The Memory Keeper Page 4

  "Nevertheless, I want to talk to him," I said.

  "And say what?" Jack snapped.

  "Jack," Hannah scolded.

  "It's all right," I told her. Sometimes I thought she forgot that Jack and I had been close once. So close that we'd always spoken our minds to one another, even when what was on our mind was a sharp barb aimed to hurt. We'd grown up since then, thank goodness, but that directness between us had never quite gone away.

  "You came here to remove the memories, Charity," Jack said. "You need at least some time without them."

  "You think I'll ask him to remove the block?"

  "You might," he hedged.

  "Would that be a problem?"

  "Hannah and I urged you to do it. Samuel too. We don't want you to go back. Not before you've been without them for a while. Samuel will be all right. We'll see to it."

  "How? You're going away on your honeymoon, soon."

  "I'll still be here," Sylvia said cheerfully. "Tommy, Uncle and I will keep a watchful eye on him."

  "See," Jack said. "He's in good hands."

  I eyed Sylvia as she embroidered a square of cloth. I wasn't so sure she was capable of taking care of a troubled Samuel, but her inclusion of Tommy eased my conscience. He was reliable and loyal. If Jack asked him to monitor Samuel, he would.

  "Now, stop worrying," Jack told me. "Go back to your students and enjoy your new life."

  I gave him a smile. "I will, thank you. But I still wish to help you look for him today."

  He rolled his eyes. "Females. I suppose you want to come too, Hannah?"

  She grinned. "Of course. I wouldn't want to miss an adventure. Besides, Samuel is a friend. I want to help him." Her good humor was infectious. She made me feel as if everything would work out well.

  The three of us set off in the Langley growler. We peered out the windows and scoured the nearby countryside for signs of Samuel. Jack, however, was quite certain he'd gone into the village. We fell into an uneasy silence until I broke it when we arrived in Harborough.

  "Do you know what happened to me?" I asked him. He sat beside Hannah, their hands linked on her knee. They were such a close couple, so perfect for one another. I hoped I could one day find my perfect husband too, now that I was free. "I can't recall if I told you."

  He took a moment to answer. "I know a little," he finally said. "You told me some details, but not all of them. Just enough to…" He stopped himself with a sharp intake of breath. He turned to look out the window. "We're here."

  I didn't push him. He'd said enough to answer my curiosity. It would seem Samuel was indeed the only person in possession of complete knowledge of my past. He was my memory keeper, and I felt compelled to ensure he was safe and well. I owed him that, at least.

  The Red Lion was a large establishment on a prominent corner in Harborough. It was the favored inn of the village's heavy drinkers, Jack claimed. He and Samuel usually went elsewhere.

  Most of the patrons looked up as we entered. Some nodded a greeting at Jack, but many did not. Their wary gazes followed our progress through the taproom to the lone figure sitting on a stool at the far end of the long polished bar. He was slumped forward a little, a glass of ale in his hand. A serving girl leaned against him, her bosom pressed into his arm. She spoke rapidly, stroking his blond hair. Samuel didn't seem to be listening. He propped his head up with one hand and stared into his glass.

  "You won't find answers in there," Jack told him.

  Samuel's gaze drifted to mine and narrowed. "You brought the heavy artillery, I see. You need not have bothered, I'm not finished here yet. Go away."

  I was quite sure he was talking to me, or perhaps all three of us, but it was the serving girl who left, and not without flinging a scowl at me first.

  "Come home," Hannah said. She touched his hand like I wanted to, but was too afraid. "Please, Samuel. We miss you."

  He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, as if trying to suppress a headache. "Thank you," he muttered. "But I'm not ready to return."

  "When then?"

  "Tomorrow."

  "After I've left," I murmured.

  Samuel didn't answer, nor did he look at me. I folded my arms and hugged myself against the cold chill that swept down my spine. Hannah put her arm around me, but didn't refute my statement. We all knew it was true.

  "Snap out of it, Gladstone," Jack growled. "You're making the ladies uneasy."

  Samuel raised his glass in salute. "I'm terribly sorry, ladies. But if you don't mind, I need some peace and quiet." He pointed his glass at me. "You may not believe it, but this isn't about you."

  I believed him. I knew enough from my days of living on the London streets, dodging the drunkards of both sexes to know that an excess of drink led to an excess of the truth.

  "Then what is it about?" I challenged. "Why are you sitting here, drinking alone, staring morosely into your glass so soon after you hypnotized me?"

  "I'm not alone." He nodded at the serving girl who'd been keeping him company. "Emily was here. Or was it Emma? Anne?" He shook his head. "My head hurts too much to think about names."

  I forged on. "Forgive me, but I can't ignore the coincidence in the timing."

  "Try harder."

  I pressed my lips together to suppress the retort that sprang to mind. I needed to remember that he'd done me a service and was usually a good, kind man.

  "Oh, Samuel," Hannah said on a sigh. "This isn't like you."

  He swung round, splashing some of the ale over the sides of his glass. "How do you know? You met me mere months ago. None of you know the real Samuel Gladstone."

  "Of course we do, dolt," Jack said. "You're a pompous toff, with more charm than one fellow has a right to have. Your constant smiling grates on my nerves and you have an annoying habit of bringing calm and reason to an argument. You make it impossible for anyone to stay angry with you for any length of time but, I can assure you, if you continue to refuse to come home with us now, I will get angry. In front of half the village. Is that what you want?"

  He would do it, too. Jack wasn't one to back away from an argument.

  "There are a lot of things that I don't want, Jack," Samuel said. "They happen anyway. Your still being here is one of them."

  He did not move and I could see that Jack had run out of threats. Hannah took her husband's hand, as if she were worried he'd try to knock some sense into Samuel.

  "Come on," Jack said to Hannah and me. "We can't help him if he doesn't want to be helped."

  Hannah turned to leave, but I did not. I felt like Samuel was my responsibility now. We were linked through my memories and I was sure that it was those memories that had driven him to drink, despite his denial. Besides, I did not like the way he was treating two very good people.

  I edged closer to him and leaned down so that only he could hear me. "For God's sake," I said between gritted teeth. "Your friends are worried about you. I'm worried about you. Come back with us."

  The sinewy cords in his neck tensed, but he still refused to look at me. Indeed, he hadn't looked at me since he'd called me 'heavy artillery.'

  "Go away, Charity," he said. "Go back to London. Our business is concluded. There's nothing to keep you at Frakingham."

  Air escaped in a hiss through the gap in my teeth. Blood thudded between my ears. I pressed my palm flat on the bar beside his glass, but it did nothing to stem the rise of my anger. "You do not get to say when I go. I will not leave Frakingham until you've returned. Do you understand? So if you wish me to go home to London, then come back with us now. I'll keep to my original plan and be gone early in the morning."

  He grunted a laugh. "So you're a stubborn female after all."

  "And you're a toss-pot."

  That produced a gasp from Hannah behind me and a chuckle from Jack. Samuel's jaw hardened. He twisted the glass slowly between both hands as he glared at it.

  "I think I liked you better when you were reserved," was all he said.

  "And I like
you better when you're sober."

  "Am I not charming enough for you now?" Finally he looked at me. My gut twisted at the sight of the wretchedness in his swirling blue-gray eyes and the twisted sneer on his lips. "And here I thought you loathed charming men."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Nothing," he mumbled, his gaze lowering.

  I didn't press him. I had a feeling his accusation was linked to my memories.

  "Samuel," Jack snapped. "You need to stop drinking before you say something you shouldn't."

  "Drinking helps," Samuel said. "Believe me, it helps a great deal. You three leaving would help even more."

  I'd had enough of his belligerence. Hannah and Jack didn't deserve it. I was quite sure I didn't either. Whatever memories I was now missing, I could still recall all of my conversations with Samuel. I'd been polite to him and not once had I led him to think I welcomed his attempts to court me. If I'd hurt his feelings then it was unintentional.

  "Jack was right," I growled. "You're a toff, and a charming one at that. People like you, sometimes against their wishes. You've had an easy life because of it. Too easy. Perhaps that has blinded you to what a true friend looks like, but I can assure you that I can identify them when I see them. I ought to. I have so few. Jack and Hannah care for your wellbeing. To discount that is to hurt them. If you are any kind of a friend in return, you wouldn't want to cause them injury."

  He was quiet for a long time. Not a single muscle in his face moved. I feared that I'd gone too far, but finally, he swallowed. "I see you found some of the fire I knew was in you," he said with a humorless smile.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Charity," Jack said. "Perhaps now isn't the right time."

  "I want to hear what he has to say." The blood pumped through my veins. I was not usually so quick to rile, but I couldn't help it this time; he infuriated me.

  "It means precisely that," Samuel said with a flourish of his hand in my direction. "You have a temper, Charity Evans, and where there's temper, there's passion and feeling. Yet you've kept all of that locked away inside you. It would seem you've unlocked that door." He laughed. The brittle sound grated on my nerves. "It's my own fault, isn't it? I gave you the key and now you're unleashing your temper on me."

  I pointed my finger at him. I knew I should feel some sympathy for him and perhaps guilt, but I was too angry to allow other emotions in. Besides, without knowing what memories I'd given him, it was difficult to fully understand his reaction. "Stop this. Listen to your friends. Come home."

  "You're beautiful when you're angry. There. I can say it now. You're beautiful." He arched an eyebrow as if waiting for my response. "Ha. See, Jack? She's cured. She can now accept compliments and not recoil in horror at the poor fellow who pays them."

  "Don't rile her, Samuel," Jack warned. "She's quite capable of making a scene."

  Indeed I was. Every thud of my pulse was like a hammer blow to the shell that had encased me for so long. A shell I had no idea was even there, and now I had no idea why it was there, thanks to Samuel. How ironic that he would be the first to feel the force of my temper since the hypnosis.

  "Do not change the subject," I spat. "Do not make jokes or pretend not to care." I stabbed my finger near his shoulder, pulling back before I touched him. "I will not leave here until you come with us, Samuel. I'll sit and drink alongside you until I am as drunk as you."

  "Don't be a fool," he muttered.

  "Why not? You are."

  "Don't damage your reputation over this."

  "You're damaging yours. Indeed, I have no reputation here. You do. Who is being the fool now?" I stabbed at him again, and this time I did not pull back. I connected with his shoulder.

  My vision blurred. When it cleared, I couldn't see Samuel. I saw a room with books on large shelves, papers stacked neatly on a wide, deep desk, a silver inkwell nearby. A hand holding a pen stopped writing abruptly, breaking off mid-word. It was a man's hand. The fingernails were neatly trimmed and ink stained the middle finger. I had complete clarity as I looked down at the desk. No dizziness, no strange sensations of displacement or confusion. It was as if I were there in that room.

  The vision vanished. I was staring once more at Samuel, and he stared back at me, his mouth open.

  "What is it?" Hannah asked, gripping my shoulder. "Charity, are you all right?"

  "Another vision," I murmured. "Samuel?"

  He nodded. "I saw myself," he said. "I was standing where you are, looking through your eyes."

  "Did you see through Samuel's eyes?" Jack asked me.

  "No. I saw a study or office." I described the scene, including as much detail as I'd noticed. "It was a man's hand."

  "Any clue as to who he was?"

  "None. It wasn't a young man's hand, but it wasn't old, either." My earlier anger had vanished completely. I looked to Samuel and was surprised to notice that he seemed completely sober. He rubbed his chin in thought. "What's happening?" I asked him.

  "I don't know. It's interesting that our visions have swapped. Last time, you saw what I saw and this time I saw through your eyes."

  "Who is the third person? How is he connected to us?"

  "I wonder…"

  "What?" the three of us prompted.

  "I wonder if it's Myer."

  "Myer!" Everett Myer was another hypnotist. He was a strange man, oddly compelling yet quite morally skewed, according to Jack. He and Samuel were the only ones who could hypnotize people and block their memories. He was of middle-age and extraordinarily wealthy. "He's a banker, isn't he?"

  "Not quite," Samuel said. "He has the principal share in his wife's family's bank, but I don't think he does any actual work for it."

  "But it's likely that he has a study with a large desk in his London townhouse?"

  "He does," Samuel said. "I've not seen inside it, though."

  "It might be worth speaking to him about these visions," Jack suggested. "Even if it's not him, he might know why you're getting them."

  "I don't like it," Hannah said. "That man is odd."

  "I know," Jack said. "But he's the only one who may have answers."

  "Do we need answers?" I asked. "I'm not particularly sure that it matters what we're seeing. It only happens when Samuel and I touch and that is unlikely to happen again."

  He gave me a tight smile. "My charms continue to fail, I see."

  I nodded at the empty glass. "I have no need for charms drowned in ale." Indeed I did not. I had the opportunity for a new, fresh start without my memories to burden me. I could be the woman I always wanted to be, have experiences I always wanted to have. I liked Samuel, liked him very much, but I would not be any man's amusement, no matter how rich or kind. I had done that before—the memory of the generous man who'd taken me as his mistress had not been erased. I had no need to go down that path now. I had the school and my students, I had money and a roof over my head, I had a future. If Samuel still wanted to court me then I would welcome it, but on my terms, not his. No doubt he would see pursuit wasn't worth it once he learned that.

  I sighed. My thoughts had turned melancholy. I did like Samuel when he wasn't drinking. I hadn't realized how much until after the hypnosis. His charming manner no longer worried me, nor did the fact that he could hypnotize me, or anyone else, so easily. My feelings about that had changed. Although I could remember having felt that way mere hours earlier, I couldn't remember why, thanks to the memory block.

  Part of me wished the circumstances were different and I could be something other than a mistress to him. But, of course, that could never happen, not with me being a less than virginal woman.

  If Samuel understood my reservations, he gave no indication. Either our shared visions had sucked all the fight out of him, or my comment about drowning in ale had. Either way, he was quiet as we drove back to the house.

  Sylvia and Tommy greeted us eagerly in the entrance hall. Even Bollard and Mr. Langley came to see how Samuel fared. He remained guard
ed in their presence, accepting their gentle admonishments with a shrug of his broad shoulders then excusing himself.

  I followed him up the stairs. "Samuel, wait."

  He paused on the top step and allowed me to catch up. He looked worn out and I was worried that I wouldn't see him at dinner. I needed to talk to him before I left, and I may not get another opportunity.

  "There's no need to chastise me again," he said. "I know I upset my friends. It wasn't my intention."

  "That wasn't why I wanted to speak to you. Samuel, I feel that I ought to apologize."

  "Don't. And don't ask for the memory block to be removed either. It will change nothing. I told you, 'drowning my charms in ale' as you put it, is not entirely the result of what I saw in your memories. It's more to do with me."

  Not entirely? "I… are you sure? You're not lying to me to ease my conscience?"

  "No."

  "It would seem this experience has changed us both. I suppose that was inevitable, in my case."

  "But not in mine," he muttered.

  "No."

  We stood together in silence. The others had departed from the entrance hall below, leaving us alone. I suddenly felt shy again in Samuel's presence. He stared so intently at me, as if he could see into me. But that was absurd, he had no need. He'd already seen inside my mind. He knew me better than I knew myself. A blush crept up my throat and heated my face. I had to break the awkwardness cloaking us, yet part of me didn't want to. Part of me wanted him to kiss me.

  "Samuel… if you need to talk to someone, please write to me. You say this is not my fault, but I am responsible, in a way. I won't let you suffer on my account."

  "It's not suffering. It's… my cross to bear." He gave me one of his gentle, assured smiles, just like the old Samuel Gladstone. "I'll be back to myself, soon enough, well before Jack and Hannah leave, I'm sure. Stop worrying, Charity. But if it's all right with you, I will write. Perhaps I can even see you when I'm in London?"

  I nodded, even though I knew I should refuse him. I should discourage his friendship and his advances. But I could not. If he needed me then I was obligated to help him, now. He was my memory keeper. In a way, he'd saved me by taking those memories from me. It was my duty to save him if he couldn't battle through his demons alone.