Chapter 12

"You," the Doctor breathed.

The butler's mouth crinkled in a smile.

Jo's eyes were fixed on the barrel of the gun. She stood stock still. "But… but why?" she stammered.

The butler made a move with his gun, making both Jo and the Doctor flinch. "Why do men do anything, Ms. Grant? Revenge."

The Doctor's eyes widened in realization. "Your brother, Matthew…"

The butler's eyes darkened and his lip raised in a sneer. "Dead. My brother is dead because of that rat—that good-for-nothing—that fu—"

"Henry Chatham."

The butler's eyes went wild. "DON'T you DARE speak his name to me!" he shouted. "That damn MURDERER doesn't deserve to be mentioned!"

The Doctor walked forward slowly, his hands raised in front of him. "What happened, Tom—may I call you Tom?" he said in a calm voice. "What happened… to Henry Chatham?"

The man's hand holding the gun slackened and he almost laughed. "You haven't figured it out yet?" He chuckled.

"Haven't… haven't figured what out?" Jo trembled.

"The perfect trap… the perfect design…" the butler said, smiling. "The perfect vengeance for my brother's death."

"Oh, no…" the Doctor breathed, his eyes wide.

The butler grinned. "I trapped him. I trapped him in his own satanic experiment. Stuck in perpetual limbo between two worlds."

"What… what does he mean, Doctor?" Jo asked in bewilderment.

The Doctor grimaced. "He means our ghost, Jo. He means Henry Chatham is the ghost of Brightley Manor. Only he's not dead. He is very much alive."

The butler's eyes twinkled. "Don't you agree, Doctor? Don't you agree it is the perfect revenge?"

The Doctor could only stare blankly ahead, realizing the implications of what the butler had done. "Trapped in eternal agony and confusion. No wonder he was homicidal, Jo. All that time trapped in the void… He went insane."

Jo stared at the Doctor, breathing heavily. Then she turned to the butler. "You… you monster!" she cried.

"You'll never get away with it," the Doctor ground out. "The Duke will discover what you're up to and put a stop to it."

"Oh really?" the butler asked, now swinging his gun around haphazardly. "He'll find a store of computers left behind by the previous owner. What do you think he'll do with them? He'll throw them away. And that dog Chatham will be trapped forever."

"We'll stop you," said Jo, her firm voice belied by her trembling figure.

The butler's manner suddenly became serious. "I don't think so," he said, his voice cool. "You see, I have the gun… and I also have the key to this room." He backed up until he was at the foot of the stairs. He waved his gun back and forth, ensuring the Doctor and Jo stayed where they were. "I think I'll take my leave, Doctor, Ms. Grant. I hope your stay will be comfortable."

He slammed the door and turned the key in the lock.

And then the lights went out.

"Doctor!" Jo screamed.

"Jo!"

They clung to each other in the dark. Gradually, the Doctor was able to calm Jo down and stop her from trembling.

"It's all right, Jo. Don't worry. He's gone. We'll get out of here, don't worry."

Jo sniffed and weakened her hold on the lapels of his jacket.

"Now, Jo. You have a degree in escapology, don't you?" he asked, gently. "Do you think you could get us out of here?"

Jo nodded, now determined. The Doctor guided her over to the door and placed her hand over the lock. Now knowing where she was, she pulled out the tools of her trade: a hairpin, a piece of wire, and a ring of keys.

Jo labored on the lock for several minutes, sometimes twisting the wire, sometimes trying out a new key. For some time the only sound in the room was that of Jo rattling around with her various instruments.

Eventually, Jo stood up, defeated. "It's no good, Doctor," she said, wearily. "He must have jammed it from the outside." She sighed. "I might be able to do it if I had a bit of light."

"Well that seems to be the one thing we seem to be without," the Doctor said wryly. "Don't worry, my dear. We'll find a way out of this somehow."

They stood in conciliatory silence for several minutes, considering their options. The Doctor approached the door and felt at its hinges for any weak spots.

"Perhaps we could try breaking the door do—" he broke off, gasping.

Oh no.

It was a familiar feeling, deep in his gut. A tug. A pull. An urge. Ohgodohgodpleaseno. Not now. His senses exploded tenfold. He held his breath, but not before her scent filled his lungs.

He could hear the blood rushing through her veins.

"Doctor, are you alright?" she asked, concernedly. She reached forward and touched his arm.

Her touch set his skin on fire.

He jerked back, almost knocking her over. "Stay back!" he yelled. He looked around, flailing wildly.

"Find something wooden! Anything wooden!"

"Doctor, I can't see a thing—"

But he wasn't listening. He spied a wooden stool and seized it. He smashed it on the ground with all the force he could muster. One of the legs broke off and skittered across the floor. He grabbed it and raced back to Jo.

"Doctor, what are you doing? What was that noise?" Jo asked, alarmed.

The Doctor thrust the leg into her hands. "Please, Jo. Please listen. If I come near you—for whatever reason—don't hesitate. Do you understand me? Don't hesitate. Please. I can't let it happen again. It won't happen again."

Jo looked up to where she heard his voice. "Doctor… Doctor, you can't be serious."

"Please, Jo," he begged, already backing away. He ran to the back corner of the room and stood there, trembling.

It's no good.

Could it be possible that her scent was stronger back here? No, no it couldn't possibly be. He covered his face with his hands. He could feel them. They were there, poking into his bottom lip. He had been stupid, so stupid.

Why? Why hadn't he… Oh, God.

He took a shuddering breath and tried to block out the world.

Please, he thought to himself. Please don't let me kill her.