I nodded. It was all I could do, but it satisfied my brother enough. He turned his attention on the superintendent, his voice cold. “Will you see my sister home? I assume you’ll give her a decent police escort, especially after dropping all this into our laps.”
It was useless telling Nathaniel I could hire my own carriage home or look for Aunt Amelia and Liza and travel with them, so I kept my mouth shut while he made arrangements with the superintendent.
When my brother was gone, Blackburn cocked his head, a movement showing a new calculating side I hadn’t noticed before but knew existed. “Did you say Miss Mary Ann Nichols was your former servant, Miss Wadsworth?”
Excitement radiated from him. I didn’t trust him or his new mood, and promptly pressed my lips together. Last thing I wanted was to give Scotland Yard another reason to point their spindly fingers at my family.
Undeterred, he stepped closer, filling the space with his enormous presence, forcing me to meet his inquiring gaze. I swallowed a coil of fear away.
There was something dangerous about him, though it could simply be because he held Uncle’s life in his hands.
“You do realize I may be the only person in London other than your family who cares whether or not your uncle lives. Won’t you help me solve this case?” Blackburn asked. “Miss Wadsworth… I’m entrusting you to help free your uncle and apprehend the murderer.”
He ran a hand through his fair hair, ruffling his already unruly locks. I wanted to help Uncle more than anything; I simply wanted to do it on my own, without involving the person who’d arrested him to begin with. Though it was flattering he respected my intelligence and amateur sleuthing enough to involve me at all.
When I still hadn’t uttered a word, he grabbed my elbow, spinning me about. “If you don’t want to assist me, let’s see someone you do want to help.”
“If you don’t let go of me this instant,” I said between clenched teeth, “I’ll be forced to employ a terrible fighting tactic my brother taught me upon your manhood.”
Wrestling against his grip, I realized too late he’d eased off because he was smiling. I huffed, tugging my arm completely away. Threats weren’t meant to be amusing. I imagine he wouldn’t be grinning if I’d actually committed my defense technique, and I wished I’d just done it. “Where is it you think I’m following you to?”
“Bedlam, Miss Wadsworth.”
SEVENTEEN
HEART OF THE BEAST
BETHLEM ROYAL HOSPITAL,
LONDON
25 SEPTEMBER 1888
Rumors of Bedlam being haunted by monsters were true.
At least, they felt real enough as we moved swiftly down cold stone corridors. I held fast to my silky skirts, keeping them as close to my body as I could while walking by cells of criminals and the insane.
Arms stuck out like tree branches, searching for things to root themselves to. Or perhaps they were searching for a way out of this dank hell. Blackburn did not hold on to me or offer his arm, trusting I could fend for myself in this abysmal place.
Cries of tortured souls went up all around us, but we pressed on. The stench of unwashed bodies and chamber pots in desperate need of emptying was enough to turn my stomach inside out. The farther we sank into the asylum, the fouler the air became, until I was terrified of adding to the sickness surrounding us.
“This way,” Blackburn said, leading us down another bleak corridor.
My mind spun with uncontrollable thoughts. One of the most terrifying being how to explain my whereabouts to my aunt should Nathaniel return home before I did.
“It’s a bit farther,” Blackburn said over his shoulder, his footsteps clapping against the flooring as if a giant bell were tolling the hour during an otherwise silent night. “Criminals are kept in the heart of the beast.”
“How charming.” Chills struggled to unleash their demonic fury across my arms and back. I didn’t enjoy thinking of this place as a living, breathing organism, one containing anything akin to a heart.
Hearts usually conveyed compassion, and this place had long since lost that quality. The only beat keeping it going were wails of the damned. I didn’t know how Blackburn could stand frequenting a place like this without it tarnishing his own soul.
Inmates sobbed to themselves, speaking in made-up languages and screeching like animals in a menagerie. How my uncle was surviving this mess, I wasn’t sure, but he was a strong-minded man. If anyone could be thrown in Bedlam and come out sturdier, it was Uncle Jonathan. He probably found a way of studying different mold specimens growing in patches along the dank walls and floor.
The thought made me smile in the face of fear. That’s precisely what Uncle would do in this situation. He’d turn it into a giant experiment to pass the time, never realizing he was actually set inside against his will. I’d probably have to coax him to leave once the time came for it.
He’d say, “Arrested? Are you sure? Perhaps I might spend another day going over my findings first.”
Then I’d tell him why that wasn’t a good idea, and he’d throw a fit. Once he was invested in an experiment, nothing else mattered.
We walked as quickly as we dared, but I still spied broken men pacing in their cages, looking as feral as panthers. These men were different from the insane. There was a certain air of calculation in their fixed gazes. I didn’t want to think of what they could do to me if they were to escape, and sped up until I was practically tripping on Blackburn’s heels.
I focused on other things to occupy my mind. I was grateful Nathaniel had departed to speak with barristers prior to our excursion here. I hoped he was already finding ways of repealing Uncle’s arrest. He’d put his all into the finest details of the law, never surrendering until he found success.
Finally, we stopped in front of a cell that had only a few rusted bars set into solid stone near the top. Enough to pass food and water trays in, I assumed.
Blackburn removed the ring of keys from his belt—which were handed off from a watchman when we signed in—and motioned for me to stand back. He was a fool if he thought I’d be anywhere but right there when he unlocked the door. I couldn’t wait to see Uncle.
Superintendent Blackburn nodded as if he’d already predicted my response. “Suit yourself, then.”
With a creak and a groan that would wake things better off left sleeping, the cell swung open in a mocking gesture of welcome. Blackburn stepped back, allowing me to cross the threshold first. What a kind gentleman he was.
A horrid noise emanating from the shadows raised gooseflesh along my arms. Suppressing a flutter of panic, I marched into the lair of a scientist, where the haunting giggles of the newly insane greeted me, freezing at what I saw.
“What in the…” I hardly recognized the creature my uncle had become.
Crouching in the corner of his little stone cell, he rocked back and forth while unearthly laughter poured from cracked lips. An upturned jug of water sat beside him, having run dry a long time ago from the look of it.
“What has happened to him?” I grabbed on to the nearest bar, steadying myself against shock. How did he unravel so quickly? Surely he couldn’t have lost that much of his mind in just a few short weeks.
Something was very wrong. Blackburn said nothing.
When Uncle wasn’t cackling, he mumbled something too low for me to hear. Someone had only given him a thin shift to wear, and it was stained brown and yellow. What little food he’d been given had mostly ended up on his clothing.
“How anyone can treat a person this way is beyond my comprehension,” I snarled. “This is… this is beyond unacceptable, Mr. Blackburn.”