The Memory Keeper Page 11

  Mrs. Moore pushed back her chair and shot to her feet. She glared at me, then spun around and strode out the door. What had I said to upset her so?

  "The Langleys aren't like that," Tommy said.

  "Sylvia is."

  "No, she's not. She can be all bluster and steam at times, but she's got a kind heart underneath that crisp façade." His smile softened, confirming my suspicion. He was indeed sweet on her.

  I sipped my chocolate and watched him over the rim of my cup. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, his gaze distant. "Tommy," I hedged, setting the cup down. "Be careful with these people. I don't mean Jack, I mean the other Langleys."

  He cocked his head to the side. I had his full attention.

  "You and I both know August Langley is not Jack's real uncle," I went on. "He could disown Jack whenever he wishes and throw him out of Frakingham."

  He snorted. "He won't do that."

  "What if Jack does something disagreeable?"

  "He wouldn't."

  "You don't know that. Jack's loyal to his friends and Mr. Langley is, well, he's a toff."

  He picked up his cup and held it tightly between both hands. "You think I'll give Jack cause to make a choice between supporting Langley and supporting me." He did not deny that Langley was a toff, or that he cared about appearances and maintaining a sense of class within the household. He didn't deny any of it.

  "It might never come to that," I said, choosing my words carefully. "It doesn't have to."

  "Is there somefin' spiffic you want to tell me?" he said in his London slum accent of our childhood. "Forgive me poor, slow brain but I don't know what you're tryin' to tell me."

  I sighed. "Calm down, Tommy. I'm merely suggesting that you stop flirting with Sylvia. Her uncle doesn't seem aware of it yet, but it's only a matter of time. If he finds out, he might dismiss you. Jack would naturally defend you and, well, relations between the members of the family will become strained."

  "Our business don't concern you, Charity."

  "It does where Jack is concerned. Don't jeopardize what he has here."

  "How 'bout you leave Jackie alone now he's wed. He don't need the likes o' you remindin' him o' past mistakes."

  I bristled. My grip tightened on my cup. I fought against the urge to throw its contents over him. Despite our argument, he was my friend. We'd fought like this in the old days—Jack too—but this was the first time in recent years that we'd said such cruel things to one another. Yet I didn't want to give in to my anger, no matter how much his words stung. What he was doing was wrong. It not only threatened his and Jack's position, but it would confuse poor Sylvia. She wasn't like me; she didn't have any defences against flirtatious men. There was a danger she would take him seriously and ruin herself.

  "Sylvia is young, innocent, and you're… well, you're far more experienced when it comes to relations between men and women."

  "I ain't the only one," he mumbled into his cup.

  "My past isn't under discussion here. This isn't about me."

  He set down the cup and flattened both palms on the table. He leaned towards me. I wasn't afraid, not of Tommy. He and Jack would never hurt me. "No," he ground out. "It's never 'bout you. You always avoided talk of your mistakes. You never think 'bout how your actions put Jackie in danger. You only want to run away from yourself and forget."

  My heart plunged to the floor. A lump of ice took its place in my chest, spreading its cold through me. His words echoed inside my head, making it impossible to think of a retort.

  But there was no retort that could change the fact that he was right.

  "Sorry," he muttered. "I shouldn't have said that. You don't remember." He looked down at his cup then quickly put it to his lips and sipped.

  I may not remember precisely what had happened, but I knew he was right. The guilt was carving out a hole inside me. It would only be there if he was telling the truth.

  I slowly stood. It was difficult to maintain balance, with dizziness filling my head and blurring my vision. I steadied myself with a hand on the table then made my way to the door. Somehow Tommy was already there. How odd. I'd not seen him move. Then again, I could see so little through my eyes, clogged with tears as they were.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered. His mouth was pulled down and his eyes swam. "I didn't mean any of it. I was angry and… and I'm sorry." The slum accent had disappeared—how remarkable that he could switch it on and off.

  "There's no need to apologize." I forced a smile. "It's late. I ought to go to bed."

  I went to move past him but he stopped me. "Charity." He bowed his head and sucked in a breath. When he looked up again, I was struck by the raw emotion imprinted in every frown line. "It's not what I think at all."

  "I know."

  "Stop being so reasonable about it." He shook his head sadly. "Get angry with me. Shout at me. You know it's not true, don't you? What I said, it's not—"

  I put a finger to his lips to stop him. There really was no other way and he was going to dig an even bigger hole if he kept talking. I opened my mouth to tell him that it was true, but I didn't think he needed to hear it. He looked more upset by his words than I felt.

  And I was deeply disturbed by them.

  "What is this?" Samuel emerged from the dark shadows of the corridor beyond. He did not carry a candle and the way wasn't lit. He paused some feet away and stared at us, at my finger on Tommy's lips. He blinked hard at me, as if he didn't believe what he was seeing. "Charity?" he murmured.

  I lowered my hand to my stomach. I felt ill. As if I did not carry enough guilt already, now he thought Tommy and I were lovers.

  "It was nothing. Charity and I were just talking." Tommy's words stumbled over themselves in his eagerness to get them out. "In fact, I was talking too much. I said some things I shouldn't and she was trying to stop me." He dug his hand through his hair and swore under his breath. "Sorry." It wasn't clear whom he was apologizing to.

  Samuel did not look at Tommy. He continued to stare at me and I stared back, challenging him to say something, to accuse me of something base. I watched as his lips pressed together and a muscle in his jaw jumped. Slowly, his gaze slid to Tommy. "You should have more of a care, Dawson." His voice was low, ominous, not at all like his usual smooth one.

  "Tommy did nothing," I said. "You saw with your own eyes. I was the one touching him. Leave him be."

  His nostrils flared. He turned and strode back along the corridor.

  "Gladstone!" Tommy called after him. He went to follow, but I grabbed his arm.

  "I'll talk to him."

  "I don't think that's a good idea."

  I ignored him and raced after Samuel. I trailed my hand along the wall to follow its bends in the darkness until finally I emerged into the lamp-lit corridor that led to the main part of the house.

  "Samuel, wait!"

  I found him at the base of the grand staircase in the entrance hall. He stood with one hand on the spherical cap of the newel post, his chest rising and falling heavily.

  "Don't try to protect him, Charity. I saw the intimacy between the two of you, and I am not merely referring to your touching him."

  Men are blind and stupid, even the clever ones with exceptional eyesight. "Don't be absurd. You're acting the fool. There is nothing between Tommy and I, except long-time friendship. There never has been anything more."

  "Nevertheless—" He cut himself off. His fingers flexed around the newel post. "Nevertheless, Tommy should have more of a care."

  I rolled my eyes, but he wasn't looking at me and my frustration was lost on him. I moved to where I could see his face. "For goodness’ sake. Believe us or not, I don't care. Neither of us owes you an explanation."

  "You are here under my care! Under Langley's!"

  I gave a bitter laugh. "You can't possibly be talking about protecting my reputation. That's absurd. I know you know about Jack and me."

  He went rigid. "That doesn't mean I don't want to protect you!"

&n
bsp; "From Tommy? It's not me you need to protect, where he's concerned."

  He lifted his gaze to mine for the first time. "What do you mean?"

  "Sylvia is more in danger of buckling under Tommy's charm than I. You know how it is between them. You told me about their affection yourself."

  "That is merely flirting. They're unsuitable and nothing can come of it. Whereas you… you and Tommy…"

  "Ah, yes." I lifted my chin and met his gaze. "I'm more Tommy's sort, aren't I? The loose girl from the rookery and her servant lover. What a fine match we make."

  He slammed his palm down hard on the newel post. "That's not what I mean!"

  I flinched and backed away, my heart tripping over itself in fright. Oh God, oh God.

  I had to get away, go somewhere safe. Alone. I gathered up my skirts and raced up the stairs.

  He followed me. "Charity! Wait! I'm sorry, I—"

  "Do not follow me," I growled. "Do not come anywhere near me."

  My last vision was not of him, but of myself. I was looking through his eyes, seeing my own flushed face, my heaving chest. I dropped my skirts and put a hand out to the balustrade for balance.

  Just as quickly, the vision vanished again. I picked up my skirts once more and raced up the stairs, but not before I saw the sorrow in Samuel's swirling eyes.

  ***

  I did not go to my room. I continued up the stairs, snatching a candle from the table on the landing as I passed. I continued up, past the attic to the narrow spiral staircase leading to the sitting room at the top of one of the towers. It was a cozy space with a chaise tucked beneath the window, from which I could watch the night sky. One couldn't see so many stars in London.

  I blew out the candle and sat in the dark. I felt like one of the stars, shining my light down on the world. It was humbling yet uplifting too, affirming that my little light was as important as any other.

  The problem with feeling calm again was that I regretted my flight. I should have remained and spoken to Samuel, helped him see reason. When my temper had flared, so had his. Yet I got the distinct impression that he wasn't able to control his temper like he usually could. It was almost as if he wasn't used to it and didn't know how.

  Nevertheless, I shouldn't have fled. The look on his face had distressed me more than his angry outburst. I wished, with a heavy heart, to go to him and check if he was all right.

  I got my wish when he opened the door to the little tower room. There were no signs of his earlier temper. Indeed, he looked relieved.

  "I've searched everywhere for you." He set his candle down on the table between my chaise and the bookcase. The flame swayed in the draft coming through the door, and reflected in his dark eyes.

  "Samuel, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run off."

  He sat in the armchair and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I don't blame you for it. For any of this." He heaved a deep sigh and bowed his head. "I shouldn't have spoken to you that way, or to Tommy. Now that I've calmed down, my head can see what my heart couldn't."

  His heart?

  My own skipped a beat. "Samuel, there is no blame here. But you must understand that I am a grown woman, with no kin and no intention of marrying."

  He looked up and frowned. "Why not?"

  The poor man. He really didn't understand. I supposed he rarely encountered unconventional females. "Why would I swap good employment where I can come and go as I please to be a decorative ornament at best, or a drudge at worst? I like my life at the school. It's fulfilling. I see no reason to throw it away."

  "What about children?"

  "I have children at the orphanage. Dozens of them. In many ways, I am their parent."

  "It's not the same."

  "How do you know?"

  He sighed. "Very well, what about love, then?"

  I smiled gently. "That's sweet of you to suggest the possibility, but I am not so naive to think it would come my way now, after the life I've led." The truth of that hit me in the throat. I was aware that I wanted to experience love again, after my bleak memories had been blocked, but I knew now that it was unlikely, given my situation. Besides, I had the love of the children and loved them in return. It was fulfilling in every way. Yes. Most fulfilling.

  He sat back in the chair as if I'd pushed him in the chest. "I… I had not expected this."

  I shrugged one shoulder. "So you see, my reputation is in no danger. I don't need protecting."

  "Then why flee to Frakingham?"

  "That's different and you know it. My freedom was at stake at the orphanage, perhaps my life." I felt my blood pumping again, fueling my temper. Why did we disagree now? We had never done so before he put the memory block in place. "Don't twist this situation to suit your own argument, Samuel."

  "I have no argument. I have no motive."

  Bollocks. Of course he did. All men had a motive where women were concerned. "Let's not discuss this further. It's only going to end in us fighting, and I'm tired of fighting with you."

  "I don't want to fight with you either." He gave me a grim smile. "I'm sorry, Charity. I seem to be more forthright lately. Something's come over me…" He trailed off and looked away.

  We both knew what had come over him. My memories.

  You only want to run away from yourself and forget.

  I tried to block out Tommy's words, but they ate at me like a cancer.

  "What's that?" Samuel rose out of his chair and peered over my head at the window.

  I followed his gaze and saw something, far below, in the distance. A small light glowed in the direction of the ruins. It darted upwards and moved back and forth, before dipping low again. It wasn't a flame, but it wasn't a sharp, bright light, either.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "Someone's down there."

  "Who would creep around the ruins at night? If it were a visitor, they'd come via the drive, surely."

  His gaze connected with mine. He did not need to tell me what he was thinking, because it had crossed my mind too—the intruder at the school had found me here, and was coming for me.

  Cold fingers tightened their grip on my throat. I clutched the side of the chaise for balance.

  Samuel picked up his candle and headed out of the tower room. I followed him down the stairs to the kitchen, where Tommy still sat. "Fetch a lamp," Samuel ordered him. "Come with me. Someone is lurking in the ruins."

  "Bloody hell," Tommy muttered.

  Samuel clapped him on the shoulder as Tommy lifted the lamp off the hook near the door. It would seem their earlier argument was forgotten.

  I followed them to the service door near the scullery, but hung back.

  "I thought you might insist upon coming," Samuel said, with a smirk that looked decidedly wicked with the candlelight flickering beneath his chin.

  "I'm not a fool," I said.

  Tommy snorted. "But you are stubborn."

  "Are you two quite finished?"

  Samuel handed me his candle, his expression once more serious. "Lock the door after we leave and only open it at the sound of my voice, or Tommy's."

  I took the candlestick. My fingers brushed his, sending a wash of tingles shooting across my skin. Our gazes met. His was smoky, warm.

  "Be careful," I said. "If it is that man, he's very strong."

  He nodded. Of course he knew the fellow. Knew how much of a monster he was. He grabbed a knife from a drawer.

  They shut the door and I returned to the tower room for a better view. The house was quiet. All external doors were locked, yet my heart still felt like it was going to choke me.

  I settled onto the chaise and watched Tommy's lamp move across the lawn. The other still bobbed around the ruins of the old abbey. The crescent moon's reflection glistened like an ethereal water serpent on the lake's surface. Along with Tommy's lamp, it provided enough light for me to see the dark figures of my friends, but not the intruder further away.

  I hadn't yet explored the ruins, only seen them from the house.
In daylight it seemed quite a pretty, if ethereal, place. I imagined that visiting it during the night would be more unnerving, particularly with someone unknown wandering about.

  Suddenly, Tommy's light took off at speed towards the ruins. The other light hovered in mid-air for a moment, then it moved quickly away, bobbing madly.

  I blew out a breath. It was a good sign that the trespasser was running and not confronting Tommy and Samuel. Either he was harmless, his intentions innocent, or he knew he couldn't win against two strong young men, which ruled out the brute doing his master's bidding.

  I headed back downstairs, but had to pause on the second floor landing as a vision took over. I was looking through Samuel's eyes again, into the blurred light of a lamp. It was too bright and close for me to make out the figure holding it. Tommy's face came into view then. He seemed to be talking to me—Samuel—but I couldn't hear his words.

  The vision cleared and I was once more in the house. I continued on down the stairs and waited at the service door until I heard Samuel softly call my name. I opened the door and Tommy came through first, followed by—

  Everett Myer!

  He bowed upon seeing me. "Ah, now this welcoming party is far more appealing. I didn't know you were here at Frakingham, Miss Evans." He straightened and smiled. "I apologize for the disturbance at such a late hour. I had expected to slip in and slip away quietly, but it would seem your friends are vigilant."

  Samuel moved past him, bumping him in the shoulder. "We have need to be."

  "Ah yes, Freak House, the villagers call this place. I suspect the local youths like to sneak about the grounds to impress their friends."

  Samuel blinked at him. "No," was all he said. He looked quite different to when he'd left me. His hair stuck out like he'd been pulling at it, and deep grooves ran the length of his forehead. He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and did not meet my gaze.

  "What are you doing here, Mr. Myer?" I asked. "Mr. Langley said you weren't coming until tomorrow."

  "I arrived late today and thought I would investigate the ruins immediately. Darkness brings out the magic in a place like that, and where there's magic, the paranormal is not far away."

  Magic, paranormal. If I'd not seen Cara talk to ghosts, or Jack light fires with his hands, I would have thought Myer a madman. But I knew about the things they'd encountered before Christmas. It made me more impressed by Samuel and Tommy's bravery at venturing outside into the night.