Stalking Jack the Ripper (Stalking Jack the Ripper, #1)(49)
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.