Seared With Scars Page 4

  "Have to tell me what?" Bert asked.

  By the time Samuel finished expounding about demons and what had transpired at Christmas on the estate, Bert needed to sit. He was looking gray again and sweat dampened his hairline. He stared at Samuel, his mouth slightly ajar.

  "Do you believe this, Sylvia?" he asked.

  It would seem my opinion didn't matter to him, only theirs. "It's all quite true," she said, somewhat morbidly. "I've seen strange things happen here myself. Anyway, why would we lie about such a horrible thing like that?"

  Bert continued to stare at Samuel, perhaps wondering if he were being hypnotized into believing him. That would have been my first instinct. "Let's say I believe you," he said. "Let's say a demon took our father's life. Why him?"

  "Wrong place at the wrong time, perhaps," Samuel said. "A newly summoned demon is hungry. It devours everything in its path until it's satisfied."

  "Apparently they're quite dumb creatures," Sylvia added. "They're not capable of independent thought, except when it comes to eating. They need directing on our realm by their summoner."

  "Unless they've been sent here by their own people," Samuel said. "However, that seems to be so rare that the experts agree no demon has been purposely sent here for years."

  Bert rubbed his forehead and slumped forward a little, as if the weight of the new knowledge was too heavy for his frail body. "This is all so…exhausting. I'm not sure what to think."

  Samuel clasped Bert's shoulder. "I know. I'll do whatever I can to help you and Mother as you come to terms with it."

  "Come home."

  Samuel hesitated before nodding slowly. "I need to stay for a few more days to secure the estate here. I won't leave while that thing is out there." He spoke to his brother, but he looked at me. His heated gaze on my face was as intense as ever; even now he thought about protecting me. It was a heady thing, but it made me squirm under his scrutiny. I didn't want it. I looked away, but not before I saw the way Bert glared at him with dark, consuming envy.

  "Where is Jack's knife?" Sylvia asked.

  "I have it," Samuel said.

  "Then you must use it to send that thing back."

  "It won't solve the other problem."

  "And what is that?"

  "We must find out who summoned it. If we don't, they may simply summon another."

  "Bloody hell," Bert muttered. "How will you go about finding the responsible party? Any suspects?"

  "One," Samuel said. "The man who summoned the last one here has the knowledge and an unhealthy interest in the supernatural."

  "Myer," I muttered.

  Sylvia wrinkled her nose. "Horrid man."

  "To summon the demon, he would have to be in the area," I said. "But I thought he went back to London."

  "I'll go into the village and ask the Butterworths if he has returned," Samuel said.

  "You can't go out now!" Sylvia cried. "It's too dangerous. And you must grieve with your family."

  "I have to go. We need to know if he's here or not."

  "And if he isn't?" I said quietly.

  His gaze locked with mine. "Then we must look for another suspect."

  I swallowed. Sylvia whimpered and I worried that she might faint. Thinking about who else might be responsible had me equally fretful. There couldn't be too many people in the vicinity of Frakingham who not only knew how to summon a demon, but possessed the necessary amulet.

  "I wonder," Bert murmured. "Who do you think was the last person to see him alive?"

  "All of us, at dinner," Sylvia said with a shrug. "Well, everyone except Charity and Samuel."

  Samuel had met him after that, late in the evening. I'd seen him and his father from my window. Indeed, he could have been the last person to see his father alive. How awful that their final words to one another had been harsh ones. Despite his calm demeanor, he must be horrified as well as sad; his father had been mauled. The sight would have been gruesome. I wanted to go to him and comfort him, but did not. I suspected I was the reason he had argued with his father last night.

  ***

  Samuel returned, grim-faced, from the village some time later. "Myer is in residence in Harborough," he told Sylvia, Tommy and me.

  We'd watched the coach drive around the back to the stables and waited for him at the rear door that led to the courtyard. Samuel had then ordered the coachman and stable boy to shelter inside the house for safety. No one was to go outside unless armed and accompanied by a group of men.

  "Then he did it!" Sylvia cried.

  "He claims not," Samuel said.

  "We are not fool enough to believe that. Are we?"

  "Why would he summon a demon here again?" Tommy said. "Jack threatened him."

  "And doesn't his access to the ruins depend on Mr. Langley's good will?" I asked. "Surely he wouldn't jeopardize that."

  "He wouldn't," Samuel agreed.

  Sylvia sniffed. "True. But he's mad and likes to experiment with the supernatural. He doesn't care who he harms in the meantime."

  "I hate to think that of anyone," Tommy said, "but you may be right."

  She looked surprised to have someone agree with her and almost smiled, despite the horrible nature of the conversation.

  "There is another possibility," I said.

  They all looked to me. Samuel took a step closer, but stopped before getting too near.

  "The master may somehow be responsible."

  Samuel dragged his hand through his hair and lowered his head. It was all the confirmation I needed that he agreed with my suspicions.

  "But why?" Sylvia asked. "I don't understand. If the master's ghost wishes to have you back, Charity, why not just possess someone again and abduct you, like last time?"

  "Perhaps his spirit medium won't do it again," I said, hopeful. I hated to think that a medium had deliberately summoned an evil spirit into a body. Perhaps the first time had been a mistake, or she'd not been old enough to know what she was doing. To do it a second time was heinous indeed.

  "Or perhaps she can't," Samuel said quietly. "She may have moved on or died herself."

  "We can only hope," Sylvia murmured. We all blinked at her, but she seemed oblivious to how callous she sounded. I supposed she meant well, in her own way.

  "I don't think it's the master," Tommy said with an emphatic shake of his head. "Mrs. Beaufort is connected to the spirit realm and assured us the administrators would alert her of any changes to the master's spirit form. She would have sent a telegram."

  I sighed. "That brings us back to Myer again."

  We walked through the warren of rooms and corridors to the main part of the house. Tommy peeled off to double-check that all external doors and windows were still locked. Samuel was about to go upstairs to see his mother when we met her coming down.

  She wore a gray day dress. Mrs. Moore must have found a black cap and a veil of black crepe in the attic and loaned them to her. The veil was so thick that Mrs. Gladstone's face was obscured almost completely. She stepped slowly down the stairs, leaning heavily on Bert at her side. Samuel joined them and took her other hand. I was pleased to see that he'd resumed his family responsibilities. It was a shame it had taken the death of his father to rally him.

  "Come into the drawing room, Mrs. Gladstone," Sylvia said. "We'll have some tea brought in."

  Mrs. Gladstone allowed her sons to steer her. She walked slowly, as if she were about to succumb to a fit of the vapors at any moment. My heart went out to her. She'd not only unexpectedly lost her lifelong companion, but her own future was now shrouded in uncertainty. With her eldest son inheriting the fortune and estate, she should be secure. But his illness put everything in doubt. If he died, and Samuel wed me, I could have her thrown out of her own home. Of course, I had no intention of marrying Samuel, but she thought I did.

  I followed them, unsure if I was doing the right thing. I wanted to show Mrs. Gladstone that I was sympathetic, but I didn't want my presence to remind her of why she and her husband had
come to Frakingham in the first place.

  We sat in the drawing room and waited in silence for the tea to arrive. There was an unnerving air about our little party. Nobody seemed to know what to say. The silence was punctuated by Mrs. Gladstone's occasional sobs and the eventual arrival of tea.

  "Thank goodness," Sylvia blurted out, upon seeing Tommy holding the tray in the doorway. "Er, I mean, tea is just what we need right now. Thank you, Tommy."

  He bowed and was about to retreat when Samuel called him back. "I've had a thought about the situation we spoke of earlier. Can you ask the other staff if they've seen anyone on the estate recently? Anyone who shouldn't be here, that is."

  He nodded. "I'll do it right away."

  "Why?" Mrs. Gladstone asked.

  Samuel seemed caught out by her question. "I, uh, it's an estate matter."

  "Has something been stolen?"

  Samuel shook his head. "It's probably nothing."

  "I saw someone," she announced.

  "Go on," Bert urged.

  She dabbed her handkerchief to her nose beneath her veil. "From my window. It was late last night, after I retired. There was a light bobbing in the distance. It came closer to the house and I saw it was someone holding a lamp. The moon was bright and I could make out his silhouette, but not his face. He was quite tall and thin."

  Samuel's gaze connected with mine. We both must have thought the same thing—Myer was tall and thin.

  Mrs. Gladstone began to cry into her handkerchief. "What if he'd been taken too?"

  Bert put his arm around her shoulders. "He wasn't," he assured her. "They would have found his remains."

  "This is so awful," she sobbed. "I hate this place. Hate it."

  I didn't need to look at Sylvia to know that Mrs. Gladstone's words would have been a stab to her heart. She may not like Frakingham's reputation, but it was her home. I dared a glance at her, but she sat primly, her face impassive. Too impassive for a rather excitable girl. Tommy watched her too, his brow deeply furrowed.

  "We'll be gone soon," Bert soothed. "As soon as the undertaker releases Father's body into our care, we'll take him home."

  "When?" she pressed. "When will that be?"

  "A day or two," Samuel said. "No more."

  She suddenly twisted in her seat and grasped his shoulders. "You will come back with us, won't you?"

  Samuel removed her hands and held one of them in his own. He nodded.

  She patted his cheek. "My beautiful boy. I'm so glad you'll soon be home where you belong."

  Her words were meant to sting me. Everybody seemed to know it. Sylvia and Tommy watched me, a mixture of sympathy and curiosity on their faces. Bert gave me a somewhat triumphant arch of his eyebrows. Only Samuel didn't look my way. He sat rigidly beside his mother on the sofa.

  "Be good boys and pack your father's things for me," she said. "I don't want the servants to do it."

  "We'll do it later."

  "Now, if you don't mind," she added, softening the hammer blow of her direct order with another pat of Samuel's cheek.

  "Of course," Bert said, rising. "Would you like us to escort you to your room?"

  "No, I'll stay and have my tea."

  Bert walked off, but stopped at the door when he realized Samuel hadn't followed. "Coming?" he asked his brother.

  Samuel hesitated then finally nodded, but only after I gave him a small, encouraging smile. A smile I hoped would tell him not to worry about me. I didn't know what his mother thought of our intimate exchange, shielded as she was by the veil, but I suspected she wouldn't have liked it.

  They left, as did Tommy, leaving Sylvia and I on our own with Widow Gladstone. I was about to announce that I needed to also leave, when Mrs. Gladstone spoke.

  "Miss Langley, could you direct your maid to pack my bags so we're ready for an immediate departure, if necessary."

  Sylvia shifted uncomfortably on the chair. She might have been about to protest for my benefit, but Mrs. Gladstone spoke again.

  "Now, please." Her tone did not invite disagreement.

  Sylvia shot me an apologetic wince then hurried out of the drawing room.

  "If you wanted to speak to me alone, you only had to ask," I said once she was gone. "I wouldn't have objected."

  Mrs. Gladstone raised her veil and pinned me with a cool, gray stare. Her eyes and nose were swollen from crying, but that didn't diminish her ferocity. "You're a rather forward girl, considering."

  "Considering my position as a sewer rat, you mean?"

  Her gaze didn't falter. "I wouldn't have put it quite so baldly."

  "I have nothing to fear from you, Mrs. Gladstone. Indeed, I'm glad we're alone. There are some things I wanted to say to you and now that you've set the tone with plain-speaking, I'll do likewise."

  "You should at least allow me the courtesy of going first. That's the respectable thing to do."

  I gave a nod. "Given the circumstances, I agree."

  She gave a small grunt and narrowed her eyes at me. I suspected she thought I'd be more uncouth and disagree with her. "Once my son leaves here, you're not to contact him."

  "I can't agree to that."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm staying at Frakingham for the time being. If he returns here—"

  "He won't."

  I bit back my retort and simply gave another nod. She didn't want to think about Samuel leaving her, and it wasn't up to me to shatter her illusions. That was Samuel's battle to win. That's if he did indeed wish to return to Frakingham, as I suspected.

  "In that case, we're of like mind," I said. "I don't wish to see Samuel anymore, after this." My heart tumbled to the rhythm of traitor.

  Mrs. Gladstone's lips pinched. "You're lying."

  Convincing her wasn't going to be easy. "I know you don't understand, considering my past, but it's true. A previous…paramour cured me of any tender feelings toward men."

  "Paramour? Is that what you call them?" It would seem she didn't know that Bert kept a mistress. Or if she did, she didn't include him in her snide assessment of the type that did. "Samuel isn't like other men," she went on. "He's far more charming, for one thing. If he has his heart set on you, it would take a very determined woman to resist."

  "You don't think I have that determination?"

  "I think you don't want to resist."

  My heart sank. It was useless. She wouldn't be swayed from her assumptions. "Then I'm sorry for you, but it's not up to me to persuade you. You can believe what you want to believe." I rose to go, just as Mr. Langley and Bollard entered.

  "Ah, Mrs. Gladstone, I'm glad I found you," Langley said. Bollard pushed the wheelchair into the room. He was breathing heavily, as if he'd been walking very fast. "Samuel said you were in here with Charity."

  He looked at me and I frowned back. Had Samuel asked him to check in on me and ensure I wasn't trapped with his mother for too long? How curious if it were true and Langley had agreed. I'd not known the old scientist was so thoughtful.

  Mrs. Gladstone lowered her veil and turned her head away. "She was just leaving."

  "Indeed," I said. "Please accept my condolences on your loss, Mrs. Gladstone. I know you don't believe me to be sincere, but I am."

  She didn't acknowledge me in any way, so I walked off. Bollard briefly touched my shoulder as I passed and offered a small smile. I smiled back. I was beginning to like the big mute.

  I headed up to the room in one of the towers and lounged in the chaise by the window. The day was dull and wet so I didn't miss being outside. The only movement came from the raindrops sliding down the glass.

  My conversation with Mrs. Gladstone troubled me, not because I resented her thinking of me as a gold-digger, but more because of what it meant for Samuel. It was obvious that his mother didn't understand him. She didn't see that he only wanted to be given space to make his own choices, even if those choices were mistakes. If only she trusted me, we could work together to steer Samuel into Ebony's arms.

  My
heart beat harder in protest, but I ignored it. I wasn't the right woman for Samuel, and he wasn't right for me. No man was. In time, my heart would come to realize it too.

  "I thought I might find you here." Samuel's voice startled me. It was as if my thinking about him had conjured him from thin air. He stood in the doorway, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing his muscular forearms.

  I suddenly felt ill at ease. I went to get off the chaise, but he put his hands up.

  "Please, stay. You look comfortable."

  I remained, but sat instead of lounging. "Did you and your brother finish packing already?"

  He lifted one shoulder. "Not yet, but there's no rush. He had to lie down and I took the opportunity to search for you."

  My face heated. "Oh. Thank you for sending Mr. Langley down to rescue me. It wasn't necessary. Your mother and I were having a perfectly civil conversation."

  If he saw through my lie, he gave no indication. "You guessed." The corner of his mouth twitched. "I thought you might."

  "I assured her that I have no intention of marrying you."

  The twitching stopped. He looked down at the floor. "I'm sure she was happy to hear that."

  "I don't think she believed me, but I'm glad I made my feelings known regardless."

  "You did," he mumbled. "As clear as day."

  "Oh, Samuel. Please, let's be friends again. Just friends."

  He looked up and I was startled by the deep shadows in his eyes, the sad turn of his mouth. "I'm sorry. You're right. I don't want there to be any awkwardness between us."

  "It's inevitable that there will be, for a little while." I didn't mention not wanting to see him again. There was no need to rub salt into the wound, especially since he would soon be leaving with his mother and brother anyway. By the time he was able to return to Frakingham, I might be home in London.

  "There's something I wanted to show you," he said, reaching into the pocket of his waistcoat. He pulled out a small square of paper and handed it to me. It was blackened at the edges from burning. "I found this in the fireplace of Father's room. Read it."

  The note consisted of a single sentence written in a nearly illegible scrawl: I know what you did.