by C. J. Archer
"That makes three of us." I nodded at the pantry. "I was about to get something to eat."
"You should try the spiced biscuits, if there are any left over from afternoon tea. They're delicious."
"I will. Thank you."
I waited, but he did not leave. Instead, he came into the kitchen, his smile having disappeared. "Are you worried about the hypnosis? Is that why you can't sleep?"
"A little." It wasn't a lie. I was worried about it, but it wasn't the reason I couldn't sleep.
He set his candlestick down on the table and touched my arm. I shifted away before I realized what I was doing. His fingers curled into a fist then dropped to his side. "Sorry," he murmured.
I should tell him he had nothing to be sorry for, but I didn't. My insides knotted again.
He cleared his throat. "August Langley may be a little dramatic at times, but he's right. If you have any doubts about blocking your memories, then you shouldn't go through with it."
"I have thought it through."
He held up his hands in defense. "Of course you have. I didn't mean to imply you couldn't think, or… hell." He smiled again, somewhat sheepishly. "I'd better stop talking."
Mercifully. Perhaps he could stop smiling, too. He smiled far too often, there was just no need for it. What did he find so amusing? Me?
I clutched my shawl closed at my throat, covering myself up as best as I could, and wished I'd used a broach to clasp the two ends together. With the candle in one hand, the shawl in the other, I had no free hands. I had to wait for him to go if I wanted to forage through the pantry.
He didn't leave, not even after a long, strained silence. "I thought you could stay at Frakingham longer," he finally said. "Do you have to rush back to London so soon?"
"I have work at the school. The children need me."
"Yes, of course. They're important to you, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"As important as you are to them, I'm sure."
"I suppose." Why wouldn't he just leave?
"If there's anything you need, I hope you'll consider coming to me for help."
"Thank you. We have everything we need there. The Beauforts are generous benefactors."
He stepped closer—far too close—and I leaned back a little. "I meant you, Charity. If there's anything you need."
"There's nothing. The Beauforts pay my wages. As I said, they're generous people."
"I didn't mean financially." He cleared his throat. His cheeks seemed to redden a little, but it could have been the light from our candles playing tricks. "Unless that's what you mean." He cleared his throat. "Hell. What I meant was… anything. If you need anything at all, please come to me."
Ah, yes, of course. How stupid of me. He wasn't being kind, he was being vulgar because I was a loose woman. To him, I was nothing more than a mistress in need of a new benefactor. How base he must think me. How desperate. Horrid man.
"I won't be needing your help after tomorrow," I bit off.
He blinked. "Oh." The note of disappointment proved my assumption had been correct.
I tightened my hold on the heavy candlestick and edged past him.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"That's none of your affair."
"I, uh… sorry. It's just that I thought you were hungry." He indicated the pantry.
"My appetite has vanished. Good night."
"Charity." His voice came from directly behind me, even though I'd walked swiftly to the door. I paused, in case he was going to grab me and stop me. It was best not to resist. "Have I upset you? My offer of help was innocently meant, but if I've wounded your pride, I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention."
Innocently meant?
"Indeed, I was hoping we could become friends."
"We can't." Perhaps he hadn't been asking me to become his mistress, but there was no way on this earth we could ever be friends. Not a man like him and a woman like me. Not only were our stations so far apart, but I didn't trust him. How could I, with his charming smiles, melodic voice and ability to hypnotize?
"Why not?" he asked.
"Because I don't like you." There. I said it. I peeked a glance at him through my lowered lashes. He stood there, staring at me, his eyes wide and unblinking. He looked quite shocked. He probably wasn't used to not being liked, particularly by a woman. He was a handsome man with impish dimples and bright, dancing eyes. How females must swoon when he bestowed a smile on them.
Not this female.
"Good night, Samuel." I strode out the door and did not look back. My stomach growled as I climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. I stayed awake, replaying the conversation over and over, until I finally fell asleep at dawn.
***
"Let's be very clear," Samuel said. "You wish to forget the events leading up to the fire that gave you those scars, and only those events?"
I ignored the urge to tug on my sleeves to cover my hands and tilted my chin up. "Yes."
Samuel glanced at Jack. We sat in one of the smaller parlors that looked out onto the terraced garden. The door was closed and we were alone. I knew Hannah was reading in the drawing room not far away, Sylvia with her. Tommy had given me a reassuring smile as we passed in the hall. I'd not seen August Langley or his assistant all morning.
"I wish to remember everything else from my childhood and growing up," I told Samuel. "Even the memories that aren't so pleasant."
Jack took my hand in his. "I'm glad you want to remember our time together."
I squeezed his fingers. I wanted to say something profound about our special bond, but nothing came to mind. Having Samuel in the room with us made intimate discussion awkward. It made me awkward.
Samuel cleared his throat. "Ready?"
"Ready," I said. "Proceed, please."
I expected him to pull out the watch from his fob pocket and dangle it in front of my nose, but he merely sat back and pierced me with that penetrating gaze of his. Unease touched my consciousness, but it vanished almost immediately.
"Close your eyes, Charity," he intoned. "Listen to my voice." How could I not? It was beautiful, and so rich and deep that I wanted to sink into it. If voices were colors, his would be all of them, in every hue. "Show me the memories you want to forget. I'll keep them safe for you."
A moment of panic seized me. Even though I didn't want to stop his voice, I knew I should want to. Having so much power over another was wrong, dangerous. Frightening. But his continuous voice soothed my trembling nerves. It was like having a long piece of rope tied around my waist and he was pulling it, drawing me closer to him. When all the rope was gone, and lay puddled on the floor at our feet, he opened his arms and welcomed me into his warm embrace.
I lifted my face to gaze upon him. Beautiful, beautiful man. He continued to talk, but I didn't hear his words anymore, just the tone of his voice. It caressed me like a ribbon of soft light, stroking me piece by piece. It loosened the tightness in me, opened what had been shut, shone its light into the corners and chased away the shadows. It was the most wonderful, fulfilling experience of my life.
"My God." His gasped words were like a slap across my face.
The ribbon slid from my mind as if it had been yanked out. The invisible rope connecting us fell away. I felt like I was sliding backwards until I slammed into a wall.
The air was knocked out of me. I opened my eyes and Samuel stared back, his eyes huge, yet his mind's focus elsewhere. The orbs weren't so bright anymore either, more the dark, swirling blue-gray of an angry sea. He gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white. His chest rose and fell with every labored breath.
"Should she be awake yet?" That was Jack, who still held my hand.
I couldn't look at him, only at Samuel. Instinct told me to ask him what he'd seen to produce such a reaction, but I knew that was foolish. I'd wanted him to block my memories. And he had. I felt lighter, freer, yet there was a gaping hole in my past. It was what I'd expected, what I wanted.
"Thank you," I said to Samuel. "Thank you for helping me. It worked."
His eyes fluttered closed. When they reopened, they were more focused, although their normal color did not return. He passed his hand over his mouth. It shook. When he noticed, he stood abruptly and strode to the window, as rigid as a pole.
I had a desperate urge to go to him and wrap my arms around his waist. But, of course, I would not; ladies didn't do that sort of thing to gentlemen, no matter how much they desired them. I may not be a lady but, as a teacher, I had to keep up a respectable appearance and shun my past.
"So you recall why you're here?" Jack asked me.
"Of course. Samuel blocked some of my memories."
"And you don't remember which ones?"
"No. They're gone. There is only an empty space, now." I struggled to find the words to describe it. "I know they're missing. I know they must have been awful for me to want to remove them, but there's not even an echo of them. I have no inkling as to what they might have been."
"You recall everything else? Me, for example?" He paused and blew out a breath. "Us?"
"Yes, Jack, I remember us. I remember how we laughed and fought, and stole to survive. Those bad memories are still there, the good too. I remember when you went away and took Tommy with you. I remember trying to get work and failing. I remember becoming the… companion of a kind gentleman who educated me in a great many things."
I glanced at Samuel, but he didn't show any signs of shock. Of course he wouldn't. He knew what I'd done and what I'd been. I bit my lip and turned away. I couldn't look at him. What we'd shared was far more intimate than any relationship I'd had. I wasn't ashamed of the pieces of my life that I remembered, but I hadn't expected to feel so exposed. I forced myself to continue. The feelings would disappear once I left Frakingham and was away from Samuel.
"I remember when he died and I was set adrift for a time. I found work in a shop, then at a school. I wanted to be a governess or teacher. After that… nothing. My memory goes blank and returns again after our reunion, Jack. I remember your attempts to help me find work, but there are gaps there too, like a book with several missing pages. The next complete memories I have are of being a teacher at the orphanage."
Jack patted my hands, drawing attention to the scars there. They were horrible, puckered things that covered almost the entire backs of my hands and part of the front. I was about to ask him how I'd gotten them, but stopped myself. I drew my hands away and tucked them into the folds of my skirt.
"That's good," he said. "So it worked."
"It would seem so."
Samuel turned to look at me over his shoulder. His wild gaze connected with mine, sending a jolt through me. He quickly turned back to stare out the window. "So… you feel well?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you."
"You're smiling."
"Am I?" Indeed I was. I couldn't help it. Although I was troubled by the change in him, I was happier than I'd been in years. I felt normal. No more anxiety, no more self-loathing. I did feel somewhat self-consciousness, now that Samuel knew me like no one else did, but it was a small price to pay.
"I've never seen you smile," he said.
"Oh." It sounded pathetic, but his words struck me. Had I really never smiled during these last few years?
"I'm glad." He didn't sound glad, he sounded troubled.
I got up and went to him, but did not touch him. Instinct and concern propelled me that far, but propriety stopped me comforting him like I wanted to. "Samuel." Damnation. What could I say?
I didn't think you'd be so upset by something that happened to me.
I'm sorry I gave you my awful memories, but I don't want them back.
They weren't his memories. Whatever they were, he'd only seen them, not lived them. He would be well again, in time, once he'd locked them away. Something, apparently, which I'd failed to do. All I could do now was be his friend. He'd tried to be a friend to me since we'd first met, but I'd pushed him away. I didn't know why; I supposed my reluctance had something to do with my horrible memories. Yet, how could that be? If he'd been in any way connected, I wouldn't have come to him for help.
Ah well. It would remain a mystery. Those memories were gone and I didn't have to shun him anymore.
Despite my conviction that I should maintain distance, I touched his hand to offer support. A jolt shot through me. Images flashed before my eyes—the blue sky, trees and grass. A lake and some ruins visible in the distance. Good lord!
I leapt back, severing the connection. The strange vision ended. I was once more staring at Samuel.
He spun round. His lips parted, his brow furrowed. "Did you…?"
I pressed a hand to my waist and nodded. "I saw," I whispered.
"Saw what?" Jack asked, glancing from me to Samuel.
"I saw what he was looking at." I nodded at the window. "Out there. Samuel, did you see through my eyes?"
"No. I was on a busy London street."
"You saw through the eyes of another? Who?"
CHAPTER 3
"Charity?" Jack whispered. "What happened?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. It was like I was looking through Samuel's eyes."
"And I was looking through someone else's," Samuel said, without taking his gaze off me.
"Whose?" Jack asked.
Samuel rubbed his temple. "I don't know. I could only see what he or she saw. I'm sure it was London's Bond Street. There were coaches, horses, shopkeepers, people going about their daily lives, right in front of me. I felt like I was right there."
"Were you with someone?"
"I don't know. The vision was fleeting. I barely had enough time to register what I was looking at before it was gone."
I rubbed one of my scarred hands. "It happened when I touched you."
He tucked his own hands behind him, as if he were afraid I'd touch him again, or that he'd touch me.
"Has this ever happened when you have hypnotized someone before?" Jack asked, sounding concerned.
Samuel shook his head.
"Do you know what may have caused it this time?"
"No."
"Could it have something to do with the abrupt way the hypnosis ended?"
"I told you, I don't know!"
"Calm down, Gladstone. I'm simply trying to determine what happened."
"You think I want this?" Samuel growled. "You think I wanted to end the hypnosis like that?"
"Why did you?"
Samuel clamped his mouth shut so tightly I heard his back teeth grind. He stared at the rug.
Jack squared up to his friend. He looked as if he'd wrestle the answer out of Samuel, but then he suddenly backed down. He swallowed heavily and glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.
"They must have been shocking memories," I said quietly. My throat was swollen and tight. It was an effort to say that much.
Nobody said anything for some time. I wondered if Jack wanted to know what those memories were, but he didn't ask and I knew he wouldn't. Indeed, perhaps he already knew. I couldn't recall now.
"We'll find a way to control the visions," Jack said. "We can't have you two looking through other people's eyes, willy-nilly. Who knows what you might see?" He laughed uneasily.
"Don't concern yourself," Samuel sneered. He strode past us towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Jack called out.
"For a walk."
"Is that wise?"
"I can go for a bloody walk if I want to."
We watched him leave. He seemed to take some of the chilly air from the room with him. "Should I go after him?" Jack asked.
"Let him be alone for a while. Maybe he just needs time."
He sighed. "I've never seen him like this. He's always been so amiable, so easy to talk to. I know he has secrets and I've never pressured him to reveal them, but they don't seem to have affected him."
"Are you sure?" I sat again and smoothed my skirts flat across my
lap. "I sensed some shadows in him, even before this. I didn't ask him about them, because I had enough of my own to contend with. I regret that now."
Jack sat opposite me and smiled. "That, in itself, is a good sign."
"What do you mean?"
"You've never given Samuel a second thought. You never seemed to care a whit for him and certainly never showed any regret at not getting to know him better. Indeed, you've always avoided him and I know that's troubled him, in the past. It would seem the memory block is working. Already it's unburdened you. The change in you is plain to see."
"I can feel it." I smiled, but it wasn't entirely sincere. I may have avoided Samuel in the past, but now that I wanted to get to know him better, he was avoiding me.
***
When Samuel hadn't returned by four o'clock, we grew worried. Even Mr. Langley sent Bollard into the drawing room to inquire if he'd returned. Twice. Watching the servant communicate with Jack was quite a curiosity. His hands and fingers moved swiftly, forming shapes and signs that seemed to mean something to the other members of the household. Jack didn't use hand signals to respond, though. Bollard was mute, not deaf.
He nodded, grim-faced. It was the first true expression I'd seen him make. The fellow had been quite vacant up until that point.
I waited for Bollard to leave before I made my suggestion. "I'll go in search of Samuel and bring him back."
"Don't be absurd," Sylvia said, snippy. "You're not familiar with the estate or the village. How will you know where to look?"
She had a point, yet I wanted to be the one to search. He'd done me a service and was suffering for it. "It's my fault that this has happened. What he saw when he hypnotized me has shocked him. I should be the one to find him and talk to him." Just saying it was difficult. How shocking could my memories have been to affect a man in such a way? I didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to know.
Sylvia resumed her sewing while Hannah and Jack exchanged worried glances.
"I'm leaving in the morning," I reminded them. "I want to depart as Samuel's friend. I want to know that he's all right."
"He'll be fine," Jack assured me.
"Samuel is very strong," Hannah said. "He was a great help when we went through our difficulties. Jack's right, Samuel will be himself again shortly."