by C. J. Archer
Sylvia appeared by my side. I hadn't seen her approach. She took my arm and walked with me down the corridor. It wasn't until we were almost to my room that she spoke.
"You've had a turn," she said. "Lie down."
"No. I don't need to." But I let her take me inside and sit me on the bed.
"There," she soothed. "Do you want me to tell Jack you're here?"
I shook my head. "You're right. I do need to rest."
She left me alone, and I lay on my back on the bed. The tears soon followed, trickling past my ears onto the pillow. Why was Langley being so cruel to us? Why couldn't he see that Jack made me happy, and I him? I know he wanted Jack to do better, but why couldn't he see we belonged together?
Why would he force me to choose between the person I loved and a cure to save my life?
***
It was dark when I awoke. It would seem I'd needed the rest after all. I sat up, but giddiness forced me to lie down again. My stomach still felt unsettled, my limbs leaden and achy.
I lay there and listened to my own breathing. The ever-present heat within me swirled but didn't surge. I was definitely hotter than before.
How much longer did I have left?
Had Tate already died?
I tried not to think about it, or what Langley had said to Samuel, but it was no use. It was all I could think about. Had Samuel told Jack?
My stomach eventually settled then growled from hunger. I got up slowly and lit the lamp beside the bed. Six o'clock according to the clock on the mantelpiece. I frowned, not quite believing it was that early. We'd arrived home late in the afternoon, at dusk. I peeked through the curtains and was surprised to see the glow in the east. Dawn. It was six AM not PM. I'd slept all night.
One of the maids must have brought in a basin of fresh water. I undressed and washed. Slivers of cold water slipped across my skin, easing the aches and heat a little. It was bliss, but all too temporary. I dried off and dressed in a light day dress before heading out the door.
I stopped in my tracks. Jack sat slumped in a chair in the corridor. His eyes opened, and he stood when he saw me. "Hannah! You're awake." Enough light filtered through the window at the end of the corridor for me to see that his hair stuck out and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. He wore no tie or waistcoat either. The stubble on his jaw made him look older, rougher. If I'd met him in a dark London alley, I wouldn't have thought him a gentleman.
"Have you been outside my door all night?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "I came in to check on you twice."
I wondered if Langley knew about his vigil. "You fool." It was supposed to be a scold, but it came out too sympathetic for that. "It must have been terribly uncomfortable."
"Sylvia said you'd taken a turn." He searched my face, no doubt looking for signs that I was going to faint or throw up. Or worse. "How do you feel now?"
"The same."
He didn't seem to detect my lie, thank goodness. "Care for an early morning swim?"
My heart thudded in my chest. I wanted to be with him in every way, wanted to kiss him and hold him and be held by him. But if Langley or Bollard saw…
"We shouldn't," I said. "Not after what happened the last time."
"We won't allow that to happen again, Hannah."
"It's too much of a risk."
He frowned. "You should go in by yourself then. It'll make you feel better. I'll watch from the side if it makes you feel safer."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea either."
He took a step toward me, his brows drawn together in a frown. "Hannah, is everything all right?"
"Of course," I said, more brightly than I felt. "Let's go down for breakfast." I turned my back on him and led the way. I didn't want to see the confusion in his eyes, or the worry. I didn't have the strength for it.
I stopped in the doorway to the dining room. August Langley was already there eating breakfast, Bollard attending him. I hadn't wanted to face him yet. My emotions were too raw, and I tended to do rash things when I was emotional.
He set his toast down and regarded me as if he were trying to determine if my health had worsened. When Jack looked at me like that, I could see the worry imprinted in every line of his furrowed brow, but with Langley, it was difficult to tell whether he was curious from a professional viewpoint or personal one.
"Good morning," he said. "How do you feel?"
"The same," I said, giving him the answer I'd given Jack.
"Sit down, Hannah," Jack said. "I'll get your breakfast." He pulled out a chair for me, but I didn't sit.
"I'm not an invalid." I bit my lip. If Langley was offended by my off-handed comment, he didn't show it.
It was Jack who flinched as if my words had stung him. "Hannah? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just don't want to be treated like a child. I'm perfectly capable of getting my own breakfast." I sounded so callous. I peered into a tureen on the sideboard so that I didn't have to look at him. Seeing his turmoil made my heart sore. If I watched him any longer, I would be in danger of telling him why I was dismissing him.
He shouldn't know about Langley's ultimatum. He couldn't. A confrontation between them would be a disaster and might inadvertently force Langley's hand.
"Did you speak to Samuel?" I asked Langley, innocently. "What do you think of him going to London to study with Myer?"
"I think he's a fool. Myer isn't to be trusted."
I placed toast and a boiled egg on my plate and carried it to the table, setting it down harder than I intended. "You know him well?"
He shook his head. "Only from what Jack told me last night and Wade the last time he was here. When he told us that Myer hypnotized you, it took me a while to place the name. Then I remembered him. He was an acquaintance from the Society, nothing more. I met him years ago, but don't recall him very well."
Jack poured a cup of tea for me, despite me not having asked. I thanked him and he nodded in acknowledgement, but his frown didn't disappear.
"What about Tate?" I asked. "Did he know Myer better than you?"
Langley stopped chewing for a moment, then resumed, slower. It seemed like an age until he swallowed. "It's possible. As you well know, I didn't watch Tate's every move in those days. That was a mistake."
His uncharacteristic admission surprised not only me, but his assistant. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bollard's gaze shift to the back of Langley's head. He blinked twice, which on most people meant nothing, but on the usually immobile Bollard, was tantamount to a full conversation.
"Who was Grand Master of the Society in the years you were a member?" I asked.
"You're full of questions this morning, Hannah," Langley said.
"I wish to get to the bottom of things. You may not have noticed, but I have a wide inquisitive streak running through me."
Jack chuckled and even Langley smirked. Behind him, Bollard's eyes twinkled.
"Do these questions also mean you're feeling better?" Langley asked.
"The long sleep has refreshed me, yes." The journey had tired me more than I'd thought, however, I would never admit it. Jack would have me stay indoors, and I did not want to argue with him over whether I was going to the Beauforts' ball or not. I might be nervous about attending it, but I knew I'd regret not going. I wasn't one to shy away from new and sometimes terrifying experiences.
"Well?" I prompted Langley. "Who was in charge?"
"A gentleman named Price. He's dead."
"Did Price know about baby Jack and his abilities?"
"No."
I believed him. I don't know why, but I did and left the conversation at that.
Jack did not. He sat next to me, his plate filled with bacon, toast and eggs, all of which went untouched. He focused his full attention on his uncle. "So my being with you had nothing to do with the Society's wishes?" he asked.
"Of course not. It was a private arrangement between your father and me."
"Who was he?"
"I've told you, Jack, I cannot say."
Jack shook his head and set his knife and fork down, very deliberately. When he looked up again, the tiny scar above his top lip had gone stark white. "No. I don't accept that. Not anymore. Who I am—what I am—is linked to my parents. I need to know more about them."
Langley dabbed his mouth with his napkin. "I cannot betray a man's trust."
Jack's fist slammed down on the table. Cutlery and teacups rattled and my knife slipped off the side of my plate. "Enough games, August!" Fire danced along Jack's fingertips until he balled his hand, smothering them. "You may think it admirable to protect your friend, but I am your family. Why do you not want to do the right thing by me?"
Langley slowly lowered the napkin to the table. He scrunched it up, then let it go. He did not speak for an interminable length of time. I worried that Jack would explode again and set something alight, but he did not. The two men glared at one another across the table.
Bollard came to stand behind Langley. He rested his hand on the handle of the wheelchair. To quickly wheel him out of the way if necessary? To reassure him? Or for some other purpose?
When Langley did finally speak, it was not the words I expected. "You think of yourself as…my nephew?"
Jack sat back in his chair and unclenched his fists. The fingers were red but no longer alight. "I belong here at Frakingham," he said. "This is my home, and yours and Sylvia's too. It seems that we are a family, albeit an irregular one."
I smiled, but nobody else did. Langley breathed deeply and let it out slowly. "Then you should have no need to belong to another one."
"What are you talking about?" Jack snapped.
"This drive to learn who your parents are is dangerous."
Jack stood so fast, his chair crashed back to the floor. "Why is it dangerous? To whom?"
"To this family!"
Jack rounded the table, but Bollard stepped between him and his master. "Move aside, Bollard."
Bollard crossed his arms.
Jack swore then strode out of the dining room. Langley sighed and rubbed his forehead.
"I'd better go after him," I said rising.
"You'll do no such thing, Hannah." Langley sounded as tired as I felt, but his steely voice invited no disagreement.
I sat back down and swallowed heavily. I ached to go after Jack, but I dared not defy Langley anymore. His mood had darkened considerably, and I could not afford to anger him further. Not if stopping his research was the result.
Sylvia sailed into the dining room, humming. Her cheerfulness was a welcome relief, but quite out of place. She seemed oblivious to the tension in the room. "Good morning." She kissed the top of Langley's head. "Hannah, you look better today."
I attempted a smile. "The sleep did me some good."
She poured herself a cup of tea and sat near her uncle. He watched her with a worried expression, as if he half expected her to storm out of the dining room too, like Jack.
"Not eating?" I asked.
"I'm trying to keep my figure trim for the ball."
"Sylvia, your waist is tiny enough. You ought to eat something."
"She's right," Langley said. "This fashion for thinness is unhealthy."
"Since when have you noticed fashion, Uncle?"
"Since you stopped eating properly. That Young Ladies Journal you like to read should not encourage it."
Her eyes danced merrily as she peered at him over her teacup. "You read my periodical?"
"Bollard does. I don't have time to read."
Sylvia and I both giggled at the ridiculous image of the stiff Bollard reading a ladies journal. I wondered what articles he liked best.
Bollard didn't flicker an eyelash, though his Adam's apple bobbed noticeably.
"If you're going to stop eating because of a frivolous ball, then I'll have to forbid you to go," Langley said.
Sylvia sobered. "You wouldn't."
Langley finished his tea and did not respond.
Sylvia made a miffed sound through her nose and stood abruptly. Langley watched her as she filled a plate with food. And I do mean filled. The stack of bacon was in danger of toppling over and there was no room for toast. She brought three slices over on a second plate.
Langley made no comment as she sat back down with a flounce that made her skirts puff up.
"There." She sniffed. "Satisfied? I shall be hugely fat for the ball. My dress will need refitting."
Langley ignored her. "Where's Samuel?"
"I just saw him," she said. "He told me he's going for a walk."
"A walk? Why would he do that?"
She threw up her hands. "How should I know? For fresh air? For exercise? To get away from—" She looked down at her plate and sighed. "To get away from here?"
"He should be here," Langley said.
"Why?" I asked.
"That's not your concern."
It most certainly was, particularly if I was the reason he wanted Samuel in the house.
"When you see him, tell him I wish to speak to him," Langley said. "Bollard, my room please."
"Is it wise to interrupt you now?" Sylvia asked. "Aren't you busy enough?"
"Just do as I ask."
Sylvia and I watched Bollard steer him away. We both sighed once he was gone and I, for one, relaxed. "He seems quite angry lately," I said.
"It's just the way he gets when he's been working too hard. Pay him no mind."
I bit my lip. He was working too much because of me. Sylvia didn't seem to notice how her words affected me. She pushed her plate away just as Tommy entered carrying a teapot. She watched him beneath half-closed lids as he placed the fresh pot on the sideboard and picked up the old one.
"Tommy, fill my cup, please," she said.
He exchanged old for new again and poured tea into her cup. When he finished, he pushed her full plate of food closer to her. She scowled at it and pushed it away again. He hesitated before picking it up and returning it to the sideboard.
"What are you doing?" she snapped.
"Tidying up, ma'am. You appeared to be finished."
"I wasn't. Give me back my plate."
He gave me a triumphant smile over the top of her head when she wasn't looking. I grinned back. He must have heard the exchange with Langley and agreed that she ought to eat. It was a stroke of genius to use her contrariness against her. Only someone who knew her very well would have thought of it.
I supposed they had known each other a long time. It was surprising then that she treated him so formally considering he was Jack's friend. On the other hand, Sylvia was a stickler for propriety.
"Have you seen Jack?" I asked him. "He left just a few moments ago in a terrible temper."
Tommy shook his head. "I've been talking to Miss Langley here and didn't see anyone leave."
Sylvia stiffened. "Tommy and I were discussing…whether he ought to come to London with us or stay with Uncle."
Tommy frowned. "We weren't—"
"I think he should stay here," Sylvia said, speaking over the top of him. "But he said Jack needs a valet to attend him, and there ought to be a footman for the coach. I do see the point of that, I admit. Arriving at the Beauforts' house without a footman in attendance would make us seem rather base. However, I don't think we should leave Tommy with the other footmen and drivers. I've heard about the things they get up to while waiting to pick up their masters."
"Are you worried about me, Miss Langley?" Tommy's handsome face flushed to the roots of his hair, and a bashful smile appeared briefly before he banished it.
She scoffed. "Only in that you may be led astray, back to your old ways again. We can't have that. It would reflect poorly on us."
Tommy set the teapot down on the table with a thud. "What is it you're afraid I'll do?" he asked tightly.
"I have an imagination. I can guess what deplorable things you and Jack got up to as orphans. You both ran wild about the streets of London, I'm sure."
Tommy looked like he'd reply
, but instead he picked the teapot up and returned to the sideboard. He fussed with the plates and dishes, making far more noise than usual by clanking them against one another. Sylvia appeared not to notice.
"That was a long time ago," I said. "Circumstances were vastly different. I'm sure the footmen and drivers won't do anything too silly. They have to pick up their masters and mistresses after all."
"Hannah, I don't expect you to have heard of the things they get up to, but I have."
"Oh? And what is that?"
She leaned closer. "They drink and gamble the night away," she said, her voice low, but not low enough that Tommy wouldn't have heard. "They cavort with loose women too." She clicked her tongue. "Disgusting."
"I'm sure Tommy won't do anything like that." I felt compelled to defend him since his position meant he was unable to defend himself.
I was wrong. He turned around, eyes flashing, chest heaving. "You fink not, Miss Smiff?" He spoke in his broad slum accent. He only ever did that when he forgot himself in anger or worry. Or perhaps he was using it to deliberately rile Sylvia.
She gasped in shock. "Tommy!"
"Never fear, Miss Langley. I'll be sure an' drink to yer healf. Many, many times. I'm goin' to cavort wiv every bit o' skirt that come my way too. I want to bloody enjoy meself." He was almost shouting by the time he finished. His face had gone quite pink, his eyes dark and fierce. He stalked out the door.
I watched him go, unsure whether to follow him or not.
"Well," Sylvia said on a huff. "Sometimes it's good to remember what he is and where he's from. He'll never be one of us."
I shook my head. "Sylvia…" I sighed. "You ought to apologize to him."
"Whatever for? He should apologize to me. Honestly, Hannah, you still have so much to learn about how the world works."
"If the world separates people based on where they were born and who they were born to, then I'm not sure I want to learn any more, thank you." I strode past her and out the door. Whether she stayed or left, I didn't care. I was quite sure she wouldn’t apologize to Tommy though.
I went in search of Jack. I was worried that he might be down by the lake. It would be easier for Langley to spy us there through his window, but fortunately Jack was in our old training room on the top floor. He used to try to teach me to control my fire and my temper in that room, but we'd given up about the time we'd learned what Tate had done to me. We still used the room sometimes, just to sit together quietly and watch the world through the window. It had a wonderful view of the lake and the abbey ruins beyond.