She was safe! That was all that mattered to him at the moment. Well, the situation at hand mattered to him as well, but Rose was fine. More than fine. In fact, in a word, she was brilliant! And she was currently letting into Sneed with a fury that had the Doctor in awe, if not hopeless amusement. Her eyes flashed amber fire as she snapped at him for copping a feel, which made the older man flush in a way that hinted to a certain truth in the matter. Rose Tyler may look like a lovely, flush young lady of property, but in her heart she was an estate born guttersnipe, born and bred, and tough as old boots. Poor Gwyneth, the housemaid, looked aghast.

He had to admit he liked that about the girl. Piss and vinegar in her veins, not just gumption. That was good because he had a feeling that Rose Tyler was going to be one of the most jeopardy friendly companions he'd ever had. Curious to a fault and full of the twenty-first century opinion she could handle anything. She hadn't thought twice about running after Sneed and Gwyneth by herself. He shouldn't have let her. What if he hadn't have been able to get to her. She could be as lifeless as the two bodies in that room.

Perhaps he would need to rethink this new relationship of his.

He should have known she was in the kitchen. Rose had no sense of Victorian propriety and would throw herself into the washing up. He could hear the voices inside, the two girls giggling. Already she had made a friend. Before he could cut in, however, Gwyneth's words spilled out, a tumble of images and things she shouldn't understand, cars and planes and Rose's London.

And the bad wolf…

It was those words again. That phrase that had come to him just the other day…or was it hours ago now, when he had reached with his senses and had brushed against time itself. Those words, "bad wolf". And now they came up again…around Rose? Why around her?

He frowned, reaching and probing mentally to the babbling girl who was uttering apologies as fast as she could to his young companion. As he did he found himself falling into the mind of Gwyneth, into her thoughts, her fears, the voices in her head, the loneliness of a girl who had grown up alone in Wales without her parents. She had been left to fend for herself. How those voices kept her company even as she was afraid of them.

It should have been obvious from the first. Gwyneth was psychic. Or at least a low level one, enough she could receive from someone else who was. He wasn't even sure she was aware that he was in her head. Had it been Rose or anyone else he'd have needed to have some sort of physical contact, but Gwyneth was wide open, waiting for anyone or anything to come in. That was likely how she had picked up on Rose's thoughts. But why had she picked up on "bad wolf"?

"I can't help it," Gwyneth almost sobbed. "Ever since I was a girl. My mam said I had the sight. She told me to hide it."

"But it's getting stronger, more powerful," he cut in, causing both women to turn to him. "Is that right?"

Gwyneth nodded, looking ashamed. "All the time, sir. Every night, voices in my head."

"You grew up on top of the rift." It was simple, really. He would be surprised if much of Cardiff didn't have some sense of psychic ability. But Gwyneth was unique. "You're part of it. You're the key."

"I've tried to make sense of it sir," she bemoaned. "Consulted with spiritualists, table rappers, all sorts."

Load of charlatans and crackpots is who she had been talking to. No one who actually understood a lick of what was really happening. Still, perhaps all the tricks they had taught her weren't completely useless. They may help her to focus. And that was what he needed out of her.

"Well, that should help," he smiled. "You can show us what to do."

Rose's eyes flew up to him, staring at him as if he were a charlatan himself.

"What to do where, sir?" Gwyneth blinked up at him in mild confusion.

"We're going to have a séance," he beamed.

Neither woman looked as if they thought that was a particularly good idea.

"A séance, sir? I haven't ever run one."

"Gwyneth, a séance is merely a crutch." He reached a long finger to tap the young maid's forehead right between her eyes. They crossed as they followed his hand. "You have an ability, Gwyneth. You can speak to these spirits. It's all in your head, right there, but you've had to find a way to control it, to fine-tune it. So, you use a séance to do it. That's all it is, a way for you to focus your mind at the task at hand."

"And you don't think it is horribly…ungodly, sir?" She blinked up at him in mild horror. Poor, sweet Gwyneth, raised on her good, Victorian, Welsh Protestantism. He likely had just scandalized her with the suggestion. Judging by the look Rose was giving him right now he had likely just scandalized her as well for a totally different reason.

"Gwyneth, the only 'ungodly' thing going on here is that Sneed has taken advantage of you for so long. Now, if we do this right, we'll figure out what these beings are and what they want. And perhaps, if we are lucky, we can find a way to end all the haunting. Now, that's nice, and good, and righteous, isn't it?"

Gwyneth seemed to be buying his logic even if Rose was cutting eyes at him. "I suppose, sir."

"Good. Now, you go get the drawing room all set up and I'll gather the others for this."

"Mr. Dickens too?"

"Yes, him too, I think that ol' Charlie needs his mind expanded. Now, get along, we'll be up in a mo'." He rushed the girl off, even as she gave him doubtful looks over her shoulder.

He didn't need to look at Rose to see the disapproval coming at him. "A séance? Parlor tricks, is that what you are resorting to?"

"If it works," he shrugged, brushing her off casually. "And what's all this with you running off thinking your some sort of Wonder Woman?"

"I told you I was trying to stop them. You didn't say no. And don't change the subject! What do you mean Gwyneth has an ability?"

Why in the world did she think she could question him on this? "Just what I said, the girl has talent."

"Doctor, she knew about London. About my London! She saw airplanes and cars." Rose puzzled through it quickly enough. "She's psychic, isn't she?"

"Your race isn't known for being extremely gifted in that way but some of you can display a low level aptitude, yeah."

"So she was reading my thoughts?" Rose shifted uncomfortably. He remembered how she reacted to the TARDIS.

"Well, you can't blame the girl, you were likely broadcasting them rather loudly. "

"I didn't know she could read them!" Rose squawked, glancing towards the hallway where Gwyneth had disappeared. "She was just a normal girl. Course, a normal, overworked, horribly paid girl. You know she only gets eight pounds a year?"

"Welcome to Victorian Britain! No Labor to fight for the worker's rights."

"I'm just saying, Doctor, everyone her entire life has taken advantage of her. She's got no one. Her parents died, she is dependent on this Sneed fellow who doesn't treat her well, and now what are we using her for?"

It wasn't often that the Doctor felt any sense of guilt for his actions…Gallifrey not withstanding, obviously. He could always shroud it in the sense of the greater good and use his great, Time Lord brain and obvious intellect as a way of dissuading large-scale protests. "No one is harming her, Rose. She just is a way for us to make contact. She's an interpreter."

"Yeah, and what if we find out that whatever these things are, they turn out to be a bigger threat than what we thought? I mean…you didn't see those bodies, Doctor. They would have killed me if you hadn't gotten to me."

That part was true. He didn't want to admit it. But his options in this were few. "If we don't, Rose, how many other bodies will they inhabit? This won't stop until they find someone they can finally communicate with."

Rose's full lips pursed. "I still don't like it. This whole…psychic thing. Letting someone into her head."

"It's as bad as all that, Rose," he tried to reassure her. After all, he'd had people inside his head all the time once, hadn't harmed him in the slightest.

Still, she didn't look convinced. He relented somewhat. "I won't make Gwyneth do anything she doesn't want to. Does that make you feel better?"

"No," she replied, a smirk lifting the corners of her mouth. "But it will have to do."

"Right." If that was the best he could get he would take it from Rose Tyler. "Now, why don't you run off to see if Gwyneth needs any help. Just think, Rose, a séance! Not something you can say you've done in your life before! Had a séance with Charles Dickens!"

"No," she nodded in slow agreement as she turned down the hallway towards the drawing room. "Hopefully it beats the hell out of a Ouija board."