Seared With Scars (The 2nd Freak House Trilogy)

by C. J. Archer

  Mrs. Moore opened the door for us. She must have watched our progress from a window because nobody needed to knock. Mr. Langley sat in his wheelchair behind her. Sylvia ran to him and threw her arms around his shoulders. He patted her back awkwardly.

  "You're wet," was all he said.

  "It's gone," she spluttered through her tears.

  "I know. Samuel?"

  "A little bruised," Samuel said. It was quite the understatement. Standing beneath the blazing chandelier his injuries could be better inspected. His chest was scratched and deep gashes striped his leg. His clothing could not be salvaged.

  "Tommy, go into the village and fetch Dr. Gowan," Mr. Langley ordered.

  Sylvia drew back. "Hasn't Tommy done enough tonight?"

  "I'll go," Tommy said. "As soon as we get Gladstone upstairs."

  I half expected Mrs. Gladstone to admonish him for his informal address of her son, but she did not. She was too intent on Samuel's comfort and probably hadn't even heard the conversation. She brushed grass and mud off Samuel's back and eyed his bloodied leg with concern.

  Samuel and his entourage slowly climbed the stairs. The gawping servants finally returned to their work or their beds, and Mr. Langley wheeled himself off. I slipped back outside, down to the ruins, with the intention of retrieving the lamp. Instead I sat on a low column nearby and stared out to the lake.

  It was restful in the dark, despite the horrific scene that had just played out not far away. I didn't cry. My heart was no longer heavy, but uplifted and light. We'd been so fortunate to come through relatively unscathed. Samuel would recover from his injuries soon enough. His mother would probably take him back home, where she could keep her eye on him, and normal life at Frakingham would resume.

  I closed my hand around the amulet still strung around my neck. I frowned. So strange that she would summon the thing in the first place with her sons near.

  The rumble of wheels down the drive signaled Tommy's departure to fetch the doctor. The light from the coach lamps jostled as the horses moved swiftly, yet not too fast, in the dark. It began to rain again. I was already soaked so I made my way toward the dark mass of the woods instead of back to the house. I searched for Jack's knife, finally finding it only moments before the lamp extinguished.

  Back inside the house, I returned the lamp to the deserted kitchen and retrieved a candle instead. I was heading for the stairs when Sylvia called my name.

  "There you are!" she said, bustling up to me. She hadn't changed. Her hair fell down around her shoulders in a tangle, but at least it had dried. Mine dripped down my neck. "Where have you been? I've looked everywhere for you."

  "Getting the lamp and knife." I opened my palm to reveal the small weapon. "Do you want to give it back to Samuel?"

  "Why don't you? He's asking for you."

  It made my heart sing to hear it, but I shook my head. "He has enough nurses."

  "Not the one he wants."

  "I'm sure Mrs. Gladstone is able to care for him well enough."

  She snorted. "Hen peck him to death, you mean. Or to madness."

  "I suppose that's what mothers do." Caring ones, anyway.

  She sighed. "You're right. Of course they do." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Still, I think seeing you will improve his spirits. He's not in a very good mood."

  "Is he ever, lately?"

  She tossed out a weak smile. "He has a lot on his mind."

  "At least there is now one less burden."

  "Thank goodness," she said on a breath. "Are you sure you're determined not to go to him?"

  "I'm sure."

  "Perhaps in the morning." She hooked her arm through mine. "You're shivering. Come on, let's go upstairs and light the fires in our bedrooms. I'm too tired to draw a bath and Maud and Mrs. Moore have retired for the evening. It will have to wait until the morning."

  I let her lead me to my room and sat on the rug before the hearth as she lit a fire. She didn't retire to her own room straight away, but sat alongside me. We stared into the dancing flames for a long time in silence.

  "She's a horrid woman," Sylvia suddenly said.

  "Mrs. Gladstone?"

  She nodded. "I hope she's satisfied now that her son is injured. Why did she want to bring a demon here, anyway?"

  "She told Samuel she wanted to study it."

  She clicked her tongue. "Another one. When will they ever learn to leave well enough alone? Her curiosity almost killed her own son!"

  I said nothing. I couldn't blame her because I was quite sure she didn't do it. What I wanted to know was, why had she claimed responsibility? Who was she protecting?

  ***

  Samuel asked for me again the next day. I didn't go to see him, although I heard about his recovery from Sylvia and Tommy. Sylvia in particular gave me a detailed account of his health and demeanor.

  "His wounds appear to be healing without any sign of infection, but his temper has gotten fouler," she said two days after the incident. "Won't you go and see him, Charity? It'll cheer him up immensely."

  "No." I gave her no reason, so she could pass none on to him. I thought it was obvious, however. Sitting beside him would only encourage him and give him hope that I might change my mind. I wasn't prepared to open that particular book. Best to leave it shut and deal with his moodiness instead.

  Besides, his mother may not have let me into his room. She hardly left his side. She ate her meals in there and didn't return to her own room until late each night—according to Maud, who kept me informed. I preferred to think that it was Mrs. Gladstone's constant presence that caused Samuel's foul temper and not my absence.

  He arose from his sickbed on the third day. I and the other members of the household were alerted to this event before we set eyes on him. His mother's stern order of "Get back to bed, now!" greeted our ears where we sat in the sitting room.

  Samuel showed up a few moments later, dressed in a blue smoking jacket with a gold dragon embroidered on the sleeve. He must have borrowed it from Mr. Langley; it seemed like the sort of thing he would wear. His feet were bare and he winced with each step. His face lacked color, except where stubble roughened his jaw. I tended to agree with his mother. He did not look like a man who ought to be out of his sickbed.

  "There you both are," he said upon seeing Sylvia and me. We'd chosen the sitting room because it was smaller and cozier than the more formal drawing room. We saw no reason for formality, with Mrs. Gladstone's absence. The lady, however, soon graced us with her presence.

  "You shouldn't be up," she scolded her son. "The doctor ordered bed rest."

  "Leave it alone, Mother," he growled. "I can't stand to be confined any longer."

  "Perhaps Miss Langley can read to you."

  "I'd rather be lanced with a thousand needles."

  Sylvia gave him a withering glare. "That can be arranged."

  "Or Dawson could fetch some cards," Mrs. Gladstone persisted. "We can have a game of Cribbage to pass the time."

  Samuel sucked air between his teeth, but wisely refrained from answering. His gaze focused on me. "How are you, Charity?"

  "Well, thank you. No ill effects from that night."

  "Good. I'm glad to see you in good spirits."

  "And you? Are your wounds healing?"

  "Not fast enough." He limped further into the room, no longer wincing. I suspect it wasn't an easy thing to hide. He lowered himself into a chair with a long exhalation of breath.

  "Mrs. Gladstone is right," I said. "You should be in bed."

  To my surprise, she gave me a stiff nod of thanks.

  "You've only got yourself to blame," Samuel said with a sparkle in his eye that reminded me of the old Samuel. "If you'd come to see me, I would have no reason to get up."

  I lowered my head to hide my smile and bit my lip to make doubly sure. We were entering dangerous waters. Time to change the subject. "When will you be returning home?"

  "I'm not."

  "Tomorrow," Mrs. Gladstone said ove
r the top of her son. "Since he's up and about, I don't see why he needs to remain any longer now the…creature has gone."

  "Tomorrow seems a little too soon, " Sylvia hedged.

  "I'm staying here," Samuel said again, with a roll of his eyes.

  "Perhaps see what Dr. Gowan thinks." Sylvia sounded satisfied that her suggestion was the best one.

  "I don't wish to cast aspersions on your doctor, Miss Langley," Mrs. Gladstone said, "but our family physician is vastly more experienced."

  "Dr. Naigle is as ancient as the abbey ruins!" Samuel said. "And let me reiterate, since you both seem to not have heard me the first two times. I. Am. Not. Leaving."

  Sylvia clicked her tongue. "There's no need to raise your voice. But I am pleased to hear that you've decided to stay. I do think you're not up to traveling yet and we enjoy your company. Most of the time."

  He grunted and shot a glance in my direction. I said nothing and remained very still. His mother, however, huffed her displeasure and launched into all the reasons why he should return.

  I made my excuses and left.

  "Charity!" he called after me. "Charity, wait! I wish to speak to you. Blast this leg!"

  I was gone before he managed to stand. There were some benefits to his injuries, at least.

  ***

  Neither Samuel nor Mrs. Gladstone left the following day. I managed to avoid both of them, mostly because Samuel once more kept to his bedroom.

  "He hasn't had a relapse, has he?" I asked Sylvia when I saw her. I may not wish to see him, but the thought of his condition worsening had me worried.

  "No," she said on a sigh. "But I'm afraid if we don't get his mother away soon, he's going to unleash his temper."

  "What can we do?"

  "I could talk to her."

  "Er, no. I don't think that would help. The only thing that would distract her from nursing her son back to health is another family crisis of greater magnitude."

  "Bert!"

  I smiled. "Precisely. Send him a letter begging him to write to her and request her to return home. We'll send it in today's post."

  She clapped her hands. "Excellent! What a devious mind you have, Charity."

  I only hoped it didn't backfire on us and bring Bert to our doorstep too. I could cope with a foul tempered Samuel, but not an oily Bert and his mother.

  When a carriage drove up to the house the following day, my heart stopped. How could he have gotten here so quickly? Unless he'd left before he received Sylvia's letter. I prepared to dash up to my room and lock the door so I didn't have to see him, but stopped as I caught sight of the man alighting from the carriage. It wasn't Bert, but Myer.

  "What's he doing here?" Sylvia asked, coming up alongside me.

  "To see your uncle, perhaps," I said. "Or resume his studies down at the ruins. Perhaps Mrs. Butterworth informed him that our 'wild dog' problem had been resolved."

  She flounced onto the sofa in a huff, a look of disgust on her face. "I hope he doesn't come in here. I don't wish to speak with him. Ever."

  I, on the other hand, did. I went in search of him and found him handing his coat and hat to Tommy. Samuel was with them. My gasp of surprise had them all turning to look at me.

  "Charity!" Samuel limped toward me and Myer followed. "I had been on my way to look for you when Myer arrived."

  "Your mother's not here?"

  "She's indisposed. I wanted to talk to you, but…I need to speak to Myer as well. Will you wait for me?"

  "I had the same idea as you when I saw the carriage." I nodded a greeting to Myer. "Good morning, Mr. Myer. I wanted to ask you some questions, too."

  Myer sighed and plucked the fingertips of his gloves to remove them. "It seems inevitable that you two would have the same questions. I might as well answer them together, if I can. Shall we adjourn somewhere more private?"

  I hesitated and swallowed. He wanted me alone with him? Him and Samuel?

  "I give you my word I won't hypnotize you, Miss Evans."

  "You bloody well will not," Samuel ground out. "Not with me around."

  I didn't tell him that I was just as afraid of him. I curled my hands into fists and dug my fingernails into my palms. The sting distracted me enough from my fear to continue. "The library is free. Tommy, will you bring in tea, please." I tried to convey with one glance that I wanted him to deliver the tea and check on me, but if he understood, he gave no indication.

  The main library at Frakingham housed different books to the ones in Langley's laboratory. I liked to sit in the deep leather armchairs in the evening, and tuck my feet up beneath me, as I read a book plucked from one of the many shelves. When the lamps in the wall sconces were lit and the heavy brocade curtains pulled shut, it was easy to imagine oneself transported to the world between the pages. During the day, it was a little less magical but no less comfortable, although I was much too on edge to relax. I left the double doors wide open. Neither man objected.

  "What a pleasant room," Myer said, drawing in a deep breath and seating himself in the largest armchair, positioned by the fireplace.

  "Forget pleasantries, Myer," Samuel said. "I have only a few moments before my mother finds us and I wish to ask you some questions without her present. How do you know her?"

  "You are nothing if not direct, Mr. Gladstone. But I believe I've answered that question before."

  "I was hoping for the truth, this time."

  Myer crossed one leg over the other and linked his fingers on his stomach. "She was a frequent visitor to this house when Lord Frakingham owned it. We met when I came to study the ruins."

  "You told us you hardly knew Lord Frakingham."

  His only response was an apologetic shrug.

  "Why did my mother come here? Was she a member of the society? Was she married to my father at the time?" Samuel's questions were like bullets, direct and uncompromising.

  "They were married. When I met her, your brother was born and she was in the early stages of carrying you. Indeed, I didn't even know she was with child, until afterwards."

  "So it was 1867," I said, quickly calculating.

  He nodded. "As to why she came here." He shrugged. "She wasn't a member of the society, but she was…searching for answers of a philosophical nature. Lord Frakingham had gatherings here, from time to time, with like-minded ladies and gentlemen."

  "Enlighten me," Samuel said. "What do you mean by philosophical?"

  Myer shifted in his chair. "I don't feel comfortable discussing this. It's none of my affair. You should ask Mrs. Gladstone."

  "I'm asking you. And unless you want Langley to revoke his permission for you to study the ruins, you had better answer me."

  Myer's thumbs tapped against one another in a quick beat. Then they suddenly stilled. "She was unhappy. She wanted answers to some very big questions and hoped Frakingham's philosophers, as they were known, could help."

  "What questions?"

  "Is there a god? And if there is, why does he allow a young boy to suffer?"

  "My brother," Samuel murmured.

  "He was ill," I said, thinking aloud.

  "He was born sickly and she thought it unfair," Myer went on. "She wanted to know why her family had been dealt such a blow. That's all. Well, as far as I know, that's all. She didn't confide in me."

  "Did my father join her here?" Samuel asked.

  "Once, yes, but never again afterwards. Indeed, she stopped coming when it came time for her confinement. Perhaps the arrival of a healthy son restored her faith and she had no need for philosophy anymore."

  "So her presence here had nothing to do with the ruins and the paranormal?"

  He shrugged one shoulder. "The group were known to hold their gatherings down at the old abbey in good weather. The energy was stronger there, in those days. One could feel it as one entered the area. It's only natural that they would want to be closer to that energy source."

  It still seemed unlikely that a philosophical group would have a need for that type of en
ergy, but I didn't press the issue. "Why does Mrs. Gladstone not like you?" I asked.

  He shrugged again. "I suspect I remind her of that uncertain, anxious time. I was often here when the philosophers were having their meetings."

  "She disliked you so intensely that she wanted to frame you for the demon summoning."

  "You should ask her about that. Only she can answer you."

  "None of this explains why you and I can hypnotize," Samuel said.

  "No, Gladstone, it does not. I have given up trying to find an explanation. My advice to you is to do the same. Now, if that's all, I'd like to continue my work with Langley. This demon business has put everything on hold long enough."

  "I know you gave her the amulet," Samuel said. "The blame must lie partly at your feet."

  "Me! I most certainly did not give it to her."

  Samuel looked as if he wanted to thump Myer. Although I wouldn't have minded seeing Myer receive a pommelling, I did think it would be unfair if given for the wrong reason.

  "Perhaps you didn't give it to her," I said. "But to someone else."

  Both men turned to me, eyebrows arched in a twin expression of curiosity. "That note you wrote, Mr. Myer. The one we found in Mr. Gladstone's fireplace. You didn't write it to Mrs. Gladstone, did you?"

  Samuel swiveled to face me fully. "Charity, what are you saying?"

  "I'm saying that your mother took the blame for summoning the demon, but she didn't do it."

  Samuel’s brow thickened and his eyes darkened, but I didn't feel as if he was growing angry with me. Rather, he was trying to think back through all the clues and discussions.

  "She cares for both you and Bert deeply. She is a wonderful mother, in that respect. Nobody can fault her love for her sons. She would never summon a demon here when you are near. Never. Couple that with the fact she didn't know how to control it and I cannot believe she would do such a dangerous thing."

  Samuel looked as if the stuffing had been knocked out of him. His pale cheeks grew paler and his lashes lowered over his eyes, hiding the confusion I saw briefly in them.

  "Bert," he said, weakly. "She's hiding the fact that it was Bert who summoned it."

  I nodded but he wasn't looking at me. He lowered his head. His fingers scrunched through his hair. "Bloody, stupid clod!" he growled. "I can't believe he would do something so foolish, then run away home. I can't believe he would…kill our father. And for what? His damned inheritance?"