Seared With Scars

by C. J. Archer

  "I love Samuel," she said, her voice shaky. "And I will not give him up easily."

  Of all the things she'd said to me, her declaration rattled me the most. I'd pegged her as an unfeeling, ambitious toff. It was clear from the shine in her eyes and the flare of her nostrils that I'd been unfair. She had a heart after all, and that heart wanted Samuel.

  "I'll see myself out," she said.

  "Wait!" I rushed to block her exit. "I have something to ask you."

  "About Samuel?" She gave an inelegant huff. "And you said you had no interest in him."

  "I do have an interest in him, but only as a friend. I know you don't believe that, but please, hear me." I squared up to her and she straightened too. Although we were of a height, her hat was taller. I suspected she would consider that a point won. "Was there a time when Samuel was absent from the London social scene? It would have been a year ago or more."

  "Samuel was never one for social events. He only ever attended when his mother made him. Why?"

  I shook my head. "It's nothing."

  "I don't believe you. Tell me."

  I should have known she'd leave propriety behind and try to get an answer out of me. "It was simply something he alluded to. A time in his life when something happened. He wouldn't tell me what," I added quickly. "I wondered if you knew."

  "If I did, I wouldn't tell you. Knowing your type, you would use the knowledge of it against him, in some way."

  I smiled sweetly. "I didn't say he'd done anything scandalous. Thank you for confirming it."

  "Come now, Miss Evans, even somebody like you must know that a gentleman or lady only drops out of society when there is scandal afoot."

  I arched my eyebrow at her. "And if Samuel did do something scandalous, something unforgiveable? Would that change how you feel about him?"

  "Don't be absurd. I never said that Samuel did anything wrong, and certainly nothing unforgiveable. He's a good man. That's why we would be a perfect match. Formidable, as they say." She did not smile, but she didn't need to for me to see the triumph in her eyes or hear it in her voice. "Step aside, please. I must go. I'm on my way to the Gladstones’ country seat for the funeral tomorrow."

  I shifted out of the way and watched her stride off, her head high. I heard the front door open and close while I stood rooted to the spot, and wondered why I ever thought she'd be a good match for Samuel.

  ***

  The Gladstone family home was in Oxfordshire, near a sizeable village with a good inn. I rented a room from the innkeeper whose friendly, chatty nature proved to be useful. It seemed the Gladstones were the most prominent family in the area. Their estate employed a considerable number of staff and their tenant farms were prosperous. The conversation naturally steered toward poor Mr. Gladstone's gruesome demise and the subsequent return of the prodigal son.

  "Of course we're all glad to see Mr. Samuel home again," the innkeeper said as we walked slowly up the stairs to the room I had rented. "It's only a shame it took his father's death for him to return."

  "Is the funeral going to be a public or private affair?"

  "A public service will be held at St. Catherine's. That's the church on the hill you would have seen after you left the station. A private one will be held just for the family and guests too, I expect, then he'll be buried in St. Catherine's graveyard. Are you going, miss?"

  "I'll attend the public funeral. I'm an acquaintance of the family."

  He arched a brow. "Acquaintance, eh?"

  "I work at Claridge’s. The Galdstones stay at the hotel whenever they're in the city and I've gotten to know them well. I wanted to pay my respects to poor Mr. Gladstone." It was a terrible lie and I suspected he saw right through it, but he had the decency not to say so. He probably pegged me to be the mistress of one of the Gladstone men. No respectable young woman traveled unaccompanied.

  "How is the family holding up?" I asked.

  He paused outside one of the doors along the corridor and set down my valise. "They're as well as can be expected, considering the blow. He was a healthy man, Mr. Gladstone. He could have lived for years."

  "So unlike Mr. Albert," I said with a sad shake of my head.

  "Aye."

  "Has his health always been poor?"

  "Aye, ever since he was born he's been sickly. Not like his brother. Strapping lad is Mr. Samuel. Full of life."

  "He is," I agreed. "It's as if he has compensated for his brother's lack of vitality and is determined always to be happy."

  "Now, I wouldn't go saying that." He unlocked the door and handed me the key. "Mr. Samuel's had his darker moments."

  "Yes, of course." I frowned. "There was that difficult time when he was banished from London. We did miss him at Claridge’s. He'd been such a frequent visitor before that."

  "Your loss was our gain," he said, smiling.

  "Do you know why he was banished?" I leaned closer, conspiratorial. "The hotel staff said it was something to do with a woman."

  "I wouldn't know anything about Mr. Samuel's women," he said with a laugh that made his jowls wobble.

  I took a chance and pressed a florin into his palm. He pocketed it.

  "All I do know is the family weren't the same afterwards," he said, glancing back the way we came. "They retreated into the big house and had few visitors. Not even other family members came to visit."

  "It sounds very lonely, particularly for someone like Mr. Samuel. There were no visitors at all, you say?"

  "Aunts, uncles, cousins—they used to visit all the time beforehand, but that stopped when Mr. Samuel came home in shame. It wasn't until he was sent off to University College that they returned for hunting and parties. It's like…it's like they were afraid of him," he murmured, frowning. "Strange, really. He's the most likeable one of the lot. Can't think what he could have done to make them fearful."

  "Did any relatives visit at all while he was home?"

  He pursed his lips in thought. "Only a cousin or two."

  "Oh yes, those ladies? What are their names again?"

  "Not ladies, miss. Gentlemen, both of them." He indicated the room. "You'll find it comfortable enough. Dinner is served in the dining room downstairs until eight and breakfast is from six. Let me or the wife know if there's something you need."

  I thanked him, even though I was hardly aware of speaking. My mind still reeled with what he'd just inadvertently told me. Not only had Samuel indeed been banished from London for a period of time, he'd also done something that frightened women only. The pattern fit with Bert's accusation.

  I spent much of the evening sewing black crepe to the cuffs and collar of my dress and hat. It could be removed easily enough afterwards and set aside until needed again.

  The following morning I headed up to the church early and found a seat at the back, in the corner. The congregation trickled in over the next hour. The church was full by the time the family arrived. It was easy to pick them out with their elegant, well-cut clothes and tall hats. There were quite a few of them, elderly and young alike. They watched as Mrs. Gladstone, Samuel and Bert slowly made their way to the front. I didn't watch them throughout the service, or afterwards as we filed out of the little old stone church into the drizzling rain. I kept my gaze on the cousins, aunts and uncles. What I learned from simple observation worried me further.

  The young females, probably cousins, chatted with Samuel and, occasionally with Bert. Some flirted shamelessly, being overtly friendly when offering their sympathies. There was simply no need to press oneself against him at his father's funeral. All were quickly whisked away by hovering mothers and fathers as soon as the parents noticed. The young gentlemen were not.

  It would seem the elder members of the family knew the details of the scandal, the younger ones didn't. My observations strengthened Bert's claim. But how could Samuel have done…that? He wasn't violent. He wasn't desperate for female attention, either. Yet clearly he'd done something that made the family want to keep the young ladies at a distanc
e. Surely he wouldn't hypnotize a girl against her will and then…

  No. Not Samuel. I didn't trust him, but—

  Wait. I didn't trust him.

  I blinked through my veil and stared at him as he held an umbrella over his mother and accepted condolences from the villagers. There were two reasons why I didn't trust him. Firstly, I was naturally distrustful of charming men. Secondly, I didn't trust him because he was capable of hypnotizing accidentally; I'd almost been a victim myself. And when a woman was hypnotized by Samuel, she took an even greater liking to him. He could do whatever he wanted with her and she'd be willing while she was hypnotized. Afterwards, she might regret her actions. Afterwards, she could claim he coerced her.

  The world tilted. My mind reeled. I pressed my hand against the cool, damp stones of the church wall to steady myself. Samuel may have been guilty of rape after all. I wasn't sure if it would have been considered that in his eyes at the time, but I think even he would have realized the crime he'd committed later on.

  I lifted my gaze to him and was surprised to see him staring at me, a frown drawing his brows together. He couldn't have known it was me, thanks to the heavy veil covering my face, but I hurried off anyway. I didn't want to see him. Didn't want him to approach me and lift the veil and see the horror and fear in my eyes. I'd always been cautious of him, but now real fear clutched my insides. Samuel may not intentionally have hurt anyone, but he had great capacity to unintentionally cause injury. And I had the scars to prove that I'd borne enough injury in my life.

  I reached the churchyard gate before Samuel intercepted me. "Charity." His voice startled me, even though I'd heard him approach. He came up alongside me. He didn't touch me, didn't take my arm and force me to look at him.

  I kept walking.

  He maintained the same pace. "Charity, I know it's you. Please, stop. If you don't, I'll have to follow you and leave my own father's funeral."

  I stopped. "That was unfair," I said, rounding on him. The sight of him made my heart hammer harder and brought my fears rushing back again. I edged away.

  He shrugged one shoulder. "I think I've forgotten how to play by the rules."

  Despite my fear, the sight of him tugged at my heart. The profound change in him was marked. He may have been clean shaved and wearing a suit, but he somehow looked even more ragged than usual. The lines around his eyes were made darker and deeper by the shadows circling them. The inner corners were blood red, the whites duller. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, and the muscles in his jaw jumped. He seemed not to know what to do with his arms, either. He folded them over his chest then let them hang loosely at his sides before putting them behind him. If I didn't know him, I'd have thought him mad or well on the way to it.

  A madman was capable of doing terrible things.

  I dampened my rising fear. We were in a public place. Nothing would happen. I glanced past him to see his mother, brother, Ebony and several others staring back at us, curious frowns on their brows. They wanted to know who was the mysterious woman beneath the veil.

  "How did you know it was me?" I asked.

  "I'd know you anywhere even if you wore a sack over your head." Despite the madness in his eyes, his voice was perfectly smooth and rich.

  A little thrill of tingles washed through me at the sound of it. I shook them off and forced myself to concentrate. "You ought to get back," I said. "It's best if they don't know it's me you're talking to."

  He moved, blocking my line of sight to his family. "You're right," he said quickly. "You should go. Don't let them see you." He gave my shoulder a little shove.

  I blinked at him. Why the sudden change of heart? He'd asked me to marry him mere days ago, so why did he not want me near now? I'd been dreading being discovered because I was afraid he'd try to force me into the family fold where I was neither wanted nor wanted to be. It seemed I had nothing to fear on that score.

  "I'll come see you later," he said, glancing over his shoulder at his family. "Are you staying at the Stag and Huntsman?"

  "I'll be gone later," I lied. My train didn't leave until the following day. "Stay with your family. They need you."

  "And I need you." He didn't shout, but his voice slammed into me as if he had. It was dark, desperate and edged with steel. "Charity, please, don't leave without seeing me."

  "I'm seeing you now," I said, trying hard to ignore my twin fears—fear for his sanity and fear of him hypnotizing me.

  "It's not enough. Christ." He removed his hat and dragged his hand through his hair. The ends were damp from the rain. "You're right. You have to go. Leave the village as soon as possible. Go back to Frakingham where you're safe."

  "Safe? There's a demon there!"

  "Go!"

  He shifted again, impatient to get away, or more precisely, for me to leave. I didn't understand it, but I was dealing with a man on the edge of madness. I wasn't sure anyone could understand him while he was in this state.

  I was about to move off when a figure caught my eye. A tall, thin man bent over Mrs. Gladstone's hand. "What's Myer doing here?" I said before I could check myself.

  Samuel turned to look just as his mother snapped her hand out of Myer's. Her face wrinkled in what looked like disgust or perhaps hatred. She turned her cheek to him, dismissing him. He bowed and walked off. She did not spare him another glance.

  "Why indeed?" Samuel said quietly. "He must want to pass on his sympathies. He did say he was an acquaintance of my father's."

  And probably of his mother's, too. "But the nerve of him being here when his demon killed your father."

  "He didn't summon the demon."

  I frowned. "How can you know that for sure?"

  His pupils dilated. He ground the heel of his hand into his temple as if trying to push away a thought. "Go, Charity. Please, get yourself far away from here. I'll see you at Frakingham."

  I left. I didn't want to stay anyway. As curious as I was about Myer's presence, I wanted to get away from Samuel and every other Gladstone. I hurried back to the Stag and Huntsman and looked out the window at St. Catherine's on the hill.

  What had happened in just a few shorts days to push Samuel closer to the abyss of madness? Did it have anything to do with why he wanted me to leave quickly? Or did it have something to do with what he'd done in his past?

  Perhaps it was both. Perhaps he knew he couldn't trust himself not to hypnotize me and control himself while I was under that hypnosis.

  I didn't get a chance to explore those thoughts further. A knock on my door announced a visitor. It must be him. He was the only one who knew I was in the village.

  "Who is it?" I called through the door.

  "Open up at once," came the clipped tones of Mrs. Gladstone. "Or I'll have the innkeeper open the door for me."

  CHAPTER 9

  Mrs. Gladstone charged into my room like an ominous cloud as soon as I'd opened the door a crack. She still wore her widow's weeds, a stiff little veil skimming her chin. She was alone.

  "How did you know I was here?" I asked, shutting the door and rounding on her. I refused to be intimidated by this woman. I had nothing to fear from her.

  She seated herself on the chair by the window and raised the veil. The glare she fixed on me could have frozen a desert in summer. "I'm no fool. My son runs off to speak to a tall, willowy woman and returns with madness in his eyes. It could only be you."

  So she considered me the one responsible for his state of mind. I couldn't argue with that. "I came to express my sympathies. I hoped to remain anonymous."

  She made a miffed sound through her nose. "You are not the sort of woman who can go about unnoticed, Miss Evans, even with your face covered."

  I wasn't sure how to take that, so I said nothing. I remained standing by the door. There were no other chairs in the small room and I didn't want to sit on the bed. It seemed inappropriate somehow.

  "Let's be frank with one another, Miss Evans. I want you to leave the village in the morning."


  "I am. My train ticket is in my reticule."

  She blinked rapidly. "Very well. Good. I admit to being surprised. I thought you'd remain to torment us."

  "Mrs. Gladstone, I have no reason to torment you. I want only what you want—for Samuel to have a happy life."

  The tiny lines around her mouth pinched together. "Then why come at all?"

  I couldn't answer that truthfully without giving away my curiosity over Samuel's stint in Newgate. What I could do was try to inadvertently get some answers out of her now that she was here. "I hoped to observe Samuel's family, as it turns out."

  "Observe us? Are you a scientist, Miss Evans? Are we an experiment?"

  "I'm no scientist, but I do have an interest in the unexplained. Strange phenomena pique my curiosity to a point that I cannot sleep until I know how and why something happens."

  Her face changed as I spoke my little lie. She seemed to age several years. Her cheeks and jowls sagged, her eyes drooped. The superior manner vanished. "You belong to the society?" she whispered.

  "No."

  That seemed to relieve her a little. Once again she looked me in the eye. "You're curious about Samuel."

  "Yes. His ability to hypnotize is not something I've come across before, although I now know that Mr. Myer also possesses the talent."

  "It's not a talent," she said, curling her lip upon the final word.

  "My interest in Samuel is purely that. Curiosity."

  "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

  Because I hadn't thought of it then. "I wasn't sure if you or your husband were prepared to admit that Samuel could hypnotize. I rather thought it was something you wanted to sweep under the rug."

  She dabbed at the corner of her eye with her handkerchief despite it being dry. "The inexplicable might be a curiosity to you, Miss Evans. To us, it's a cross to bear. I don't expect you to understand how traumatic Samuel's hypnosis is for us."