Chapter One
The ghastly, corpse-pale face appeared suddenly, materializingout of the depths of the fathomless darknesslike some demonic guardian set to protect forbidden secrets.The lantern light spilled a hellish glare across the stark, staringface.
The man in the small boat screamed at the sight of the monster,but there was no one to hear him.
His shriek of horror echoed endlessly off the ancient stonewalls that enclosed him in a corridor of endless night. His shockedstart of surprise affected his balance. He staggered, causing thesmall boat in which he traveled to bob dangerously on the currentof the black waters.
His heart pounded. He was abruptly drenched in a chillingsweat. He stopped breathing.
Reflexively he gripped the long pole he had been using to propelthe little craft up the sluggish stream, and fought to steadyhimself.
Mercifully the end of the pole dug solidly into the riverbed,holding the boat steady as the last reverberations of his dreadfulcry died away.
The eerie silence descended once more. He managed tobreathe again. He stared at the slightly-larger-than-human-sizedhead, his hands still shaking.
It was merely another one of the ancient classical statues thatlay like so many dismembered bodies here and there along thebanks of the underground river. The helmet on this one identifiedit as a figure of Minerva.
Although it was not the first such statue he had come across inthe course of this strange journey, it was certainly the most unnerving.The thing resembled nothing so much as a severed headthat had been tossed heedlessly into the mud beside the river.
He shivered again, tightened his grip on the pole and shovedhard. He was annoyed at his reaction to the figure. What was thematter with him? He could not allow his nerves to be so easily unsettled.He had a destiny to fulfill.
The little boat shot forward, slipping past the marble head.
The craft rounded another bend in the river. The lantern lightpicked out one of the low, arched footbridges that spanned thestream at various points along the way. They were passages tonowhere, ending as they did at the walls of the tunnel that enclosedthem. The man ducked slightly to avoid banging his head.
As the last of his terror left him, the surging thrill of excitementreturned. It was all just as his predecessor had described inhis journal. The lost river truly did exist, twisting beneath the city,a secret waterway that had been covered over and forgotten centuriesbefore.
The author of the journal had concluded that the Romans,never the sort to pass up a potential engineering project, had beenthe first to enclose the river so that they could contain it and buildupon it. One could see the evidence of their masonry work hereand there in the lantern light. In other places, the undergroundtunnel through which the river passed was vaulted in the Medievalstyle.
The enclosed waters no doubt functioned as an unknownsewer for the great city above it, carrying storm waters and therunoff from drains to the Thames. The smell was foul. It was sosilent here in this place of eternal night that he could hear theskittering of rats and other vermin on the narrow banks.
Not much farther now, he thought. If the directions in thejournal were correct, he would soon come upon the stone cryptthat marked the entrance to his predecessor's secret undergroundlaboratory. He hoped with all his might that he would find thestrange machine there, where it had been left all those yearsbefore.
The one who had come before him had been forced to abandonthe glorious project because he had not been able to unravelthe last great riddle in the ancient lapidary. But the man in theboat knew that he had succeeded where his predecessor hadfailed. He had managed to decode the old alchemist's instructions.He was certain that he could complete the task.
If he was fortunate enough to find the device, there were stillmany things to be done before it could be made to work. He hadyet to locate the missing stones and get rid of the two old menwho knew the secrets of the past. But he foresaw no great difficultiesin that endeavor.
Information was the key to success, and he knew how to obtainthat commodity. He moved in Society, so he had some useful connectionsin that world. But he also made it a point to spend a greatdeal of time in the disreputable hells and brothels where thegentlemen of the ton went to seek more unwholesome pleasures.He had found such places to be veritable oceans of rumor andgossip.
There was only one person who knew enough to be able to realizewhat he intended, but she would not be a problem. Hergreat weakness was her love for him. He had always been able touse her affection and trust to manipulate her.
No, if he found the device tonight, nothing could stop himfrom fulfilling his destiny.
They had labeled the one who had come before him a madmanand refused to acknowledge his genius. But this time matterswould unfold in a very different fashion.
When he had finished constructing the deadly device anddemonstrated its enormous destructive energy, all of England, indeedall of Europe would be forced to hail the second Newton inits midst.
Chapter Two
She won't do. Too timid. Too meek." Arthur watched thedoor close behind the woman he had just finished interviewing."I thought I made it clear, I need a lady with spiritand a certain presence. I am not looking for the typical sort of paidcompanion. Bring in another one."
Mrs. Goodhew exchanged a glance with her business partner,Mrs. Willis. Arthur sensed that they were both nearing the end oftheir patience. In the course of the past hour and a half he hadspoken with seven applicants. None of the subdued, painfullydowdy women on the Goodhew & Willis Agency roster had comeclose to being a potential candidate for the post he was offering.
He did not blame Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis for theirgrowing exasperation. But he was beyond being exasperated. Hewas desperate.
Mrs. Goodhew cleared her throat, folded her large, competenthands on top of her desk and regarded Arthur with a stern air. "Mylord, I regret to say that we have exhausted our list of suitable applicants."
"Impossible. There must be someone else." There had to beanother candidate. His entire plan hinged on finding the rightwoman.
Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis glowered at him from behindtheir matching desks. They were both formidable females. Mrs.Goodhew was tall and grandly proportioned with a face thatcould have been stamped on an ancient coin. Her associate was asthin and sharp as a pair of shears.
Both were soberly but expensively attired. There was a judiciousamount of gray in their hair and a considerable measure ofexperience in their eyes.
The sign on the front door outside declared that the Goodhew &Willis Agency had supplied paid companions and governesses topersons of quality for over fifteen years. The fact that these twohad established this agency and operated it at an obvious profitfor that period of time was a testimony to their intelligence andsound business sense.
Arthur studied their determined expressions and consideredhis options. Before coming here, he had gone to two other agenciesthat boasted a selection of ladies seeking work as paid companions.Each had produced a handful of insipid prospects. Hehad felt a distinct pang of pity for all of them. He understood thatonly the most dire conditions of genteel poverty could induce anyfemale to seek such a post. But he was not in the market for awoman who aroused the emotion of pity in others.
He clasped his hands behind his back, widened his stance andconfronted Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis from the far side ofthe room.
"If you have run through all of the suitable candidates," he said,"then the answer is clear. Find me an unsuitable female."
The two stared at him as though he had taken leave of hissenses.
Mrs. Willis recovered first. "This is a respectable agency, sir. Wedo not have any unsuitable females in our files," she said in herrazor-edged voice. "Our ladies are all guaranteed to possess reputationsthat are entirely above reproach. Their references are impeccable."
"Perhaps you would do well to try another agency," Mrs. Goodhewsuggested in quelling tones.
"I don't have time to go to another agency." He could not believethat his carefully calculated scheme was about to fall apartsimply because he could not find the right female. He had assumedthat this would be the simplest, most straightforward partof the plan. Instead, it was proving to be astonishingly complicated."I told you, I must fill this post immediately-"
The door slammed open behind him with resounding force, effectivelyputting an end to his sentence.
Together with Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis, he turned tolook at the woman who blew into the office with the force of asmall storm off the sea.
He saw at once that she had, possibly by accident although hesuspected more likely by design, tried to distract attention fromher striking features. A pair of gold-framed spectacles partiallyveiled her vivid amber-gold eyes. Her glossy, midnight-dark hairwas pulled back in a remarkably severe style that would havelooked more appropriate on a housekeeper or maid.
She wore a serviceable gown of some heavy, dull material in apeculiarly unattractive shade of gray. The garment looked asthough it had been deliberately fashioned to make its wearer appearshorter and heavier than she actually was.
The connoisseurs of the ton and the obnoxious dandies wholoitered about on Bond Street ogling the ladies would no doubthave dismissed this woman out of hand. But they were fools whodid not know how to look beneath the surface, Arthur thought.
He watched the purposeful yet graceful way in which shemoved. There was nothing timid or hesitant about her. Lively intelligenceglittered in her exotic eyes. Spirit and determination radiatedfrom her.
In an attempt to maintain his objectivity, he concluded that thelady lacked the sort of smooth, superficial perfection that wouldhave caused the men of the ton to hail her as a diamond of thefirst water. Nevertheless, there was about her something thatdrew the eye, an energy and vitality that created an invisible aura.In the right clothes she would not go unnoticed in a ballroom.
"Miss Lodge, please, you cannot go in there." The harried-lookingwoman who occupied the desk in the outer office hovered uncertainlyin the opening. "I told you, Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willisare discussing a very important matter with a client."
"I do not care if they are discussing their wills or their funeralarrangements, Mrs. McNab. I intend to speak with them immediately.I have had quite enough of this nonsense."
Miss Lodge came to a halt in front of the twin desks. Arthurknew that she had not noticed him standing behind her in theshadows. The thick fog outside the windows was, in part, responsible.The mist allowed only a vague, gray light into the office.What little illumination there was did not penetrate far.
Mrs. Willis heaved a long-suffering sigh and assumed an expressionthat implied she was resigned to some inevitable fate.
Mrs. Goodhew, obviously made of sterner stuff, surged to herfeet. "What in heaven's name do you think you are doing interruptingus in this outrageous manner, Miss Lodge?"
"I am correcting what appears to be the mistaken impressionthat I am seeking a post in the household of a drunkard, or a lecherousrakehell." Miss Lodge narrowed her gaze. "Let us be clearabout this. I am in need of an immediate position. I cannot affordto waste any more time interviewing employers who are obviouslyunacceptable."
"We will discuss this later, Miss Lodge," Mrs. Goodhewsnapped.
"We will discuss it now. I have just come from the appointmentyou arranged for me this afternoon, and I can assure you that Iwould not take that post if it were the very last position you hadto offer."
Mrs. Goodhew smiled with what could only be described ascold triumph. "As it happens, Miss Lodge, it is, indeed, the verylast post that this agency intends to make available to you."
Miss Lodge frowned. "Don't be absurd. As annoying as thisprocess is for all concerned and most especially for me, I fear wemust press on."
Mrs. Goodhew and Mrs. Willis exchanged glances. Mrs. Goodhewturned back to Miss Lodge.
"On the contrary," she said icily. "I see no point in sending youout on even one more interview."
"Haven't you been paying attention, Mrs. Goodhew?" MissLodge snapped. "I told you, I am in need of a new position immediately.My current employer will be leaving town the day aftertomorrow to join her friend in the country. She has graciouslyconsented to allow me to stay with her until she departs, but afterthat I will be obliged to find new lodgings. Lodgings which,due to the extremely poor wages I have been paid for the past fewmonths, I cannot afford at the moment."
Mrs. Willis shook her head with what appeared to be sincereregret. "We have done our best to secure another post for you,Miss Lodge. You have had five interviews with five differentclients in the past three days, but you have failed at each attempt."
"I am not the one who failed those interviews. The prospectiveemployers failed them." Miss Lodge raised one gloved hand andbegan to tick off her fingers as she continued. "Mrs. Tibbett waswell into her cups when I arrived, and she continued to nip at herbottle of gin until she toppled over and fell sound asleep on thesofa. Why she seeks a paid companion is beyond me. She was unableto carry on a coherent conversation."
"That is quite enough, Miss Lodge," Mrs. Goodhew said throughset teeth.
"Mrs. Oxby said nothing during the entire interview. Insteadshe allowed her son to conduct the proceedings." Miss Lodgeshuddered. "It was obvious that he is one of those dreadful menwho inflicts himself upon the weak and helpless females in hisown household. The situation was impossible. I have no intentionof living under the same roof with such a despicable man."
"Miss Lodge, if you please." Mrs. Goodhew seized a paperweightand thumped the top of her desk.
Miss Lodge ignored her. "And then there was Mrs. Stanbridge,who was so ill that she was forced to conduct the interview fromher bed. It was clear to me that she will not survive the fortnight.Her relatives are dealing with her affairs. They cannot wait for herto cock up her toes so that they can get their hands on her money.I could see immediately that it would have been highly unlikelythat I would have been able to collect my fees from them."
Mrs. Goodhew drew herself up to her full height and bristled.
Continues...
Excerpted from The Paid Companionby Amanda Quick Copyright © 2005 by Amanda Quick. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.