by C. J. Archer
Cara touched the brim of her hat as if trying to recall which one she'd put on that morning. "I'm afraid I don't remember."
"Pity," the other twin said. "It's very perky."
"If you do remember the name of the shop, please send word to us," Julia or Jennifer said. "We'd love one just like it, wouldn't we?" she said to her sister.
Cara assured them she would do so immediately.
The maid entered with the tea things and cakes, and proceeded to pour. Jane reached for a cake, but her mother slapped her hand away. "I hear you have Lord Frakingham and Lord Malborough staying with you, Miss Langley," Mrs. Butterworth said without even a scolding glance at her younger daughter.
"We do," Sylvia said.
"We were fortunate enough to visit him at his Mayfair townhouse last autumn. Such a fine fellow, Lord Frakingham, despite his reduced circumstances. And hasn't Lord Malborough grown into such a man."
Such a man that nobody seemed to like. Not even the exuberant twins could summon a muttered addendum to their mother's praise.
"It was good of him to accompany his father to Frakingham House," she went on. "Although hardly surprising that he would want to meet you, Miss Langley."
Sylvia accepted her cup from the maid. "Oh. Uh, thank you." She blushed into her tea as she sipped.
"Wouldn't that be a story for the romantic poets. Nobleman succumbs to debts and sells house, only to have his son fall in love with the new owner's heiress."
Sylvia choked on her tea. "Goodness, this is quite hot." She set the cup down. "Is Mr. Myer at home? Only we're in something of a hurry. We ought to get back to our guests."
"He's gone for a walk," Mrs. Butterworth said, snipping off each word as if she were irritated at something.
"Do you think he'll be back soon?"
"I don't know." Mrs. Butterworth took a long sip of her tea.
"They're only at the bottom of the garden," Jane piped up.
"They?" Samuel echoed.
"He's with Mrs. Myer," Jane said.
"Mrs. Myer!" I wasn't sure which of us was the loudest. All I knew was that I hadn't expected to hear that Myer's wife had joined him in Harborough. After all, Mrs. Butterworth was purported to be his lover. How awkward for him to have his lover and wife in the same house.
"She arrived this morning in her own coach, led by a team of four matching grays," Mrs. Butterworth said with a defiant tilt of her chin. "Quite the spectacle she was, as she drove through the village. She'll be here for a few days only. Or so I've been informed."
"Do you think they would mind if we interrupted their walk?" Sylvia asked. "Only we do want to be on our way, and we don't want to have to return."
If Mrs. Butterworth felt slighted, she didn't show it. She seemed annoyed at the mention of Mrs. Myer. Annoyed, or jealous. I wasn't sure who I felt sorry for—the jilted wife or lover. Then again, neither really deserved my sympathy.
"I'm sure he'd be only too happy to have their little tête-à-tête interrupted." She leaned forward and said in a husky yet not hushed voice, "He didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about her arrival, if you know what I mean."
We knew. The Myer household wasn't a joyful one. On the one brief occasion I'd been there, I'd wanted to leave immediately after listening to their bickering.
"Jane, fetch Mr. and Mrs. Myer," Mrs. Butterworth said with undisguised pleasure.
Jane leapt up, snatched a cake and ran from the room.
While we waited for the Myers to arrive, I had another question I wanted to ask Mrs. Butterworth. Indeed, I would have liked to ask her husband too, but he wasn't at home. "Do you know of any particular gentlemen friends of Lord Frakingham and the Gladstones from around sixty-seven? There would have been two who visited Frakingham House in that year."
Mrs. Butterworth's ponderous forehead creased. "Sixty-seven? I was only a young thing myself then."
"But you did live in the village?" Sylvia asked. She and the others had inched forward on their chairs, waiting for her answer. I realized it was perhaps a question we should have pushed Myer or Frakingham to answer, but none of us had thought the nameless men from the daguerreotype significant. Perhaps they weren't, but it was wise to find out.
"I've been a Harborough girl all my life. Now, let's think back to that time. I didn't know Mr. Myer or the Gladstones then. Lord and Lady Frakingham invited some of the more prominent village families to dine with them on occasion." She puffed out her chest and shot a pointed glare at Sylvia for not inviting them. "I don't recall any specific friends, but there was a great to-do around that time, involving two gentlemen who went missing on the estate."
"Missing?" Sylvia cried. "You mean, they never showed up again?"
Mrs. Butterworth nodded. "They simply vanished. Why not ask Lord Frakingham since he's here? He'll remember the unfortunate fellows."
We would do just that.
Samuel rose and turned on one of his charming smiles for our hostess. "I'm going out to meet the Myers. I could do with a stroll in your lovely garden."
"But you're limping!" she cried.
"A minor trifle."
"Perhaps my daughters can accompany you." She shoved the shoulder of the twin sitting nearest her. "Get up," she hissed.
Both Julia and Jennifer stood, blushing and watching Samuel from beneath coyly lowered lashes.
"Actually, Miss Charity and Miss Moreau were going to walk with me," he said. "Miss Langley wishes to remain here to discuss, er, fashions with you and your daughters."
"Yes!" Sylvia cried. "I adore fashion. Especially from Paris." She launched into a discussion of the fashion plates from the latest edition of The Young Ladies' Journal. The Butterworth twins sat again and joined in with equal enthusiasm. Mrs. Butterworth must have recognized her defeat. She sighed and let us go without further ado.
"Thank you for agreeing to accompany me," Samuel said as we found our way to the rear doors leading out to the garden.
"You're quite welcome," Cara said, nudging his elbow mischievously. "So you don't like the twin delights of the Butterworth girls?"
"I like them well enough. It's just that I didn't want them overhearing our conversation with Myer."
We intercepted Jane and the Myers as they approached from across the lawn. The Butterworths' garden extended past several formally laid out beds of hollyhock, roses and honeysuckle, down to a stand of tall trees at the bottom of a slight rise. I wondered if they'd been having their private conversation there where they couldn't be seen or overheard. I wondered what sort of private conversation a couple who loathed one another could have.
"Good morning!" Mr. Myer greeted us with his usual vigor. "What a pleasure to see you again, Miss Moreau. How is your family?"
"Very well, thank you," Cara said.
"Allow me to introduce you to my wife. My dear, you've met Miss Charity and Mr. Gladstone already, and this is Miss Moreau."
Mrs. Myer's flat eyes settled on Cara. They weren't blank eyes; far from it, they were quick and intelligent as they assessed her. But they lacked something that I could only describe as spirit. She wasn't a pretty woman. Plain was the kindest word I could think of to describe her thin, stretched lips, sallow skin and wiry hair. She made no attempt at enhancing her appearance by wearing styles or colors that suited her, as other women her age did. Ordinarily I would silently applaud the bravery of a woman who defiantly went against convention and cared nothing for appearances, but there was just something very unlikeable about Mrs. Myer.
"You wished to speak to me?" Myer asked Samuel.
"Our apologies for the interruption," Samuel said. "We didn't know your wife was here, until now."
"Go on then," she said. "You've interrupted our conversation. What is it you want?"
Samuel sucked air between his teeth, but he managed a gritted smile. Jane took that moment to flitter away, pretending to be a butterfly. "We want to know what you know about the dissolution of Frakingham Abbey," Samuel said.
Myer shrugged. "Only what my schoolboy hi
story books taught me about the event in general. I assume Henry VIII closed it down, along with the other monastic houses in the country, in the sixteenth century."
"I encountered a spirit in the village yesterday," Cara said.
"Ah yes, you're a medium too," Mrs. Myer said. "How intriguing." She sounded not in the least bit intrigued.
"He was a monk from the abbey at that time," Cara went on. "He told us a rather fantastic story about his abbot, and how he opened a portal to unleash many demons on the king's men. Unfortunately, most of the monks—including the abbot himself—died at the hands of the beasts."
"My God," Myer muttered. "You saw someone who knew the abbot? You actually spoke to him! My God," he said again, his cheeks flushing with color. "What did he say? Did he tell you anything of importance? Anything at all?"
I had expected Myer to be contrite, not demanding. He seemed not to care at all that we'd learned about the portal. He must have known about it all along.
"Were you ever going to tell us about the portal?" Samuel asked.
"Of course," Myer said, off-handed. "In good time."
His wife snorted and Myer flicked an icy glare her way.
"Did the spirit tell you how to open it?" Myer went on, taking a step closer to Cara.
"He mentioned some spells written on a parchment," she said. "One to open it, one to close it, and another to summon a warrior."
Myer's eyes widened. "A warrior!"
So that was news to him. Interesting. "Apparently this warrior looked like a human. He was able to round up the escaped demons."
"Fascinating. What about the parchment? Was it accompanied by others?"
Others? What was he getting at?
"He told us the parchment was in fact a page torn from a book," Cara said. "His abbot gave it to him when it came time to close the portal."
"And where is the book?"
"He didn't say."
"Blast." He did not ask where the monk had hidden the parchment.
"What do you know about this book?" Samuel asked.
"Very little. I suspect it contains many spells and the like, but I have so little knowledge of it. What I do know is based on rumors."
"And rumors say it's located at the abbey?"
"Perhaps. Or perhaps clues to its whereabouts may be found there."
"Tell us everything you know about the ruins," Samuel said. "Leave nothing out."
Mrs. Myer sighed. "This is tedious. You cannot believe everything my husband tells you. Don't make him out to be some kind of expert when he's not," she said, her tone thick with disdain.
"Now, now, my dear," Myer oozed. "Let's not squabble in front of these young people."
"I'm not squabbling. I'm merely pointing out how you waste your time and my money chasing magic when you ought to be doing something more productive."
"Like interfering with bank affairs?" he sneered. "I think we both know you don't want me taking more of an interest in Hatfield and Harrington. Now, my dear," he said, lowering his voice to a melodic rhythm that seeped through me and warmed my bones. "Listen to me, heed my words. Are you listening, my dear?"
"Yes," Mrs. Myer, Cara and I intoned.
My head felt fuzzy and filled with wool. The blood in my veins pumped harder and I had the most odd sensation of wanting to embrace Myer. I didn't feel fully in control of my thoughts, my limbs, and found myself moving closer to him. I was drawn to that voice, it's tone like a drug I craved.
"Bloody hell." Samuel's growl scratched at the edges of my awareness, but did not diffuse the wool in my head. "Stop this at once."
"Go inside, my dear Edith," Myer said in that honey-rich voice.
Mrs. Myer left without question, just as I felt Samuel's hand wrap around my arm. He was also holding onto Cara on his other side. He peered into my face, his brow a map of concern.
"Charity," he said, panicky. "Don't listen to him."
"Come back to us, ladies," Myer said. "That wasn't intended for you."
The fuzziness dispersed and I was once more completely aware of my surroundings, and more importantly, myself. And with that came the knowledge that I'd been hypnotized, along with Cara and Mrs. Myer. I began to tremble uncontrollably, my skin cold. The only warmth came from Samuel's hands, one still on my arm and the other now at my back, reassuring and solid. Instead of his nearness causing my panic to rise as it usually would, I felt safe. He would have made sure I didn't succumb to Myer's hypnotic charms. He would have protected me.
Mere days ago, I would have feared him equally after such an episode, unable to separate the power of Myer from the strong hypnotic power of Samuel. Yet today, I could make that distinction.
"That was despicable," Cara hissed, rubbing her temple. "How dare you do that to us. To your wife!"
Samuel bared his teeth in a snarl. The muscles ridged across his jaw and his eyes flashed with fury. "I should thrash you for that."
"I doubt you can do much at the moment, with those injuries." Myer glanced pointedly at Samuel's bandaged left hand, holding my arm. "But I do apologize. I only did what was necessary. She was becoming difficult."
Samuel began to pull away from me, but I clamped my hand down on his injured one, pinning it. He hissed in pain and I felt awful for being the cause, but I couldn't allow him to hit Myer. It would only open up his wounds again.
"Samuel," I murmured, "be calm. Please. Mr. Myer," I added quickly in an attempt to diffuse the situation, "you were going to tell us what you know about the portal at the ruins."
Samuel blew out a long breath and I felt his fingers relax beneath mine. I let him go and stepped out of his reach. His hands dropped to his sides.
"I've known about the portal for some time," Myer began.
"How?" I asked.
"Word reached the society's master, a Mr. Garrett, some years ago. I was merely a young man with an interest in the supernatural, then. Garrett recognized my enthusiasm and decided to send myself and some other interested parties to the ruins, based on the account of his source. I was never told who it was."
"My parents were also the interested parties you speak of?" Samuel asked.
He nodded. "They were new to the society. Your mother was more curious than your father. I think he joined merely to keep an eye on her. Her interest waned soon afterward, however. Frakingham's too. Neither were true supernaturalists."
"Who are the other two gentlemen in the daguerreotype?" I asked.
"One of them was Garrett, the other a fellow was Owens, also from the society. Both disappeared soon after that picture was taken."
"Did no one look for them?" Cara asked.
"Of course we looked. Alas, they were never found. They probably just wandered off somewhere."
"People don't just 'wander off,'" Samuel said.
Myer simply shrugged. "I thought you wanted to know about the portal."
"We do," I said. Yet the coincidence of the men going missing at the same time was too great for me to simply accept. Myer, however, didn't seem like he wanted to discuss it. "Tell us about it."
"There's nothing to tell. As I said, the society learned about the portal's existence and we traveled to Frakingham to investigate. Our source had given Garrett an old document describing how to position the stones, and which words to speak to open the portal, but that document later disappeared."
"Like the two men?"
"Precisely."
"Could that be the parchment Brother Francis spoke of?" I asked, my heart sinking. If it had already been found, then there was a danger of the portal being opened again. That explained why Myer hadn't asked where the monk had hidden the parchment—he already knew it had been dug up. At least Myer didn't possess it.
We waited, but Myer didn't go on.
"Did anything else happen?" Samuel prompted.
"Of course not," he said quickly. "We lost impetus after Garrett and Owens disappeared. The group dispersed. Only I remained, to do a little more investigation at the ruins, until Lord Frakingham
asked me to leave."
"Why did he do that?"
"He doesn't like me. I told you that. His wife found me…compelling."
"Because you hypnotized her," Samuel snapped.
"Because I charmed her. There's a difference."
"And now you're back, after a long absence," I said, "because Lord Frakingham, and then Mr. Langley, didn't want you sniffing around the property until now."
"I'm not sniffing, Miss Charity. There's nothing nefarious about my absence, either. Mr. Langley simply wanted privacy and told me in no uncertain terms that I would be arrested for trespassing if I ventured onto the estate uninvited. There wasn't any malice on his part."
I could well believe that. Langley did indeed like to keep to himself. It wasn't until he'd needed Myer's help with his mind-reading contraption that he'd allowed him back to investigate the ruins at his leisure.
Myer held up his hands. "There. That's all of it. Oh, wait, one more thing. Do you think you can suggest to Langley that he employ a specialist to investigate the ruins?"
"Aren't you a specialist?" I asked.
"I mean a supernatural archaeologist. I'm a scholar. Spades and picks aren't my thing."
"You ought to befriend Lord Frakingham again."
"He may be an archaeologist, but he doesn't specialize in the supernatural. He's also a hobbyist. If he has ever found anything of importance, it's through dumb luck, not skill. Now, if you don't mind, I've got a wife to remove from a hypnotic trance. Please consider my request. Like you, I only want answers."
We watched him walk back through the garden to the house. "I get the feeling he's not telling us something," I said.
Samuel nodded. "So do I. He didn't seem overly surprised by Brother Francis' tale, and he brushed off our questions about the disappearance of those two men and the parchment."
"I wish we could force answers from him," Cara said, glowering at the receding form of Myer. "Are you sure you can't hypnotize him, Samuel?"
"He's immune, just as I'm immune to his powers." He blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Let's go and save Sylvia."
"Pssst." The sound came from behind a laurustinus bush. Jane popped her head up and beckoned us over. "Pretend to be admiring the garden," she whispered. "Don't let them see me talking to you. I can't be compromised."
