The Complete 1st Freak House Trilogy: Box set (The 1st Freak House Trilogy)

by C. J. Archer

  "May I leave now?" he asked. "I'd like to enjoy more of the evening before it ends."

  Samuel stepped aside. "I won't be returning to your house," he said as Myer opened the door. "Send my things to Claridges in the morning."

  Myer opened his mouth, but shut it again and nodded. He left without another word.

  We three remained in the room. None of us spoke for some time. I think we were all too shocked.

  "I'm glad you're not going with him, Samuel," I said, finally.

  He squeezed the bridge of his nose. "You were both right. The man has no morals. Something inside him is warped. To have done what he's done…" He shook his head. "He sickens me."

  "Do you think he learned his lesson? He seemed sorry for what happened to Mott and Olsen at least."

  "Sorry, but not troubled," Jack said.

  I blew out a measured breath. It was such a relief to have the puzzle solved, even though Myer's actions had been reprehensible. He'd learned his lesson, at least. "Thank goodness it's over. He won't try it again, I'm sure. He wouldn't dare."

  "Let's hope not," Jack said.

  I stood. I still felt warm and a little light-headed, but not dangerously so. I was well enough to venture out. "Shall we enjoy the rest of the ball too?"

  "Do you feel up to it?" Jack asked.

  I nodded. "I'm hot and tired, but I don't want to leave yet."

  "Very well, but be careful. I won't have you overtaxed."

  We returned to the ballroom, and I spent the remainder of the evening chatting with Mrs. Beaufort, Mrs. Culvert and their friends. Cara, Sylvia and Miss Charity danced most of the time with different gentlemen, and occasionally joined us to rest in between sets. Jack and Samuel danced on occasion too, but mostly fell into conversation with others.

  Myer danced with different ladies. I observed him as best as I could from where I stood at the edge of the ballroom, but it was impossible to tell whether he'd hypnotized his partners. They certainly seemed happy, but I knew the man could be naturally charming if he chose to be. I doubted he would have risked using his hypnosis. There were too many bystanders who might be affected, and he knew we were watching. His gaze connected with mine often, to the point where I felt decidedly uncomfortable.

  Why was he interested in me all of a sudden? He didn't show the same level of interest in Jack, Samuel or any of the others.

  I parted from them toward the end of the night to attend the ladies' dressing room. On my way back to the ballroom, Myer intercepted me.

  "Don't be alarmed, Miss Smith," he said, hands up in surrender. "I don't wish to frighten you."

  "Then you should leave me alone."

  "I will, after we've spoken." He glanced through the open doors leading to the ballroom. "May we go elsewhere to talk?"

  "Anything you wish to say to me, you can say here." People wandered past us, heading into and out of the ballroom. Even so, Myer made me nervous. "Indeed, whatever you wish to say to me can be said in front of my friends."

  "No!" He glanced into the ballroom again. "They won't like what I have to say."

  "Indeed? And what makes you think I will like what you have to say?"

  "Because it's about finding a cure for you, yet it's not without some risk. A risk that I think will concern your friends more than you."

  My breath caught in my chest. "Why is that?"

  "They still believe August Langley will find you a cure."

  Bile rose to my throat, burning and foul. His choice of words was damning. "And you don't?"

  He shook his head. "Nor, I think, do you."

  "You're wrong. I do believe it. He's an excellent scientist."

  "No, Miss Smith. He was an excellent scientist when he partnered with Reuben Tate. What has Langley achieved since that partnership ended? Hmmm?"

  "I…I don't know." It was true. Nobody spoke of any cures Langley had found since he and Tate parted, yet they all believed he could cure me.

  Were they being optimistic for my sake?

  "Tell me what you have in mind, Mr. Myer. How will I be cured if not by August Langley?"

  "Work with Tate."

  I snorted. "Don't be absurd."

  "Miss Smith, you told me yourself that Reuben Tate has been working on curing himself for years. Langley hasn't. Whom do you think would be closer to a solution?"

  "Tate may be, but he wants to trial it on me first. I don't particularly wish to be his test case."

  "Why not? It may very well work. What have you got to lose?"

  I didn't know what to say to that. In an odd way, it made sense. I shivered. Tate frightened me.

  "Listen to me, Miss Smith. You don't have much choice. Tate is a desperate man, yes, but his wish is the same as yours—to find a cure."

  "Only I may die in the process."

  "Or you may not. Besides, you're dying anyway."

  It all sounded reasonable. Yet Tate was a madman. He couldn't be trusted. Just like Myer.

  I pressed a hand to my forehead. It came away damp with my sweat. "It's an interesting plan, but it doesn't matter anyway. We haven't seen Tate for a week. He may already be dead."

  "I can find out for sure if you like."

  "What!" I blurted out. "You know where to find him?"

  Two ladies gave us a wide berth. Myer hushed me and beckoned me away from the door. "I don't know where he is, but I know of one or two others from the Society who may."

  "What makes you think they will tell you?"

  He cocked his head to the side and smiled wickedly.

  "Oh. Right. You'll hypnotize them."

  "I prefer to think of it as convincing them of the right course of action to take."

  Good lord, is that how he justified it to himself? "Mr. Myer, why not just tell me who it is? Samuel can hypnotize them for me."

  He shook his head. "I don't think so. I'm not sure I want to unleash your friends on innocent parties." His gaze slid to the ballroom entrance then back to me. "Hence this subterfuge."

  "I'm going to tell them. I won't keep them in the dark about something like this."

  "Miss Smith, I must warn you against involving them. They'll probably want to come with you to meet Tate."

  "Why is that a problem?"

  "I'm assuming Tate won't want them there after everything that's transpired. He'll feel threatened without his demon to keep him safe."

  "That's too bad."

  "A threatened genius is one who may not be able to perform."

  I bit the inside of my cheek. It made me terribly uneasy to keep Jack in the dark, yet I could see Myer's point. "I'll think about it."

  "I suggest you do. I'll talk to Tate's friends tomorrow and travel to Harborough immediately I've discovered his location."

  "You think he's still in the area?"

  "Of course. You're there, and he needs you. If the man's still alive, I'm sure he'll come searching for you soon enough."

  My gaze locked with his. I knew that Tate was desperate enough to try anything to abduct me, and I suspected Myer knew it too. If I didn't go to him voluntarily, that is.

  "Come to me at the Red Lion in Harborough on the morning of the twenty-second. If I've found where he's living, I'll take you to him."

  "And if not?"

  "I'll send you home again." He clutched my shoulders. "I urge you to consider my proposal, Miss Smith."

  "Why did you not offer to do this before? Why now?"

  "Because I'd never seen your fire in action until tonight. I admit that I assumed you exaggerated your ability, but seeing it work in the parlor was most intriguing." His finger brushed the length of my jaw before I jerked away. He smiled, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. "You are quite amazing. When this is over, I hope you will allow me to ask you questions for research purposes."

  I shivered, although of course I didn't feel cold. "Good night, Mr. Myer." I headed back toward the ballroom and my friends, away from a man who made my stomach roll and my nerves jangle.

  "Good night, M
iss Smith," he called after me. "See you soon."

  CHAPTER 10

  We left London the following afternoon and broke our journey in a small village along the way. The coaching inn was ancient, the black beams warped from centuries of shouldering the upper levels. Jack and Samuel both had to duck to get through the doorways, yet the main hearth in the taproom appeared to be sized for giants. The meal served by a blank-faced girl looked hearty, but I wasn't hungry. I picked at my food, unable to swallow more than a morsel.

  "Hannah?" Jack said, eyeing me from across the table in the dining room. "Do you need to rest?"

  "Not yet. I have something to tell you all first." I'd waited to mention my conversation with Myer because I didn't want to darken our memories of the ball. We'd had a wonderful time on the whole, although Sylvia was less buoyant than I expected.

  "Go on," Jack urged me. "What's wrong?"

  I told them about Myer and his proposal, leaving none of it out, including his advice that I not tell them. They were my friends. They'd come down this awful path with me, putting their lives at risk. It didn't seem right not to keep them informed.

  "Absolutely not!" Jack said when I finished. "You're not going to meet him."

  "Samuel?" I asked. "What do you think?"

  He eyed Jack carefully. "I think it's worth considering."

  "Samuel!" Sylvia cried. "Do you forget that Tate tried to kill us?" She remembered too late that we sat in a public dining room. The other six patrons all gaped at us. Sylvia dabbed her mouth with her napkin and pretended not to notice.

  Samuel picked up his glass of ale. "I said worth considering, not agreeing. Not until we've discussed it further."

  "There's nothing to discuss." Jack gave another emphatic shake of his head. "Neither Tate nor Myer can be trusted. Hannah, I won't let you near them."

  "In all fairness, Tate only tried to kill us because he was so desperate," Samuel said.

  Sylvia pointed her rolled-up napkin at him. "That doesn't change the fact. Anyway, I absolutely disagree with Myer's assessment of Uncle's capabilities. If anyone can find you a cure, Hannah, it's him."

  Jack cradled his glass between his hands and stared into the golden ale. "After what we've seen of Myer, I'll not let you near him again."

  Samuel and I exchanged glances. He gave me a one-shouldered shrug then concentrated on his food, sawing at the thick slab of beef. I wondered if the reason he was the only one considering Myer's proposal was because he knew Langley was going to stop searching for a cure if I didn't give Jack up. I felt like I was walking on a knife's edge where Langley was concerned, constantly worried about talking to Jack in his presence. Being in London had given us freedom, but that freedom was about to be ripped away again.

  I didn't pursue the matter further. There was still time to sway Jack's opinion. Still time to make up my own mind as to what to do.

  Instead, I spoke of the ball with Sylvia. I wanted to get to the bottom of her lack of enthusiasm. "You seemed to enjoy yourself immensely last night," I said cheerfully. "Were there any gentlemen in particular you liked?"

  She screwed up her pert nose. "Not really." She sighed. "I enjoyed myself well enough. The gentlemen were pleasant, some of them fun, and all wonderful dancers."

  "But…?"

  "Cara was right. None of them are interesting. There's a sameness about them. They lacked individuality. All conversation topics centered around horses, hunting and which illustrious family they'd dined with in recent weeks. I had nothing in common with any of them, and none tried to change the subject to something of more interest to me."

  Jack grunted a laugh. "To be fair, sewing isn't a topic on which many men can easily converse."

  "Exactly!"

  He bit back a smile and rolled his eyes at me.

  "I do understand," I said. "Most of the gentlemen I met seemed quite dull too, some of them outright silly. I recall Cara saying that the men in Melbourne were more real, and I do tend to agree that the ones I danced with last night were foppish."

  "I hope you're not including me in that assessment," Samuel said, hand on his heart, his lips turned down in an exaggerated pout. "I've always been convinced that I'm vastly interesting."

  I laughed and threw my napkin at him. He winked and kept it.

  Sylvia sighed. "I suppose I expected something more."

  "You've been spoiled living with Jack and Tommy all these years," I said.

  "And me," Samuel added. "For the last few weeks, that is."

  Sylvia made a miffed sound through her nose. "Jack and Samuel, yes, but not Tommy. He's not a gentleman."

  "You must stop reminding him of that in his presence," Jack said. "I think he's growing heartily sick of it."

  "Well, he isn't a gentleman!"

  "There's no need to harp on it."

  "I'm not harping. I'm being honest." She concentrated on her beef, daintily slicing it into small pieces. "Jack," she said, idly, "did Tommy tell you what he did last night while we were at the ball?"

  Well, well. Did she harbor an affection for Tommy after all? Surely not. Both Samuel and Jack gave her curious stares too, but she was too busy with her food to notice.

  "He had a marvelous time with the other drivers and footmen," Jack said with a wicked gleam in his eye. "I believe they had entertainments of their own arranged nearby."

  Whether it was true or not, I had no idea, but Sylvia seemed to believe him. She pushed the pieces of beef around her plate, arranging them into a pile. "What sort of entertainments?"

  "The sort that people enjoy."

  "Yes, but was there food and drink, and…dancing?"

  "If there was any drink, he didn't partake in it. You know Tommy wouldn't when he's on duty." Whether Jack deliberately left out the part about dancing, I couldn't be sure. He did seem to want to tease his cousin. Or perhaps it was a test to see if she showed further signs of jealousy.

  Sylvia, however, suddenly became very interested in her food. In only a few minutes, she'd wolfed it all down and drained her wine glass. "I'm going to retire early," she announced, standing. "Hannah?"

  I nodded and rose too. Despite sleeping in, I was still tired from the night's exertions.

  ***

  I slept late again the next morning, but we managed to reach Frakingham before nightfall. Langley and Bollard met us in the entrance hall upon our arrival. Langley's gaze swept past the others and settled on me.

  "How do you feel, Hannah?" he asked.

  "The same," I said, using my standard reply.

  Langley rubbed his jaw. "That's a relief."

  I caught Jack scowling at me, his arms crossed over his chest. I gave him a reassuring smile, but it didn't work. He continued to scowl. I suspected he'd noticed that I gave the same response every time I was asked about my health. I suspected he also knew I was lying.

  "Have there been any incidences with Tate in our absence?" Samuel asked.

  Langley shook his head. "No sign of him. He must be dead."

  My mouth went dry. Tate's life was closely linked to mine. If he'd died, I wouldn't be far behind.

  "Go and refresh yourself, Hannah," Langley said, oblivious to how his comment had affected me. "Then come see me. I need more of your blood."

  Sylvia made a gurgling sound and screwed up her face.

  "Haven't you taken enough?" Jack asked.

  "No." Langley signaled for Bollard to wheel him away. They left us standing in the entrance hall, staring after them.

  "He didn't even ask how the ball was," Sylvia mumbled.

  "He's preoccupied," Jack said.

  "I know, but…" She sighed. "Never mind. Come on, Hannah, let's dress for dinner."

  I washed myself with cold water in my room, then changed into a pretty black and white dress for the evening. It was an effort, but I managed it without lying down on the bed, and only yawning a dozen times.

  I went to Langley's rooms as ordered and Bollard let me in. The place was a shambles. The bed was unmade, papers spewed
out of the waste basket onto the floor, and scientific apparatuses covered the desk in a jumbled mess. Why hadn’t Bollard tidied the room up? Of course it was a much smaller space than Langley was used to since the fire had destroyed his main rooms in the eastern wing, but that was no excuse for sloppiness.

  I picked my way across the floor to where Langley sat in his wheelchair at the desk, bent over a microscope. He held up his hand for silence, even though I hadn't spoken. I sat in a nearby chair and waited for him to finish studying whatever was smeared between the rectangular panes of glass.

  "Roll up your sleeve, Hannah." He suddenly pushed himself away from the desk. "Bollard, the syringe."

  I rolled up my sleeve and watched Langley, who in turn watched Bollard. The skin beneath his eyes was darker than usual and sagged a little. Now that I was up close, he also seemed somewhat grayer in the face and gaunt around the cheeks. He looked as exhausted as I felt.

  "I do appreciate what you're doing for me," I told him. "You have my undying gratitude." I laughed hollowly at my own choice of words. Langley did not.

  "There's no need for thanks," he said. "Not yet."

  I watched as he took the syringe from Bollard and pressed the needle into my arm. "Mr. Langley, are you close to finding a cure?"

  He didn't say anything as the syringe sucked out my blood. Once the cylinder was full, he removed the needle and handed me the cloth to dab the spot. He gave the syringe to Bollard. "I'd rather not say," he said.

  Such an odd answer! "Why not?"

  "Because if I am, I don't want to give you hope when it may yet fail. And if I'm not, then I don't want to disappoint you."

  "Surely false hope is better than no hope at all."

  He considered that for a moment, then nodded. "In that case, I am close."

  If we hadn't been discussing my death, I would have laughed. For a genius, it was a rather stupid thing to say after his admission. I appealed to Bollard and was surprised to see a sardonic smile on his lips. Not an obvious one, mind. It was barely a quirk of the corners of his mouth, but it was definitely there. So the mute had a sense of humor, yet his master did not.

  "Thank you, Mr. Langley. I feel infinitely more satisfied now than when I came in."

  It would seem Langley did understand sarcasm. He narrowed his eyes at me then swung his wheelchair around. "I have to return to work."