Perversion (Asylum for the Mechanically Insane Book 3)

by Sahara Kelly

  “I agree.” Eldon led her to the carriage and helped her clamber into her seat, before untying the reins and joining her. He slapped the leather strips across the beast’s rump and set them on the road back to Little Harbury.

  After a few minutes, he glanced at her. “Any problems with those girls?”

  She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  “Better if they were willing.”

  “They have no illusions about what they’ll need to do if they want to earn decent money. They learned that in London. They know me and have a general idea of what kind of life I lead.”

  “And yet they seem so innocent.”

  She smiled then, amused at his very male observation. “In many ways they are. But when it counts, they’ll spread their legs and bare their breasts for whoever pays the most. And they’ll make sure it’s a large number of coins.”

  “I’ll trust you to handle them, then.”

  “And I’ll trust you and your chemical vapors. A little extra encouragement never hurt anyone.” She paused. “Better than liquor, I hope. Not even the hungriest gentleman wants to fuck a girl who is about to cascade over his cock.”

  “Point taken.” Eldon shuddered. “We’ll handle it.”

  “I want seventy-five percent. Ten will be split between the girls. The rest for me.”

  “Forty, because without the house and vapors, it won’t work.”

  “Sixty, because without the girls and me, you’d have a bunch of men seeing themselves off with their hands. And not paying a penny for the pleasure.”

  There was silence as her companion considered her words.

  Finally, he sighed and nodded. “Sixty. A straight sixty-forty split.”

  “Then, Mr. Eldon Granville, we have a deal.” It was, in fact, more than she’d hoped for. She held out her hand.

  “Miss Mary O’Malley, I accept on behalf of myself and Sir St. John Somerly, who—I hope—won’t kill me when he hears the terms.”

  They shook, as he let the horse slow to a walk. “And may it be a golden goose for all of us.”

  “Hear hear.”

  Chapter 8

  “This is delightful.”

  Charlotte Howell smiled with pleasure as Burke seated her at a small table by the bow window in his snug parlor. “And what a wonderful meal.”

  He grinned. “You can stop being polite. I’m well aware this is bachelor fare at best and the surroundings are…cozy. That’s the best I can come up with.”

  She munched on a pickled onion, not waiting for him to observe the niceties. “Mmmm.” She swallowed. “You can stop all that nonsense. This is truly wonderful. I’ve not gone about very much of late, and certainly never to a gentleman’s home for dinner.” She helped herself to a generous slice of meat pie. “On consideration, that sounds like an awfully risqué thing for me to do. However,” the pie was neatly sliced with deft moves of her fork, “…I doubt that plying me with pickled onions, pie, and what looks like a very good cheese is any kind of a prelude to shocking goings-on, so I’m not worried.”

  “Wait ‘til you see dessert.”

  She coughed and swallowed roughly. The man was as delightful as the surroundings.

  “Here.” He poured her a glass of wine. “I can’t have you choking before we’ve reached the shocking goings-on part of the evening.”

  “You are a wicked man, Inspector Burke.”

  “You are a charming guest, Mrs. Howell.”

  “Do you think that, given we’ve now shared pickled onions, we could drop the formalities and use Christian names?”

  “I’d like that, Charlotte.”

  “Thank you, James. I would too.”

  “So.” He took some pie for himself. “There are things you need to know.”

  She sipped the wine. “Yes.”

  “About this business I’ve asked you to involved yourself with.”

  “Ungrammatical, but correct.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at her.

  “Sorry. I had a very strict governess.” She finished her pie and waved her hand. “But do go on.”

  “I’m trying.” He sighed. “The thing is, someone else is involved here. And I have to ask for your complete discretion before I go any further.”

  He looked at her then, all traces of humor gone from his strong countenance. “There is danger, here, Charlotte. Great danger. And also an overlarge helping of more wickedness than I could have believed. So when I tell you that this is in strictest confidence, I mean it.”

  She nodded. “It’s all about Harbury Hall, isn’t it? I’ve felt it, James. The place reeks of evil. Silly of me perhaps, but there always seems a threatening shadow over it. I promise I will not reveal anything you tell me. On my sainted mama’s grave.”

  He nodded in acceptance. “Thank you. I can’t disagree with your assessment of Harbury either. But I need to start at the beginning…which was the disappearance of Miranda Fielding.”

  For the next hour, Charlotte listened in growing concern as the story of Harbury Hall and its associated terrors unfolded. When he reached the part involving the deaths of a lady and a scientist, his voice shook and he paused, reaching for his glass.

  “Oh, my God, James.” She couldn’t stop her hand going across the table and resting on his arm. “How truly horrific.”

  “Portia is there, Charlotte. She’s working under an alias as a housemaid.”

  There was silence, broken only by the crackle of the fire.

  Then she got her breath back. “Sweet heaven.”

  “I’m here for her. She stays here most of the time now, and I can keep an eye on her during the day, since I’m known to be in residence and a friend of the Jones family. Mary Jones is her pseudonym.”

  “I cannot say I’m surprised. Shocked, but not surprised. Portia always struck me as being the only practical one in that family. She never followed the path of her beautiful, but malleable older sister. No, Portia had an inquiring mind and a complete lack of belief that she was only a girl.”

  James’s face relaxed. “She is all that and more. Courageous, questioning, foolhardy more often than not, brave as a lion and, I think, falling in love with Devon Harbury.”

  “The young man in the prison?”

  “Yes. And the rightful heir to Harbury Hall.”

  “Of course.” Charlotte stared at the fire. “Damn those two usurpers. Lady Alwynne is a perfect beauty, but beneath it all she obviously has no heart at all. I’ve never met Lord Randall, and from what I hear that’s probably the way I should keep it.”

  “I wake, sometimes, shaking with fear for her. For Portia.”

  Charlotte squeezed the strong arm beneath the sleeve of his jacket. “You’re a good man, James. Portia is damned lucky to have you at her back.”

  He covered her hand for a moment. The tingle shot straight to her toes, but before she could pursue this interesting development, the sound of the front door opening heralded the arrival of Portia herself.

  “James? I’m here.”

  “In the parlor, Portia. Come on in.”

  She came in, making James laugh as she squeaked at the sight of Charlotte. Protesting she’d been so busy she’d quite forgotten about the evening’s guest, she apologized, then hugged both of them and it was not unlike welcoming a small whirlwind into a quiet forest glade.

  The polite phase was brief and as if on some unseen signal, both women seated themselves and looked at him.

  Portia, of course, was the first to speak. “So you have told Mrs. Howell everything?”

  “Please, dear. Call me Charlotte. Mrs. Howell sounds so elderly.”

  Portia grinned. “Of course. I call James Mr. Burke sometimes. But only when he’s being pompous.”

  “Quite right.” Charlotte grinned. “But let’s turn our thoughts to the situation at hand.”

  James offered up a silent prayer of thanks. “Portia, Charlotte has the machine ready and today Lady Alwynne gave her permission to dig. So our plan can proceed.”


  Portia swallowed, her face sober. “We may need a day or so.”

  “Why?” He and Charlotte both asked the question.

  “Something is going on. Devon is down on Level Seven.” She looked at Charlotte. “That’s where the energy drain takes place. He hasn’t been there for a while, but this time there was a great deal of sudden bustling about and I felt him, his anxiety, the certain knowledge of where he was going. This was very early this morning and, as far as I can tell, he’s still there.”

  She clenched her fists on the table. “He hurts when he’s there. There are moments I can feel the pain and it’s indescribable. So something is happening that requires the energies from that hell hole, and I cannot find out what it is.”

  “No indications of which experiments are currently underway?” James kept his tone calm. Portia wasn’t a girl who indulged in hysterics, but this was just the kind of situation that could easily push her to the edge. Too many emotions involved, he realized.

  “I wish I could say yes, but sadly no.” She rubbed her forehead tiredly. “The only out of the ordinary occurrence was late this afternoon when one of the housemaids came in. That’s unusual in and of itself.” She looked up. “Usually the housemaids don’t mingle with the laboratory servants. Anyway, she passed on a message that some of us are to help clean up the Dower House. Not sure if it’s for guests or something, they didn’t say.”

  Charlotte looked disgusted. “That’s the way of those people. Give an order and never explain it.”

  James knew she was right, but it didn’t help to say so. “Portia, the Dower House isn’t far from the main building, if I’m correct?”

  “Less than half a mile,” she replied. “It’s on the western side of the main drive and you can’t see it from the road, but it’s quite nice. I’ve walked past it a time or two.”

  “I have, as well.” James nodded. “It’s quite a pretty building. I wonder why it’s being tidied up?”

  “Is it anywhere near where we’ll be digging?” Charlotte inquired.

  “Er, not really, no.” Portia blinked at her. “Why?”

  “No particular reason. Just that it would have been convenient for surveillance.”

  “Sorry.” Portia sighed. “Can’t be of help there. But I do plan on going with the other maids, if I can. Just to see inside. Sort of a reconnoiter.”

  “One never knows when such information might come in handy, my dear. I think you’re quite wise there.” Charlotte signified her approval with a pat on the shoulder. “And if we’re to wait a little to start the actual dig, James and I will be able to do our own observing, while we busy ourselves with prep work. You know the sort of thing…marking out squares, putting pegs in the ground, all that incredibly scientific-looking, completely meaningless stuff.”

  “Oh perfect, Charlotte.” Portia’s peal of laughter rattled the lamps.

  James blessed the older woman. There were so many burdens on this young girl’s shoulders. Anything that made her laugh like that was heaven sent.

  He told her so, later, as they walked together back to her home.

  “She’s got spirit, James. And faith. Both buoyed by a belief that good will eventually triumph over evil. It’s youth, naiveté perhaps, and we both wish we had more of it, am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are a clever man. Between the three of us, we’ll make sure that this time, right will triumph. Good will win this fight.”

  James’s steps slowed to a stop. “You make me want to believe that.”

  Charlotte moved in front of him and turned, putting her hands on his jacket. “Then believe it. I do.”

  “I know.”

  “If you can’t believe it right this minute, you might as well kiss me instead.”

  “You, Charlotte, are a shocking woman.” His arms went around her. “With the best ideas I’ve heard in an age.”

  Inspector Burke did as he was bid. With enthusiasm.

  And it was some time later, as he was returning to his home after seeing Charlotte safely to her door, that he heard a carriage.

  Instinct had him moving off the road and into the shadows of the winter-bare trees.

  He saw a flash of bright red hair—a woman, definitely—and heard the languid tones of her companion, both masked now by the darkness. He thought the voice was familiar, but cursed when he couldn’t place it.

  It occupied his thoughts all the way home, and finally he gave up, hoping that at some point the name of that man would come to him.

  *~~*~~*

  In the following days, Harbury Hall remained quiet. Alwynne couldn’t help but be thankful that whatever her husband was doing hadn’t caused any fuss or killed anyone. Small mercies, but mercies nonetheless.

  However, she found herself wondering if her two pet scientists had made any progress in their project for her. She’d noticed comings and goings from the Dower House, so assumed that matters there were in hand.

  She had also seen some signs of the archeological dig Mrs. Howell was to pursue, and one spot on a hillside now proudly displayed a neatly organized grid made up of strings, pegs and more pegs with small numbered flags attached to them. As yet, there’d been no sign of any digging machine, but the weather had been very uncooperative.

  It had rained, almost constantly, for the entire week.

  But now the rain had ceased and, although it wasn’t sunny, she could at least stroll to the dig site and see what was going on. On her way back, she decided she would enter the laboratories from the outside and pay a call on a certain pair of gentlemen. Killing two birds with one walk, so to speak.

  Within ten minutes of her notion, she was booted, cloaked and ready to venture outside into the damp, wintry air. It was bracing, to say the least, but Alwynne breathed it in, feeling refreshed as the chill brought a warm flush to her skin and a sharp scent to her nostrils. She was glad she hadn’t taken the indoor lift to the laboratories.

  Harbury Hall was everything a country estate should be, elegant, well-managed and filled with beautiful things. But there were times that, to Alwynne, it was little more than a well-decorated prison. Outdoors, she could breathe.

  The gardens were dormant now, bare of life. Bulbs slept beside the lifeless stubble of last year’s shrubs, resting, waiting, and gathering their strength under their snug blanket of hay.

  Alwynne wondered idly if she should commission a conservatory for Harbury. Nothing presumptuous, but just large enough to house a few exotic plants, perhaps a fruit tree or two, and provide an endless source of year-round flowers for her parlor.

  Her meanderings took her to the hillside, and she realized she wasn’t the only one who had taken advantage of the break in the weather.

  “Good afternoon, Inspector Burke.” She called out the greeting as she neared the place where he stood in silent contemplation of the neat checkerboard grid. “At last we have the chance to walk outside.”

  He bowed as she neared. “My lady. How lovely to see you. Yes, indeed, the weather has kept us all locked up recently, hasn’t it?”

  “I understand you are part of this… adventure?” She gestured to the site markers.

  “It is my honor, yes. Mrs. Howell seems very knowledgeable and I’m most intrigued to see if she turns up anything as the project progresses.”

  “No machine yet?”

  “I’m not sure that steam powered digging engines like a rainy day very much.” He wrinkled his nose. “Bit temperamental, I’ve heard.”

  She smiled. “It is to be expected of these amazing machines. If it will do all that it’s supposed to, I believe a little temperament can be permitted.” She walked to the very edge of the grid. “What are all these markings for?”

  Inspector Burke launched into an enthusiastic discussion about squares and depths and filtering and sorting and a lot of other things that Alwynne cared less than nothing about, and barely heard.

  She was watching him, wondering what the body was like beneath the rough cloth of his wi
nter greatcoat. Would he be pale and lax with a cock that could barely function, or firm and energetic? She thought the latter, since at no time in their acquaintance had he seemed anything other than a handsome mature man, probably nearing fifty.

  She was close to that herself, but none knew, thanks to the vapors.

  She did catch quite a few warm references to Mrs. Howell in his discourse. Aha. That’s the way the wind blows, is it? Well, she had plenty of other matters to occupy her time. Stephen was everything a good lover should be, so Inspector Burke should consider himself off the hook. If he knew.

  She smiled to herself at her wayward thoughts. She certainly was spending a lot of time thinking about sex. But perhaps having someone as energetic as Stephen to satisfy her was simply stimulating her mind as much as her body.

  A warm flush began between her thighs and she moved slightly.

  “You must be cold, my Lady.”

  “A little, I confess. But my curiosity got the better of me.”

  “Forgive me, I’ve been rambling on here while you chilled. I do beg your pardon. Quite inexcusable.” Burke looked concerned.

  “No need. I’m interested. I do like to keep an eye on whatever is going on here at Harbury. So if asked, I have something halfway intelligent to draw on for a response.” She smiled.

  He smiled back. “Most wise.” He paused. “I have noticed that you’re apparently having the Dower House renovated. May I test that encyclopedic knowledge of yours and inquire if you’re planning on selling the property, perhaps?”

  She shook her head. “Not selling, Inspector. Although congratulations on your sharp powers of observation.”

  “Er…it’s my job, actually.”

  “Of course. And you’re very good at it, I’ll wager.” She smiled again, a wry twist of her lips. “I’m allowing a couple of our scientists to pursue their experiments there. It’s been empty for too long. And I’m told that if it is successful it will bring great distinction to the Harbury laboratories.”

  “Distinction is good.”

  “And, of course, financial support is even better.”