Seared With Scars (The 2nd Freak House Trilogy)

by C. J. Archer

  "Perhaps if you didn't view it as a cross to bear, but rather a gift to harness, you might be more accepting of it."

  She scoffed. "Don't be absurd. You don't tell a blind man that he's lucky not to be able to see. Do you think Mr. Langley considers himself fortunate that he can't walk?"

  "Those disabilities are not the same as Samuel's condition."

  Another scoff. She rose from the chair and lowered her veil again. She was about to leave and I'd not yet discovered answers to my questions. Her unexpected visit might as well be put to good use.

  "Do you feel that way because of what Samuel did?" I asked.

  She went very still. "What are you talking about?"

  "He told me why he was sent to Newgate."

  Lie upon lie upon lie. I was digging myself into such a deep hole that I might never be able to climb back out.

  She sniffed. "I don't believe he told you anything. He would never speak of that to anyone, let alone you."

  "Why not?"

  She swept past me. "Good day, Miss Evans. We have nothing further to say to one another."

  I wasn't quite so prepared to let her go now that I had her alone. She might not tell me why Samuel was in prison, but she could tell me other things about him. "I find it curious that you still want him to marry Miss Carstairs," I said before she opened the door. "Aren't you afraid that her political ambitions for him will expose his scandalous past?"

  "Is that your way of disparaging your opponent and promoting yourself?" She barked a harsh laugh. "Pathetic."

  "We aren't opponents because I have no interest in marrying Samuel. I simply want to know why you think marrying him off to an ambitious woman is a good idea when he has no similar ambition and a vulnerable past."

  "Something can be done to dampen her enthusiasm, and once it is, there'll be no impediment to them marrying."

  "Samuel says he doesn't love her. I would have thought that impediment enough."

  "Marriage isn't about love, but I don't expect someone of your ilk to understand that. Marriage is about unions and strengthening what you already have. Samuel needs Ebony. As the second son, he can do no better. As the second son with an ill older brother, it's important that Samuel marries well."

  "I agree. He isn't in a position to marry where he wishes, but I do think you're making a mistake in forcing him to wed Ebony. Find a different wife for him, Mrs. Gladstone. One with less ambition and a sweeter personality. That is my advice to you, as a woman with Samuel's best interests at heart."

  It was difficult to tell how she took my words with the veil covering her face. She didn't immediately leave, however, and appeared to be peering back at me through the black crepe. I took advantage of her stunned silence to ask another question.

  "How do you and Mr. Myer know one another?"

  "I…" She pressed her hand to her temple and I thought perhaps our meeting had been too much for her. She was, after all, genuinely grieving. "We're old acquaintances."

  "You don't find it curious that he and Samuel are the only ones capable of hypnosis?"

  "No," she snapped. "Why should I? What are you implying?"

  "I'm implying that there must be something linking them. Have you never asked yourself what that might be? Or asked Mr. Myer?"

  Her shoulders stiffened. Her back straightened. "I don't like your tone, Miss Evans."

  "I would consider telling Samuel what that link is, if I were you. It might go some way to mending your relationship with him."

  "Our relationship does not need mending. It is also none of your affair. Instead of poking your nose into Samuel's life, you ought to project some of that curiosity onto the Langleys. Tell me, Miss Evans, do you know what Samuel and Myer have been working on in Mr. Langley's laboratory?"

  "No-o," I hedged. "Do you?"

  "I believe it has something to do with reading minds."

  I blew out a measured breath, unsure whether to be relieved that she spouted such nonsense or not. "Nobody can read another's mind."

  "Not yet," she quipped. I couldn't see her smiling, but I got the feeling she was enjoying herself immensely at my expense. "With the help of two hypnotists, I suspect it's only a matter of time. Perhaps, Miss Evans, you ought to be more concerned about that. The consequences of such a device would be rather…interesting."

  "Device?" I echoed.

  "The chair in the laboratory. Haven't you seen it?"

  "Yes. Yes, I have. But surely Mr. Langley wouldn't create something so…wicked."

  "You have far more faith in him than me. Far more faith in all of them."

  I watched her sail out of my room and down the corridor to the stairs. I shut the door and leaned against it. Her final words tumbled around my head, over and over. Had she told the truth about that chair and Langley's experiments? If so, why was Samuel willingly involved? It was shocking to think him eager to be able to read minds as well as hypnotize.

  Yet Mrs. Gladstone hadn't been shocked. Clearly she didn't think her son possessed good moral fiber. And who knew a man better than his own mother?

  ***

  I didn't catch the train to London. I returned to Harborough, instead. There was little I could do in the city, wary as I was of returning to the school. Besides, speaking with Mrs. Gladstone had sparked my curiosity about Langley's experiment. I wanted to get to the bottom of it. I needed to know for certain whether she was right and Langley was indeed hoping to create a contraption that could read minds, and whether Samuel was involved. It was bad enough knowing he could hypnotize; it was worse thinking he wanted to read minds as well.

  I was beginning to think I didn't know him at all.

  Tommy met me as the wagon I'd ridden upon came to a stop near the front steps of Frakingham House. He did not greet me with an open smile, as he usually did when I arrived, but with a rifle and a scolding.

  "You ought not to have come," he said, glancing at the wagon driver who'd brought me. "Especially unarmed. Not with the…wild dog still loose."

  "The driver said he had to deliver supplies to Frakingham," I said. "He is also armed."

  The driver showed Tommy his rifle. "Now get them crates from out back," he said. "I want to be on my way. You ain't paying me enough to do this."

  Tommy unloaded the crates and my valise then sent the driver on his way. He ushered me inside, leaving the crates behind. "You shouldn't have come," he said again.

  "I had to. Has the demon showed up?"

  "It came once to the house."

  I gasped. "Is everyone all right?"

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. "It prowled around for a while then left. It hasn't been seen since."

  "You look tired. It's taking its toll on you, isn't it?"

  "Don't worry about me." His tone was curt, his manner aloof and somewhat miserable. I didn't think it was entirely attributable to exhaustion.

  "What's wrong?" I asked as he closed and bolted the front door.

  "Nothing. I thought you were in London."

  "I decided to return after all."

  I got the feeling he wanted to say something to me, and I was about to ask him again if anything was wrong, when Sylvia called out from the doorway leading to the drawing room.

  "Charity! It is you!"

  "It's a pleasure to see you again, Sylvia," I said, approaching her. "I'm sorry I gave no notice of my arrival. I do hope you can forgive me for the inconvenience."

  I expected her to take my hand and tell me I was welcome, but she did not. Her mouth flattened. Her gaze darted from Tommy to me. "Yes. Well. You're here now." She spun around and returned to the drawing room.

  "Is everything all right?" I asked Tommy. "Have I upset her in some way?"

  "Don't mind her."

  "But I must mind her! If I've done or said something—"

  "How could you? You've not even been here."

  There was truth in that at least, but still, I must have done something. She was usually so pert and bright, not this sullen, ill-manne
red girl.

  "You can have your own room again," he said as he climbed the stairs. "I'm sure Miss Langley will send Maud up soon to prepare it for you. She's not completely forgotten herself."

  By the time we reached the door to my bedroom, I was quite out of breath attempting to keep up with his fast pace. "Tommy? Something is wrong. Speak to me."

  He swung open the door and dumped my valise on the bed. "There's nothing to say."

  "The mood of this place has changed since I was last here. You and Sylvia have changed. Why?"

  He shoved the curtains aside and the weak afternoon sunlight filtered into the room. "It's not for me to say."

  I threw up my hands. The conversation had quickly become exasperating. "Nonsense. I am your old friend. You can tell me everything."

  He rounded on me, his eyes flashing. He towered over me, and if it had been anyone else, I would have been afraid. But it was only Tommy, one of the few men I trusted. Indeed, one of only two. "Very well," he growled. "Let's just say that you were right and I came to realize it too late."

  "Right about what?"

  "About me and Sylvia. Miss Langley. She's not for the likes of me. I took your advice and have been nothing but a good footman in her presence. She asked me why the change and I told her it was the way it had to be between us, from now on. She hasn't spoken to me since, except to give me an order to do this or do that."

  I pressed my lips together to stop my smile from breaking out. "Isn't that what a mistress is supposed to say to her servant?"

  He grunted. "It's not what she asks me to do, it's how she tells me to do it. She lords it over me, turns her nose up and such."

  I clasped his hands in mine. "Oh, Tommy. I know it troubles you to be treated like a footman. Despite what you claim, I know how hard it is for free spirits like us to take orders. But she's only treating you the way most servants are treated." I hugged him. "You did the right thing. She'll feel a little bruised for a while, but she'll be better off in the long run. You both will, once you find someone more appropriate."

  "If you say so," he muttered into his chest.

  "I'm proud of you, Tommy. You did what was best."

  Poor Tommy. He looked miserable. I believed what I'd told him, however. He would be better off and so would Sylvia. They just needed time for their hearts to recover.

  A gasp from behind us had me pulling away. "Sylvia!" I cried. "We didn't hear you."

  "Clearly." Her gaze focused on Tommy's arm where I gripped it. Her jaw hardened. "I see that Dawson has looked after you."

  Tommy bowed to her then left the room. I watched him go. Sylvia did not.

  "Maud will be here soon to make up the bed," she said. "Tea will be served in the drawing room in half an hour, if you wish to join me."

  She left too and I stood there like a statue, watching her walk stiffly away.

  Half an hour later I joined her in the drawing room. Tea had already been served. She poured a cup and handed it to me. She did not ask me how I'd been or anything that a good hostess usually asked her newly arrived guest. Sylvia may not be an experienced hostess, but she wasn't usually a rude one. It would seem I had much work to do to win back her good opinion.

  To my own surprise, I found myself eager to resume our friendship. She may have been silly and exasperating at times, but I liked her. This new awkwardness between us didn't sit well with me at all.

  "How are you?" I asked.

  "In good health. Thank you."

  "It must be terribly worrying with the demon still on the loose."

  "It is, but we're managing. Indeed, we've grown quite accustomed to demons around here."

  "And your uncle?"

  "He's well, too," she said, her tone short, clipped.

  "Does he progress with his experiments?"

  "I don't know. He doesn't discuss his work with me." She sipped her tea and did not meet my gaze.

  "And Tommy?" I ventured. "He looks tired."

  She set the cup down in the saucer with a clatter. "Dawson has performed his duties as admirably as he always does. I suspect if he was too tired I'd be told."

  "That's not what I meant."

  She merely shrugged.

  I sighed. The conversation was tortuous, but I needed to clear the air or I couldn't remain at Frakingham. "I know you're upset with him for…keeping you at a distance."

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "And I know you're angry at me for advising him to do so."

  Her eyebrows rose, nearly shooting right off her forehead. "That's not why I'm angry. Indeed, I didn't know you'd advised him. I should have guessed, I suppose."

  I frowned. If she didn't know I'd told Tommy to stop flirting with her, then why was she angry with me? The glare she'd bestowed on me in my room had been full of icy fury, yet all I'd done was reassure Tommy—

  Ah. Now I understood. She'd seen me touching him. The gesture had been a friendly one, but it could have been mistaken for something else. Something more.

  "Sylvia," I began in earnest, "I don't like Tommy in that way. I never have. Nor does he think of me as a potential paramour."

  She turned her cheek to me and sipped.

  I drew in a breath as well as some patience. "We've been friends for years. If we liked one another beyond friendship, then we would have acted on those feelings long ago. We haven't. Be angry with me for advising him, but not for capturing his attentions. You could not be more wrong."

  She lowered her cup to the saucer in her lap and bent her head. "I am angry with you for advising him too. Now."

  At least we were getting somewhere. "Very well. I am sorry that we cannot be friends again. I'll miss your laughter. I don't have too many female friends and I was hoping to count you among their number."

  Her lip wobbled. She bit it and looked up at me through watery eyes. "Oh, Charity. You're right. I do wish to be your friend."

  "Then let's not let a man come between us again."

  "I'll try not to."

  "It will take some time to feel like yourself once more," I told her. "But you will recover from this."

  "I hope so. I don't like the hollowness inside my chest. I wish it would go away."

  I set down my cup and joined her on the sofa. "It will."

  We sat for a few moments together, neither speaking, until she suddenly seemed to shrug off her melancholy with a toss of her head. "I have missed you. How have you been?"

  "Well," I said. "I went to the funeral of Mr. Gladstone."

  She gasped and almost dropped her teacup. "Charity! Was that wise?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "Did you see Samuel? Is he all right?" She sighed. "I do miss him."

  "He seemed fine to me." I didn't elaborate on my reasons for going, or share my doubts about Samuel. She considered him a friend and probably wouldn't entertain negative opinions of him.

  "I miss Jack and Hannah too," she said.

  "Have you heard from them?"

  "I received a letter yesterday." She proceeded to give me a list of all the places they'd visited on the continent. I listened, glad she was back to her old cheerful self.

  She was giving me a detailed account of their third day in Paris when August Langley wheeled into the drawing room, pushed by Bollard.

  "Welcome back, Charity," he said. "We thought we'd lost you."

  "I decided it was safer here, for now." Whether he believed me or not, I couldn't tell. His face gave nothing away. Although he didn't have a happy, open countenance, it wasn't unfriendly either.

  "Sylvia will be pleased to have you at Frakingham again."

  "I am," she said. "I do starve for female company and I miss Hannah terribly."

  I suspected if Hannah were still in residence I wouldn't be considered good company for Sylvia, not only by herself, but by her uncle too. It was a humbling thought. My position was a precarious one and I needed to remember my proper place or risk being tossed out. That meant no meeting Tommy alone again, no matter how innocent our mo
tives.

  Did it also mean not asking Langley about his work? If it did, I was about to walk on a very thin line, but it was a walk I felt I had to take nevertheless.

  "Mr. Langley," I began, "I'm going to be honest with you and admit that my return here isn't simply to get away from London."

  "Oh?" He leaned forward a little.

  "I want to know more about the experiment you're conducting in your laboratory."

  "I told you, I don't discuss my work before it's ready."

  I ignored the sharp edge in his tone and forged on. "I believe you're inventing a device that can read minds."

  Sylvia's gasp sliced through the dense silence of the drawing room. She covered her mouth with her hand and her gaze darted between her uncle and me. Bollard straightened to a towering height. His gaze bore into me.

  Langley, on the other hand, went quite still. "Who told you that?" he snapped. "Samuel?"

  "No." I did not want Samuel to get into trouble, particularly when he was innocent. Innocent of breaking a confidence, that is. He certainly wasn't innocent of much else.

  "Myer?"

  "No."

  The air around us crackled with energy. Langley's face darkened. His brows crashed together. "It was Mrs. Gladstone, wasn't it?" His voice was low, quiet. Too quiet.

  I said nothing. Lying to him now seemed foolish after I'd started down this track, yet I didn't want to cause problems between them. I'd not considered how my question would lead to his interrogation. I'd been selfishly focused on only one thing—Samuel's involvement.

  "Tell me, Charity," he went on, "did you not stop to ask yourself how she knows? Or why she cares? Because I assure you, those are the first two questions that spring to my mind."

  I wasn't sure what concerned me the most. The fact that he was right and I should have stopped to consider those questions, or the fact that he didn't refute Mrs. Gladstone's claim.

  CHAPTER 10

  "I assume Mrs. Gladstone cares because her son is involved in your experiment," I said. I didn't answer Langley's other question about how she could know about the device. I didn't think Samuel had told her, considering the fractious nature of their relationship. Perhaps it had been Myer. Or perhaps she'd crept into Langley's laboratory when she'd been staying at Frakingham. The very thought of the upright Mrs. Gladstone sneaking about like a thief was absurd, yet I was in no mood to giggle.