Edge Of Darkness (The 2nd Freak House Trilogy Book 3) Page 7

  "Fascinating," I said on a breath.

  "Diabolical," Sylvia said. "Imagine having more than one demon running about the estate at the same time. And a mysterious creature too, one who can battle many demons at once."

  "He called him a man," I corrected. "Not creature."

  Cara agreed. "Brother Francis claims he resembled a human male."

  We three sat in silence for some time, digesting all that the spirit had told us. I knew the abbey had fallen foul of Henry VIII's monastic houses policy, the land somehow coming into the Malborough family after that. But this…this was something I never could have fathomed. The spot was such a tranquil one, when it didn't have demons overrunning it. To think that Myer had been right all along.

  "It must be terribly lonely for you here," Cara finally said to the monk. "Other spirits will have come and gone over the years, but you've never crossed over. Why?"

  There followed a brief period in which she listened. "What did he say?" Sylvia asked, impatient.

  "That he became the custodian of the spells after the abbot's death. It's his role to ensure the spells are never spoken again and the portal remains closed."

  "But how can he do that if he's dead?" I asked. "What if someone living finds the spells and unwittingly opens the portal?"

  "Or wittingly," Sylvia added gravely.

  "That has been his worry all these years," Cara said. "He hasn't had anyone to tell his secret to. Until now."

  "No," Sylvia declared, crossing her arms with finality. "I don't want him to tell us where to find the spells. It's too much responsibility."

  "Sylvia, we have to," I said gently. "The poor man needs to cross over. He must be terribly lonely here. Let him have peace."

  Cara appeared to be listening to the spirit again, while Sylvia sulked in the corner. I leaned forward and took her hand in mine. That seemed to rally her, and, with a click of her tongue, she gave a grim nod.

  "Very well," she said. "If we must."

  "The parchment is at the abbey, beneath the altar," Cara said.

  "At the abbey?" I echoed. "Didn't he bring it with him when he came to the village?"

  "He buried it there for safekeeping after the portal closed. He then walked here to seek medical attention for his wounds. There were no brothers left in the abbot's infirmary to help him. Indeed, the infirmary was destroyed. He expected to return and recover the parchment once he was healed, but unfortunately succumbed to his injuries. He feels as if he failed his duty to his abbot by leaving it there, but he felt sure it was buried deeply enough that no one would find it."

  "Thank goodness for that," Sylvia muttered. "I say we leave it under the alter."

  "For now," I said. It was still in danger of being discovered, especially with Myer poking around the ruins. It was more and more curious that he knew about the supernatural presence down there. It seemed to me that we were right in our guess that he had read some old accounts. It explained his determination to study the abbey. On the other hand, if he knew how dangerous the place could be, wouldn't he have ceased his pursuit of answers and left well enough alone?

  I was in two minds as to whether we ought to tell him the monk's story or not.

  "There's nothing more you can do here," Cara said to the spirit. "Move on and find peace. You've done your duty. Now it's up to us to keep the portal closed."

  "Safe journey, Brother Francis," Sylvia said with tears in her eyes.

  I echoed her sentiment, even though it felt odd to wish a ghost I couldn't see well in the afterlife. Finally, Cara instructed Fray to drive on, then sat back and closed the window with a sigh. She looked somewhat peaky.

  "Are you all right?" I asked her. "Does speaking to the dead drain you?"

  "Sometimes. Certain spirits have had heavy burdens to carry for a long time, and I can see the exhaustion on their faces. Brother Francis wanted to leave this realm, but he felt bound to protect that parchment. I do hope I haven't done the wrong thing by encouraging him to relinquish his duty to us and move on."

  "Why?" Sylvia asked.

  "Because he's beyond my reach now. What if we have more questions for him?"

  "Yes," Sylvia murmured. "What if we're not very good at being custodians?"

  "We'll be very good," I told her.

  "That's all right for you to say. You'll both return to London, Samuel too. It'll be up to me."

  "Only until Jack and Hannah come home. The secret will be shared among you. And, of course, there's always Mr. Langley and Bollard."

  She blinked watery eyes at me. "That's if he ever returns."

  "Mr. Bollard has left?" Cara said. "Good lord, why?"

  We told her about Bollard's destruction of Langley's invention and his subsequent departure as we traveled back toward Frakingham.

  "I'm sorry you're visiting at a difficult time," Sylvia said. "We're dreadfully understaffed and Uncle will probably not make an appearance, even to greet you. He's not himself."

  I didn't think that was a negative, but I didn't say so.

  "Tell me about Lord Frakingham," Cara said. "It must be strange for him returning to the estate after it belonged to his family for so long."

  "I'm not sure he feels the loss all that keenly," Sylvia said, looking out the window as the imposing structure of the house came into view. "His son does, however. He eyes up the furnishings as if he's making plans to take them with him when he leaves."

  Cara pulled a face. "How uncomfortable for everyone."

  "Precisely. I'm not sure whether I feel sorry for him or want to tell him to leave our property alone."

  We drove along the avenue of trees lining the Frakingham drive and craned our necks to look at the jagged teeth of the abbey ruins in the distance. It appeared to be deserted. I shivered. Knowing the terrible history of the place and what lurked down there made me glad I would be leaving for London. I just wished I knew when.

  "Any word on the master's spirit?" I asked Cara hopefully.

  She shook her head. "Emily and I have been keeping a close watch on the situation. His spirit has remained, but he is showing signs of resignation."

  Resignation that I would never become his again. He could not have me, could not win. I was determined to remain out of his clutches and free. He must realize it, soon enough. I hoped.

  We alighted from the coach and Tommy hefted Cara's luggage off the back. Samuel limped down the steps and greeted us with a debonair bow. If he was still troubled by the loss of the mind-reading contraption, he showed no sign of it. But I wasn't completely fooled. Samuel had been bitterly disappointed at its destruction. He wouldn't have set it behind him already.

  "We have so much to tell you!" Sylvia said, looping her arm through Samuel's. "Come inside and we'll tell you and Uncle together."

  "This sounds ominous," he said. "Does it involve Bollard?"

  "One part of it does, yes. But the other…you will never guess what we learned from Brother Francis."

  "Who's Brother Francis?"

  "Keep your questions until we've finished our story. Come along. Inside. You too, Tommy. Oh." Her enthusiasm dimmed as she shot a glance back at Cara over her shoulder.

  "Don't mind me," Cara said cheerfully. "If you wish to include your footman in the conversation, I have no reservations. I know he's a friend to Jack and Charity."

  "He's a friend to all of us," Samuel said, loud enough so that the retreating figure of Tommy could hear. "He and Charity saved my life." He indicated his leg where the demon had savaged him.

  "Anyone could have chanted that spell or held the amulet," I said as Tommy disappeared up the stairs ahead of us.

  "But it wasn't just anyone," he said softly. "It was you."

  My face heated, despite my conviction not to let his smooth words and voice affect me ever again. It would seem my body would forever betray me where he was concerned.

  We waited for Tommy to deposit Cara's luggage in one of the guest bedrooms. She refused to freshen up from her travels until after we'd all sp
oken to Langley together. We then went on to his laboratory. He glanced up from the bench at the center of the long room and wheeled himself out to meet us. He welcomed Cara pleasantly enough, but seemed impatient to ask his question.

  "What news?" Nobody needed to clarify if he was talking about Bollard. We all just knew.

  Sylvia let go of Samuel and took Langley's hand. "He caught the train to London," she said gently. "Don't worry. We'll find him."

  A ripple of tension passed along Langley's jaw. His fingers closed around Sylvia's. "How?" The single, harsh word grated over my skin.

  "He may have gone to Charity's school."

  "I gave him a letter of introduction," I said. "I thought it would be easier to find him if we knew where he was going." That was if he wanted to be found. If he didn't, the school was the last place he would visit.

  "Good thinking," Samuel said. "We'll send a telegram in the morning and find out if he's there."

  Langley gave a slight nod. "Be sure to write that I regret my hasty actions." He wheeled himself back to the bench, dismissing us. But instead of asking us to leave, he added, "Tell him that he's needed here."

  "We will," Sylvia said with a wistful smile.

  "Now, if you don't mind, I have much work to do."

  I didn't dare ask him if he was going to attempt to recreate the device. I didn't want to open up that Pandora's box.

  "We have more news," Sylvia announced. "We met a spirit on our way out of the village. That is, Cara met him."

  "A spirit?" Samuel asked. He sat on the thick arm of a chair and stretched out his left leg. A small twist of his mouth was the only indication that he was in pain.

  "A monk by the name of Brother Francis, who lived here when the abbey was destroyed in the sixteenth century," Cara said. "He told us something quite interesting."

  We then proceeded to tell them what he'd said. By the end, even Langley seemed to have forgotten his worries about Bollard. The laboratory filled with the silence of their amazement as they stared slack-jawed at us.

  "Did you know any of this?" Samuel asked Langley.

  The scientist shook his head. "No notion whatsoever. If Lord Frakingham knew the story, he never told me."

  "Do you think he has any idea?" Tommy asked.

  "It's possible," Langley said. "There could be records somewhere."

  "The attic," Sylvia suggested.

  "Unless Myer already took them when he snuck in there," I said.

  "Myer snuck into your attic?" Cara shook her head. "What possesses a man to do such a thing as sneaking around a house that's not his own?"

  "A thirst for knowledge," Langley said with what I thought sounded like sympathy.

  In many ways, the two men were alike. Both had questionable ethics when it came to achieving their goals, and their goals had nothing to do with financial gain. While I liked Langley overall, I still didn't trust him fully, particularly after learning that he'd been trying to create that mind-reading device.

  "Clearly he knew something before we did," Samuel said. "Otherwise he wouldn't have developed an interest in the ruins."

  "Apparently his interest began many years ago," I said. "That daguerreotype was taken in Sixty-seven."

  "Don't let us forget that Myer wasn't the only one in that picture. My parents and Frakingham were there too, along with Lady Frakingham and two other gentlemen."

  "Yet he is the only one still interested in the ruins," Tommy said. "I wonder why."

  "Indeed," Langley said quietly.

  "What shall we do about the parchment with the spells written on it?" Sylvia asked. "Brother Francis said it's buried beneath the altar."

  "I say leave it there, for now," Samuel said. "If we begin digging up the ruins, Myer will grow suspicious."

  I nodded. "Our interest may spur him on to find it first. It's best left hidden, for now."

  "And a close eye kept on Myer."

  "Can't we ban him from the ruins altogether?" Sylvia asked.

  "I promised him access in exchange for his help," Langley said. "I don't go back on my promises." He bent his head and peered into a microscope as if we weren't even there. One by one, we filed out of his laboratory and dispersed on the landing.

  "Charity, wait." Samuel limped after me as the others disappeared. I'm a little ashamed to admit that I thought about walking faster. He couldn't catch me, injured as he was. But I didn't. I gave him a polite smile and tried not to think about the extent of his injuries, and how we'd almost lost him. "I wanted to give you something. Hold out your hand."

  I hesitated. When the master had asked me to do that, I knew to expect the stinging lash of a rod across my palm. My mouth went dry. My heartbeat quickened. I bit the inside of my lip and forced myself to open my hand as requested. This was Samuel, not the master. Whatever he'd done, he wouldn't hurt me.

  He wouldn't hurt me.

  Heat prickled my skin and I had the burning desire to skim my thumb over his cheekbone to try to coax a smile from him. But I did not. I waited dutifully with my hand out, palm up.

  He placed a life-sized dragonfly on it. It was made of wire with green glass beads set in its body and wings.

  "What's this?" I asked, holding the delicate piece up to the window where the beads caught the light.

  "Langley gave me the wire and tools, and Sylvia had some beads she was happy to donate to my little project. It's for you," he added, shyly.

  "You made it?"

  He nodded.

  I felt a blush creep up my throat as I admired the pretty pendent. It was quite possibly the most touching thing anyone had ever given me, and I'd been the recipient of some expensive gowns and trinkets in my time. I felt quite overwhelmed, so of course I couldn't look at him, but continued to observe how the colored glass beads reflected the light. If I did look at him, the blush might give me away and I wasn't ready for that. I never would be.

  "I didn't know you were an artist," I said.

  "I'm not, but boredom makes a man do things he wouldn't ordinarily do. I don't expect you to wear it, of course, but I thought…I don't know. It was something to do to pass the time, that's all."

  "Thank you, Samuel. I love dragonflies." I hazarded a glance at him, but he quickly looked down at his feet, hiding his face.

  "I don't expect you to wear it," he said again. "If I did, I should have given you a chain to go with it. But I didn't, so…" He cleared his throat, and I realized he was nervous. As if he hadn't lowered my defenses enough with his gift, he had to go and be sweet as well.

  A wave of panic rippled over me, but I fought it. I would not hand him his gift back to prove that I wouldn't succumb to his charms, no matter how much my instincts screamed at me to do so. Deep down, I knew he didn't deserve that. Besides, I rather suspected it wasn't him I wanted to prove the point to, but myself.

  "I'll hang it in my room where it will catch the light." I thanked him again and forced myself to walk calmly away. My heart felt like that wire dragonfly, its wings beating furiously against my ribs in an attempt to escape.

  Of course, his gift and my acceptance of it changed nothing. Not my wariness of him, or my future, or my desire to remain an unwed teacher for the rest of my life.

  Once inside my room, I opened the drawer of the dressing table and dropped the pendent inside.

  CHAPTER 6

  Once we realized Myer hadn't come to the ruins by late morning, despite the lovely weather, we decided to visit him instead. He was residing with the Butterworths at their large house atop the hill in Harborough. Tommy didn't ride beside Fray as we drove into the village—Langley needed him at the house—and his absence may have accounted for Sylvia's quiet mood. Not even Cara's chatty presence could encourage her out of her sullenness. Samuel had insisted on joining us too, despite numerous protests from various quarters that he wasn't well enough.

  "I am up to it and I'm coming," he'd announced with the stubbornness that I'd grown accustomed to.

  "We three women are quite capable of
defending ourselves," Sylvia said.

  "Not if he hypnotizes you." There was simply no winnable argument to that point, so we relented and he made up the fourth member of our party.

  The mayor's wife, Mrs. Butterworth, greeted us with a mixture of surprise, curiosity and grand hospitality. I'd met the overbearing woman before, but she'd made it clear that she thought me beneath her and her family. I was surprised that she showed none of her old qualms at letting me into her house. It must have been thanks to the illustrious company I kept. Cara was, after all, related to nobility through her niece's husband. Our hostess instantly ordered tea and cakes to be served in the large drawing room that overlooked the perfectly trimmed front garden.

  "How lovely it is to see you again, Miss Langley, Mr. Gladstone," she enthused. She was a tall, heavy boned woman dressed in black mourning garb. The bubbliness sat oddly on her. "And you too, Miss…?"

  "Charity Evans," I filled for her. I wasn't concerned that she couldn't recall my name. She'd probably thought I wouldn't be visiting Frakingham for long and wouldn't need to remember it.

  "And you've brought your lovely friend with you. It's so nice to meet the niece of Mrs. Beaufort."

  "Aunt," Cara corrected.

  "Pardon?"

  "I'm her aunt."

  Mrs. Butterworth made an O with her lips. It was still frozen in place when her daughters filed in, one after the other. The elder two were identical twins, dressed in identical outfits of navy and red stripes with matching ribbons dressing their brown hair. The third child was Jane, the ten year-old with the mischievous eyes and dirt smudging the hem of her dress. The last time I'd seen her, she'd been pretending to be a spy. I smiled at her and she beamed back. When I looked away, I caught Samuel watching me from beneath hooded lids, his mouth curving up at the corners in an almost-smile.

  "I do like your hat, Miss Moreau," one of the twins said. I think it was Julia, but I couldn't be sure. "Did you get it at Lock's, on St. James's Street?"