Tasha Alexander - Dangerous to Know

“Look,” she said, pointing out the window. “They’ve lit the lanterns. Let’s go outside.”

Glasses still in our hands, we stepped into the garden, brilliantly bathed in dancing light, and made our way to the maze. George raised his hands to silence our chattering when we reached the entrance.

“Madeline and I have a tradition of racing each other through the maze,” he said. “Which does, of course, mean we’re starting on unequal footing here, but there it is. I say we all set off at once. And I warn you, I may lead you astray should you try to follow me. First one to the center and back wins. There are five scrolls in the center—pick one up and bring it back with you. I’ve written poems on each and when we’re done we’ll read them aloud.”

It was an excellent idea for an entertainment. We quickly split up after entering the labyrinth hedge, none of us at first wanting the others too close by. Laughter drifted through the night air, Madeline’s louder than the rest. I’d never been particularly good at mazes—I’d forget which direction I’d taken when and found the only way I could make my way through was by not paying too close attention to the fact that I would have to encounter every dead end on my way to the solution.

After more than a quarter of an hour I still hadn’t found the center. As I reached yet another stopping point, a feeling of panic filled my chest, and it seemed as if the dark hedgerows were closing in on me. I slowed my breathing and turned around, continuing on. When I again dead-ended, I retreated back to the last junction I’d been at and tried to remember which way I’d gone before. Making the best guess I could, I marched on, finding myself in the same dark spot I’d been in only moments before. Back at the junction, I turned what I thought was the other way, but wound up yet again in the place I’d started.

Unless it was an identical dead end. I felt trapped, more scared than frustrated, my breath coming faster and my heart rate increasing. Surely I couldn’t have been going back and forth to the same place over and over again all this time? I dropped my handkerchief to the ground and returned to the junction, where I closed my eyes, concentrated, and went in the direction opposite from whence I’d come.

The white linen of my handkerchief struck my eyes like a blow. This time, I marched back to the junction and kept going, but the path only returned me to where I’d been. I’d somehow become trapped in a portion of the maze that went nowhere. I stopped, the feeling of claustrophobia pressing in harder now, and fear gripped me. I couldn’t get out. Couldn’t find my way. Couldn’t even backtrack. I was about to shout for help when I heard Cécile and Mrs. Hargreaves chatting in the distance. Reassured, I reminded myself this could not be so difficult, and set off for another try.

Only to find, once again, my handkerchief.

I could no longer hear my friends, but far away in the distance rose the sound of a thin wail, growing louder and louder as it came closer to where I stood. Shaking, I reached into the bushes, wanting to push my way through them and force my way out, but they were too thick. Running now, I retraced my steps, determined to escape.

This time, I didn’t find my handkerchief. Instead, crumpled on the ground in front of me, I saw a blue satin ribbon. The keening sound had followed me, weak and sad, and I felt as if it was nearly upon me, its eerie moan a plea for help or release.

Against all my principles and everything I believed in, I did something I abhorred with a passion.

I fainted.

I woke up to the sensation of someone tenderly rubbing my forehead. I opened my eyes, expecting to see Colin, surprised to find George instead. I parted my lips to speak but he covered my mouth, gently, with his hand.

“Don’t exhaust yourself, Emily. You need your rest now.”

“Rest? I only fainted,” I said, groggy and confused. “I’m fine.” I tried to sit up and realized that I’d been bound to the bed on which I lay. Leather straps at my ankles and wrists secured me, and instinctively I pulled against them. “George! What is this?”

“Just one more, my friend,” he said, and tightened something around my forehead. What a mistake to have thought I’d been awakened by sweet ministrations.

“Where are we?”

“In the tower I’ve convinced Madeline is unsafe. It’s the only way I could ensure privacy for my work.”

“Work? What work?”

“There’s no need to worry about that now, dear.” He stroked my cheek. I flinched.

“Where are the others?”

“At the house, resting happily after drinking the laudanum-laced brandy I poured for them after we came inside. There’s no danger any of them will wake up until morning.”

“What do they think became of me?”

“You, my friend, succumbed to a fit of the vapors after getting lost in the maze. I found you and carried you to your room, where everyone believes you are sleeping peacefully. Cécile herself tucked you into bed. I didn’t move you here until they were all asleep.”

“Our rooms are adjoining. She’ll check on me.”

“She won’t wake up.”

“Why would you do such a thing?” I asked, my heart racing.

“I need your help, Emily. Madeline needs it. Edith was taken away from me too soon—I couldn’t finish the work. But you’re the right size, and I was close, so very close to solving the problem. You must understand, though, that I can’t test it on her. The risks are too great.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I struggled to release my hands.

“Don’t,” he said, gripping my wrists. “You’ll only hurt yourself. Edith had terrible sores from trying to escape. I didn’t want to hurt her, you know. I was trying to help her, too.”

I looked around, desperate to find a way to escape. The architecture matched the oldest parts of the château, but there were no windows that I could see in the room, only unbroken stone walls. There was nothing else to do. I screamed for help.

“You really shouldn’t do that,” he said, forcing a dirty rag into my mouth. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I can’t have anyone finding you here. Not right now.”

I strained against the leather straps.

“This may hurt some, but it won’t kill you, and you’re doing so much good, so much for my Madeline.”

On a table next to me I saw a strange object: a metal cylinder with a crank and a jar full of clear liquid attached to it. A long wire, of which George held the terminus, extended from the end of the tube.

“It is through this the electricity flows,” he said, explaining as if I were his pupil. “A fascinating machine, elegant in design, simple to operate. We attach the wire here—” He put it on my temple, something sticky catching on my skin to hold it in place. I was struggling to pay attention to everything he said, to remain focused, as it occurred to me my only hope for survival was to understand this contrivance. “And then I turn it on. First, though, I’ll adjust the current.” He spun a knob on the base of the platform. I heard a whirring sound, a sudden pop, and my muscles convulsed as pain shot through me. Tears poured from my eyes. George wiped them with his handkerchief and removed the rag from my mouth, covering it once again with his hand.

“You mustn’t scream again, do you understand?” he asked. “Or I shall have to put a real gag on you.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m making it so you can help your friend,” he said. “That’s all you need know.”

“No, George, tell me what this is. I’m scared.” Whatever he was up to, there seemed to be some small measure of compassion still present in him, and at the moment, appealing to it seemed all I could do.