Mitchell could practically hear the arthritis in the old Frenchman’s legs as he hustled faster than was likely comfortable for him, but Philippe seemed to sense the urgency and did not lag. The halls were chilly farther down, the gaslights more scarce. Mitchell panted with the effort as his body struggled to recover but pushed through.

When they reached the service door on the main level, Philippe put a hand on Mitchell’s arm. “I know what you’re trying to do.” Philippe looked up at him in the shadows. “I do thank you for it, but I cannot accept.”

He paused, a hand on the wall to catch his breath. “You don’t know what I’m offering.”

“Yes, I do. You and I both know I’m not mad, but . . . no, I cannot leave. You, Dr. Turner, are the one who should be leaving. You’re far better than this place.”

Mitchell stiffened. “Yes, you can leave. You will.” Gripping the man’s arm tighter, Mitchell urged him on. His faint protests stopped nothing as they stumbled out into the night air, into the oddly welcoming light of stars set in a blue-black sky and the moon glowing down in approval. The old man shivered, and Mitchell threw a lap blanket around his shoulders. “Here, this’ll do.”

“Look, I cannot leave, I tell you.”

“I’m betting I can change your mind.”

“No, it is—”

They paused in the moist yard, and there, beneath a canopy of bare willow fronds, sat the rosy-faced ballet dancer without her music box. She sat straighter at the sight of them, and Philippe stiffened, his breath coming in little white puffs. His fight had stilled.

“So . . . success?” Mitchell smiled at the patient as Philippe looked up at him with shock.

The man’s mouth opened, then closed upon whatever he meant to say.

“You’ll be staying with Ella and Jack Dorian in London. I assure you, they’re eager to have you both in their care.”

Still, the man did not speak.

Mitchell paused and turned the man to face him. “Please, tell me I don’t need to convince you further.”

He shook his head slowly. “You had me convinced at the sight of her. If my wife isn’t here, I’ve no reason to stay.”

Mitchell froze, his grip on the man unintentionally tightening. No reason. No reason to stay.

“She moves, so has my home.”

Mitchell looked back at the rising stone walls that had imprisoned him for so long, keeping him locked in one place. In darkness. There was a sky full of stars, bringing light even to the night outside that place.

Perhaps he should leave.

Could he? Dare he? He had nothing to keep him here either. Not anymore. But he didn’t deserve to leave. Didn’t deserve freedom.