilt I felt, however, towards the only woman to know and love most of my peculiarities and still found it within herself to forsake the dream of marrying the perfect gentleman husband, bearing his children and playing out the rehearsed roles of a traditional betrothal. We were to be wed in time, of course, though the decision had not been wholly mine to make. The arranged Mrs Nina Redding may never have the happily-ever-after every little girl dreamt of, but she did not resent me for it.

On the contrary, Nina resented me more for the parts that I could control ... such as lying, gambling and other general indulgences, though I'd learnt that the less she knew of these, the better it was for me.

I rounded the laurel hedges of the grand de Veyra estate, which held prime location overlooking Minster Park in the midst of flawless, two acre gardens. I nodded towards Remi, their single groundskeeper with the golden tan, as I walked the long path to a lavish, 17th century, three storey mansion designed by no less than Henric Dozier himself.

I took the steps up to the front door two at a time, seeming better in spirits than I otherwise felt. I held my chin aloft as I pulled on the doorbell and waited for Nina's answer, though in truth I felt a kinship with the scolded dog hunkered before its master.

It was not Nina who attended the door, but one of the household butlers, Rolland, which only worsened my situation. I was aware Nina's indignation would dissolve once she saw me humbly arrived on her doorstep, dressed in the grey suit she claimed made a gentleman of me, and sporting the woollen frock coat she had had tailored for my 24th birthday.

Instead, she remained somewhere unseen about the house, and despite Rolland's well-practiced bow and charming old smile, I felt most unwelcome as I stepped inside. It was as if her loathing seeped from the walls, from the exotic rugs underfoot, and floated on every hateful sunbeam leaking through the estate's high windows.

"A pleasure to see you again, my young sir," Rolland said as he closed the door behind me. His words did nought to alleviate me. "How fared your visit to the countryside? Devon, was it, Mr Redding?"

"I do wish you would call me Joseph," I told him, and not for the first time.

"Of course. Of course. Well then ... I must alert Miss Nina at once of your arrival."

No sooner had I shed my coat and hung it over Rolland's forearm did Nina appear on the wide set of stairs central to the room, dressed in a fitted blouse and floor-length frock, belted at the waist. I seldom caught my sweetheart with her locks undone, as we had not so far spent the night as lovers, and yet that day she let her hair hang loose about her shoulders; deep brown and naturally waved, with strands of red and auburn showcasing their appearance as she sauntered my way in the morning sun.

I took this moment of tranquillity to admire the woman who had wholly entrusted herself to the man she believed was Joseph Redding, and I was duly reminded of why any bachelor would have craned his neck in her direction had they passed her in town, or why she was the honoured guest of so many elegant soirées.

I still did not know what it meant to fall in love, but if what I felt had been but a subdued, fleeting moment of the lust and adoration that allured me towards this woman, I knew without doubt that I could one day fall in love with Nina de Veyra.

Rolland excused himself, but I did not catch his exact words. I trained my gaze intensely on Nina's and was only slightly relieved to see that the expression in her eyes was not cold or enraged – as I'd feared for hours the night before – but instead two saddened lamps of violet implored me in return. I swallowed a knot of remorse, hoping she would not see the effect she had on me. She stopped a few feet away and hugged her elbows beneath her bosom, and I took it as a passive sign that I should not kiss her cheek this time.

"You look beautiful today," I told her in attempt to entice the blush in her pale cheeks some other way. "Like a rose." Perhaps my words came across as mere apologetic flattery, for their effect entirely breezed her.

"Thank you," she replied, though she did not return the courtesy despite my efforts to look the way she so tacitly wished me to. "I assume you received my message, since you are here uncharacteristically early." I confirmed it. "I must be honest with you; this morning I don't care to accommodate you. Do you know what a fool you consistently take me for?"

My left hand buried its way into my trouser pocket while the other habitually felt for the watch inside my waistcoat. "My deepest regrets for not telling you about the hospital –"

"To Hell with the hospital, Joseph!" she spat. "That part is quite as plain as the nose on your face. I have known you long enough to see beyond your reckless hobbies; I see beyond the bruises and the constant bloodied lip, and look past the way others stare at you when we are together as though I play escort to some dratted ale house boor."

"My dear, if it is not the hospital that angers you, why have you summoned me here?"

"A girl," she said. She let the word hang in the air so that I might feel the full effect of it, but I did not. When she saw not even the slightest hint of recognition on my face, her hardened gaze waned almost indistinguishably. "It was a girl you met," she tried again, but this only rendered me more confused. Could it be possible she already knew about the vicche? Had I mistrusted Frederic with the information?

"There was a girl at the hospital," I told her, following a moment's thought on how best to proceed, "but she and I never exchanged so much as hello."

"That was not the story I heard from Viola, a ward nurse who happens to be friend of mine. The girl wished to press charges against you the night you trespassed into her bay, and, according to Viola, mistreated her in a manner of which she was too traumatised to repeat."

A half-laugh tore through my composure before I could contain it, almost relieved that the story could not have been much more ridiculous. "The girl was sobbing for an hour, my dearest. I merely thought to soothe her so that I might sleep, but you of all people know that cursory kindnesses were never my strength. The full truth of it is far worse, if you will hear it."

Nina's disbelief presented itself in the arching of one thick, dark eyebrow. "No, I will not hear it. If what you say is true, pray tell me how you knew the girl was so upset."

"I heard her crying, dear," I explained with the tender smile I'd learnt to mirror so neatly. "Her bay was adjacent to mine."

Nina chuckled humourlessly behind her hand. I noticed then that the engagement ring she'd worn for the past eighteen months was absent, and only a paler band of flesh now adorned her left ring finger. I could tell the tone of her laughter was not through joy or amusement, but from the incredulity that she had almost believed me, or that I might even believe myself.

"You were admitted to the men's ward on the 3rd of October," she said, shaking her head. "Viola tended the girl for the night on the women's ward, the other end of the hospital ... Tell me again how you heard her crying, Joseph."