The Paid Companion | Herophine

Chapter Thirty Six

Hero

Hero put one booted foot on the step and propped his forearm on his thigh. "What made you think that the gentleman who lived in Number Five was odd?"

The elderly housekeeper snorted. "No manservant. No chambermaid. No one to look after his clothes or cook his meals. Lived there all alone. Never knew a young man who could afford better to do for himself."

Hero glanced back toward the door of Number Five. "Were you here when they took him away?"

"Aye." The woman followed his gaze and shook her head. "A terrible sight it was. They brought him out all bound in one of them straight waistcoats like they use to bind the poor souls in Bedlam. The fine lady in the carriage was crying her heart out. Afterwards, everyone said they'd taken him off to a private asylum someplace in the country."

"Did the gentleman ever have any visitors while he lived in this street?"

"None that I saw," the housekeeper said. "But, then, again, he was only there for a few hours in the afternoons and early evenings."

Hero straightened and took his foot down off the stone step. "He didn't sleep there?"

"Never saw him come home until midday at the earliest. Figured he spent the nights at his club."

Hero contemplated the door. "Or somewhere else."

Josephine

Josephine smelled the damp, dank odour that told her she was underground before Parker removed the blindfold. When he untied the cloth, she opened her eyes and found herself looking at the interior of a windowless stone chamber lit with lamps mounted on the walls.

They had descended into this place in some sort of iron cage. Because her eyes had been covered, she had been unable to see the device, but she had felt the movement and heard the noise of the heavy chain that Parker had used to lower it. He had explained with great pride that only he knew the secret to operate the cage.

"There is a special lock that secures it, top and bottom," he had said. "One must know the combination to release it."

The low, vaulted ceiling told her that the room was very old. The gothic design was original, she concluded, not a modern decorator's notion of a fashionable interior. She could hear the faint sound of water dripping or lapping somewhere in the distance.

Several workbenches were arranged around the chamber. Each was laden with an assortment of instruments and apparatus. Some, such as the balance, microscope and burning lens, she recognized. Others were unfamiliar.

"Welcome to my grandfather's laboratory, Miss Langford." Parker gestured widely with one hand. "His collection of equipment and apparatus was excellent. But, naturally, by the time I arrived, they were all several years old. were still usable, but I have taken the liberty of replacing many of the instruments with more modern and more advanced devices."

Her hands were still bound in front of her, but Parker had untied the bonds that he had used to secure her ankles during the carriage ride.

At one point during the nightmarish journey, she had tried to throw herself out of the vehicle, only to discover that the door was locked and barred. When Parker had given his orders to the two ruffians on the box, she had quickly realized that there was no point appealing for help in that direction. The villains were clearly in Parker's employ.

"We did not travel far," she said, pointedly ignoring his verbal tour of the laboratory. "We must still be in London. Where is this place?"

She kept her voice very even, trying to sound as though she was in control of the situation. Whatever else happened, she would not let him see the terror that filled her heart. She would not give this madman that satisfaction.