The Wrong Girl (Freak House)

by C. J. Archer

  "I'm sorry, Violet," Jack said. "I wanted to begin training today."

  "Never mind." Another daring plan had already begun to form. I was desperate enough to carry it out too, despite the fear almost overriding my determination. Almost, but not quite.

  "Just be sure not to have an episode in my absence. Or try to escape."

  "I'll try not to, but alas I may not be able to control myself."

  There was that twist of his mouth again, that almost smile. "Syl, will you be all right?"

  "Of course."

  "Tommy is here if you need anything."

  I would have asked what he meant by that, but he excused himself and left. So I asked Sylvia instead. "Why did he mention Tommy?"

  "I couldn't say."

  "Is your footman going to restrain me if I try to leave?"

  "Of course not."

  I finished my breakfast and when I got up, she quickly rose too, toppling her embroidery hoop to the floor.

  "I only wish to look out the window," I said. She sat again, her relief obvious.

  I stood by the bay window and watched Jack ride down the drive on horseback. He was unaccompanied, which I thought a little unwise until I remembered he could set a man on fire if he found himself in trouble. He turned back suddenly as if he realized I'd been watching, and our gazes locked. He lifted his hand, and I thought he was about to wave, then he gathered up the reins again and turned away. The horse broke into a gallop and Jack was soon gone from sight.

  Now all I had to do was avoid Tommy and I would be free.

  I waited until he had removed my breakfast dishes and been gone for some time before yawning. Sylvia didn't notice, so intent was she on her sewing. I yawned again and stretched.

  "Still tired?" she said, looking up.

  "I think I'll retreat to my room for a rest."

  "Of course. I'll wake you for luncheon."

  "I hope you don't mind, but I won't be joining you. Breakfast was quite sufficient to see me through the rest of the day."

  Sylvia's face fell a little. "Oh. It'll just be me then."

  I almost felt sorry for her, but her loneliness was not my concern. I left her and headed toward the staircase. Instead of going up, however, I walked straight past and through an arch that led to a short corridor and a number of closed doors. I bypassed those and headed along another corridor before reaching what appeared to be a door leading outside.

  I glanced behind me. All silent. No one followed. I pushed the door open and found myself in an empty, graveled courtyard bordered on three sides by the house. I paused. Listened. Still nothing.

  I half walked, half ran across the courtyard, looking left and right and back over my shoulder. The wind battered at my skirt and made a mockery of my attempt at arranging my own hair. By the time I'd exited the courtyard, my hair had broken free of its pins and whipped across my face as I glanced this way and that.

  The benefit to finding myself at the rear of the house was that there was a wood nearby. Parks and formal gardens provided a pretty vista from the front and eastern side of Frakingham, but those open spaces weren't of much benefit for an escapee.

  There was a graveled road and small grassy patch to cross before I entered the safety of the trees. I checked once more behind me, then lifted my skirts and ran.

  My heeled boots weren't made for running fast, but I didn't slow until I reached a dense clutch of trees that couldn't be seen from the wood's edge. I hid behind a large oak and leaned against the trunk to catch my breath.

  Safe. No one had followed.

  I pushed on, wanting to get far away from Frakingham and whatever the Langleys had in store for me. They might seem pleasant enough on the outside, but there was certainly something odd going on. Something besides Jack's ability to start fires. Perhaps if I really did have the same affliction as he, I would be more inclined to see if they really could help me control it, but I couldn't let them discover that I didn't and Vi did. I didn't trust them, and Vi was my one true friend, a sister in every sense of the word except biological. I would protect her with every last breath in my body.

  To my sickening horror, I realized that meant I couldn't return to Windamere. The Langleys would look for me there. I had to steer them away from Vi and disappear forever.

  Tears pricked my eyes, but I forced them back as I pushed on along a narrow, winding path. My mind and heart, however, remained in turmoil.

  Perhaps that's why I didn't see Bollard until it was too late. He stepped out from behind a tree and grabbed my arm.

  I screamed.

  He clamped a hand over my mouth, dragging me back against his body. He smelled like damp earth and moldy leaves, and he carried a shovel. I struggled, but he was much too strong. I bit his hand.

  He grunted and let go. I scampered away, but my heel was higher than what I was used to, and I toppled over and fell on my hands and knees in the decaying leaves. Bollard caught me again and shook the shovel in my face. His lips pulled back in a snarl. I turned my head and tried to jerk myself free, but his long fingers locked around my arm.

  "Let me go!"

  He shook his head but said nothing.

  "I have a right to go where I please."

  Another shake of his head. Why didn't he speak? Was the man a mute? No wonder the manor was dubbed Freak House. I was beginning to think Sylvia was the only normal one there, although even she had an excessively sunny disposition that didn't seem natural.

  Bollard pulled me along with him back to the house. I resisted every step of the way, but of course it achieved nothing. It was like a bee flying into a gale—utterly pointless.

  Bees could sting, though. When we reached the courtyard, I threw the most terrible, ear-splitting tantrum, complete with colorful curses and the most awful names I could think of to call him.

  It didn't halt Bollard's progress in the least, but it did draw the attention of the servants and Sylvia. Three of the former peered out of the ground floor service windows as we passed, their eyes as wide as saucers. Sylvia burst out the same door I'd used to escape and ran across the courtyard to us. Her face was a picture of pale horror, her bottom lip quivering. She blinked back tears.

  What she had to cry about, I'd no idea. I ought to be the one in tears. Yet I had no intention of crying, nor any inclination. The shouting must have got it all out of my system, and I quieted when Sylvia grabbed my other arm. She let it go again with a gasp.

  "Be calm, Violet, for Heaven's sake!"

  "I'm finding that rather difficult at the moment," I spat. "All things considered."

  She edged away from me. "What happened? Violet, did you...?" She glanced up at the rooms on the top floor of the eastern wing, and a shiver wracked her. I followed her gaze and saw August Langley watching us from a window. "Did you try to escape?" she whispered.

  I lifted my chin. "Of course. Unfortunately Bollard here was doing a bit of gardening in the woods. What were you doing, Bollard? Digging a grave?"

  Sylvia gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. She eyed Bollard's shovel with horror.

  Oh God, if she were frightened, then perhaps my off-handed remark wasn't so absurd.

  Where before I'd felt hot from my exercise and anger, now icy cold fingers wrapped around my heart. I couldn't dislodge the notion from my head. But if he was digging a grave at his master's behest...whose was it?

  Mine?

  Bollard marched me to the house and up the stairs to Langley's rooms. Sylvia didn't follow.

  "Aren't you coming?" I called back to her.

  She shook her head. "I haven't been summoned."

  I'd been right about her. That sunny disposition was all a façade. She was as afraid of her uncle as I was. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I could do this alone. There was nothing to fear. Indeed, I had every right to be furious, and damnation, I would be!

  One look at the anger in Langley's eyes had my heart in my throat again and my nerves jangling. If he'd been able to stand and approach me, I'd no d
oubt he would have slapped me. He still might order Bollard to do it. The servant held his shovel like a weapon and stood between me and the door.

  "Stupid, stupid girl," Langley spat. "I'd thought you more sensible than that."

  "Then it seems you were quite wrong." Wrong about more things than he knew.

  Color flushed his cheeks, but his lips turned stark white. "Did I give you permission to speak?"

  As if being kept prisoner weren't enough, he wanted to make me as mute as Bollard too! "I don't need your permission, Mr. Langley," I snapped. "I have a tongue and will use it." Something inside me rose with my anger and filled me up until I was brimming with it. Something familiar yet wrong. Something terrible and ill-timed. My limbs became heavy, my mind dulled so that I could no longer form words. My skin felt like a thousand needles had been injected into it.

  Langley's eyes widened. "Move, Bollard!" He wheeled himself away from me so fast he backed into the occasional table, knocking it over and sending the two books that had been open upon it to the floor. Bollard retreated to the door. To stop me from leaving?

  It didn't matter. I knew what was about to happen, and I wouldn't be going anywhere.

  The last thing I remembered was falling to the floor.

  CHAPTER 5

  I awoke as someone laid me gently on a bed. Bollard, I realized as I fought to lift my eyelids. It was my bed. The mute servant crossed the room and shut the curtains, then he left the room. The loud click of the door being locked was followed by complete silence. If I hadn't strictly been a prisoner before, I was now.

  I was too exhausted to care.

  I closed my eyes and lay on top of the bed. It felt strange not having Vi with me, caressing my hair until I returned to myself. It was pleasant not to wake to the smell of singed wool, however. As soon as I thought it, I wished I hadn't. No smoldering wool meant no Vi.

  Would she be cured now that I wasn't there? She only ever started fires when I had a narcoleptic episode, so it was entirely possible that she would never have another one again now that I was gone.

  Or would some other trigger take my place?

  I blew out a breath and tried not to give into the overwhelming sadness. I did give into the tiredness that still dragged at my limbs, and I fell back to sleep

  I awoke some time later with the strong sense that someone was watching me. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light, but when they did, I saw Jack sitting on a chair nearby.

  He stiffened when he realized I was awake. "There's tea on the table beside the bed. It's probably gone cold by now."

  I sat up and gratefully sipped the tea. It was indeed cold, but I didn't care. My mouth and throat were dry. I drained the cup and refilled it from the teapot.

  "How do you feel?" he asked.

  "Like a prisoner."

  He leaned back in the chair and stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles. He crossed his arms too and regarded me through half-lowered lashes. "August is furious that you tried to escape."

  "He's not the only one with a temper."

  "I can see that," he said with a sardonic tilt of his lips. "Why did you try to leave, Violet? I thought we went through this. I thought you understood that you would come to no harm here."

  I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe a word you say. I find it hard to trust the man who kidnapped me. Even harder to trust the man who sits up there and makes it very clear I am not to question his authority or my predicament."

  He rubbed a hand through his hair, upsetting its neat arrangement and causing it to tumble over his forehead. "I understand your need to know what's going on. Believe me, I do. But I can assure you, in this case, it's black and white. There are no secret experiments being conducted, no foul play."

  I huffed out a humorless laugh. "If that's the case, why keep me against my will?"

  "It doesn't have to be against your will, Violet." When I didn't answer, he added, "To protect you from yourself. And protect others too, of course."

  There was a kernel of truth in what he said, although I still had strong doubts. "Then why the need to kidnap me from Windamere in the first place?"

  The muscles in his jaw shifted and he looked away. It was a long time before he said, "That was necessary. Lord Wade would not have let you come to us freely, no matter what you think. He cared about you in his own way, but not enough to allow you to be trained. Like you, he would have suspected our reasons were more...insidious. It's unfortunate, but there's the truth of it."

  I said nothing to that. I knew little of Lord Wade and nothing of his innermost thoughts toward his daughter.

  "You can trust me, Violet. I give you my word on that."

  I wanted so desperately to believe him. My heart ached with the need to trust him, to feel safe, to have a friend in this place. "Tell me, is my door still locked?"

  "No."

  I blinked at him. "When you leave here, will you lock it?"

  "No. I've talked August into coming to an agreement."

  "What sort of agreement?"

  "It's conditional on an arrangement between you and me. If you agree not to try to escape, he'll allow you to go about the entire estate and into the village with Sylvia and I."

  I cocked my head to the side and regarded him. "What makes you think I'll try not to escape even after promising not to?"

  "Because I'm going to strike a deal with you. You may leave Frakingham by Christmas. You should be able to control your talent by then and will have no need of me anyway. I'll even drive you back and smooth things over with Lord Wade." He huffed out a breath. "Or try to."

  It was a wonderful notion. Except for one major problem. "What if I make absolutely no progress by Christmas? Not even a little bit. Will you still let me go home?"

  He shrugged. "Of course." By the dismissive way he said it, I got the feeling he didn't consider it an option.

  "Then I agree to remain here until then." After all, Christmas was only five weeks away. I could pretend that my talent, as he called it, had gone into hibernation until then.

  He gave a firm nod. "Good. I'm glad we could help each other out. Perhaps August won't want to rip my head off next time I walk into his rooms."

  "He blames you for my attempted escape?"

  "I was the one who convinced him you would stay once you realized we meant no harm." He gave me a lopsided smile. "It seems I didn't quite understand you as much as I thought I did."

  "I'm glad to hear I'm not so predictable."

  He stopped smiling. Indeed, his forehead creased into a frown. "You haven't asked how he is."

  "Your uncle? Why should I? I assume he's still angry. Perhaps a little surprised too."

  "You're right on both counts. Your unconsciousness was certainly unexpected. I'll go and talk to him again and tell him you've agreed to stay."

  I made to rise, but he waved me back. "No, don't get up. Rest. If you don't mind, I'll send Sylvia in. She's been desperate to see you, but I made her wait."

  "I'd like to see her too." I was startled to realize it was the truth. I didn't want to be alone. Sylvia's company would be a pleasant diversion.

  Jack left and his cousin breezed past him as soon as he opened the door. She must have been waiting outside.

  "Thank goodness you're all right!" She clasped my hands. "I was so worried about you when I realized you'd run away."

  "You didn't even know I was gone until Bollard brought me back."

  She glanced at the door and leaned closer to whisper. "Yes, well, I grew worried when I saw Bollard dragging you in and holding that shovel..." She shuddered and closed her eyes.

  "Does he often go into the woods with gardening implements?"

  "I don't think so. He rarely leaves Uncle's side. Uncle relies on him so much, not only to wheel him about, but he's also valet, laboratory assistant—"

  "Laboratory assistant!"

  "Oh yes. Uncle August may have sold his business interests
, but he continues to dabble in this and that."

  "This and that? Care to elaborate?"

  "I would if I could, but I don't know what he does up there. Something pharmaceutical. It's all hocus pocus to me." She wiggled her fingers as if conjuring a rabbit from a hat.

  "He's a chemist, your uncle? Is that how he made his money?"

  "He's a microbiologist. He develops remedies, drugs, that sort of thing."

  "Remedies for which ailments?"

  "I forget now. Anyway, he and his partner sold a highly sought-after remedy to a large company for a lot of money. It allowed him to buy Frakingham. I was nine when we moved here."

  "All three of you?"

  She got up and walked to the window. "Both Jack's and my parents died when we were young. Uncle August took us in."

  "They were brothers?"

  "Who?"

  "Your father, Jack's father, and your uncle. Otherwise you wouldn't all share the same surname."

  "Yes. Of course they were brothers." She returned to looking out the window. I expected her to keep talking since she seemed to like the sound of her own voice, but she said nothing further.

  "Is Bollard a genuine mute?" I asked.

  She came back to sit on the bed beside me. "He's been that way for as long as I've known him."

  "So he was born that way?"

  She shrugged.

  "Let me guess. Don't ask him?"

  "Good lord, no!" She pressed a hand to her breast. "Please don't."

  "He couldn't answer me even if I did." We both giggled but quickly stopped because it seemed a little cruel, although I wasn't sure Bollard deserved our sympathies. "Don't worry," I said. "I won't try to learn his secrets." The rest of the secrets harbored within Frakingham's walls were fair game, and I planned to uncover them before I left at Christmas.

  Beginning with what Jack knew about his condition, and how he and Vi had come to be fire starters.

  Sylvia suddenly hugged me so hard that I had to put out a hand to steady myself. "I'm so relieved you've agreed to accept your situation and stay," she said, blinking back tears. "It'll bring some peace and quiet to the house at last."

  "Whatever do you mean?"