The Memory Keeper

by C. J. Archer

  "It doesn't always pay to be stubborn, Samuel."

  He arched a brow. "You think I'm being stubborn?"

  "She is a beauty."

  "There is more to a successful marriage than a beautiful wife."

  "Not all men would agree with you on that score."

  His mouth curved up at the corner. "I am not like other men."

  And I knew it. "I really don't see what's wrong with her."

  "You don't know her."

  I waited but he didn't elaborate. "Well? What is wrong with her?"

  "I'm not at liberty to divulge that."

  I gave him a tight smile. "How gentlemanly of you." And frustrating. The curiosity was going to gnaw at me. "Does your father know?"

  "You would have to ask him."

  Neither yes nor no. Hmmm. He may be guarded, but he also seemed a little amused by our exchange. His eyes were brighter than they had been since I'd told him about my attack. "So he's willing to cut you off because you won't wed his choice of girl. It seems a little excessive."

  He leaned his elbow on the window frame and buried his hand in his hair, messing it up. "My father likes to control things. Control me."

  "And you are not controllable?"

  That quirk of his mouth again. "I'm a hypnotist. I've been able to control others from a young age. It has never been the other way around."

  I swallowed. Putting it so bluntly made me realize how powerful he was. Samuel could do whatever he wanted. He could even get away with murder, or worse. "Did you hypnotize your parents?"

  He turned to look out the window again. "What child wouldn't want to have that power over his parents? Particularly one as tyrannical as my father."

  "But you could not hypnotize him all the time."

  "No. And he would make me suffer for it, which is only right. I deserved my punishments."

  I shivered and crossed my arms against the sudden chill.

  "One of those punishments is to disinherit me if I don't follow his wishes. I did do as he asked, in most things. I went to University College. I took a position in Dr. Werner's medical practice. I agreed to marry Ebony."

  "What happened? Why did it all change?"

  He shook his head. "It's a long story, and not one I wish to dredge up. Suffice to say, it culminated in my leaving London and coming to Frakingham. Anything prior to that is history."

  "History lessons are something neither of us like, I think."

  He looked relieved that I understood. In a way, I did, but not entirely. He'd had a privileged upbringing, with a good education and wealth at his disposal. He had a family, and no matter how controlling his father was, Samuel was loved by his mother. The meeting at Claridge’s had shown me that. Yet he'd discarded it all. He ought to live on the streets for a month, then he'd be reluctant to throw away the riches at his disposal.

  "Why don't you just hypnotize your father and get him to sign part of your inheritance over to you now?"

  He smirked. "Because that would be wrong and I'm not entirely without morals, no matter what you may think."

  I smiled. It had been a test, and he'd passed. "Surely your mother would have something to say about your disinheritance. Sshe seemed very eager to have you return home. Surely if she knew you kept away because of your father's insistence you wed Ebony, she would be on your side. Couldn't she speak to him?"

  "That's not the only reason I've kept away."

  "Oh? What else then?"

  "You're full of questions today. Usually you're not so interested in my affairs."

  Wasn't I? I tried to think about all the times we'd spoken of personal matters, and had to admit that he was right. Not that I wasn't interested in him, but recent circumstances had not allowed conversations to bend in that direction. Besides, our first few meetings had been awkward beyond bearing. I had not wanted him near me at all. It was only now that my memory was blocked that I could concede that I liked him and wanted to know more about him.

  Against my better judgment.

  "Then perhaps it's best if we drop the subject altogether," I said. "History and all that."

  He gave me a fleeting smile. "The here and now is more important. Keeping you safe."

  "Thank you, Samuel. You've been very kind to me." On a whim, I reached across the gap between us and took his hand. I'd removed my gloves near the beginning of our journey as the cabin was warm. He stroked my knuckles with his thumb, sending little tingling sensations whispering across my skin. I smiled at him and he smiled back. His thumb stroked up to the back of my hand where the scar marred the skin.

  I withdrew it and hurriedly picked up my gloves from the seat beside me. Samuel leaned forward and placed his hand over mine.

  "You don't have to hide them from me, Charity. You don't need to hide anything."

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Please don't remind me that you know everything about me."

  "I don't," he rasped. "I know one particular period of your life and that's all. You're as much a mystery to me as any woman."

  I didn't believe that, but I was grateful for his attempt to soothe my nerves.

  "Thank you," I whispered. "You've been a good friend to me."

  His face softened. His eyes smiled even though his mouth didn't move. "We are friends now, aren't we?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. I'm glad."

  "But nothing more," I added.

  He inclined his head in a nod. "I know. You've made that very clear."

  I wanted to tell him that anything more than friendship between us was impossible, that I would never be his mistress and the gap between us didn't allow more. But our friendship was a mere sapling; I didn't want to subject it to strong winds yet.

  "You stopped being self-conscious about those scars after I hypnotized you," he said with a nod at my hands. "What's changed now?"

  I stared down at the ugly skin. I hadn't realized my anxiety over them had returned until he'd pointed it out. "I don't know."

  Our gazes locked. I saw the concern in his eyes and felt the dread inside me. The memory block might still be in place, but the recent attack had stirred up feelings the block had suppressed. Feelings that were so deeply rooted within me that they'd become a part of me, despite my attempts to smother them.

  ***

  I'd been apprehensive about Sylvia's reaction to my sudden reappearance at Frakingham with Samuel, but she welcomed me with a friendly smile. It didn't quite meet her eyes, but that was understandable. I hardly knew her and she me. We would have time to change that now. I was determined to like her. Hannah liked her, although she did say that Jack's cousin was silly at times.

  "You can have the same room as your previous visit," she said as we entered the house. "Mrs. Moore will need some time to prepare it. Cook will also need to be told that we have an extra in our midst. Your arrival has thrown us into disarray, Charity, but no matter. The staff are highly capable." She softened the barb with another smile.

  I wasn't sure how to take it, so I merely thanked her.

  "Disarray?" Samuel scoffed. "One extra is hardly a great disturbance."

  "It may not be where you used to live, Samuel, but it is here." Sylvia sniffed. "We have few servants for a house of this size."

  "If it's a problem, hire more."

  "We would, if we could."

  Samuel frowned. "Why don't you?"

  She said nothing. It was Tommy who answered. "Nobody from the village wants to work at Freak House."

  "Tommy," Sylvia snapped. "Don't you have work to do?"

  Tommy dutifully picked up my valise and headed for the stairs. "It's true," he shot back over his shoulder.

  "That's no reason to announce it to all and sundry!"

  He didn't answer, but made his way up the staircase. I wasn't sure what to say.

  "I don't know why," Samuel said. "Jack would make a very reasonable employer."

  Sylvia sighed and headed towards the corridor that led to the drawing room. "It's Uncle they're afraid of, and
Bollard."

  "I'm sure the vicious attacks at Christmas didn't help," he said.

  She stumbled and Samuel caught her by the elbows to steady her. She jerked free and quickly glanced at me. "Did you have to bring that up when we have company?"

  "I'm not really company," I said. "I'm…" What was I? Not a friend or relation. At best, I could be labeled an acquaintance. At worst, I was someone in need of charity.

  "You're welcome here, that's what you are," Samuel said. "Treat Frakingham like your home."

  Sylvia sat on the sofa in a puff of cream and blue skirts. She was such a pretty girl, of about eighteen, with her tight blonde curls and a sweet face. Her eyes were blue and round, innocent. Yet there was something in her countenance that troubled me. She didn't like me, and I had no idea why. The only reason I could see was that I was an orphan from the gutter who didn't belong in her drawing room any more than a stain on the upholstery.

  I wouldn't let it upset me. I'd come across women like her before. It was a shame, because she was Jack's cousin, but so be it. There was nothing I could do to change her mind.

  Tommy brought us tea and lingered in the drawing room after serving it. Sylvia didn't say anything, but she did glare at him until he bowed and apologized to her.

  "I wanted to speak to Charity," he said. "We hardly got to talk last time and we've much to say to one another."

  We did indeed. Some of my charges were orphans that he and Jack had initially taken into their care. After our little family split up, and Jack moved to Frakingham with Tommy, August Langley had continued to support those who remained behind. Some had since moved into my own school, but many of the older ones preferred the independence that living on the street gave them.

  "I'll come and see you later," I told him.

  "Right you are."

  The hint of his street accent had me smiling, but Sylvia scowled, as did Samuel. I couldn't see why; I doubted the way he talked bothered Samuel.

  Nevertheless, they were both silent as they drank their tea.

  Thankfully August Langley arrived, his wheelchair pushed by Bollard. The mute positioned the chair by the fireplace, where a small fire kept the chill from the late afternoon air.

  "It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Evans," he said to me.

  "And you too, sir. Please, call me Charity."

  He tugged the edges of his red and gold smoking jacket over his middle, but they didn't meet. I'd never seen him smoke, so he must simply like the look of the garment. It certainly brightened the otherwise darkly furnished room. It surprised me to see him wearing it. It wasn't the sort of jacket that I expected a man with a dour, cool countenance would wear.

  "What brings you to our residence again?" he asked. "Has Samuel's block not worked as well as you'd hoped?"

  I exchanged glances with Samuel then drew a deep breath and told Langley about the intruder, including my suspicion that he was linked to the man in my blocked memory. When I finished, he simply rubbed his hand over his heavy chin in thought. It was the only sign that he was perturbed by what I'd said.

  Sylvia, on the other hand, leapt off the sofa and knelt at my feet. "You poor thing! I do hope you are all right."

  "Thank you," I said. "I'm unharmed."

  "Thank goodness. Samuel, you did the right thing bringing her here. The disruption to our household harmony is inconsequential in the light of what Charity has been through."

  I suppressed a giggle. She was fickle indeed, but it didn't seem like the right time to find amusement in her sudden change of heart.

  "She came to me," he said. "I was preparing to leave London when she arrived at Claridge’s. The timing was… fortunate."

  Had he been about to say something else? Inconvenient, perhaps?

  "You'll be safe here," Langley assured me. "This is the best place you can be, for now. Are the police following any particular lines of inquiry?"

  "I don't know. I left before I could talk to Inspector Hart again. He did assure me that he would do what he could, but without a name, the chances of finding the man are slim."

  Everyone looked at Samuel. Samuel held up his hands. "I can't help. I can give a description of the man known as the master, but no name."

  "Then you must give the police that description!" Sylvia said.

  "He's dead."

  She gasped. Langley's head jerked up, and even Bollard's lips parted.

  "I saw his body in Charity's memory. I know he's dead."

  "Perhaps Charity was mistaken."

  Samuel shook his head. "Even if she were, two people are less likely to be mistaken by what they saw. Jack also saw his dead body. Indeed, it was Jack's fire that killed him."

  I tucked my hands away, hiding the scars. Had they been caused by that fire?

  "Interesting," Langley said. "A curious matter. Tell me, what are your thoughts on the man you swap visions with? Could he be Charity's attacker?"

  "It's a possibility." Samuel's gaze flicked to mine.

  "I'm certain of it," I said. "The intruder mentioned the visions. Either he or his master connected the school to the visions and the brute went to investigate. But I don't know how he made the connection."

  "Visions are not my field. It's never happened to me before, or to anyone I've hypnotized." Samuel bowed his head and grasped handfuls of his hair. "Bloody hell. I need to find out more."

  "Myer might know," Langley said.

  "We asked him if he was the man in our visions, but he wasn't," I said. "I really don't want to return to London to ask him more questions." Nor did I want Samuel to. I felt safer with him near me.

  "Nobody has to go to London. Myer's coming here, tomorrow."

  "What?" Samuel exploded. "Why?"

  "He wants to study our ruins. Apparently he's got an interest in archaeology."

  We all stared at him. "You want that man here?" Samuel growled. "After what he did?"

  "He summoned a demon on our property, Uncle!" Sylvia cried. "He cannot be trusted."

  "He won't try that again. He admitted he made a mistake. I believe he has learned his lesson."

  Samuel approached Langley. He towered over the figure in the wheelchair, but Langley didn't flinch away. Samuel's fists closed at his sides and his hair stuck out at odd angles from when he'd bunched it. Bollard stepped around the wheelchair to stand between his master and Samuel. The muscles in his usually blank face tensed and the lines around his mouth deepened.

  Samuel did not back down, nor did he advance. "I don't understand," he said, voice low and harsh. "You're allowing someone of dubious character to come and stay with us?"

  "Not stay. He'll get rooms in the village. He's free to come and go to the ruins, but that's all."

  "Bollard?" Samuel said. "You agree with this?"

  The tension left Bollard's shoulders, but he did not step back to his position behind the wheelchair. He gave Samuel a doubtful look then signed something with his hands.

  "Ah, I see," Samuel said with a sneer. "Bollard claims that we're getting something in return," he told me. "What is it, August? It can't be money. What does Myer have that you want?"

  "Knowledge. And it's not just me who will benefit from his knowledge, Samuel. You will too. He's going to help us with our experiments. Perhaps soon I will be able to give you what you want."

  His gaze flicked to mine as he said it. I sat there, stunned, wondering what in the world their experiments had to do with me. I did not get a chance to ask. Bollard wheeled Langley out of the room, and Samuel also departed.

  I was left with Sylvia and our cups of tea, like two ladies of impeccable character with no say whatsoever in the affairs of men. The first part may not have been true, but the truth of the second stung.

  CHAPTER 8

  "Are you sure you don't mind associating with the likes of me, Miss Charity?" Tommy's smirk softened his criticism, but I still felt the sting of it.

  "Don't, Tommy. I feel guilty enough that I'm sleeping in a comfortable bed in a guest room when yo
u're confined to the servants' quarters."

  "The servants' quarters are comfortable, too. And you have no need to feel guilty. I like my job. It's good work and keeps me out of mischief." He winked. "The other staff are friendly, and Jack's a good master."

  I pulled a face. "Doesn't it gall you to think of him as your m-master?" The last word tripped on my tongue, but I would not dwell on it. Our conversation had nothing to do with the horrible business that had sent me fleeing to Frakingham.

  We sat at the large kitchen table used by the servants to prepare food. Mrs. Moore also sat with us, needle and thread in hand, bent over a shirt. If she were listening in on our conversation, she gave no indication. She hadn't approved of my joining Tommy in the service area. The scowl she directed at me as I entered was rather a giveaway and her added comment about the lateness of the hour was another. It was almost ten o'clock. Sylvia had already retired for the night and Samuel was with Langley in his laboratory. I'd sought out my friend to avoid the loneliness, and my own tumultuous thoughts.

  I ignored Mrs. Moore's disapproving looks and accepted Tommy's offer of a cup of chocolate. He made it at the stove, expertly whipping it to a froth, then served it to me in one of the cups used by the servants.

  "Not at all," Tommy said with that mischievous smirk of his. He was always the jovial one, never seeming to take life too seriously, which was why I liked him so much. In a world full of trials, his presence lifted my spirits. "Jack doesn't treat me that way. It's mostly the way it was in the old days between us."

  "I'm glad to hear it. But what about the other Langleys?"

  "What about them?"

  "Do they accept you as being, well, more than a servant?"

  "Charity, I'm not more than a servant here."

  "You are! You're Jack's friend. I do hope they don't ignore you or take you for granted."