by C. J. Archer
I wanted to cradle him as he fought the emotions he must be feeling. Wanted to tell him that he mustn't let his family's faults cause him grief. He was hurting—and I could do nothing except watch.
Myer cleared his throat and glanced at the doorway. I looked around, but there was nobody there. Not even Tommy entered with our tea yet.
"What I don't understand is why the note from you, Mr. Myer, was found in Mr. Gladstone's fireplace?" I said. "Why did Bert give it to his father? Or did Mr. Gladstone find it in Bert's possession? No," I said, answering my own question. "That can't be right. He was already dead when you wrote that note to Bert."
Once more Myer cleared his throat.
"My God. We have it wrong, don't we?" I whispered, as a few more pieces of the puzzle fell into place.
Samuel looked up. His stricken gaze tore strips off Myer as if he could peel back the lies to uncover the truth.
Myer flattened his tie and again glanced at the doorway. This time, someone entered: Mrs. Gladstone. She looked just as distraught as her son as she met his gaze with her own. She clutched the lace collar at her throat as if it were too tight.
"Don't blame your brother," she choked out. "It's not his fault. It's your father's."
Samuel held up his hands as if he were warding off the information as it assaulted him. "Father summoned the demon?"
She nodded. He looked to Myer and he nodded too. Then he looked to me. All I could do was blink back at him, even though I wanted to offer comfort.
"That's why no one could control it," I said. "He summoned the demon, but it killed him and the creature was left masterless."
"Why did he want to bring it here?" Samuel asked, his voice hollow.
Mrs. Gladstone's gaze flicked to Myer. Oh God. I think I knew why, but I would not say. I would not be the one to tell Samuel. That responsibility belonged to his mother. She'd created this mess and it was time she ended it.
Mrs. Gladstone stood with her back to the fireplace, her hands twisted into a knot in front of her. She looked small against the large mantel, her face bloodless against the polished black wood. "He wanted it to attack Mr. Myer," she said matter-of-factly.
Myer didn't flinch or look at all surprised by her accusation. He must already have known, or suspected.
"Why?" Samuel asked.
Mrs. Gladstone drew in a deep breath and her gaze fixed on a point a little to Samuel's left. "Because many years ago, when I used to join the Frakingham Philosophers for discussions and so forth, Mr. Myer here…encouraged me to set aside my marital vows."
I gaped at her. My breath left my body.
"What?" Samuel exploded. His face reddened and his eyes flashed. He suddenly launched out of his chair in complete disregard for his injuries and grabbed Myer by the collar. "I'll kill you," he snarled. "I'll bloody kill you."
CHAPTER 17
Myer's face turned mottled. His eyes bulged. His mouth opened and shut like that of a dying fish on the dock. Spittle collected in the corner and he scrabbled at Samuel's hand, clawing and dragging to no effect.
"Samuel! Stop it!" Mrs. Gladstone snapped from her position by the fire.
Samuel didn't let go and the color of Myer's face deepened to a dangerous purple. I went to him and stood very close where he couldn't fail to notice me. I rested my hand on his shoulder.
"Samuel," I said, firm but not loud. "Let him go. Come and sit with me."
My voice seemed to have an effect. The muscles beneath my hand shifted a little, relaxing. He loosed his grip and Myer gasped in a deep breath.
I took Samuel's other hand in mine and closed my fingers firmly around it. He let go of Myer completely and backed away with me to the sofa. We sat together, still holding hands. I wanted to let go…yet I didn't want to, either. Touching him felt important somehow, like I was his anchor in a raging storm. He needed me and, for now, I would be there for him.
He did not take his gaze off Myer, however, as Myer sat back down and adjusted his tie. His color had almost returned to normal, but he kept his wary gaze on Samuel as if he expected him to leap up again at any moment.
"If you had let me speak," he said in a dry, rasping voice, "you would have heard me say that nothing came of it. Mrs. Gladstone was…intent on finding answers to her eldest son's illness. She was also already with child. Her mind was occupied with other thoughts."
"You didn't hypnotize her?" I challenged.
He shook his head and since she didn't protest, I assumed he told the truth.
"Mr. Gladstone found out about this?" I asked. Samuel seemed incapable of speech, so I felt it was up to me to find out the truth. "Is that why he wanted Myer dead?"
Mrs. Gladstone gave a single, stiff nod. "I was reluctant to come to Frakingham again to retrieve Samuel. My memories of this place are troubled. My husband wanted to know why."
I felt Samuel's fingers twitch inside mine. I tightened my grip and received a wide-eyed blink in return.
"I didn't tell him at first, but he remembered my philosophical gatherings here all those years ago," she went on. "He continued to press me with questions because he seemed to know that something specific had troubled me. Eventually he hit on the right question to ask and I was unable to lie well enough for him to believe me. He blamed the wrong man at first. He thought Lord Frakingham tried to…" She turned her face away as if the thought disgusted her. "It wasn't until we arrived here and he saw my reaction to Mr. Myer that he put two and two together."
"Not that I tried to renew my attentions," Myer protested, his hands in the air.
Samuel bared his teeth and Myer snapped his mouth shut.
"Is that why he wrote to Mr. Butterworth?" I asked. "To discover more?"
Mrs. Gladstone nodded. "That was before I told him everything."
"There was nothing in the letter alluding to…that time," Myer said. "I suspect it was merely an attempt to form an acquaintance."
"But you found that letter and had Mrs. Butterworth destroy it for you," I said to Myer. "Then you hypnotized Mr. Butterworth so he couldn't recall its contents. Why, if it was innocent?"
"It linked me to Gladstone. After he summoned the demon, I wanted our connection to remain hidden. I knew what conclusions you would jump to."
Mrs. Gladstone cleared her throat. "Unbeknown to me, my husband paid Mr. Myer a visit in the village after we arrived and Mr. Myer gave him the amulet."
"You just gave it to him?" Samuel asked, incredulous.
"It wasn't like that," Myer said hotly. "He came to me at the Butterworths' and asked me about the supernatural. He seemed to have quite an interest in the topic. I can assure you, he had some rudimentary knowledge, particularly hypnosis, naturally. Not once did he accuse me of befriending his wife. I had no idea that he even knew. He was very jolly and asked me many questions about my work. Indeed, he was so interested that he requested some evidence of the supernatural. I showed him my readings from the ruins, my book of notes, et cetera. I produced the amulet too, since he became quite curious when I mentioned the demon problems you had at Christmas."
Samuel squeezed his forehead between his thumb and forefinger. "Fool," he muttered.
Myer cleared his throat. "Perhaps I was. In my defense, he was very convincing. I thought he might like to join the society, so I left him to fetch paper and writing implements to write down my address."
"He took the amulet," I said.
"And tore out a page of my notebook," Myer said with a click of his tongue. "The page with the summons written on it."
Samuel groaned and closed his eyes.
"I'm surprised the Butterworths didn't mention this visit," I said. "Did you place a memory block on them?"
"I couldn't have them knowing so much," Myer said. "Those two are not true believers. Not even Mrs. Butterworth. Talk of the supernatural would only alarm them."
Vile man. "Then, that evening, Mr. Gladstone summoned it in the hope it would attack you." I frowned. "But you weren't down at the ruins that night. Had yo
u informed him that you would be and changed your mind at the last moment?"
Myer shook his head and would not meet my gaze.
"Then why did he summon it at all? Did he not know that it would manifest near him and not you?"
He looked to Mrs. Gladstone. She merely lowered her veil over her face and said nothing.
"Because he didn't want to kill Myer," Samuel said. He swore and rubbed his hand over his face. "He wanted to kill himself and have Myer blamed for it."
"We don't know that," Mrs. Gladstone said quickly.
"But it's possible," Samuel said. "That's why you didn't tell me any of this earlier. That's why you've asked Myer not to tell me about the meeting with Father. You've tried to protect me from the fact that you think he wanted to end his own life."
"It may not be true." She dabbed at her eyes through the veil with a black handkerchief. "It may have been an accident. We don't know for certain, but you're right. That's why I didn't want you to know that he summoned it himself. I didn't want you and Bert thinking it for even a moment."
Samuel merely grunted. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, although I could feel how rigid he was through our linked hands.
"Your father wasn't himself in those last few days," she went on. "He worried that you may never come home. He worried about Bert's health, and then the jealousy of finding out about…" She waved her hand. "I suspect it all became overwhelming. I prefer to think that he felt as if he had to act to remove one of those obstacles."
"Me," Myer said, stretching his neck out of his collar. It was still a little red from where Samuel had tried to strangle him. "Even if he didn't send it to kill me, he might have wanted to end his own life and lay the blame at my feet."
"I simply wanted to keep your memory of your father intact," Mrs. Gladstone told Samuel. "He was a good man. He loved you both."
"He had an odd way of showing it," Samuel bit off.
I could see how the building pressure from so many forces could make a man act irrationally. Particularly a man like Mr. Gladstone, who was used to being in control and wielding power over those around him. I suspected he'd begun to feel quite powerless and that must have frightened him. Finding out about Myer and his wife could have tipped him over the edge.
I looked at Samuel out of the corner of my eye. He lowered his head and seemed to be taking it all in. He still held my hand as if it were a natural thing to do. To my surprise, his mother said nothing about it. She seemed distracted, lost in her memories and worries.
"I found the amulet in the pocket of the waistcoat he was wearing that day," she went on. "I didn't know what it was, at the time. Indeed, not until you confronted me here, only a few days ago, Samuel. I thought it was a trinket he'd bought and hadn't gotten around to giving me, although it was quite an unusual looking piece."
And when Samuel had found it in her things, he'd never questioned her about it. Just assumed she'd been the one to use it.
"What about the note, Mr. Myer?" I asked. "Why did you write it and send it to Mr. Gladstone? When did you?"
"I realized a short time after he left the Butterworths' house that he'd taken the amulet. I hadn't noticed the missing page, so didn't realize he possessed all the tools to summon it. I thought he was harmless. A thief, but harmless. I wrote him that note and had it sent up here as a warning, of sorts. I hoped he would return the amulet under his own volition, without me confronting him. But then the worst happened after all, and he died before I could speak to him about it."
"And why didn't you tell us what he'd done immediately?"
"Mrs. Gladstone asked me not to, for the same reason she herself kept silent. Because she didn't want her sons thinking ill of their father and that he may have summoned it to end his own life. I can only apologize for misleading you all. I hope I can be forgiven." He looked to Samuel, but Samuel didn't respond. He continued to stare down at the rug.
"I don't think your research is under threat," I told him. "Perhaps, Mr. Myer, you and I should leave." I tried to unlink my fingers from Samuel's, but he wouldn't let go. "Samuel," I said gently. "You ought to speak to your mother alone."
He lifted his face and blinked weary, watery eyes at me. "Charity…thank you." He untangled his hand from mine and gave me a flat smile.
Myer and I left them alone and shut the library door.
***
I managed to avoid Samuel for the rest of the day. I warred with myself over whether I should go to him and talk to him about what his father had done, but decided not to. My feelings where he was concerned were mixed, confusing. Yet I worried about his state of mind, and so sent Sylvia up to his room to see him.
She returned and reported that he was the same as always—a little morose, quiet and sick of his mother's hovering. He didn't ask after me.
I sent Tommy up too. He returned and said the same things.
Good. I was glad Samuel didn't ask for me. Perhaps he was cured of his affection. Perhaps he was focusing on his recovery. I refused to feel put out by it. After all, I had no one but myself to blame, since it was exactly what I wanted.
The following day I weakened. I told myself I needed to see if he was coming to terms with all that his mother had told him. In truth, I just wanted to see him. I finally summoned enough courage around noon, just after a letter arrived for him from his brother.
"What do you think it said?" I asked Sylvia, not fifteen minutes after its arrival, as we completed another music lesson. Tommy had come in to tell us about the letter before taking it upstairs. I'd been on tenterhooks since.
"Go and ask," she said.
"I can't."
"Why not? You're not afraid of his mother, are you?"
"Certainly not."
"You're still afraid of him?"
I smoothed my skirt over my lap. "I…I don't want to encourage his affections by visiting him."
"Charity," she said on a sigh. "I've visited him and nobody thinks I'm encouraging his affections. Go on." She gave me a little shove in the arm. "Go and see him. I'd wager he needs a distraction."
I smothered a smile and did as I was told. Upstairs, Samuel's door was open and his mother hovered in the doorway, her back to the corridor. I remained several feet away, to see if she was coming or going. In truth, I wasn't sure if I wanted her there or not. On the one hand, I didn't want a confrontation with her, but on the other, nothing could happen with her present. Samuel could neither try to seduce me nor hypnotize me.
So I stood there, paralyzed.
"I'm not at all sure about this," Mrs. Gladstone said, her voice reaching me.
"Mother, he needs you more than I do now. I'm recovering while his health worsens. He says so, plain as can be."
I bit my lip. What would he do if he learned that Sylvia and I orchestrated the letter from Bert? Perhaps he would be pleased that we freed him from his mother, the dragon. I hoped.
"Very well," I heard her mutter. "But Samuel, I know there is the unspoken thing between us."
"Don't," he said.
"I have to."
I winced and wished I could walk away and not listen to them discuss his father's behavior again, or his mother's liaison with Myer. Yet I couldn't. I was rooted to the spot. I strained to listen to their voices.
"Don't do anything foolish with her," she said.
Her? Did she mean me? I was the unspoken thing between them?
"I said don't," he snapped. "I'm a grown man. Let me settle my own affairs."
"I will, yes. But let my sorry situation be a lesson to you. Her future husband and your future wife won't thank you if something happens now between you. Those sorts of…connections cannot be undone. It may come back to haunt you. Both of you. Think of that, Samuel, before you run headlong into an affaire de coeur. "
"You have it all wrong, Mother. I have no wish to have an affaire. I wish to marry her."
Oh Samuel. My heart sank. My throat closed. He sounded so determined too. Part of me wished things could be different
and I wasn't so afraid of him. But the other part cowered in fear. How far would he go to make his assertion a reality?
Mrs. Gladstone sighed. "My darling boy. Be reasonable and think of her, for once, instead of your own selfish desires."
"I am!"
"She would be subject to ridicule and gossip, not only by your friends but by your family, too. You, of all people, know how important it is to maintain a certain face or be ravaged by their cruel tongues."
"I don't care for gossipers. Nor does she. We'll go away from here and London. I'll protect her."
My heart lurched in my chest. Tears burned the backs of my eyes. Oh Samuel….
"What makes you think she wants to leave her life? Her school? She seems rather settled there, by all accounts."
It was odd that a woman who could hardly stand to be in my presence knew me better than the man who professed to love me.
"Besides," she went on, "I've come to believe that even she knows that being with you is an uphill battle, and not worth fighting for."
"I beg to differ," he growled.
She didn't say anything further, but emerged fully from the doorway. She saw me and stopped, but did not give away my presence to Samuel. Instead, she closed his door and made her way toward me.
"You heard that," she said. It wasn't a question.
I nodded. "Thank you," I said in a shaky voice. "For putting it succinctly and without prejudice."
She inclined her head in a nod. There was no softness in her eyes, no gentle motherliness. She could have been speaking to a shop assistant or servant. Or a teacher, who'd once been little better than a whore. "I don't hate you, Miss Evans."
"Thank you," I said wryly.
"I see that you can be considerate and kind. I see that the Langleys like you. But that doesn't mean you can dig your claws into my son. There is no possible way there can be a union between the two of you."
"I know that. You even said yourself that I knew. I have no interest in marrying Samuel."
She gave another brief nod. "Then I wish to add one more thing. If you care for him at all, do not offer to…comfort him, after he's married."
