by C. J. Archer
"Why?"
She seemed shocked by my bluntness and took another moment to answer. "I suppose because I know most of his secrets now. The ones he knows the answers to himself, that is."
"And what are those secrets?"
She gave a short laugh. "Miss Smith, you can't possibly expect me to answer that. If Jack wants you to know, then he'll tell you."
"How can he answer me when I don't know which questions to ask?"
She lifted one shoulder. "A fair point. Let me tell you this then. I can see that Jack likes you very much. It's written all over his face."
It was? In that case, I must be illiterate because I couldn't see it when Miss Charity was in the room.
"It's because of that, and because you've been direct with me, that I'm going to be direct with you. Jack and I were very close once. We remained friends even after he moved to Frakingham. We don't dislike each other, Miss Smith. I can assure you, however, that he and I are not as…close as we once were. Our friendship has waned with the passing of time. We're both happier that way." She tugged on her sleeves, but not before I saw a scar on the back of one of her hands. A broad scar that covered almost the entire hand.
A burn scar.
I sucked in air and tried to think of something to say. "It's just that you two acted so oddly in the parlor just now."
She looked down at her hands and pulled on the cuffs again even though the scar was no longer visible. "Jack and I have a long, turbulent history together. We've hurt each other too many times to count."
Bile rose to my throat. No. He wouldn't. But I had to ask. "How did he hurt you?"
"Not like that," she said quickly. "Never physically. The sort of pain we inflicted on each other doesn't leave scars. It was never intentional. He's a good man is Jack Langley."
"Jack Cutler, you mean."
She gave me a tired smile. "Yes. Jack Cutler, man of fire and master thief by the age of eight."
"A thief?" I muttered. Perhaps it should have been obvious to me considering his upbringing, but it wasn't.
"Don't tell him I told you." The mischievous twinkle returned to her eyes. "It's how we all survived. We'd have nothing to eat in those days if we didn't steal. Jack could keep us warm with the point of a finger, but he could also keep us fed with those same fingers. He was incredibly fast at picking pockets. Most victims were never aware of what had happened until he was well away, and those that did detect him in the process could never catch him. He was fast on his feet too."
"Yes, I've seen him."
"I imagine you have." She folded her hands and I thought our conversation was over, that she'd told me as much as she wanted to, but then she spoke again. "Jack saved me, you know. He saved me many times."
"From what?"
"From all sorts of things, and people, but mostly from myself." Tears shone in her eyes, but didn't spill. "I'll be forever grateful to him for that, and he'll always hold a special place in my heart. But it's time to move on. I want to move on, and I want him to as well. I'm glad I met you, Miss Smith. It makes me hopeful for his future."
I found Miss Charity utterly confounding. I'd gone from thinking she still loved Jack to the complete opposite and then to somewhere in the middle. I suppose relationships of their nature were complicated, but I'd never had experience of them. My long-term relationships were with only two people, Miss Levine and Vi. Neither would be receiving social calls from me now.
"You'd better go," Charity said. "They'll be wondering where you got to."
"Yes. Of course." I stood. "Just one more thing. There's something I need to ask you and you probably won't answer me, but I'll regret it if I don't."
"This sounds intriguing."
"I think something happened to Jack. Something to do with his fire that makes him reluctant to use it on people, even if it's to save somebody. Do you know why?"
She bit her lower lip then released it to smile, albeit thinly. She took my arm and walked slowly with me to the door. "You ask too many questions, Miss Smith, and that's one that he must tell you himself. If he wants to."
"I thought as much."
"But you had to try," she quipped. "I understand." We stopped at the door and she turned to face me. "Be assured, Miss Smith, if he does tell you, it means he cares for you very deeply. It's not something he would want just anyone to know."
"Thank you. I'm glad we spoke."
"As am I. Take care. I hope you catch that madman. I suspect there's a story there, and I love a good story. You'll have to return one day and tell it to me. I'm sure we'll meet again now that I'm working here. I know Jack will want to see the Plum Alley children from time to time. He always felt responsible for them, even those who came after he'd left."
I took her hands, but she pulled away and tugged the cuffs again. She'd said Jack hadn't hurt her, but had he caused those scars somehow?
Oh lord. It suddenly struck me why he'd not told her about Tate and me. I'd thought it was because he didn't want to explain the whole mess, but perhaps it was because Charity had been burned. Was she afraid of fire? Was that why she looked at Jack with fear earlier? Was that why he hadn't told her about my fire, because he didn't want her to be afraid of me?
It explained her mixed emotions toward him too.
I opened my mouth to ask, but shut it again. Sometimes not asking questions was the wisest move, and I suspected this was one of those times.
I bid her good day and thanked her again. I made my way back to the parlor where the three men were discussing all things demonic. Mr. Culvert walked us out to the carriage where a cluster of children had gathered around the horses. Jack paid the lads who'd minded it and suggested to Samuel that he drive again. Samuel claimed not to mind. He winked at me, and I realized he suspected Jack was purposely keeping him away from me. I wondered if it were true. Surely Jack knew Samuel wouldn't hypnotize me against my will.
We had tea at the Hammer and Nail while we waited for Mrs. Dodd. It was a crooked old inn with low ceiling beams and an enormous yawning hearth. A few drinkers who appeared as ancient as the inn sat hunched over their ales at the bar. They didn't move except to lift their glasses to their mouths. We sat in the corner and kept our voices low as we discussed the demon.
"I'm so glad we have the amulet and will soon have an appropriate incantation with which to send it back," I said.
Jack agreed. "Now if we only knew for certain whether Tate summoned it to Frakingham."
"If it wasn't him, then who?" I asked. "And why?"
Both Jack and Samuel shrugged. "Culvert suggested the summoning isn't always accurate," Samuel said. "Perhaps it ended up in the dungeon by accident and was meant for somewhere else. Somewhere far from Frakingham."
"If you believe that, then you're a fool," Jack told him.
"I've been called worse."
"I'm sure you have."
"Do you have a problem with me, Cutler?"
I held my breath and glanced at Jack's face and then his hands, but he didn't look angry, and there were no sparks. I breathed again.
"You have questions," Jack said.
"Several." Samuel smiled, but it wasn't one of his hypnotic ones. He wasn't trying to charm Jack, although he may have been trying to placate him. Samuel couldn't afford to make an enemy of him. "Tell me about Miss Charity. How did you two meet?"
Jack lifted an eyebrow. "So the mesmerist got mesmerized."
"I'm not a mesmerist. I'm simply curious about you two."
Jack grunted. "We were orphans together, living on the streets."
Samuel sat back in his chair and didn't take his eyes off Jack. "Go on. Tell me everything."
Jack did indeed tell Samuel everything. At least, everything that I already knew. He left out nothing, not even the part where he and Charity had been lovers, although he didn't express it in quite so bald terms.
Samuel was silent for a long time afterward. He made no comments, and it was impossible to tell from his face what he thought of it all. I was jus
t wondering how to break the unsettling silence when Jack spoke again.
"I've answered your questions, now you answer mine," he said." Why are you at Frakingham?"
Samuel crossed his arms and for a moment I thought he'd refuse to answer. But he must have thought better of it because he let out a long breath and nodded. "I came to study Hannah."
"Me!"
"After hypnotizing you in Dr. Werner's rooms, I decided I'd had enough of trying to cure hysteria and melancholy in ladies with nothing better to do than think up ailments for themselves. I needed to work with people with real problems related to hypnosis, and you were the only one I knew about. I hoped to find out more about the memory block that was put on you, and study how it affected your thought patterns and behavior."
"But the block has been lifted. You know that."
"August Langley suggested that I remain at Frakingham anyway. I felt comfortable there, being something of a freak myself, so I took him up on the offer."
Jack held up his hand. "Wait. You're telling us you're not doing anything at all at Frakingham? No research, no studies? You're wasting our time and money, Gladstone."
"You don't do anything there," Samuel shot back.
"I manage the estate and August's financial interests. He wants to work purely on his science these days."
Samuel accepted this was a nod. "I can assure you, I am not wasting anything. I'm conducting research into my hypnosis as well as observing the behavior and thought patterns on everyone in the house."
"Whatever for?" I asked. "I mean, I understand you wish to know more about your ability, and that's only natural, but our behavior? Why?"
"You're a small community with little outside influence. Two of you have extraordinary paranormal abilities, another is a mute, one is a temperamental cripple, and Sylvia is…well, she's just Sylvia. Having a normal member in the household is helpful as a control."
"I don't know if my cousin could be described as normal," Jack muttered.
"Each of you behaves in a certain way under certain circumstances, and that in turn affects your thinking and actions. That's how the neurological aspect enters the equation. I'm merely observing at the moment and then I'll try to make conclusions. I may even devise some specific tests."
"I'm not sure I like being part of an experiment," I said.
"I know I certainly don't," Jack said, glaring at Samuel. "You'll not wire me up to any machines."
Samuel smiled. "Don't worry. It won't hurt."
Jack's eyes narrowed further.
"Here's Mrs. Dodd," I said, looking past Jack's shoulder. "Behave nicely, or she won't give us any answers."
"Yes she will, because Samuel'll make her."
"I won't hypnotize unless I have to," Samuel whispered as Mrs. Dodd walked up.
We greeted her and she sat beside me. Jack ordered her a glass of sherry and another for me. He and Samuel drank ale.
"Twenty years is a long time to work for someone," I said as way of beginning the conversation.
"Actually it was more," she said. "I started just after my husband died. He was a foreman in one of the factories in Hackney Wick and there was an accident."
"How awful. I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Dodd."
She thanked me and sipped her sherry. She was a gentle-looking woman with warm eyes and soft features. I could see the resemblance with her sister in her loose cheeks and chins, her large bosom, but it ended there. Fortunately she seemed more eager than her sister to talk.
"Do you know where Tate might be hiding now?" Jack asked. "Does he have a house in Hertfordshire or friends there?"
She shook her head. "He doesn't have friends."
"None?" Samuel asked. "That's odd. What about female companions?"
Mrs. Dodd sipped her sherry and kept on sipping.
"Mrs. Dodd?" I prompted.
She set the glass down. "I, uh… Well. I've never known him to have a female companion."
Perhaps she didn't understand. "Mr. Gladstone is referring to company," I said. "Of the, er, intimate nature."
"I know."
"So…"
"Hannah," Jack whispered. He shook his head, warning me. I got the distinct feeling I'd missed something. Being locked up in an attic for fifteen years out of eighteen meant I didn't always follow the nuances of conversations and the unspoken messages. I would ask Jack later what she meant.
"So you can't think of anyone he might stay with in Hertfordshire?" Jack asked Mrs. Dodd.
She shook her head. "Of course he may have rented a place under an assumed name. That horrible Hamley, for example."
"What do you know of him?"
"Very little. He came to live with Mr. Tate only a few weeks ago. I suspected they were, uh…you know." She blushed fiercely and sipped her sherry.
Jack and Samuel looked down at their ales. I was left to stare at them all in turn. Was she implying that Tate and Ham were lovers? Surely not. They were both men. So…how did that work? None of the biology texts smuggled in by my tutor at Windamere had covered that topic.
I was contemplating the answer when Jack cleared his throat. "If you've been with Tate for so long, you must know August Langley, my uncle."
"Yes, of course." She made a face. "I can't say I was sorry to see him leave. He wasn't a bad man, but the two of them together was not a happy mix. They argued a lot, mostly over their work."
"Do you know how he lost the use of his legs?" I asked.
"It happened in a fire. The same fire that cost Mr. Tate his arm."
"How awful."
"It was. They both nearly died."
"Do you know how the fire started?" Jack asked.
"It was an accident with Mr. Tate's chemicals, so he said. There were a lot of fires in those days, all started the same way. Chemistry is a dangerous business, but they were trying to do good things with it. Mr. Tate has developed some wonderful cures for all sorts of ailments. I'm very proud of him." Her eyes clouded and she looked down at her glass. "Or I was. So why does he want you specifically, Miss Smith? Does it have something to do with your name?"
"My name?" I rubbed my temple where a headache hammered my skull.
"What about her name?" Jack asked.
"Hannah Smith. I recognized it, but couldn't place it until after you left earlier. Then I remembered. It was a name I heard repeatedly many years ago."
"Eighteen years?" Samuel asked.
"Oh no, longer than that. It was very soon after I began working for them."
"That can't be right," I said. "I'm eighteen."
Mrs. Dodd shook her head. "It couldn't have been you. The other Miss Smith was an adult. Perhaps you were named after her."
"Who was she?" I asked.
"I don't know and I never met her. Mr. Tate and Mr. Langley mentioned her name often, which is why it's stayed in my mind all this time. Their discussions concerning her were sometimes heated, but they always ended them when I walked into the room. I thought perhaps they were rivals for her affections, but back then I didn't know about…you know."
"Could she have been somebody they worked with?" Jack asked. "Another scientist?"
Or someone they experimented upon?
"Perhaps," Mrs. Dodd said. "I don't know what happened to her. They stopped talking about her after a while. I hadn't heard the name in years until you turned up. Do you think your parents knew her?"
"I never knew my parents," I said. "All I do know is that Mr. Langley and Mr. Tate took care of me when I was a baby."
She gasped. "Oh! My! I remember you!" She pressed a hand to her breast and stared at me in wonder. "I'm so happy to see you again, dear. So happy. You cannot begin to know how relieved I am that you've turned out well. Look at you. What a beauty. And red hair too. You had none then. Completely bald, you were."
My heart swelled unexpectedly. I didn't remember her, but clearly she remembered me and had worried for me. Her reaction connected me to her, and I felt lucky that someone had cared enough to be happy to see me ag
ain.
"What about Jack?" I asked.
"You mean Mr. Langley here?" She shrugged. "What about him?"
"He lived with Langley and Tate as a baby a few years before me. Do you remember that?"
"Oh yes, of course I remember a baby. You mean to say this Mr. Langley is that baby?" Her eyes brightened then filled with tears. She clasped her hands over her mouth. "My goodness. I can't believe it. I simply can't believe it. To find both of you after all this time is wonderful. A miracle."
Jack looked a little unnerved by her reaction, but he managed a smile. "How did I come to be in the household?"
"Your arrival was most strange. I'm not even sure how they got you. Mr. Langley simply came home with you one day and said you were given to him to care for. Do you mean to say you're his nephew?"
"So he told me," Jack said quietly.
"Now that is a surprise. I didn't even know he had family. He never told me. You don't look like him either. I do remember you though, Mr. Langley. And you too, Miss Smith. He was gone by the time you came along, though. Both orphans, you were. Poor things. You were both lucky they took you in, or so I thought at first. I often wondered what happened to you." She bit her wobbly lip and gave us a watery smile. "It warms my heart to see you both again."
"Tell me what you knew of Jack as a baby."
She sipped her sherry and frowned. "Nothing really. He was a sweet little thing. You both were. Then again, I always did have a soft spot for babies. They wouldn't let me near either of you though. You had nurses, and you were mostly kept in the nursery."
"Why did Jack leave?" I asked. "And where did he go?"
"Ah." Her face darkened and she glanced at Jack. "That was my fault. It was the fires, you see. There were so many at that time, and I feared for his life. He was so little and the experiments Mr. Tate and Mr. Langley were conducting were extremely volatile. The nursery adjoined their laboratory, and I begged them to move the baby to a safer room, but they refused. In the end, I informed the authorities of the danger and they took him away. He was sent to an orphanage and then a family adopted him. I didn't know he was Langley's nephew," she muttered. "Good lord, I wonder why he never said."
Probably because he wasn't related to Jack at all.