by C. J. Archer
CHAPTER 6
The Frakingham parlor was crowded with the four of us plus Langley and the four from the London party. The parlor in the eastern wing would have seated everyone comfortably, but it was out of bounds until the repairs to the fire-ravaged section were completed. It was fortunate that Langley came with his own chair as there were no more seats to be had.
"We are so pleased you could come," Sylvia said, taking Mrs. Beaufort's hand. "But I must apologize for the state of the house. It's not at its best at the moment."
"There was a fire?" Mr. Beaufort asked.
"Yes. How did you know?"
"The roofline is black in patches."
"How observant of you."
Mr. Beaufort waited, but she did not tell him that I started it, thank goodness. They may be experts on demons and ghosts, but I didn't want them knowing my secret. If Sylvia told them about my fire starting, it would come about that I'd been kept in an attic most of my life, and that wasn't something I wanted known. The Beauforts were much too sophisticated, and I couldn't bear them giving me pitying looks, or worse, curious ones. We'd told them what we'd told Mr. and Mrs. Butterworth—that I was Sylvia's companion. We left out the part about Yorkshire, and fortunately nobody asked where I was from.
"The house is perfectly lovely, Miss Langley," Miss Moreau said. She sat between Sylvia and me on the settee, her dainty hands folded in her lap.
I'd been shocked when she and Mrs. Beaufort removed their veils. Not only because they were both beautiful with lovely dusky skin and gentle eyes, but because the aunt was younger than her niece. Indeed, Miss Moreau looked to be about my age, while her niece looked a little older. Mrs. Emily Beaufort had explained that her father's sister had just returned from the antipodean colony of Victoria where she'd been living with Mrs. Beaufort's parents. Indeed, all three had come home, although it wasn't clear whether Miss Moreau planned to return with her guardians or remain in England.
"Thank you, Miss Moreau," Sylvia said. "That's most kind of you to say so, but I'm afraid Frakingham has seen better days. It is much brighter now that you and Mrs. Beaufort have arrived. I do adore your outfits. They're very elegant. I fear our old parlor isn't up to receiving visitors like you." She laughed and self-consciously patted her hair.
I caught Mrs. Beaufort looking over their heads at me. She winked, and I was quite taken aback by the intimate gesture. Perhaps she wasn't as formal as she appeared. She was certainly lovely, and I could see why her husband kept casting adoring glances her way. He seemed utterly smitten with her, even eight years after their marriage.
"Do you have any children, Mrs. Beaufort?" I asked.
"Two," she said. "A boy and girl."
"You should have brought them," Sylvia cried. "I adore children."
It was fortunate that they hadn't come. Langley didn't seem like the sort who was fond of children, and the house was at capacity thanks to the repairs.
"It was easier to leave them in London with their nanny since this is going to be a brief stay. Perhaps another time?"
"Oh, yes, do bring them. Miss Moreau must come again too, and Mr. Culvert and his wife."
"After the baby is born," Mr. Culvert said, his eyes sparkling at the mention of his family. Up until then he'd been quiet, wearing a studious and somewhat bewildered expression, as if he wasn't quite sure how to act around us. "Our second is due in July."
We talked some more until Tommy announced that luncheon was ready.
"What are you doing down here?" I asked him. "I thought you were confined to your room. Our footman was scratched by the demon," I told our guests.
Miss Moreau gasped. "How awful."
Sylvia sniffed. "As you can see, he's quite all right. The best cure for him is to be on his feet and working."
"Miss Langley is right," Tommy said. "I was going numb with boredom. It's good to be down here where I belong."
"What a brave man," Mrs. Beaufort said. "You're very lucky to have him on your staff, Mr. Langley."
Langley grunted a response. "I've had little to do in the way of choosing who works here," he said. "Those decisions seem to get made in my absence."
Once again Mrs. Beaufort looked to me and I simply shook my head. She gave me an understanding smile. I liked her already. Indeed, they were all kind and not at all intimidating as I expected the heir of a viscountcy and his family to be.
Langley left us to dine alone as he always did, and we retreated to the dining room. It wasn't lost on me that everyone seemed more at ease with him gone.
"You must forgive our uncle," Jack said. "He's unused to company."
"I do hope we haven't put him out by coming unannounced," Mrs. Beaufort said.
"Not at all." Jack grinned. "It does him good to have unannounced company once in a while."
"We didn't dare wait another moment," Mr. Culvert said. "Not with a demon on the loose."
"Tell us how you came to know about demons," Jack said.
"I'm a demonologist," Mr. Culvert explained with an air of self-assurance that had been lacking until that point. "My father was one before me. He built up a collection of books on the subject, many of which I've studied over the years."
"You can usually find George with his nose buried in a book in his library," Mrs. Beaufort said with a teasing smile. "It's his favorite place."
"I brought some with me," Mr. Culvert went on. "They're in the landau. Langley, can you describe the demon to me?"
Sylvia groaned in protest.
"Perhaps we shouldn't discuss it at the table," Mrs. Beaufort suggested.
Mr. Culvert frowned. "Why not?"
"George," she scolded.
He pushed his glasses up his nose and shrugged. "Later then, but we shouldn't waste too much time."
"It needn't be a waste," I said. "We'd like to get to know you better."
"Indeed," said Samuel. "Miss Moreau, tell us about Victoria. I cannot imagine living on the bottom of the world."
"Tell me," Sylvia said, "how does everyone not fall off?"
Jack gave a wry laugh. "It's called gravity, Syl."
Miss Moreau told us about her life in the city of Melbourne. I was completely fascinated. It was so different to England. I knew instantly that I'd like to visit it one day, until she told me it was hotter there than here.
The conversation eventually came around to Mrs. Beaufort and her aunt's supernatural ability. I admit I'd been skeptical that they could see spirits, but meeting them changed my mind. Both women were far too honest and good to make up stories of that nature and neither profited from their talent anyway.
"So tell us," Samuel said, a mischievous smile on his lips, "can you see any spirits here at Frakingham?"
"Samuel!" Sylvia cried. "Do you have to?"
"It's quite all right," Mrs. Beaufort said. "We've encountered none."
"Yet," Miss Moreau added. "Although the ruins we saw on the way in look promising."
That earned her a sharp glare from her niece. When the others fell into conversation around us, I leaned closer to Miss Moreau. "Please tell me if you do see any," I whispered. "I would love to find out more about the people who once lived here."
"Do you think they may be connected to the demon?" she asked, her big brown eyes widening even further.
"Yes and no. If they do have anything to do with the demon, then we all need to know, particularly Mr. Culvert of course, but I'm fascinated by the notion of spirits nevertheless. This place should have one or two. There have been people living on this site for centuries. I would love to take you to the abbey ruins, but it's off limits thanks to the demon."
"You're not appalled by the idea of spirits and mediums?" she asked. "Or frightened?"
"Not at all. I find it interesting." I bit my lip. "I'm sorry. You must think me terribly bad-mannered. I didn't mean to imply you're a curiosity."
Miss Moreau smiled. "I didn't take it that way." She glanced at Sylvia. "I'm not so sure your friend likes dining with spirit mediums, howev
er."
"Don't mind her. She likes things to be easily explained."
"That must make life difficult for her."
I grinned then felt positively awful. Sylvia may not be clever or open-minded, but she was my friend and very sweet. Most of the time.
"Cara," Mrs. Beaufort said, breaking off her conversation with Jack and Samuel, "do you remember the name of the new teacher we employed at the school? I've quite forgotten, and she said she knew Mr. Langley here."
"She did?" I blurted out then bit my lip when everyone looked at me.
Jack's eyes twinkled. Damn him.
"Miss Charity Evans," Miss Moreau said.
The twinkle vanished. He stared at her, and a slight blush infused his cheeks. "Charity," he muttered. He half turned to Tommy, standing by the sideboard, and I got the feeling he wanted to say something to his old friend, but refrained in the company of our guests. They might be kind, but they were nobility and speaking informally to the footman wasn't something people of their class did.
"How did she say she knew me?"
I could see Jack was apprehensive about the answer, but I doubted anyone else noticed. I understood his concern. Just as I didn't want them to know that I'd been kept in an attic, he probably didn't want them to know he'd lived in the alleys of London until the age of fourteen.
"She didn't say," Mrs. Beaufort said. "It only came up because I received your message about the demon when I was visiting the school. Jacob sought me out when it arrived due to its urgent nature. I happened to mention that it was from a Mr. Langley of Frakingham House to Cara who was with me at the time, and Miss Charity overheard."
"She said she used to know you," Miss Moreau said. "The message was from the elder Mr. Langley, but she wasn't to know that."
"I haven't seen her in a year or so," Jack said wistfully. "How is she?"
"I would say she looks well," Mrs. Beaufort said. "She's quite the beauty."
"Indeed," Miss Moreau agreed. "She's very tall and has the loveliest golden hair."
Or course she did. I suppose she also had a sparkling wit, kind nature and no freckles. Jack's eyes had a faraway look in them and a small smile teased his lips. I wondered when he'd last seen her, and what their relationship had been. Certainly not one of mere friendship. He never grew dreamy when he thought of Tommy or any of the orphans he'd left behind when he moved to Frakingham.
"You called her Miss Charity," I said, looking down at my plate. I was afraid if I met her gaze she'd realize how important her answer was to me. "I take it she's not wed?"
"No," Mrs. Beaufort said.
"Any beaus?"
"Many, but none she encourages. She's quite married to her work."
"I can't imagine her being a teacher," Jack said, a small smile on his lips. "The Charity I remember was very, uh, spirited."
"She may one day become the headmaster if her devotion to the children and school continue."
"But she's a woman!" Mr. Culvert protested.
"So?"
"The very definition of headmaster is that the position must be held by a man."
"Good lord, George," Mrs. Beaufort huffed. "You can be so ancient in your thinking sometimes. Women are doing all sorts of marvelous things in positions once reserved only for men."
Mr. Beaufort chuckled. "Has being in the company of Adelaide and Emily over the last few years taught you nothing, my friend?"
Mr. Culvert held up his hands in surrender. "I apologize to the ladies present. I can be a little old-fashioned in my thinking at times."
"That's quite all right," I said. "I do agree with you on the point of headmaster. Perhaps she could be called headmistress instead."
We talked some more, thankfully not about Charity's numerous qualities, then adjourned back to the parlor to discuss demons.
"What is a demon exactly?" Samuel asked.
"It's an otherworldly creature," Mr. Culvert explained. "It has no true form here until it takes over the form of something from this realm."
"I don't understand," I said. "Jack could see it, and Tommy too. Samuel and I could not, nor any of the builders."
Mr. Culvert frowned. "You'd better explain. Tell me the sequence of events."
Jack told him about the hole in the trench, the death of the builder, and how he and Tommy had found the demon again in the woods.
"So Tommy wasn't with you when it first made its presence known?" Mr. Culvert asked.
"No," Jack said.
"Do you think if I had been I wouldn't have seen it either?" Tommy asked.
"Most likely not."
"But I could," Jack said. "Why?"
Mr. Culvert shrugged. "I don't know. All of my research tells me that when a demon comes into this world it has no form. It may be seen as a smoky haze or a ripple of air, but nothing solid."
"We saw the air shudder as it moved," I said.
Samuel nodded. "So you're saying it took on another form between then and later when Tommy saw it in the woods?"
"I see." Jack leaned forward. "It did look different to me that second time too. Remarkably so."
"What did it look like when you first saw it, Mr. Langley?"
Jack described the hairy creature, the claws and a face that was neither human nor animal. I shuddered at the image, thankful that I'd not been able to see it. I would have been terrified out of my wits.
"What about later, in the woods?" Mr. Beaufort prompted. "What did it look like then?"
Tommy and Jack glanced at Sylvia then me. "Why do I get the feeling you're about to say something I won't want to hear?" she asked.
"They avoided answering this question directly at the time," I said to our guests. "Go on, Jack, you'd better tell us now."
"Perhaps the ladies should leave the room," Samuel said.
"Gladly." Sylvia rose. "Come Hannah, Mrs. Beaufort, Miss Moreau. We'll find something more suitable to do."
I could see that Mrs. Beaufort and Miss Moreau weren't too keen to leave and nor was I. "The demon concerns all of us, Sylvia," I said. "We need to listen to what Mr. Culvert has to say about it."
She pouted and sat back down.
Mrs. Beaufort gave Sylvia a comforting smile. "I know it's a disturbing topic, but after what I've seen, I don't frighten easily. You get used to it."
Mr. Beaufort patted her hand, and she turned it over, palm up, and clasped his.
Sylvia picked up her embroidery and tugged hard on the needle. "I doubt I'll ever get used to it. Continue, Tommy. You were about to describe what you saw in the woods."
"I'm not sure I should," he said, watching her. "I don't want to upset you, Miss Langley."
"I'll describe it," Jack said. "Syl is always upset with me so it makes no difference. The demon had changed markedly since the first time I saw it. It walked and ran upright like a human, and it had lost all its fur. It sported skin and the body was definitely that of a human. Of sorts."
"Was it clothed?" Sylvia asked.
"No."
She screwed up her nose. "How awful."
"That's not the awful part. Its face was human, albeit…odd. Like the features didn't fit together. Its nose was too small, its mouth a mere slash, its eyes a strange yellow color, and the face much too big. It was difficult to tell if it was male or female."
"How tall was it?" Mr. Culvert asked.
"About as high as my waist when I'm standing."
Mr. Culvert sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin. "Interesting."
"So what do you think?" Jack asked. "Does it sound like a demon you've seen?"
He blinked. "Oh, no, the thing about demons is that no two look alike. Not when they become visible, that is."
"When they become visible?" I asked. "I don't understand. How does it become visible?"
"I don't think George has explained it very well," said Mr. Beaufort patiently, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "He has a habit of leaving out important details that he forgets the rest of us aren't aware of."
"I have a lo
t on my mind," Mr. Culvert said. "Go on, Jacob, you explain it since you think you're an expert now."
"Very well. There are several types of demons, but they don't all become visible to us immediately upon entering our realm. In some cases, it just takes time before it makes an appearance in its true state. For others, it may take exposure to extreme cold or extreme heat. Those types do not change form. They are what they appear to be, neither human nor animal, but something else entirely. That sounds like what you described when you first saw this demon in the trench, Langley. Except yours changed, and that's the other type of demon. Those do change form, but usually only once. They may turn into an element—fire or water—or even an inanimate object if they've accidentally consumed one thinking it's sustenance. There is a small but deadly sub-set of the species called shape-shifting demons. They can become multiple things and can change constantly, depending upon what they've consumed."
"Consumed, sustenance," Sylvia echoed, looking a little gray. "I don't think I'm going to like this."
"Probably not," Mrs. Beaufort said with sympathy.
"Most form-changing demons, however, can only alter their appearance once and that change occurs when they first consume the essence of something. The demon then turns into that thing and becomes visible to us in that form. It won't change again, no matter what it attacks."
"When you say consume, do you mean eaten?" Samuel asked.
"In a way," said Mr. Culvert. "Perhaps feasting is a better term. A demon can feast on souls or energy as well as flesh."
"So if it took on the form of the first thing it consumed," Tommy said, frowning, "why didn't it look like the builder? He was the demon's first, uh, meal."
Sylvia pressed a hand to her stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick."
Mr. Culvert shrugged. "I don't know."
"Spirits," I said and everyone looked at me. "You said it can feast on souls, Mr. Culvert. Perhaps the demon consumed something before the builder, and that's the form it took and kept. It came from the dungeon," I said to Jack.
"The spirits of the children," he murmured.
Sylvia gave a little cry and dropped her needle. "The deformed Frakingham children. Yes, of course."