Her palms were damp with perspiration as she rose to her feet, who was in her house? Trapped and terrified? How had they gotten there? Who had held them there?

Quickly she re-entered the house, the only access to the cellar was via Sir Michel's inner sanctum - his study. Infact from the day of their marriage Sir Michel had forbidden her ever to enter the cellar claiming it was full of dangerous objects unfit for the health of his wife. It was a rule she had never questioned, but now she wondered why he had been so adamant about it.

Crossing the hall she hesitated at the door of Sir Michel's study, he had never forbidden her to enter but she had never dared, never even thought about entering his den of masculinity. Now however she had no choice not if she wanted to help the unfortunate trapped in the cellar.

The door was unlocked as she almost expected it to be. The air still smelt of Sir Michel's expensive cigars, the fire long since cold and the predominant smell that was Sir Michel himself. Her barefeet made almost no noise as she crossed the room, the door to the cellar was almost obscured by the bookcases and plants that filled that area of the room. Reaching the panelled door she realised this was the true turning point.

Could she ignore all the rules of Sir Michel, the years of mental abuse had taken their told on her and she had become a much weaker person as a result. However she remembered the scream, so full of helplessness, solitude and fear - an echo of her own feelings only amplified. She couldn't ignore what she had heard, she had to find the unfortunate in the cellar and give what aid she could.