Seared With Scars (The 2nd Freak House Trilogy)

by C. J. Archer

  "He's a good man," I said. "But he's not for me. You're right. We would be wrong for one another." I looked to where the ruins and lake lay in the distance. I couldn't see Samuel, but I knew he was there. "He'll understand that, one day."

  "Good," he said cheerfully. "Then there is nothing standing in his way of marrying Ebony except a broken heart. I have it on good authority that they mend in time."

  I said nothing. His jauntiness seemed out of place and didn't sit well with me.

  "As long as it doesn't take too long." His tone had turned serious.

  I frowned at him. "Why the urgency?"

  "My health," he said on a breath. "It worsens."

  I should have said something uplifting or tell him that he looked healthy enough to me, but I suspected he would see through the lies. "Is there nothing that can be done?" I asked.

  "Various medical practitioners have been consulted and they all say it will finish me. It's the when that they can't agree on. But I suspect it's probably months rather than years."

  "Oh," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

  "Our parents would like one of us settled in a good marriage with children. It cannot be me so it's up to Samuel to continue the Gladstone line," he quipped.

  I said nothing. Indeed, there was not much to say to such grave news.

  "It's also why we want him to come home. It's time he learned estate business."

  "Then why send him away to university at all?"

  "Because he caused too much trouble. He was too idle, too mischievous, and too well liked by…well, by everyone." He cleared his throat, but that only led to a coughing fit that had him doubling over to suppress it. I stood politely by and waited until it ended.

  "He went to prison," I said, hoping to get some answers out of him.

  "You know about that?"

  I nodded.

  "Do you know what for?" he asked.

  "No."

  He started walking again. "Good. It's better that you don't. Better for everyone."

  Damnation. It would seem I would forever be in the dark on Samuel's secrets. It was quite unfair, since he knew mine.

  "Miss Evans," Bert said, stopping once more beside a deliciously scented rose.

  "Call me Charity."

  "Charity." He smiled weakly. "I'm glad we met. If nothing else, I now understand my brother's infatuation with you." His eyes dipped. His gaze slipped down my length then up again, feverishly hot.

  I took a step back, startled. I wasn't sure how to take his words or stare. Was he being vulgar or paying me a compliment? I didn't know him well enough to understand his meaning.

  "I hope you won't be keeping to your room for the duration of our visit," he said. "I'd like to speak to you again."

  "I doubt we'll see much of each other. It's too uncomfortable for everyone."

  He gave a small bow then headed back to the house. I followed a few minutes later and returned to my room without running into anyone.

  ***

  I ate luncheon and dinner in my room. No one questioned whether my excuse of a headache was genuine. I read a book and wrote letters to the children at the school, and watched the world go by outside. Mr. Gladstone rode off on a horse and returned late in the afternoon looking somber and distracted. His wife went for a walk to the ruins. My only visitor was Sylvia and that was to ask my opinion on which dress she ought to wear to dinner. Not even Samuel came to see me. He'd been avoiding me ever since I'd turned down his marriage proposal. I couldn't blame him for that.

  Sylvia peeped in again later as she headed to her room. "I'm going to bed," she said. "The party has dispersed for the evening."

  "How was it?" I asked. "Did Samuel make another scene?"

  "He refused to eat with us. It would seem you both have headaches tonight."

  I wish he'd been more civil. I couldn't bear to be the cause of his estrangement from his family any longer. I should speak to him again and reiterate my position. This time I would be more forceful and direct. He had to be made to see that pursuing me was futile.

  "Good night," she said. "See you in the morning. Let's hope they leave before luncheon."

  "Indeed."

  I got ready for bed and went to close the curtains. A light knock on my door had me halting before I reached them. It could only be Sylvia again, or perhaps Samuel being a little too bold.

  "Who is it?" I said through the closed door.

  "Bert."

  I blinked. What was he doing here so late?

  "Can I come in?" he asked. "I wish to speak to you about Samuel. Something's come up. Something troubling."

  I fetched my wrap and flung it around my shoulders then opened the door. Bert looked handsome, dressed in his dinner suit. His skin didn't look quite so awful in the poor light.

  "I'm sorry to bother you so late." He glanced past me, clearly wanting to be invited in.

  I hesitated. My old fears resurfaced, sending heat prickling my skin. I shouldn't be afraid. This was not the master. Bert was an ill man and the brother of a friend. Yet still I hesitated.

  "I spoke to Samuel before dinner," he went on. "I want to tell you what he said, but not out here." He glanced left and right along the corridor.

  I stepped aside and he entered. I left the door open, but he shut it. I moved back toward the window, away from the bed, keeping him in sight. Being with the master had taught me that. Keep him in view, watch for subtle movements and there will be no surprises when he came for you.

  Bert didn't come for me. He remained near the door and smiled. It didn't touch his lackluster eyes. "I know this is awkward and I'll be brief."

  "Is Samuel all right?"

  "Hmmm? Oh, I suppose so. I haven't seen him this evening." He held up his hands. "I confess. That was a ruse to get you to let me in."

  My heart struck up a wild rhythm. My limbs felt as limp as jelly. I put my hand to the windowsill to steady myself. It was happening all over again.

  "Don't be afraid," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you. I probably couldn't, anyway. I'm not as strong as I used to be." He chuckled, but I didn't see how it was amusing. He'd tricked his way into my room. No gentleman did that.

  "Don't come near me or I'll scream," I snapped.

  "I just told you I won't hurt you. There's no need for hysterics. Besides, I doubt anyone will believe that you were being led astray by me."

  I bit my lip and tasted blood. I hated to acknowledge it, but he was right. Not even Sylvia or Tommy would think me innocent of seducing Bert. Only Samuel might, since he knew from my memories that the very idea abhorred and frightened me. How ironic that the man I'd rejected was the one who could defend me. It would have been laughable if it weren't so sad.

  "Now," he said, stepping closer. "I have a proposal for you." Another step closer, and another.

  "Please stop," I whispered. I felt sick. I couldn't breathe, could barely hold myself upright. I gripped the window frame so hard that my fingers hurt.

  He didn't seem to hear me. He came right up to me. I could smell his hair wax and the stale, dank scent of a sick man. "We both know you're in this for the money."

  I couldn't respond, even though I wanted to tell him he was wrong. My tongue was too tied up to form words.

  "I like you," he went on. "You're a beautiful thing." His gaze raked down my body, like it had done that afternoon. Why hadn't I realized then what he wanted? "My current mistress is a sweet girl, but she's nothing like you." He touched my cheek, my throat. "You can take her place. I'm not very demanding, what with this bloody pathetic body and all, and I pay damned well. So what do you say?"

  I somehow managed to shake my head. I only hoped it was convincing enough.

  "There's no fear of complications." He stretched his neck as if his collar rubbed the skin. "The doctors say I cannot have children." His face colored, and I wondered how humiliating it had been for him to tell me that.

  "Nevertheless, my answer is no." I'd almost added "no thank you," but stopped myself. Old habits
were hard to break, but I would not thank him for his offer.

  He clicked his tongue. "Stop being difficult. If it's Samuel you're holding out for, then you're wasting your time. Despite what he says, he won't marry you. Father won't allow it and Samuel can't afford to be cut off. Besides, he knows what being saddled to a woman like you could do to his reputation. He's no romantic fool."

  I let him prattle on. He said nothing that I didn't already know, but it still hurt to hear him confirm it. Although I'd rejected Samuel, a part of me liked being his love interest. A very big part. A part I must deny.

  "Bloody hell, Charity!" It would seem all pretense of gentlemanly behavior had been dropped. He huffed out a long, frustrated breath. "Stop holding out for him. He won't pay you. He's much too used to getting women for free. Did you know that?" His eyes brightened as he latched onto a new tactic. "He's had many women. Dozens upon dozens, is my guess. Many of them a better class of girl than you, my dear, although none so pretty."

  "I don't want his money," I muttered. "I don't want anything from him."

  "Nonsense. I know your type. You want it all—marriage, money, the estate. You know he'll inherit after I'm gone so you got your claws into him early."

  "I only discovered you were ill recently, whereas I've known Samuel for months. Now, please leave my room."

  His nostrils flared. "Stupid girl. You're a mere dalliance for him. A trifle."

  "I want nothing from your brother. I want nothing from your family. Now go. Please," I added, my voice trembling.

  Perhaps it was that tremble which made him step back. Or perhaps he simply remembered himself. Despite his apparent retreat, I did not relax. I couldn't. I was wound up too tight.

  "He'll discard you just like he discarded the others." When I didn't respond, he shook his head, sadly. "My offer will remain standing until I no longer have need of a mistress. Good evening."

  He left. As soon as the door clicked shut, I slid to the floor and held my shawl tighter at my chest. As determined as I was not to cry, a few tears of relief escaped. I sat huddled against the wall, wondering why I'd been cursed. What had I done to attract the advances of men like the master and, on a lesser scale, Bert? Years ago, I'd enjoyed the notice of gentlemen. Not anymore. Now I abhorred it.

  I got to my feet and went to draw the curtains. Two figures below caught my eye. The moonlight glinted off one blond head and one gray. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out Samuel's athletic build and his father's sturdier one. They stood a little apart on the gravel path cutting through the formal garden. While Samuel paced up and down, occasionally throwing his hands in the air or dragging them through his hair, his father kept his back to his son and stood as solid as an oak tree.

  Then, after a few more excruciating moments of being snubbed by his son, Mr. Gladstone turned and said something to Samuel over his shoulder. Samuel shook his head then stormed off, away from the house. I lost sight of him in the darkness. His father remained where he was.

  I closed the curtains and climbed into bed. The events of the evening had unsettled me and I couldn't sleep. The sooner the Gladstones left, the better. It would seem Samuel was the only likeable one among them.

  All the more reason that I couldn't accept his proposal and drag him down to my level.

  ***

  I first realized something was amiss when the maid arrived with my breakfast. Her hands shook as she set the tray down on the table by the window and glanced nervously at me.

  I sat up in bed and blinked gritty, tired eyes. "Is everything all right, Maud?"

  She glanced at the window, piquing my curiosity further. What was happening outside that made her nervous? "It's so awful," she whispered, approaching the bed.

  I sat up straighter and held out my hand to her. She seemed in need of comfort. When she took it, I knew something was terribly wrong. Other than Tommy, the staff had been wary of me. They didn't treat me with the same formality as they treated the regular residents, but they didn't talk to me like I was one of them, either. In their eyes, I was neither worthy of a higher status nor an equal one, yet they couldn't treat me lower to my face.

  Maud seemed to forget all of that as she sat on the edge of my bed and clutched my hand as if it were a lifeline. "It's Mr. Gladstone," she whispered.

  "What about him?"

  She swallowed and blinked back tears. "He's dead."

  CHAPTER 3

  I felt like I would slide off the bed and onto the floor. I let go of Maud's hand and bunched the bed linen in my fist to steady myself. "Which Mr. Gladstone are you referring to?" I croaked. Oh God, please don't let it be Samuel.

  "Senior."

  I fell back against the pillows and shut my eyes. Relief clogged my throat and upset my stomach.

  "Are you all right, Miss?" Maud asked.

  I nodded. "Just…shocked. How did he die?"

  "That's the awful thing. He was mauled by a wild dog."

  "Good lord!"

  "It's happened before. Freak House is plagued by the creatures. Or cursed, more like. We all thought it was behind us though." She shivered violently. "I can't believe it's happening again."

  An urgent knock on the door preceded Sylvia bursting in. "Get up, Charity. Something's— Maud! You're here." Her gaze switched from the maid to me. "You already know?"

  I nodded.

  Maud rose, bobbed a curtsy then hurried out.

  "I wish she'd waited for me to break the news," Sylvia said, sitting on the spot Maud had vacated. "Isn't it awful? I didn't like the man, but I didn't want this to happen to him."

  "So it's true? He was mauled by a wild dog?"

  "We-ell." She bit her lower lip and frowned hard at me. She was the easiest person in the world to read. Going by her expression, I didn't have the full story and she was reluctant to tell it to me. "That's not quite true. Perhaps."

  "Perhaps?"

  "He was certainly mauled, but we don't know what by."

  "Maud said you've had trouble with wild dogs before. You don't think it could be them again?"

  "Actually, it wasn't wild dogs last time. That was the story we gave everyone for the damage done by the demon."

  I gasped. "Oh! I see." I'd heard about the demon, of course, but since the estate had been peaceful for some time—other than the master's interruption—I'd put it from my mind. "That one died, didn't it? Is this a new one?"

  She clutched my hand. "I don't know. Samuel and Tommy are investigating."

  "Is it safe for them to be out there?"

  "They're staying together and they have Jack's knife. It's a special one that can kill demons."

  A single knife didn't sound like much protection, no matter how special it was. We both cast worried glances at the window.

  "Where was his body found?" I asked.

  "Between the woods and the ruins."

  I shivered. The woods looked dense. The ancient canopies tangled together high above, cutting out most of the light. It was a large area and easy to hide in. "Have the police been alerted?"

  "They just arrived. If the last time is any indication, they'll do a rudimentary search of the estate then leave. I hope they don't stay long. It's too dangerous for them out there now. They're completely unaware of what they're dealing with."

  "How did Samuel take the news?"

  "Stoically. I suppose he was shocked at first. The stable boy found the body and told Tommy. Tommy told Samuel while he sent Maud to wake me. By the time I saw Samuel, he was as composed as always. If it had been Uncle's body out there, I don't think I would be so calm about it all."

  "We show our grief in different ways," I murmured half-heartedly. I tended to agree that calmness was unusual. It was his father, for goodness’ sake. Surely he ought to feel something.

  "Will you come downstairs with me?" she asked. "I must comfort Mrs. Gladstone and I can't do it alone."

  "My presence won't be welcome."

  "I think she's too upset to worry about that now. Come wi
th me, please. I need you, Charity." Her lip began to tremble.

  I gripped her hand harder. "Very well. If you insist. Help me dress."

  I nibbled a slice of toast as she laced my corset. Once my dress was on and hair done, we ventured downstairs together, only to find Mrs. Gladstone had retreated to her room to lie down.

  "She's taken a powder," Bert said. He stood at the drawing room window, where he could see most of the front lawn and formal garden. He glanced at me from beneath damp lashes. His face had some color, but there were deep grooves around his eyes and mouth.

  "I'm sorry for your loss, Bert," I said. I meant it. He wasn't a bad man, just not a gentlemanly one, as far as I was concerned. I felt the same about his father. He certainly didn't deserve to die so horribly.

  "Thank you." He leaned against the window frame as if he didn't have the strength to stand unassisted. "We shouldn't have come here," he murmured.

  Sylvia tucked her hand into my arm and urged me further into the room. I didn't want to stay, not near this man. He made me feel base and self-conscious. I wished Samuel were there to grieve with him.

  Clearly Sylvia didn't know what to do either. We sat together on the sofa and waited. The silence grew thin, but it didn't break until Samuel finally entered.

  "Where's Tommy?" Sylvia asked before he'd barely stepped into the room.

  "Kitchen," Samuel said. His gaze slid to mine, and I was a little surprised he didn't look as upset as Bert. Troubled, yes, but not distraught.

  "You have my heartfelt sympathies, Samuel," I said.

  He gave me a nod of thanks and went to his brother, but didn't touch him. I don't know what I expected them to do. Embrace? I wasn't sure if the upper classes ever held one another for comfort.

  "How's Mother?" Samuel asked.

  "Upset," Bert said. "She's resting, now. She was in quite a state after you left. Did you find the animal that did it?"

  Samuel clasped his brother's arm. "There's something I need to tell you about that. Something you're going to find quite unbelievable, at first."

  Beside me, Sylvia stiffened. "Samuel," she warned. "Is that wise?"