The Complete 1st Freak House Trilogy: Box set (The 1st Freak House Trilogy) Read online

  The mansion was a statement of architectural perfection from the previous century when an ancestor of the current earl had built it. Wide and rectangular, it was all straight lines and right angles. The dozens of windows were precisely the same distance apart on all its three levels, and the grand front porch was placed exactly in the middle, the columns holding up the portico like soldiers keeping guard. Nothing was irregular or wrong at Windamere.

  Nothing, that is, except Vi and I.

  "Continue, girls," barked Miss Levine. "Violet! Don't stop now."

  Violet held the brim of her hat and led the way across the park toward the woods. The breeze ruffled the feathers attached to the hatband, and a strand of my hair fluttered against my cheek.

  "You're looking for him, aren't you?" Vi said as I drew alongside her.

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "You shouldn't. You know nothing about him."

  "What has that got to do with anything?"

  She held the lapels of her coat together at her throat for warmth. "He could be dangerous. He could be waiting behind the bushes to..."

  I snorted. "Vi, stop worrying. What do you think he's going to do with you and Miss Levine here? Ravish me?" I laughed at the absurdity of it, but even so, my scalp tingled at the thought of the new gardener kissing me.

  "It's not a joke, Hannah." We'd almost reached the edge of the woods, and she stopped again, eyeing the bank of trees as if they would stretch out their branches and capture us. "It'll start raining soon."

  "You want to turn back, don't you?"

  She looked down at her boots and said nothing.

  "Come on," I said. "The exercise will do you good. Cool that fire within you." I smiled at my little joke, but she only frowned harder. I winced. "Sorry."

  "If you're determined to have your walk, then let's walk." Her tone was curt, crisp, so like Miss Levine's. "I want to go into the woods today."

  "Really? I thought you hated the woods."

  I glanced back at Miss Levine. She still followed, her gaze focused not on us but on the trees.

  I tilted my face into the cool breeze and a fat raindrop exploded on my cheek. "Bloody hell."

  "Hannah!" Vi scolded. She hated my occasional outburst, but she was used to them nevertheless and no longer truly shocked.

  "We'd better hurry," I said, walking faster, clutching my gloves tighter. Another raindrop splashed on the end of my nose, then another and another. "We need to find shelter. Shall we head towards the orangery instead?"

  "No!"

  I blinked at her. Her vehemence was so odd, so unlike her.

  "The woods are closer." She set off at a run toward the trees, and I followed. She was correct in that the thick canopy would provide some shelter against the rain. I didn't look around to see if Miss Levine followed until I reached the trees, and when I did, I was surprised to find that she was not with us.

  "We should wait here for her," Vi said, breathing hard as she caught up to me.

  I squinted through the rain and shook my head. "I can't see her. She must have decided to run to the orangery." The image of Miss Levine running anywhere was rather absurd, but it was odd that I couldn't see her. Wherever she'd gone, it wasn't toward us.

  "The woodsman's cottage isn't far from here." Vi had to shout to be heard above the rain splattering against the leaves. "Let's wait for her there."

  "I don't particularly care to wait for Miss Levine anywhere," I said. "But let's go anyway. We'll enjoy our temporary freedom, and get out of this weather." I set off along the path that had been hacked through the ferns and other bushes.

  Vi's footsteps thudded on the damp leaves and earth behind me. Although we moved as quickly as we could, we were both drenched by the time we reached the old woodsman's cottage in the clearing. I pushed open the door and stumbled inside, Vi at my heels. She slammed the door, shutting out the wind and rain, but not the cool dampness.

  Calling the building a cottage was perhaps a stretch. It was more like a hut, with only one room and one fireplace with a dented pot nestled among the ashes. The cottage must have stood in that clearing for centuries. The blackened beams hung low overhead, and the daub had come away in patches, revealing a skeleton of thin branches that held the walls up by some miracle. A small chest to one side of the fire contained tin bowls, cups, cutlery and a pan, and placed strategically in front of the hearth were two chairs.

  "Good lord, I'm soaked!" I removed my coat and threw it and my gloves over the back of a chair.

  Vi glanced around. "We're alone."

  "You sound surprised."

  "I...I thought the gardeners may have sheltered here too."

  The gardeners did indeed use the cottage to store equipment or their packed lunch if they worked nearby, and we usually knocked before going inside, just in case. But, despite the rain and the need for shelter, the single-room cottage was unoccupied.

  "I wouldn't be surprised if someone comes," Vi said.

  One could only hope. I wouldn't mind seeing that new gardener again, although I was sure he wouldn't remain once he discovered us there. A male servant confined in a small space with Lady Violet would tarnish her reputation and be cause for malicious gossip if discovered.

  The fact that I worried about her reputation was laughable considering she was unlikely ever to enter Society and had no need of a reputation, either good or bad.

  "They must be working farther away today," I said.

  Vi glanced out the window and hugged herself as a shudder wracked her. "The rain seems to have set in. We should start a small fire if we're to be here awhile." She inspected the wood box near the hearth. "There's no kindling. Will you fetch some, Hannah?"

  Pity she couldn't set alight the thick piece of timber she removed from the box with a point of her finger. At least that would be a benefit to an affliction that made her life miserable.

  I ventured out again. The wind slammed the door closed behind me and lashed my damp skirt to my legs. It tugged my hair out from beneath my hat and drove the cold needles of rain into my cheeks. The tired, drooping porch did little to protect either me or the neat stack of wood near the door. Hopefully the kindling inside the box fared better.

  I bent to open the lid, but stopped when I saw something move out of the corner my eye. I turned to look. Nothing there except trees and rain. I straightened.

  Someone grabbed me from behind. A hand holding a cloth clamped over my nose and mouth. A sweet smell swamped me and clung to the back of my throat. I tried to scream, but what little sound came out would not have reached Vi. I scrabbled at the hand, tried to pull it away, but my attacker was too strong. His other arm circled my waist, holding me against his body. I knew it was a man. No woman was built like a steel brace.

  The sweet smell filled my head, my lungs, and I began to feel myself drifting into a fog. A sudden wave of panic lent me strength. I clawed at that bare hand again. The man's breath hissed through his teeth as I peeled off some of his skin with my fingernails, but my fight was all too brief. The fog closed around me. My eyelids were too leaden to keep open.

  "It's all right, Lady Violet," he said. His words vibrated through the back of my head, pressed into his chest. "You'll come to no harm if you cooperate."

  I felt myself slipping away. I could no longer stand and he picked me up. I would have been able to see his face if I could only open my eyes. Yet I was not so concerned about his identity at that moment as I was about what he'd just called me.

  He thought I was Vi. He might be carrying me away from her, but I could still protect her. I would not tell him he had the wrong girl.

  CHAPTER 2

  I didn't have to open my eyes to know I was in a carriage traveling at a fast clip along a rough road. The cabin rocked and bumped violently, tossing me about on the seat upon which I half lay. My feet were on the floor, but my body was covered by a blanket. Both the blanket and my clothes smelled of damp wool, possibly the worst smell in the entire world. No, not entirely true. Wha
tever had been soaked into that rag and caused me to blackout at the cottage was now the worst smell ever. Still, damp wool was unpleasant and, along with the rocking cabin, made my stomach churn.

  "Here, use this," a voice said.

  I cracked open my eyes to see a young woman of about my own age sitting across from me. It was dim in the cabin, but I could see she was quite pretty in a quiet way that didn't strike you immediately. She had a wide mouth and bright eyes that sparkled even in the dimness. I guessed them to be blue to go with her hair color, but it was impossible to tell if they were dark like mine or paler.

  She was beautifully dressed too in a pale pink gown trimmed with black lace and a tall black hat perched loftily on her blonde head. She emptied the contents of her reticle in her lap and passed it across the gap between us.

  "I'm fine," I rasped, my throat dry.

  The carriage lurched again and my stomach dipped and rose. I took the reticule just in time to throw up in it. Good lord, were all carriage rides so turbulent?

  When I finished, I closed the reticule and hesitantly held it out for her. She screwed up her nose and shrank into her seat.

  "Please don't take offense," she said, "but I don't suppose you'd mind holding it until we reach our destination. It won't be long now."

  I slowly sat up and lifted the green velvet curtain edged with gold lace. The landscape whipped past at a rate that had my stomach rolling again. I'd not thought anything could move so swiftly! I let the curtain fall back into place, but not before I'd seen that it was still raining, albeit with less ferocity.

  "Do you feel better?" the woman asked.

  "Not particularly."

  Her face fell. "Oh. It's just as well you still have my reticule then."

  "Most fortuitous."

  She must have heard the sarcasm in my voice because a small crease appeared between her eyebrows. "I know this is very trying for you, Lady Violet, but I want to assure you that you have nothing to fear. We don't intend to harm you."

  Did I just imagine the slight emphasis on the word 'intend,' and the shifting of her gaze so that she wasn't quite looking me in the eyes? "Then you won't mind answering my questions," I said, sounding bolder than I felt.

  "I don't mind, but unfortunately I'm forbidden to do so."

  "Forbidden? By whom?"

  She gave me a tight smile. "All will be explained when we arrive, Lady Violet."

  Hearing Vi's name only deepened my sense of dread. What would they do when they discovered I wasn't Vi? What did they want her for in the first place? Ransom money? Yes, that must be it.

  "Don't worry," she said as I shrank into the corner. "It's nothing sinister, and our reasons are noble. Indeed, we wish to help you." She squeezed her lips as if trying to hold back more words. I got the feeling she wasn't supposed to have said that much.

  I swallowed. The lingering taste of bile burned my throat. Bile and fear. My heart hammered in my chest and I desperately wanted to go back, to see Vi again and Windamere. I'd even settle for seeing Miss Levine and my small bed. Just something, or someone, familiar. I wished I could take back every moment in which I'd craved to be far away from the attic. I suddenly felt terribly ungrateful for everything I'd been given.

  I wondered how long it had taken Vi to notice I was gone. What had she done when she realized I wasn't coming back? Had she run to the house and alerted her father? Would he have listened to her and sent out a search party or ordered her to return upstairs to the attic?

  It was possible that Lord Wade cared nothing about my disappearance. I was, after all, nothing more than his daughter's friend. The only person in the world who cared whether I lived or died was Vi, a prisoner in her own home and quite powerless to search for me. One thing I did know for certain—she would be utterly miserable without me, just as I felt utterly miserable and alone without her, despite the presence of the mystery woman across from me.

  "I'm Miss Sylvia Langley," she said, as if she could read my mind. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

  Politeness dictated that I give my name in response, even if it were already known, but I was in no mood to be polite, nor did I want to lie and introduce myself as Lady Violet Jamieson, daughter of Lord Wade. But I certainly did not want to give her my real name and divulge that she had the wrong person. Whereas I could endure a kidnapping, and more, Vi's nerves would snap altogether and ruin her fragile mind.

  "You seem quite certain I won't attack you and try to escape," I said instead.

  "Why would you want to escape?" She seemed genuinely puzzled. "You'll be offered a great deal more freedom than you were given at Windamere Manor."

  "'A great deal more freedom' doesn't have quite the same meaning as 'You're free to come and go as you please.'"

  Miss Langley's jaw went rigid. "I know your father has kept you in the attic. I would consider anything other than a genuine prison cell 'more freedom,' wouldn't you?"

  So she knew that much. Interesting. It was no secret that Lord Wade's eldest daughter lived in the attic of Windamere with her governess and companion, but most thought she was there of her own volition. Even our tutors had been under the impression. Miss Levine had told us it was generally thought Vi was simple-minded and wanted to be left alone. Her stuttered greetings to the butler certainly did nothing to dispel the rumors. What everyone thought of me being kept in the attic with her, I couldn't guess. Perhaps, being the orphan of servants, they thought my situation was a fortunate one. Sometimes I believed that too.

  "I'm sorry if you think Lord Wade will pay your ransom," I said. "You're going to be quite shocked when you discover he doesn't care enough to capitulate to your demands."

  She lifted one brow. "You don't think he would pay a ransom for your release?"

  "Do you think a gentleman who keeps his child in the attic would want her back?" Whether he did or didn't, wasn't the point. The point was, Miss Langley and her friends had not kidnapped his daughter. They'd kidnapped Hannah Smith. A nobody. Vi might not consider me replaceable, but I wouldn't begin to know what Lord Wade thought.

  "I see what you mean," she said. "Well then. It's fortunate that we don't want his money, or we'd be in a pickle."

  No ransom? How curious. "Then what do you want with me?"

  "I am sorry, but I cannot answer any more questions." The carriage slowed and she pulled the curtain back. "Ah, here we are. Home at last."

  I lifted my side of the curtain just as the carriage passed through an iron gate. Tall, thick oaks lined the drive, their overhanging branches shielding what little light filtered through the gray clouds. I caught a glimpse of a lake where bare weeping willow branches cried into the still, flat surface. Beyond that, what looked to be a ruined building rose out of the ground liked jagged teeth. It was too far away for me to see what sort of structure it had once been, or if indeed it was a genuine ruin or a folly like the one in Windamere's park.

  We rounded a gentle bend and the trees thinned out until all that was left was a neat lawn and some low shrubs clipped into the shape of inverted drips. Gravel crunched under tires, and the driver urged the horses to slow with a few commanding words.

  Was he the one who'd captured me? Or had my kidnapper remained at Windamere after delivering me to the carriage?

  I ceased wondering as the house rolled past the window. No, not house, mansion. Or more particularly, a castle. Where Windamere Manor was all formal regularity, this house was not. There were gabled roofs in abundance, their peaks topped with decorative pinnacles like insect antennae. The gables were broken up by castellated turrets and towers, and I couldn't even begin to count the chimney stacks, there were so many. The dark gray stone was also in contrast to Windamere's golden hues, and with the heavy clouds hanging low overhead, it looked rather medieval and altogether forbidding.

  A shiver trickled down my spine. "What is this place?"

  "Freak House," Miss Langley said.

  "Pardon?"

  The carriage door opened and, because I was
leaning on it, I tumbled out without an ounce of grace. I managed to hang onto the reticule as strong hands caught me by the upper arms, saving me from a muddy puddle. It had stopped raining, but the ground was drenched.

  "Thank you." I looked up, straight into the green eyes of the new Windamere gardener. "You!"

  He let go, but not before I noticed how warm his hands were, even through my sleeves. "My apologies," he said. "I feel terrible about what happened, but it was necessary. Or so I was I told." This last he muttered under his breath, but it didn't disguise his voice, so deep and rumbling. I remembered how it had vibrated through me when he'd grabbed me outside the woodsman's cottage. It must have been he who'd captured me and held that God-awful cloth to my nose. "Are you all right?" he asked. "No lasting effects from the ether?"

  "None at all." I held out the reticule full of vomit. "Would you mind carrying my luggage?"

  A small frown creased his brow as he took the reticule and glanced at Miss Langley behind me.

  She giggled. "I do believe I like you already, Lady Violet." She hooked her arm through mine and I found it comforting, despite my apprehension.

  Comfort or no, I released myself and took a step away from her and the gardener. They were my captors. No matter how polite or kind, I must always remember that they'd kidnapped me using unconscionable methods.

  Miss Langley chewed her lower lip and looked as if she'd burst into tears. "Say something to her, Jack."

  The gardener stared at me, and for a brief moment, I saw a sadness in his eyes that equaled Vi's on days when I couldn't drag her away from the window. But it was so fleeting that I wondered if I'd imagined it. "I suspect anything I say will sound hollow." Although he answered Miss Langley, I felt as if he spoke directly to me.

  "You could introduce yourself," I said. "That would be a good place to start."

  It must not have been the response he expected because he took a moment to answer and his mood seemed to lighten a little. "Jack Langley at your service." He bowed.