Chapter Thirteen
In contrast to the rest of her guests, Lady Alwynne demonstrated great pleasure in welcoming Charlotte, going so far as to give her a gentle hug.
“I am so pleased to see you, dear Mrs. Howell. So much of this is due to your hard work.” She waved a slender hand at the ballroom. “It is my sincere hope that you enjoy the fruits of your labour as much as I know the rest of our gathering will.”
“You are too kind, m’Lady,” smiled Charlotte, believing not a word of it. “It was my pleasure to lend a helping hand for such a wonderful occasion.”
After one or two more gushing compliments, Charlotte managed to move on, leaving James to receive the rest of them.
“Good evening, Mrs. Howell,” said the Baron. “As you can see, your work has not only decorated these rooms, but given Lady Alwynne much delight. For that alone, her household must be most grateful.”
She dropped him a curtsey and murmured her thanks.
“But I do not see your young helper here yet. What was her name? Ah, yes. Miss Mary. I hope she will be able to see how delightfully her contributions are arranged and admired, yes?” He glanced around at the crowd. “So gracious of her Ladyship to include not only our brave servicemen, but also the household staff as well.”
Charlotte, who found her suspicions confirmed by the Baron’s odd request, merely smiled. “I gave her leave to take the night off, Baron. She has worked so hard, as you have rightfully observed. The poor girl hasn’t had chance to visit her family in quite some time, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity. She was in two minds about it, but in the end the chance to be with loved ones again won out.”
If she hadn’t been looking for it, she would have missed the brief flash of anger that crossed the Baron’s face. But it was gone instantly. “How kind a mistress you are, Ma’am. We must hope Miss Mary recognizes that.”
“I’m sure she does. Oh, and I don’t believe you’ve met Inspector Burke?” Charlotte turned to James who had managed to break free of Lady Alwynne’s welcoming remarks.
“Indeed. A pleasure, sir.” The Baron shook James’s hand. “I have heard much about your assistance to Harbury in times of need.”
“Thankfully tonight is all about fun, rather than anything else. I’m flattered to have been invited, sir.”
“I trust you will not be disappointed,” said the Baron. “I must not keep you…please, enjoy the evening. Our host will be with us a little later, we hope.”
James’s heart plummeted as he and Charlotte moved away and into the throng surrounding the dancers in the ballroom.
“I suppose it was too much to hope that he wouldn’t put in an appearance…” he whispered in Charlotte’s ear.
“You know him better than I,” she answered behind her fan. “Would you say there is some need for dramatics in his personality?”
“Yes,” said James. “And I think vanity plays a part as well. He wants to be seen, to be…”
“Worshipped?”
“Something like that, yes.” James sighed. “Perhaps we can get away before that part begins.”
“Will you dance with me first?” She looked beseechingly at him. “Just one dance. It’s been a long time since I waltzed…”
“And likely even longer for myself. But if you’re willing to risk your toes…”
She laughed and tugged him to the floor, where he took her in his arms and swung her into the dance, surprising both of them with his ability.
He was, however, slightly out of breath when the music ended. “Damn. I must be getting old. One dance and I’m exhausted.”
“Save your energy,” whispered Charlotte with a tiny grin.
“Mrs. Howell…” Commander Moreton walked up. “You are looking most outstanding this evening. Might I be honored with the next dance?”
Charlotte glanced at James. “Well…I…”
“Of course you must, my dear.” James shot a quick look at Del. “And there isn’t another man here I’d surrender you to.”
“Thank you, Inspector.” He nodded. “There isn’t another woman here I’d like to dance with, so you’re doing me a favor. I’ll be seen dancing. Then I can leave.”
“Like minds,” agreed James.
He was certain she would be safe with Del, and to be honest, she would probably be quite safe with most of the other gentlemen in attendance. But knowing what he knew about Harbury, he felt the weight of apprehension resting on his shoulders.
The shadows of horror, the darkness of evil, and the pain of brutality…all lingered in the walls and floors of this place. It was as if every darkened doorway led to some terrible place where madness ruled and bad things happened.
He spent a moment recalling that Miranda Fielding, Portia’s older sister, might have seen this room, not knowing that it would be her last memory. Did she look around, as he was doing, and admire the beautiful design of the ballroom? For it truly was elegance in architecture.
Or did she sense the undercurrents, the chill trickle of dread he could fee crawling over his skin?
“A sight to see, isn’t it?”
The Baron had come up behind him and was now at his side, watching the dancers glide by smoothly over the dazzling waxed floor.
“It is indeed,” replied James, half-turning to look at the man next to him.
He was perfect, neat, elegantly garbed, his beard and moustache immaculately groomed and trimmed.
His voice was kind as he commented on one or two general observations; the kind of thing one would consider an appropriate conversation between two gentlemen at a ball.
James was not fooled for an instant. The man was sizing him up, without a doubt. But he decided to play along. “Yes, I do enjoy living in this area. The countryside is lovely, the fishing is excellent, and I have found the people to be warm and friendly.”
“You are content, then? Someone who must have lived a much more adventurous life than a country gentleman who enjoys the fishing…”
James smiled. “I have found that such pastimes are much to be preferred at my stage of life, Baron. You are young yet. But I will venture the opinion that there will come a time when you yourself might yearn for a rod, a reel and a river filled with hungry fish…”
“And a lovely woman to clean and cook your catch, no doubt.” The Baron smiled as Charlotte whirled past.
James restrained a snicker. Charlotte enjoyed fish, but had no interest whatsoever in the messy business of cleaning and cooking it. “Her presence brightens my life, most certainly.” It was both diplomatic and true.
“And I’m sure young Mary must also lend a spark or two. I had the pleasure of working alongside her on some of these decorations, and I must tell you how charming I found her. So well educated, too, for one of her social standing.” He gave James a bland look. “I was quite surprised at the scope of her intelligence.” He turned away to watch the dance once again. “It is a pity she chose not to attend. I had hoped to see her face when she discovered how greatly her creations added to the festive appearance of the ballroom.”
“Indeed,” answered James, aware of an uncomfortable feeling crawling up his spine. Perhaps he was overreacting, but he knew in that moment that Charlotte was right. There was something about the Baron and his interest in Portia that James did not care for.
“Both Charlotte and I are happy that Mary has such a quick mind. She absorbs information like a thirsty plant drinks rain.” He kept his tone of voice neutral. “A charming girl, one might say. So it is always a happy moment when Charlotte can spare her to her family for a night or two.”
“She’ll be away that long?” The Baron betrayed a momentary flash of something…James wasn’t sure what.
“I believe so. But that’s more Charlotte’s business, than mine.”
“I understand. Mrs. Howell is fortunate to have such a companion.” He tried for lightness. “Should she have a sister of a like mind, I would recommend her to Lady Alwynne in an instant.”
James breathed for a moment or two, his thoughts darting back to Miranda. “I wish she did.”
*~~*~~*
The Baron quietly moved on from the Inspector’s side. This man was no fool, to betray the fury that raged within him would be the ultimate foolishness.
The little bitch had decided not to attend.
He moved blindly around the room, oblivious to the dancers, the music and the decorations. He needed a moment’s respite to gather his thoughts back into some kind of order, and he found the ideal spot in a window embrasure at the far end of the ballroom. The light didn’t penetrate quite so far, thus he could lean against the wide frame and stare out at the snow without attracting attention.
The anger boiling up inside him must be quashed.
He had laid out his plans so cautiously. All that time and effort adjusting his system to accommodate the female form. He’d recalibrated so many of his meters and sensors, knowing that a woman’s skin had a different conductivity level than a male, and that the shape of her body would affect the placement of his various devices.
He’d even managed to retool the drill to a smaller diameter so that the hole in the back of her head would be less likely to crack her skull when he removed her brain.
So much time and effort wasted.
It took more than a few moments for his temper to subside and his ordered thought patterns to reassert themselves.
He was now faced with two major problems. One was the lack of any suitable subject for his experiments; the other was the formidable Lord Harbury. To say he would not be pleased was probably the understatement of the century.
It distressed him to a great degree, not having a suitable alternative solution to either problem. Everything had fallen into place so neatly, he had bypassed his normal caution and not bothered with any kind of additional measures, just in case.
That thought turned his attention back to the ballroom and he began to scrutinize the occupants with greater interest. Was there a substitute present? It would seem likely.
He moved away from the shadows to join the others who ringed the floor, ending up next to what seemed like a small flock of clucking old biddies. He resumed his public persona and gave them a bow and a smile.
“Good evening, ladies. Is this not the most delightful evening?”
“Indeed it is,” answered the one with the largest decoration on her turban. “And you must be the Baron we’ve heard so many delightful things about.”
“I have that honour, yes, my Lady. You must forgive me for not catching your names earlier. Although I consider myself fluent in your language, sometimes I think in my own. Especially when I’m nervous.”
He gave an embarrassed chuckle, and—as he had hoped—elicited a sympathetic smile and nod from each of them.
“No need for nerves, dear sir,” giggled another woman. “We’re all quite harmless.”
“Never say so, Ma’am. Such beauty alone is weapon enough to smite every man in this room.”
That caused much fluttering of fans, laughter and blushes. And ensured him a spot in their hearts for the entire night. Which he intended to use to the fullest if it would solve one of his problems.
“Well if I might ask, ladies,” he glanced at the ballroom. “I know no one but the Harburys, so I wondered if you might recommend a young lady or two that I might ask to dance? I do not have any gentlemen friends to speak for me; one of the drawbacks to living alone in a strange country.”
He knew this would translate into whatever the English called an eligible bachelor with a title, which it did, most successfully.
Within a few minutes he had four names, four potential candidates for his laboratory. Thank goodness he always had a small notebook upon his person, since the older ladies were entranced when he removed it from his pocket and wrote down the names. “Otherwise I would be robbed of words, you see.” He managed a shy grimace.
“Now you come back and see us when you’ve finished dancing, Baron. We will adore hearing about your opinions of our gels, won’t we, ladies?”
Many enthusiastic comments followed as the Baron bowed low, thanked them profusely and took himself off, knowing they’d be watching him closely from now on.
Which was just the thing, since if any of these four women had the right qualifications, he would note it, finish out the dances and then slip away during the confusion at dinner. Or perhaps even afterward, if he could have a bottle of brandy sent to the old biddies. A few sips and they would most likely forget to keep an eye on him.
Yes, he thought to himself, this should work. His fury at the upset of his plans abated somewhat as he began to strategize in a new direction.
He would have something to show Harbury after all.
The madman would never realize that the true prize was the brain in the Leyden jar, not the shell it had left behind.
And then he would do something that would free pretty much everyone in the surrounding area.
He would remove Lord Harbury’s brain and destroy the damn thing, with as little concern as one would put down a rabid wolf. That moment, that final elimination of a man he’d come to realize was beyond description when it came to being human in any way…well it was a culmination much to be desired.
Quite when he’d arrived at the decision to eliminate him, he wasn’t sure. But the minute he consciously thought about it, he knew it was right.
Tonight he would achieve the pinnacle of his experimental work and remove the brain of a human being, only to keep it alive outside its physical host.
And he would remove a violent and ugly excrescence from the face of the planet.
All in all, a good night’s work.