by C. J. Archer
"Jack!"
He didn't stop.
"Jack, slow down, I can't keep up."
He stopped, but kept his back to us. He was breathing hard. His entire body seemed to expand with every inhalation. I wanted to massage the rigidity out of his shoulders, but there would be no touching of that nature between us, even if it were acceptable in public.
"What is it?" I asked, standing as close as I dared. "What's wrong?"
He gave one shake of his head, but said nothing.
"I thought that's what you wanted me to do," Samuel said. He sounded a little hurt at Jack's anger, and I could understand why. We had wanted him to hypnotize Mrs. Perry.
Jack turned around and pinned Samuel with a pointed glare. "I can't believe I let you hypnotize Hannah before!"
"Ah," was all Samuel said.
"That's it?" Jack fisted his hands at his sides, but not before I saw the reddened tips from the fire boiling inside him. "That's all you have to say on the matter?"
One eye on Jack's fists, Samuel said, "You're not going to hit me or throw a fireball, are you?"
Jack growled and walked off. Once again I had to run to keep up. "You didn't let Samuel hypnotize me," I said. "Indeed, you didn't have a choice."
"I remember," he bit off. "I also remember you throwing me out of the room. I shouldn't have let you do that either."
"Jack, I was perfectly all right. Dr. Werner was there too, and you know Samuel now. He's an honorable man."
"Thank you, Hannah," Samuel said. "If I wasn't honorable, I would have taken Mrs. Perry up on her offer."
"Samuel!" I cried. "That's not helping."
"Of cake," he said, grinning. Good lord, he was making it worse. Jack looked like he wanted to rip Samuel's head off. "Go on, Langley, hit me. I know you want to, and it'll make you feel better."
Jack stopped.
"Jack!" I scolded. "Don't you dare."
He grunted and continued walking toward our carriage. He flipped a coin to each of the two lads holding the reins and opened the door for me as Samuel climbed onto the driver's seat.
"Although I find your concern flattering," I said to Jack, "you are not to take out your frustration on Samuel. Understand? We went to him, and he did nothing wrong."
He fingered the lace cuff of my jacket. Heat bloomed at my wrist and spread up my arm, but not to an uncomfortable level. "It's just that…" He sighed again. "For the first time, I saw his power work on a female. Mrs. Perry's reaction was startling. If that's how most of the women are when he hypnotizes them…"
"I assure you I didn't swoon or offer Samuel…cake. I was quite blank thanks to the memory blockage put on me as a child." Some of the anger left his eyes, so I didn't feel quite so bad at telling the small lie. Of course I had no way of knowing how I'd behaved in my hypnotized state. If I'd behaved as Mrs. Perry had, neither Samuel nor Dr. Werner had said so. Of course, they wouldn't. If that sort of thing became public, Dr. Werner would be put out of business from the ensuing scandal.
"Come on," I said, "ride with me in the cabin. Samuel can find his way to number twenty Patterson Street, Hampstead on his own."
Finally Jack's anger dissolved completely with the cracking of a smile. "How can I refuse an invitation like that?"
***
The Hampstead house where Mrs. Dodd worked was nothing like the Kensington house. It was modern and built over two levels with no basement service area accessible from the street. We knocked on the front door and, as we'd hoped, Mrs. Dodd opened it.
She recognized Jack and I, but I could see her struggling to remember where from. But the moment came and when it did, she gasped. "Good lord, you were at Mr. Tate's on that awful day."
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Dodd," Jack said. "I'm Jack Langley and this is Miss Hannah Smith and Mr. Samuel Gladstone. We've come to talk to you about Reuben Tate. May we come in?"
She glanced over her shoulder, and came out to us on the porch. She closed the door behind her. "My new employers are strict about me having visitors," she said with a tired sigh. "And I don't want them aware of my connection to a man like Tate. I still cannot believe he turned into such a monster."
I was relieved that Mrs. Dodd wasn't at all like her sister. She didn't shut the door in our face when we mentioned Tate for a start.
"How did you find me?" she asked. "Did my sister tell you where I worked?"
"Mrs. Perry was a little reluctant at first," Jack said.
"She's very protective of me. I'm her little sister, you see, and after what happened that day with Mr. Tate…well, she worries. I hope she wasn't too curt with you. How did you convince her to give you this address?"
"Mr. Gladstone can be very persuasive."
Samuel bowed and smiled that lovely smile of his.
"He must be," Mrs. Dodd said, eyeing him with open curiosity. "My sister is not the easily persuaded sort."
"Mrs. Dodd, we need to speak to you about Mr. Tate," I said. "We have some important questions in light of his escape."
"Escape!" She gasped. "I had no idea. Dear God, what is our prison system coming to if it allows a man like him to get out?"
"I think the circumstances took even his jailors by surprise," Jack said. "We need to talk to you about him. You may be able to help us find him before he finds us. He's after Miss Smith, you see, for reasons too numerous to go into now."
Another gasp. "You poor dear. Of course I'll try to help, but I doubt I'll know anything useful."
"How long have you worked for him?"
"Oh, years." She counted on her fingers. "At least twenty."
Twenty! Then she'd been with Tate when Langley partnered him. Odd how he'd not mentioned it.
Jack obviously had the same thought, because he said, "I think you may know more than you realize. Is there somewhere we can go to talk?"
"Not here, not now. What about later this afternoon? I can meet you after I've served Mrs. Gearsley's tea. Cook can make the dinner preparations without me, as long as I'm back to serve."
"Is there an inn nearby?"
"The Hammer and Nail is a block away." She pointed down the street. "Turn right then left. Meet me at four-thirty."
We thanked her and she slipped back inside the house, giving us an uncertain smile before closing the final gap.
"We have several hours before we meet her," Samuel said as we walked back to the carriage. "What shall we do now?"
"Speak to Culvert," Jack said. "I want to show him the amulet."
***
We ate lunch at a coffee house not far from George Culvert's residence then drove on to his house. He lived in an elegantly curved street of Belgravia where magnificent residences reigned over the vista. He wasn't at home, but his lovely wife Adelaide—Jacob Beaufort's sister—told us we would find him at the charity school for orphans. Apparently he taught there sometimes, although what a demonologist taught to a group of children was a mystery.
The school was located on the edge of Clerkenwell, an area patterned with narrow alleys crammed with small workshops and equally small houses. Signs in the doors and windows informed passersby what sort of trade was conducted inside. That's if you could see the signs in the first place. Between the grimy window glass and the lack of sunlight reaching the deep recesses of the alleys, most were obscured. Children played in the street, and I was glad to see they all wore shoes and coats to ward off the bitter cold. Not that I felt it, but Samuel did. He blew on his gloved hands and hunched into his coat. I was glad for my internal fire for once.
Jack paid two older lads to mind the horses and coach while we went into the school. The building was the largest on the street, its windows the cleanest. We were met by a maid who showed us through to a small, comfortable parlor, then left us to fetch Mr. Culvert.
It wasn't him who entered a few minutes later, however, but a tall striking blonde woman. Going by Jack's soft exhalation of breath, I guessed she was Charity, the teacher. His lover.
I was quite pleased with how I maintai
ned a serene composure. My polite smile didn't slip and my hands remained loosely clasped in my lap, not a white knuckle on show. I didn't once glance at Jack. I couldn't have borne any wistful or longing looks he may have cast in her direction. To anyone who'd looked at me, I would have appeared calm and composed.
Yet my insides were a bundle of tangled knots in danger of unraveling at any moment. It would have been easier if Miss Charity weren't so pretty or so elegant. She had a perfectly oval face with not a freckle in sight, and the loveliest fair hair. Being tall meant she could carry off the plain black dress with the neat bustle at the back with elegance. The dress's only adornments were the large cuffs that covered part of her hands. She made me feel quite overdone in the ruches and swathes of my dark green silk gown.
"Jack," she cooed. "I cannot believe it's you."
"Charity," he said and bowed.
She laughed a throaty laugh and bid him not to be so formal with her. "When was it we last saw one another?"
"A year ago. You left the children all of a sudden without word." There was no accusation in his tone. It was merely a statement of fact.
Her smile vanished and a shadow passed over her face. "Ah yes. That." She did not explain or apologize, but turned her smile back on again. It seemed she and I both knew how to do the correct and polite thing in certain company. "Won't you introduce me to your friends?"
Jack cleared his throat. I still refused to look at his face, but it was getting more and more difficult. "This is Miss Hannah Smith, my cousin's companion, and this is Mr. Samuel Gladstone, a neurologist undertaking research at Frakingham."
She bobbed a small curtsey. "What an interesting combination of people you have at that house, Jack. Are you studying anyone in particular for your research, Mr. Gladstone?"
"I'm a student of all human nature, Miss…"
"Charity. I'm Miss Charity to everyone from the students to the other teachers."
"Miss Charity." Samuel smiled and I was quite certain his was genuine. It would seem the beauty of Miss Charity could charm the charmer himself. "As I said, I'm a student of human nature. I observe how people think and behave in all sorts of situations. I study everyone I meet. The inhabitants of Frakingham House are no exception."
"I'm sure they give you much material for your research. Particularly Jack here," she said, her eyes twinkling with merry mischief.
"Oh? How so?"
"Charity," Jack said, his voice a low warning. It was such a change that I broke my rule and looked at him. He was glaring at Charity, but she was ignoring him.
"That's up to you to find out, Mr. Gladstone." She leaned closer, conspiratorial, but Jack and I could hear every word. "Dig beneath the surface of that steely façade he so expertly wears. Ask questions of the right people, and you'll find out more about Jack Cutler than you ever wanted to know." The use of his original name wasn't lost on anyone. Samuel's gaze slid to Jack then me, then back to Charity. "Indeed," she went on, "you may wish you'd never asked."
She finally looked at Jack then, but I was surprised by what I saw in her eyes. I expected triumph that her cutting remarks had brought such a reaction, perhaps even a measure of desperation since I was quite sure she was trying to gain his attention. But there was none of that in her demeanor. Only sadness that seemed to run like a stain through her pretty blue eyes. And something else too. Something that took my breath away and tightened my chest.
Fear.
Charity was afraid of Jack.
What had happened between the two of them all those years ago? I wanted to know, but tension wrapped its tentacles around us, and I felt compelled to break its hold.
"It's very nice to meet you, Miss Charity," I said.
"I'm sorry, Miss Smith, I've been terribly impolite." She did seem genuinely apologetic. "You're a friend to Jack's cousin? How delightful. I've met Miss Langley and she seems like a sweet girl."
"She's been very kind to me."
"She's not here with you?" Naturally she must be curious as to why Sylvia's companion was gallivanting around London with two gentlemen and not Sylvia herself. It must seem terribly suspicious.
"Circumstances have necessitated she remain at Frakingham and Hannah come with me," Jack said.
Miss Charity raised an eyebrow. Clearly she didn't miss the use of 'me' instead of 'us.' "How delightful."
"Not really. A madman has escaped prison and is trying to kidnap her."
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "My God. That's truly awful." For the first time I felt she'd said something that didn't have a double meaning and wasn't designed to tease or cajole Jack. "Does it have anything to do with you needing to see Mr. Culvert?"
"Yes. Is he here?"
"He's teaching at the moment, but his class should be almost finished. The maid has been given instructions to tell him you're waiting for him. Can I get you any refreshments?"
"No, thank you," I said.
She sat with us, which I found a little awkward. She had not looked at Jack again, but he couldn't keep his eyes off her. He studied her intently, his gaze taking in every part of her until finally resting on her hands. She'd folded them in her lap. The extravagant cuffs reached almost to her knuckles.
"Tell me about yourself, Miss Smith," she said. "Why is the escapee after you?"
"Well," I said on a breath as I considered whether I wanted to tell her anything and if so, how much.
"It's complicated," Jack said before I could go on.
Charity sat back as if his words had pushed her. "Of course. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." She rose. "Let me see if Mr. Culvert is finished."
I waited until she'd left before I turned to Jack. Samuel got in first, however. "Was it necessary to be so short with her, Langley? It was a natural question. Of course she'd be curious."
"There are some things Charity shouldn't know." His gaze settled on me. "You understand, don't you, Hannah?"
I didn't, not really, but I told him I did. He seemed to want me to agree with him, understand him. I couldn't imagine why. Ever since seeing Charity, Jack hadn't been his usual confident self. Not that he seemed afraid or desperate, but there was something lacking in his composure.
And then it struck me. He cared about her opinion of him. I suddenly realized that not telling her why Tate was after me had been difficult for Jack, and that's perhaps why it had come out sounding so curt. I think he'd wanted to tell her everything. So why hadn't he?
Whatever the reason, it would seem Jack hadn't quite gotten over his feelings for her after all.
A large hammer smashed through my rib cage—or that's how it felt. I wanted to run out of the parlor and let the tears welling in my eyes flow. But Jack was watching me closely and I felt like he could see right through the smashed ribs to my fragile heart.
"Hannah," he said softly.
I was saved from my self-pity by the entrance of George Culvert. Charity wasn't with him. I found I was quite happy about that.
"Has something happened?" he asked even before greeting us. "Has it harmed anyone?"
"No," Jack said, "nothing like that."
Mr. Culvert pushed his glasses up his nose and let out a deep breath. "That is a relief. In that case, you must have more information for me."
"We do. We found this." Jack pulled the amulet out of his pocket.
Mr. Culvert shut the parlor door then took the amulet and inspected it. "Was it in the trench?"
"Yes, half buried in the soil on the trench floor."
"Ah." He picked at the central star shape with his fingernail and muttered some "hmmm" and "ah-ha" noises. "I'd say this is probably what was used to summon it."
"Probably?" Samuel asked. "Can't you be more definite than that?"
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Gladstone. It's impossible to tell for certain, but if it was found near the dungeon, then it's likely to be the amulet that was used. It does have a likeness to others I've seen."
"I'm not sure I like the uncertainty in your answer."
Mr. Culvert merely shrugged and handed the amulet back to Jack. "I sent an incantation via the mail, but it wouldn't have reached you before you left. Dine with my wife and I tonight, and I'll write it out again for you."
"Thank you," Jack said.
"Capital! I've been telling my wife what an interesting time we had at Frakingham and she's regretted not coming ever since."
"Before we go," I said, "is there somewhere I can freshen up?"
"Of course." He opened the door and gave me directions.
I went in search of Miss Charity instead. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to speak to her alone and find out more about Jack—and about her relationship with him. I wasn't sure if I'd find out anything good. Indeed, I was quite sure I wouldn't, but I had to know.
CHAPTER 11
I found Miss Charity in a classroom speaking to two girls of about ten years of age. She was pointing at something in the book one of them held open.
"Excuse me, Miss Charity," I said. "May I have a word?"
She dismissed the girls. As they passed me, both brushed their fingers along my skirt. One of them sighed, the other blinked large eyes up at me then ran off when I said hello.
"Forgive them," Miss Charity said, smiling. "They're rather in awe of you."
"Me! Whatever for?"
She indicated my dark green day dress and jacket, my matching hat with the flowers around the brim. "You look so elegant to them. Rather like Mrs. Beaufort. She always elicits a few gawps from the girls."
"You flatter me by comparing me to her, Miss Charity."
She merely shrugged. "What can I do for you, Miss Smith? I assume you've sought me out for a reason. Does Jack know you're here?"
"The gentlemen think I'm freshening up."
"Ah." She indicated I should sit in one of the chairs angled near her desk. I did and she sat behind the desk. "You want to know more about Jack." It wasn't a question.
"Is it that obvious?"
"No, but I'm a woman too and Jack is…" She sighed. "Jack is compelling."
I clasped my hands tighter in my lap. "Do you find him compelling, Miss Charity?"
She hesitated. "Not as much as I used to."