The Memory Keeper Page 12

  "Besides," Myer said. "I'm loath to waste time. It's taken much petitioning to get Mr. Langley to agree to me researching his ruins, and I don't want to waste a moment of this unexpected opportunity."

  "Then you shouldn't creep around at night," Samuel snapped. "He can take away what's been given."

  Myer's face fell. "I pray you don't tell him, Gladstone."

  Once again Samuel dragged his hand through his hair. He seemed to be in turmoil, and I didn't think it had anything to do with finding Myer.

  I touched his shoulder and the muscles corded. "What is it?"

  He didn't answer.

  I glanced at Tommy, but he merely shrugged. "Was it the vision?" I asked.

  Still no verbal answer from Samuel, but his muscles tensed more. A vein popped out in his neck above his collar. "What did you see?" I whispered.

  A single shake of his bowed head. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Whatever he'd seen had disturbed him. He couldn't have seen through my eyes then, but the other man's. The master.

  "Did you see a woman?" I asked him.

  "Stop," he hissed. "I cannot answer you."

  Cannot or would not? I suspected it was the latter. I also suspected I was right and he'd seen the same girl I'd seen when I looked through that man's eyes. A frightened girl in a bedroom.

  She didn't belong there.

  I didn't know where that thought had come from, or why I'd thought it, but I knew I was right. A sickening feeling congealed in my gut. Oh God. We had to help her.

  "Charity?" Tommy asked. "Are you all right?"

  I shook my head. "Not really." I answered him, but I looked at Myer. "You see, Samuel and I had a vision just now. I saw through his eyes and he saw through the other man's."

  "The same fellow you told me about?" Myer asked.

  "I believe so. You see, there have been some developments, since we last spoke with you. It explains my reason for being here." I told him about my attempted kidnapping and the man who'd been behind those attacks—a man named the master who seemed to know me personally. A man who I'd seen die.

  "So, you see the problem," I said. "We cannot give the police directions or even a description of this so-called master. He doesn't exist."

  He leaned back against the scullery bench and held up the lantern to my face. He studied me for some time, then looked to both Tommy and Samuel. "I can see how you would think he doesn't exist, Miss Evans. After all, you have little experience with the supernatural."

  Samuel's head snapped up. "What sort of supernatural are you talking about?"

  "Ghosts."

  I shook my head. "I've seen Cara—Miss Moreau—talk to ghosts, but I haven't been able to see them. I concede that perhaps I might be able to see through the eyes of one, but I don't believe this master is a spirit. There's another girl in my visions, you see, and she can see him. I'm quite certain of it. Unless you think she's a medium?"

  "I doubt it. I would have heard about her. And anyway, you've missed the point. Ghosts are only visible to mediums when in ghost form. They become as real as you and me when they take over a living body."

  "Possession," Samuel murmured. "The master's ghost has possessed someone."

  I gasped.

  "But why?" Tommy asked. "Why not go up to Heaven or… the other place."

  "The fact he hasn't passed over means he's restless," Myer said. "He has something unresolved that he needs to do on this realm."

  "Me," I murmured. "I am his unresolved business."

  The room closed in. My breaths came in rapid bursts, yet I couldn't fill my lungs. Couldn't think through the fog inside my head. Everything tilted and I lost my balance. I reached out for the nearest thing—Samuel.

  "Charity?" He scooped his arm around my waist just in time to catch me as I fainted.

  CHAPTER 9

  I awoke in the bed I'd been using since my arrival at Frakingham. Light edged the velvet curtains and brightened the room a little. It was morning.

  "Ah," said a man I didn't recognize. "You're awake." The pink lips peeping out between gray moustache and beard smiled in a benignly polite way. He leaned forward and peered into my eyes.

  "Thank goodness!" Sylvia came into view beside him. She clasped my hand, resting on top of the bedcovers. "We were so worried, but Dr. Gowan said you would be well enough after a sound sleep."

  "What happened?" I asked.

  "You fainted from exhaustion," the doctor said.

  "Exhaustion? But I didn't feel particularly tired."

  "From worry then, after which you merely fell asleep." He nodded and murmured under his breath then straightened. "Fetch me if there's any change," he told Sylvia. "I suspect she'll reach a full recovery very soon. It was merely a nervous condition."

  "Nervous condition?" I struggled to sit up. Sylvia tried to stop me, but I pushed her hand away. "I do not suffer from nerves, doctor."

  "Ah, well," was all he said. He picked a black bag up off the floor. "Get some rest, Miss Evans. Do not frighten the good people of Frakingham any more than you already have."

  I watched him leave then looked to Sylvia. Had I really worried her and the others? She did indeed seem concerned. I shouldn't be surprised; I'd fainted in her house. Me, a usually robust and healthy individual.

  Then I recalled why I'd fainted. The master's ghost had possessed someone, and was now after me.

  I gripped Sylvia's hand hard. She winced. "Your strength has returned, I see."

  I apologized and let her go.

  "I am pleased you're going to be well again," she said in earnest. "I received quite a fright when Tommy woke me last night to tell me you'd fainted."

  Her kindly words surprised me. They held none of the coolness she'd directed toward me since my arrival. Perhaps her concern had broken through the barrier she'd erected between us. I was beginning to see why Hannah liked her, now. She could be quite sweet.

  I tried to recall the events of the evening. I'd collapsed in the scullery surrounded by Samuel, Tommy and Myer. Samuel had caught me. Had he carried me to the bed too? I checked under the covers. I wore only a nightgown.

  "Maud helped me undress you," Sylvia said. "You were quite asleep. Tommy went to fetch the doctor immediately. This was his second visit. It's mid-morning."

  "Goodness. How could I have slept so long?"

  She shrugged. "Perhaps it was exhaustion, like he said, brought on by shock. Tommy said you got quite the scare when Mr. Myer showed up. I can't blame you. I would have been terrified out of my wits too, to see someone walking in our ruins after dark. That place is frightful even during the day! And that man is…" She shuddered. "I don't trust him."

  It would seem Tommy hadn't told her what Myer had said about possession. Perhaps it was best she didn't know. She was a nervous girl. It would seem I was more the nervous sort than I had realized, too.

  I threw the covers off and swung my legs out of the bed.

  "What are you doing?" Sylvia cried. She grabbed hold of my legs and swung them back. I was caught so unawares that I didn't resist.

  "I'm getting up."

  "You mustn't, unless it's to use the privy. Do you need to go?"

  "No. Actually, I'm hungry." I swung my legs out again.

  She pushed them back, giving me a glare. "Stay in bed."

  "I didn't hear the doctor say I had to remain abed any longer."

  "He did say to rest."

  "Rest, not bed rest."

  She clicked her tongue. "Nevertheless, I think you should stay here and let me take care of you. I'm quite a good nurse, ask Tommy. Now, stay here and I'll have some breakfast sent up. Then I'll read to you."

  Spare me. She might be the best nurse in the world, but bed rest was so dull. "Actually, I need to speak to Samuel."

  "You can't." She settled the bedcovers around my hips, tucking them in as if that could trap me. "It's not proper for him to see you in bed."

  "That's why I want to get up!"

  She clicked her tongue. "Stay here
. I'll be back in a moment with some dry toast."

  "Dry toast? Can't I have it with butter and marmalade? Oh and some eggs and bacon too, please."

  "No." She gave an emphatic shake of her head. "Dry toast only. It's better for the stomach."

  "My stomach is fine."

  She left without making further comment, although her glare was sharp enough to pin me to the bed.

  I got up and donned my gray dress. It was a plain gown, like all of my clothes, with none of the pretty embellishments like Sylvia's. It was well made, however, and had served me two years already without needing any mending. Perhaps I could add some ribbon or lace to it.

  I checked myself in the dressing table mirror and sighed. My cheeks did look a little pale. I pinched them, but it did little to improve their color.

  I left the bedroom and went in search of Samuel. I found him coming out of August Langley's laboratory, on the top floor, in a part of the house that had suffered damage in the fire. The restoration was so good that it was impossible to tell where the new started and the old ended. I thought it odd that a wheelchair bound man would have his rooms so high in the house, but I supposed it didn't matter overmuch when one was reclusive. Bollard must carry him up and down when necessary.

  I peeked through the door as Samuel opened it and got a view of a long room that seemed to run half the length of the eastern wing. There were overflowing bookshelves, chests of drawers, and large tables cluttered with papers and instruments. There were glass jars filled with liquids and things I couldn't identify from my position. Some pretty paintings lined the walls and an armchair near the window looked out at the scenery. It was all rather normal for a science laboratory, until one looked down at the far end, past the tables.

  Bollard stood near a large wooden chair that resembled a throne more than a mere chair. It was huge, with an intricately carved back and arm rests. The back came up to Bollard's chin and he was not a small man. Metal pipes and coils sprang from behind it and reached through the slats like mechanical tentacles. It was difficult to tell whether they were attached to the chair or a contraption behind. The servant fiddled with the knobs on a box nearby, while Langley studied a piece of paper. I couldn't fathom what a microbiologist needed with a hideous piece of furniture like that. I thought his tools of trade consisted of microscopes, syringes and glass dishes.

  "Are you well, Charity?" Samuel asked. He closed the door behind him, shutting off my view of the laboratory.

  "Yes, thank you. And thank you for seeing that I got to my room last night." I felt my face heat at the thought of Samuel holding me. I didn't know why. I'd had men hold me before, and far more intimately, yet never blushed at the thought of it.

  "My pleasure," he said. "Uh, I don't mean pleasure, I mean… I was glad I was there to catch you." He blushed fiercely and chewed on his lower lip.

  I suppressed a giggle. It was sweet to see such a confident gentleman as Samuel stumble, but I didn't want to make him feel awkward. "I don't know what came over me."

  "Shock, I suspect."

  "I am usually not as shockable as that."

  He frowned. "The last few days have been draining on me, I can only guess how it has been for you."

  We walked slowly together down the stairs. I wasn't quite sure where we were heading, but he seemed as content as I was to just walk.

  "Samuel, we need to talk about our visions and—"

  "No, Charity, we don't."

  "Samuel, please. It's—"

  "No!" He quickened his pace.

  "Slow down," I said, trying to keep up. "Do you wish me to faint again?" It was perhaps a low thing to say, since I didn't feel at all dizzy. But it did get him to pause and wait for me.

  He kept his head bowed and didn't look at me. Blond strands of his hair hung over his eyes, obscuring them.

  "Are you all right?" he asked, peeking out through the wisps of hair.

  I nodded. "I am on the road to recovery, but I have a suspicion that I cannot fully recover until my mind is at ease."

  "You're not getting your memory back, then. It won't help ease your mind in the least."

  "Actually, I wasn't going to ask you to remove the block."

  He lifted his chin to look at me properly. "Oh? Then what?"

  "I want to find that girl. The one in our visions. I'm worried about her."

  "What makes you think she's in danger?"

  "You."

  "Me? What have I said?"

  "It wasn't what you said, but your reaction last night. You were deeply troubled when you came inside, and I doubted it had anything to do with catching Myer. It had to be from the vision. Since I saw that girl during my last vision, through that man's eyes, I suspect you saw her this time, too. What did she look like?"

  He shook his head. "I don't want to discuss this with you." He set off down the stairs again, albeit it at a slower pace.

  "Why not?"

  "I just don't. Accept it." The sweetness of a few moments before had completely vanished, once again, with the harsh directness of his words. Much like the character in The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, it was as if he were two distinct people.

  I followed him in silence until we reached the bottom of the staircase in the entrance hall. "Are you worried that discussing it will trigger my own memories?" I said quietly. I hardly knew what I was saying. The words seemed to tumble out on their own.

  "There’s a distinct possibility that it will," he said. "I won't risk that. You cannot have the memory unblocked."

  "Cannot? What if I want it back? It is my memory."

  "You just told me you didn't want it."

  "That's not the point. The point is that you should allow it if that were my wish."

  He shook his head and strode off to the front door. "You're not getting it back."

  I chased after him. "You can't make the decision on my behalf."

  "Yes, I can." He crossed the lawn in the direction of the ruins and lake. It was a sunny day, so while leaving without hat, coat and gloves may have been unconventional, at least we wouldn't get cold.

  I picked up my skirts and walked at a brisk pace to keep up. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I stomped after him in exasperation. The effect was lost, however, on the soft grass. "I ought to have the right to decide, not you."

  "No, you shouldn't." He stopped suddenly and rounded on me. Cold fury glinted in his eyes. "You don't know what that memory contains. I do. Only I can make a decision in your best interests."

  "My best interests!" I threw up my hands, letting my skirts go. They swayed around my ankle boots before settling. "Need I remind you that you have no authority over me? I make my own decisions—"

  "So you like to remind me," he ground out. He strode off again.

  I followed but said nothing. Anger simmered inside me for several paces, but then I made a conscious decision to let it go. Our argument was pointless, since I didn't want to remember again. What I did want was to help that girl.

  "Samuel, wait. Please, we have to talk about her. I have a terrible foreboding about her situation."

  That got him stopping and turning to face me once more. "You've remembered something?"

  "Not exactly. It's more of a feeling."

  He blew out a measured breath. "Go on."

  "I get them sometimes, these feelings. I will inexplicably become afraid, or I get the sensation of being closed in or trapped. I think it's related to my blocked memory."

  He said nothing, confirming my suspicion.

  "I feel anxious for her and I can't really explain why. She looked frightened in my vision. How did she look in yours?"

  He didn't answer for a long time. When he did, his voice was soft, hesitant. "Like a young woman who could be anybody, anywhere. There was no indication that she was in trouble. I saw no… signs of distress, except for a few tears."

  "The signs could be on her back." Like mine.

  "The truth of the matter is, we don't know, Charity. She mi
ght be this fellow's daughter, or even his wife."

  "Indeed she might be, but if the master's ghost has possessed someone, say her father, then she could be very much in danger."

  "Or he might be doing nothing but scolding her."

  "If you really believed that then you would not have looked so worried last night. Nor would you have a concern about returning my memory."

  "The two may not be linked."

  I rolled my eyes. "Of course they are. It's quite obvious to me and I don't even possess that memory anymore."

  He walked off on me again. I sighed and trotted to keep up. "Why won't you help?" I said, drawing alongside him. "At least try to investigate."

  "Investigate what? We have no clues. As to why I don't try harder, she is not my responsibility. You are."

  "Me?" I stumbled over my own feet. Lightning quick, he caught me before I fell. His thumbs rubbed my elbows in little circles. Despite the fabric of my gown, I could feel the warmth of his skin. His gaze connected with mine for a brief, heart-stopping moment. I saw something in his eyes that I'd seen so many times before in the eyes of men—desire.

  But there was something else, too. Something I couldn't identify. Perhaps it was concern; he certainly seemed quite worried about me, enough to consider me his responsibility when he didn't need to.

  My chest began to ache. I'd never been anyone's responsibility before. I supposed I had been my mother's, when I was little, but afterward I'd always taken care of myself and made my own decisions. Jack had protected me when I needed it, but he'd never thought of me as his responsibility. No more than the other orphans living in our derelict house.

  This was new. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. Nevertheless, the ache didn't go away.

  Samuel let me go. "Sylvia is under my care too, of course," he muttered.

  "Yes," I muttered back. "Of course." The woman I'd met at Claridge’s came to mind. Did he not consider her his responsibility, even though she considered herself engaged to him? Why had Samuel put off an engagement to such a beauty? It was most odd, and seemed quite unlike him. Well, unlike the man he used to be before he took my memory.