by C. J. Archer
Edge of Darkness
(Book 3 of the 2nd Freak House Trilogy)
C.J. Archer
Copyright 2014 C.J. Archer
Visit C.J. at http://cjarcher.com
CHAPTER 1
Hertfordshire, Spring 1889
"You absolutely, positively must remain here, Charity," Sylvia declared, nudging the grass with the toe of her black leather button boots. It was the same spot where the demon had disintegrated only five days ago, after a horrible fight that had almost seen Samuel shredded to pieces by the creature's blade-like claws. Samuel's blood had since been washed away by a storm and the grass was once more a green so vivid it hurt the eyes. The low broken walls of the abbey ruins were now nothing more than a tranquil place to sit and gaze upon the smooth, glossy surface of Frakingham Lake.
"Why?" I asked, even though I didn't particularly want to hear her answer. I didn't want her to talk at all. The calmness of the scene instilled a sense of peace within me. So much so that I was almost able to believe that I didn't reside in the same house as an eccentric scientist, his mute assistant and a mind-reading contraption. Or that only a few bedrooms away from mine lay Samuel, recovering from his injuries while descending ever further into the pit of madness.
Almost, but not quite.
I sighed and turned away from the lake to look at Sylvia. Her bouncy curls gleamed like polished gold in the sunlight. Her long lashes fanned rapidly as she blinked those childlike eyes at me. I steeled myself for the begging I knew would come next. "We need you, Charity."
"You do not," I said, keeping my tone light. I didn't want to take the conversation around dark corners where the shadows lurked. I didn't have the heart for it on such a beautiful day. "Everything has returned to normal here. The demon is gone, your uncle and Bollard have holed themselves up in their laboratory again, Mrs. Gladstone has left, and Samuel is recovering nicely."
"He pines for you," she said quietly, as if she were afraid to say it aloud. She lowered her head, but peered up at me through her lashes. "He tells me every day to ask you to go to him."
I knew that, of course. I had successfully managed to avoid Samuel by either staying in my room or going for walks. I had nothing more to say to him, and seeing each other would only keep our wounds open and fresh instead of allowing them to heal. His physical wounds, however, were healing well, according to Sylvia. Soon I would no longer be able to go for a walk to escape him.
"All the more reason for me not to stay," I said. "As soon as I have word from the Beauforts that the master's spirit has gone, I'm returning home to London and the school. The children need me, Sylvia. Truly need me." And I needed them. The orphans at the school where I lived and taught loved me as surely as I loved them, although I had difficulty expressing that love. Nevertheless, they were my family. Their laughter lightened my heart and their little hands, when tucked into mine, made me feel truly needed. What Samuel needed was inconsequential by comparison. He would recover from his broken heart in time. As, I was sure, would I.
"Very well, forget Samuel then," she said, taking my hand and holding it far too tightly. "I need you, Charity."
"You do? Why?"
She bit her lower lip and frowned hard. "I don't think I can remain strong without your firm reminders." She glanced over her shoulder at the house. "I'm afraid I'll weaken and beg him not to be so…so like a footman!"
She was talking about Tommy. I'd advised him to keep his relationship with Sylvia strictly one of servant and mistress, for her sake more than his own. Their flirtation had been allowed to go on too long, and they had developed a tendre for one another. Such feelings between a footman and a gentlewoman were futile, particularly when August Langley would put a stop to it as soon as he learned of it. He would never allow his niece to be with a servant. He'd risen too far himself to see her throw it all away, and I tended to side with him on the matter. Their feelings would fade in time, once Sylvia realized Tommy could never give her the things she craved—balls, pretty clothes and a respectable place in society. Better that they end their flirtation before it developed into something more.
"You need a new hobby," I said. "Something that gets you out of the house and keeps you busy." I tipped my face to the sun and let its warmth wash over me.
"Good idea. I think I know just the thing."
"Oh?"
"Riding."
"On a horse?"
She rolled her eyes. "Of course. I think being outdoors on the back of a fast beast will be good for me."
I wasn't so certain. Sylvia didn't like exercise, the outdoors, or horses, overmuch. Not to forget that she kept the curtains closed when traveling swiftly by coach because the fast-moving scenery made her dizzy.
"I was thinking you might take up some charitable work in the village," I said. "Didn't you say you were going to speak to your uncle about donating some of the things from the attic? You could oversee their distribution."
"I will, only we cannot begin yet. I've just had word back from Lord Frakingham. He's taking Uncle up on his offer. He and his son arrive tomorrow."
"I'm glad. I know Mr. Langley bought this place and all its contents, but Lord Frakingham may have changed his mind. He should have another opportunity to keep some of his ancestral belongings."
"Particularly now that his son is older and can choose whether he wants some for himself. He would have been too young to care when Uncle August bought this place, eight years ago."
August Langley had written to the previous owner of Frakingham House as soon as he'd decided to donate the many items stored in the attic, most of which had been left behind by Lord Frakingham. Anything the earl didn't want would be given to the needy or sold. I'd already earmarked some items for my own school.
"I'm looking forward to meeting them," I said.
"I'm not." Sylvia screwed up her nose. "Imagine being forced to sell off all this." She stretched her hand out to encompass the lake, ruins and woods to one side. "The current earl of Frakingham must live with the fact that he was the one who let it go after the property had been in his family's hands for centuries. It's quite humiliating, when you think about it."
"Or humbling. Anyway, weren't the debts his father's and grandfather's? Mr. Langley told me that the current earl had a choice of seeing the estate sold off in parcels—in which case he might earn enough money to restore the house but nothing else—or sold in one piece."
"True. It wasn't necessarily his fault, but he will go down in the history books as the last Lord Frakingham to reside here. I find that a little sad, don't you?"
"No." I didn't want to get into a discussion with her about the strangling of the nation's property and wealth by a privileged few to the detriment of many. I suspected we may not see eye-to-eye and I was in no mood for a debate. So instead of elaborating, I steered the topic in a different direction.
"How old is the son?"
"I don't know, but I believe he's a grown man now, about our age."
Sylvia was eighteen and I a little older, although sometimes I felt like her parent. Perhaps that was because I was the more worldly, having lived on the streets since the age of nine.
The mention of the gentleman's age had me thinking, however. It was time Sylvia met some eligible men with a view to marriage. She needed to look beyond Tommy and see that there were others outside of Frakingham who could give her the life she wanted. I wondered if Langley thought the same way. He was so buried in his work it was likely he hadn't noticed his niece grow up.
"Miss Moreau has written to me and expressed an interest in visiting too," Sylvia went on. "Of course I said she should. So it's se
ttled. You will stay here and help me play hostess. You know I'm not very good at it."
"Of course you are. I've seen how well you handled Mrs. Gladstone under such trying circumstances, and the Butterworths and Mr. Myer. You merely lack confidence, but that will come in time. If the Beauforts write to tell me the master's spirit has left, you will be perfectly fine without me."
"That could be weeks or months away."
Or years or never. The spirit medium, Emily Beaufort, had explained that no one could force a ghost to leave this realm and move on. I didn't want to think about it never happening. Didn't want to think about having to settle outside London and away from the school.
"In which case, you'd better get used to seeing Samuel again in the halls of Frakingham." Sylvia sounded a little too smug, as if she'd won a game I didn't know I'd been playing. "Why not start now? Come on. Let's go find him."
She clasped my hand and I somewhat reluctantly walked back to the house with her. She was right, however. I couldn't avoid Samuel forever. It was time to face him again. I was ready. I could withstand whatever sweet words he threw at me. And if he decided not to use his charms, but allowed his barely-contained temper to bleed out instead, well, I had come to terms with that too. His madness did, after all, have much to do with me. He had changed after using hypnosis to block my memories, and although he said I wasn't to blame, I couldn't help feeling responsible. Before then, he'd been the most amiable gentleman I'd ever met.
We crossed the lawn and, as we stepped up to the porch, the arched double doors opened like a mouth to swallow us. Tommy greeted us with a formal bow and waited silently and stiffly to receive our gloves and hats. Neither he nor Sylvia looked directly at one another as she dropped her gloves into his open palm, as if she were too afraid of touching him. To an outsider used to grand houses and dozens of servants, the exchange probably seemed normal, but to me it felt awkward and false. Freak House ran with minimal staff and Tommy was the only indoor male servant, aside from Bollard. He was also my, and Jack Langley's, friend. Jack had never treated Tommy as anything else. Perhaps that was how the whole problem between Sylvia and Tommy began.
"Is everything prepared for Lord Frakingham's arrival?" I asked him.
"Yes, Miss Charity."
I gave him a withering glare. Ordinarily he just called me Charity. It would seem he was taking my advice to the extreme.
"Mrs. Moore has prepared rooms for both gentlemen," he went on. "Do you need me for anything more this afternoon, Miss Langley? I have an errand to perform in the village for Mr. Langley."
"Oh?" Sylvia finally met his gaze. "What errand?"
"Mr. Langley wishes me to post an advertisement in The Times for the position of butler."
"Butler!" Sylvia and I cried. "Good," she went on. "It's about time he did things properly. We need a butler. All the big houses have one. Or so I'm told."
Tommy's face remained schooled, except for his eyes. They briefly flared, although she was no longer looking at him and wouldn't have seen.
"Why can't Tommy do it?" I said. "He's been here for some time and already performs the duties required of a butler."
"Dawson is a footman," Sylvia said, as if that explained everything. When I gave her a blank look, she went on: "A house as large as this ought to have a butler who has experience elsewhere, perhaps at a lesser house. Frakingham would be perfect for a servant looking to improve his art of butlering at a grander residence."
"I'm quite sure butlering is neither a word nor an art form," I said. "And why should he already be a butler elsewhere? Why not promote Tommy? He has extensive knowledge of Frakingham and its current staff. He's clever and would quickly learn any extra tasks you require of him."
"Thank you, Miss Charity," Tommy said with a nod.
"Stop calling me Miss!" I snapped. "I am just Charity to you, and don't pretend I am anything other than your friend, Tommy. Be the footman or butler around the Langleys, but not with me. I am as inconsequential as you are."
"While you are a guest of Miss Langley's, I will treat you as such."
"I agree with Dawson," Sylvia cut in while I was still glaring at Tommy. "He cannot go about treating members of this household differently. There are servants and then there is the rest of us, that's all. Nothing in between."
I felt like telling her she was wrong. I was proof that there was something in between. Then again, some would consider me lower than the servants. After all, I had been a whore before I became a teacher. My friends used the terms "mistress" or "gentleman's companion," but I wasn't one to bother with semantics. I'd been a whore, and my past had come back to haunt me recently in the form of the master's spirit. He would not allow me to forget what I'd been. Nor would Samuel's mother and brother. I was not good enough for him, in their eyes. Or, for that matter, in my own.
Not that it was of any consequence. There was nothing between us and never would be, despite his offer to marry me. I was much too afraid of him to harbor tender feelings toward him.
His sudden appearance at the top of the stairs provided irrefutable proof that I was lying to myself. My heart quickened at the sight of him dressed in trousers and a white shirt. He wore no tie or waistcoat, and the top button of his shirt was undone. His fair hair was unkempt and the shadows that now permanently clouded his blue eyes were visible even at a distance. He looked better, however; healthier. The color had returned to his cheeks and he didn't limp quite as much as he descended. My keen observations of him and the increasing rate of my heartbeat as he drew closer only served to draw my attention to my lie. I did have feelings for Samuel. Feelings that I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried, or what terrible things I learned about him.
His intense gaze drew me in and locked me in place so I couldn't leave even if I'd wanted to. I couldn't even look away. Samuel's change of demeanor was my fault, and I didn't deserve to be allowed to walk away from him now. It was only right that I stay at Frakingham a little longer, to see him through his troubles.
"Good afternoon, ladies," he said smoothly. "I was hoping to join you outside in the sunshine, but you've returned."
"We came in to see you," Sylvia said. "We hoped our company might break up the monotony of your day." Whether she was unaffected by Samuel's bleakness or whether she just didn't notice it like I did, I couldn't be sure. She was always the same with him. Always the cheerful, bubbly, innocent girl. They treated one another like brother and sister, something which I think both needed in the absence of Jack.
Samuel's gaze flicked to me. One corner of his mouth twitched up before settling once more. "You were both coming to see me?"
I was saved from answering by Sylvia's quick reply. "Of course. Why shouldn't I join you? I have nothing better to do."
"Actually I meant…never mind."
I suppressed my smile and saw Samuel struggling to do the same. Dear Sylvia—I wasn't sure if she was trying to lighten our moods on purpose or by accident, but it served to ease the tension.
"Perhaps you can resolve an issue we're having with Tommy," I said to Samuel. "Mr. Langley is going to advertise for a butler, but Tommy and I think he's capable of stepping into the role. Sylvia disagrees."
"I didn't say that," she said, hand on hip. "I think him capable. I just don't think it appropriate yet. He's never studied under a butler before. This will be a good opportunity for him to do so. Don't you agree, Samuel?"
We all looked to Samuel.
He put his hands in the air, although his left did not go as high as his right. That side had borne the brunt of the demon's attack. "Frakingham business is nothing to do with me. I don't wish to interfere."
"Your own house is a grand one," Sylvia went on as if he hadn't spoken. "You must have dozens and dozens of servants. Wouldn't you want it all to run smoothly under the experienced eye of a butler who has earned the position through many years of good service?"
"Rather than an upstart footman?" Tommy sneered, forgetting his position.
"That re
action is precisely why you shouldn't be given the position. No butler would be so impertinent."
Her exasperated protest made Tommy flinch. He stared at her for several heartbeats then stormed off. It was in that moment that I realized Sylvia had a point. Tommy was too familiar with the family, too much of a friend and not a servant, to be given a bigger role. If Frakingham House was to become more important, in keeping with Mr. Langley's vision for it and his family, then Tommy couldn't maintain the formal facade necessary for butler. It just wasn't in him, or them.
By the same token, perhaps he shouldn't continue as footman, either.
Sylvia folded her arms and cocked one eyebrow at Samuel. "Well? Now that he's gone, tell us what would you do?"
"I would leave the decision up to my brother," he said. "It's his house, not mine."
"But you are the heir."
Samuel's fingers tightened around the staircase railing. "An heir who doesn't wish to think about the circumstances that will see him inherit."
Sylvia's arms dropped to her sides and she mumbled an apology under her breath.
"Why not wait until Jack returns?" I suggested. "Perhaps you should convey to your uncle the need to wait, Sylvia."
"I suppose so," she said on a sigh.
"What led to Langley's sudden desire to employ a butler?" Samuel asked. "He's never had one before, nor has he shown any interest in swelling the staff numbers here."
"He has," she said, "but finding villagers willing to work up here has always been a problem. These recent demon attacks haven't helped. As to what has led him to advertise the position now, well, I can only assume it has something to do with Lord Frakingham's pending visit."
"Ah," Samuel said with a nod. "He wishes to at least show that he's making an effort in front of a peer."
An inelegant sound came from Sylvia's nose. "He's not concerned with all that."
I met Samuel's gaze again and saw that he agreed with me. August Langley was most certainly concerned with "all that." He wouldn't have bought the ostentatious house of Frakingham if he weren't.
