The Complete 1st Freak House Trilogy: Box set (The 1st Freak House Trilogy)

by C. J. Archer

  Jack sat on the window seat, his knees drawn up. He turned as I entered and smiled. "I was hoping you'd look for me here."

  "Are you all right?" I asked, sitting on one of the chairs.

  He nodded and swung his legs down, facing me. "Langley will never tell me about my parents. I don't know why I bother trying to convince him. It's a waste of breath."

  "You have every right to know. I don't understand why he doesn't tell you."

  He shrugged. "He made a promise. I shouldn't expect him to break it, not even for me. If Tommy asked me to keep a secret for him, I'd do it."

  "Yes, but Langley doesn't care about anyone as much as you care for Tommy. I'm quite convinced he has no friends."

  "Except Bollard."

  "Bollard's not a friend. He's a machine. I made a very funny joke, and he didn't even smile a little bit." I laughed and so did Jack.

  "It's nice to see you laugh again," he said, turning wistful. "You don't seem yourself today. What's wrong?"

  "I'm just…coming to grips with my situation."

  He crouched beside me. He fingered the cotton of my skirt below my knee. It was as close as we could get without touching and risking combustion. "I understand, Hannah, but don't push me away. Not now." He closed his eyes and heaved in a breath. When he opened them again, the raw emotion was plain to see. He didn't try to hide it. "August will find a cure. He will."

  "And if he doesn't?"

  He pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't say it. Don't think it." He resumed touching my dress again, but his gaze was focused fully on me. Being the center of his world was a heady, intoxicating drug. I would never tire of it. "I want to be with you as much as possible," he went on. "I know you're trying to protect me, but pretending you don't care will not alter my feelings. What I feel for you is here to stay, forever. Nothing will make it go away. Not you trying to distance yourself from me and not your…" His voice came to a shuddery halt. He closed his eyes again and this time it was much longer before they reopened. "Not your death."

  It took all my strength not to circle him in my arms. I desperately wanted to. "It will be all right, Jack," I said, echoing his earlier conviction. "You'll see. For now, we mustn't let him see us together."

  "Why? I don't care if he does. He can't keep me away from you."

  "No. He can't. But he doesn't like us being together and that distracts him from his purpose. That battle must be fought and won after he finds a cure. Understand?"

  He sighed heavily. "You're right."

  I blew out a breath, relived beyond measure. "The most important thing is not to distract Langley."

  "Ah."

  "Ah?" I narrowed my eyes. "What are you planning?"

  "I'm going to lure him out of his room via a distraction."

  "Why?"

  "So I can break into his room and look for evidence linking me to my parents."

  "And when do you plan on doing this?"

  "Tonight."

  "What sort of distraction do you propose will get him out of his room?"

  He smiled wickedly. "That's where you'll play a role."

  CHAPTER 6

  "I'd like you to pretend to faint or do something equally dramatic," Jack said.

  I gaped at him. "I'm not sure that will lure Langley out of his rooms. Or Bollard."

  "Bollard will wheel August out in a hurry. Faint in the parlor and make sure Sylvia is present. Tell her to fetch August immediately."

  "How can I do that if I've fainted?"

  "Improvise. You can do this, Hannah. Make it convincing. I'd like him out of there for at least ten minutes."

  "Surely you'll need more time than that to search his room."

  "I know where he keeps his important papers. All I need is the key and I have a few guesses as to where that might be."

  "This is important to you, isn't it?"

  His eyes clouded. He blinked slowly. "Yes. Yes it is."

  "Then I'll help. Tonight then?"

  He grinned suddenly. "We make quite a team."

  "Don't get ahead of yourself. We haven't accomplished anything yet."

  Footsteps along the corridor signaled someone's approach. Jack stepped away from me, but it was only Tommy.

  "Mrs. Mott's here," he announced. "She wishes to see you both."

  "I wonder what she wants," I said. "I do hope she's all right."

  We went down to the parlor. Mrs. Mott stood near the fire, warming her hands. She wore no gloves, and the backs of her hands were red and raw.

  "Mrs. Mott," Jack said, taking one of her hands and guiding her to a chair. "Please take a seat. Did you walk all the way here?"

  "I rode part of the way in the back of Mr. Trantor's cart. He was on his way back to the farm."

  "It's a pleasure to see you again," I said, eyeing her carefully. She didn't seem upset or troubled, so that was a relief. Indeed, the shadows we'd seen on her face the last time we'd met had disappeared. "You look well."

  "I am well, thank you, Miss Smith." She sat on the chair by the fire, her hands clasped in her lap and her knees pressed together. Her gaze traveled over me, taking in my outfit perhaps. I felt a little conspicuous dressed in pale blue cotton while she wore gray wool. Wool, ugh. It seemed an age since I'd been forced to endure a world filled with woolen hangings, rugs and clothing.

  "Is everything all right?" I asked.

  "Things is gettin' easier thanks to Mr. Langley's generosity. I want you to know that me and my children appreciate what you're doin' for us with the annuity. It's kind of you and your uncle, Mr. Langley. Very kind indeed. You didn't need to give us that extra, but I thank you for that too."

  Jack lifted an eyebrow. "Extra?"

  "The package what come yesterday."

  "Hannah, did you organize a package?"

  I shook my head. "Sylvia must have, or Mr. Langley," I said, knowing very well that it would never have occurred to him. "What was in the package?"

  Mrs. Mott frowned. "Money of course."

  Money? It probably wasn't Sylvia then. She might organize a basket of food or clothing, but she had very little money of her own. "Are you sure it came from this house?" I asked.

  "Well, no, I suppose I ain't sure. It was on my doorstep when I got home yesterday from the market. I just assumed it were you and Mr. Langley here after everything else you done for us."

  Jack smiled, but I could detect a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Did any of your neighbors see who delivered it?"

  She shrugged. "Don't think so."

  "It would seem you have another benefactor, Mrs. Mott."

  "How strange," she said. "I wonder who and why."

  I glanced at Jack, but he stared silently at Mrs. Mott.

  "Well, I better make hay while the sun shines, eh?" She chuckled. "I'll be down at the cobblers before the end of the day. My young 'uns need new shoes."

  "I'm very pleased for you," I said. Indeed I was. Whoever had provided her with the unexpected windfall was kind indeed.

  "You don't think it's from whoever employed Mr. Mott to do that new job, do you?" she said. "The one he was supposed to do after he finished here. Only…perhaps the mayor don't know he's dead, and this is pay in advance. Maybe he's goin' to want it back when he finds out."

  "The mayor would know of your husband's unfortunate demise, surely," I said. "Anyway, why do you think it was he who employed Mr. Mott?"

  "I found a letter from him in Mr. Mott's things, signed and all."

  "What exactly did it say?"

  She looked down at her tightly clasped hands. "Well, let's see if I remember it exact. It didn't say much. 'Do it at soon as possible.' That's all. It was signed 'Mayor.'"

  Jack and I exchanged glances. Was Butterworth, the Harborough mayor, doing building works in the village? But what of the Society? Where did he fit in with that?

  Jack thanked Mrs. Mott and she thanked him in return once again for taking care of her family in their time of need. "You and your uncle are so kind," she said. "Such gen'l
emen as there ever was. If there's anything I can do for you, sir, be sure to let me know."

  "I will," Jack said.

  Mrs. Mott stood, Jack too, but I hadn't quite finished with the conversation. "Mrs. Mott," I said, "if I describe a man to you, will you tell me if you've ever seen him before?"

  She shrugged one shoulder. "I'll try, Miss Smith. Is he a Harborough fellow?"

  "No, he's a gentleman from London. He's quite tall and fine-boned, bald, but has thick eyebrows and whiskers. His voice is very…melodic. Does he sound familiar?"

  "Aye, he does. It's not often we get London gen'lemen coming to the village, so they get noticed."

  Jack and I exchanged another glance. Myer led us to believe he'd never been to Harborough.

  "Do you know his name?" I asked.

  She shook her head. "I've naught to do with him."

  "Do you know who he sees when he's in the village?"

  Another shake of her head. "Sorry, Miss Smith, I don't know nothin' about him."

  I thanked her, and she bobbed an awkward curtsy that had me feeling just as awkward. Curtsies were for ladies and princesses. My only link to that sort was having lived in a gentleman's attic for most of my life.

  Jack walked Mrs. Mott out then returned to me. "What do you make of that?" he asked, sitting down again.

  "I think we need to speak to the Butterworths and ask them if they had any business with Mott."

  "Agreed."

  "The mayor belongs to a few societies in the area," Jack said. "His wife too. A building could have been commissioned for one of them."

  It sounded reasonable enough, but after believing that the Society For Supernatural Activity was behind Mott's activities, I found it difficult to think of anyone else as having been involved. And the mayor, of all people! What did he have against August Langley, or us? Why would he go to great lengths to summon a demon here?

  "Then there's Myer," he said. "It was clever of you to describe him to her."

  I tried to think back to the conversation we'd had with Myer about Harborough and Frakingham. "He never told us he hadn't been here," I said. "So he hasn't lied."

  "No, but someone with nothing to hide would simply acknowledge that he'd visited our area. He did mention that he'd heard about the Frakingham Abbey ruins. Heard, not seen."

  "He makes me terribly anxious," I said. "I wish Samuel had not agreed to go to him."

  It was just my luck that Samuel entered the room as I said it. "Stop worrying about me, Hannah," he scolded gently. "I'll be all right. His hypnosis is useless on me, and if he proves a physical threat, I'll box him."

  "This isn't a joke, Samuel!"

  "I wasn't joking." It was impossible to tell from his impish smile whether he was or not. "Hannah, it's sweet of you to worry about me, but you shouldn't. This is something I need to do. Surely you and Jack can understand that."

  I sighed and appealed to Jack. He merely shrugged. "You know you're always welcome back here whenever you wish," he said.

  Samuel clapped him on the shoulder. "Thank you, Friend. Now tell me what the Widow Mott wanted."

  We told him about the letter to her husband, signed by the mayor, but he was more interested in where the extra money had come from.

  "Do you think it was payment for successfully summoning the demon?" he asked.

  "Or guilt money," Jack noted. "Whoever bought Mott's services sent him to his death and condemned his family to poverty."

  ***

  Sylvia would not be left out of an excursion to the village, particularly when we had dresses to pick up. Mrs. Irwin the dressmaker had sent word that morning that our ball gowns were ready.

  "Samuel and I will visit the Butterworths while you're at the dressmaker's," Jack said once we four were seated in the carriage.

  "You will not," I told him. "I want to come too."

  Sylvia groaned. "I should have suspected you'd say that."

  We tried our gowns on one final time in Mrs. Irwin's house where she worked out of a back room. They fit perfectly, and she boxed them up for us. Jack, Samuel and the driver tied the packages to the roof of the carriage and we drove off to the Butterworths' house a short distance away.

  Sylvia peered out of the window and searched the sky. "If it rains, our gowns will be ruined."

  "There isn't a cloud in the sky, Syl," Jack said.

  "There may be no clouds now, but you know very well it could be raining by the time we set off for home again."

  "In that case, you can sit beside the driver and the boxes can ride in the cabin with us."

  Her glare could have cut him it was so sharp. "Let's just get this conversation over with."

  I'd met the Butterworths for the first time only recently. They were an oddly matched couple. She was taller than he and had a commanding manner, while he seemed more submissive in nature. They were both pleasant enough, however, and I had liked them on the whole. I wasn't sure what to make of the notion that one or both of them could have been involved in the summoning of the demon. It seemed unlikely.

  As with our last visit, a face peered down at us from a high window upon our arrival. The girl watched us alight from the carriage, but she was too far away for me to see her expression. I waved at her and she hesitated before waving back. A woman wearing a white cap appeared and spoke to the girl, then both disappeared. The girl must have been the Butterworths' youngest daughter, and the woman her governess perhaps.

  A maid ushered us through to the same parlor we'd sat in last time. I shed my hat, coat and gloves immediately and handed them to her before she departed. The fire in the grate was much too warm. Jack didn't appear nearly so uncomfortable, but then the heat never affected him as much as it did me.

  We were not left alone for long. Two girls of about my own age were ushered in ahead of Mrs. Butterworth. They were identical twins, both with mid-brown hair and an abundance of curls artfully arranged to frame their long faces. They wore matching black and gold striped gowns with high collars and little bows down the front. The outfits weren't to my taste, but I noticed Sylvia admiring them.

  Both girls bobbed curtsies at the same time then, eyes discreetly downcast, sat on the second sofa. They perched on the edge of the seat with rigid backs, hands clasped loosely in their laps and heads bowed forward in precisely the same way. I couldn't stop staring at them. Were they doing everything the same on purpose? Had they rehearsed this?

  Mrs. Butterworth greeted us enthusiastically and introduced her daughters to Samuel and me. Jack and Sylvia had met them, of course, but we had not.

  "This is Julia and Jennifer," she said. "My eldest daughters."

  I wondered how she knew which was which. There wasn't a single thing to differentiate them, not even an extra freckle.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you," I said.

  Both girls looked up and smiled sweetly. "Thank you," one of them said. I don't know whether it was Julia or Jennifer.

  "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Miss Smith," said the other. "And of course Mr. Gladstone."

  Samuel gave them both a nod of greeting. "The pleasure is all mine."

  He hadn't used his hypnotically deep voice to charm them, but charm them he did with those few words. Both girls giggled and blushed. Beside me, I heard Sylvia's huff of exasperation.

  "Julia, ring for tea," Mrs. Butterworth said. The girl on the left rose.

  "We're not staying," Jack assured her. Julia Butterworth sat again. "We actually wanted to speak to Mr. Butterworth. Is he here?"

  "He's in his study. Julia, fetch your father."

  Julia stood again and glanced at Samuel from beneath her lashes before she departed. I was quite sure that her walk had an extra sway to it compared to when she'd entered. If Samuel noticed, he gave no indication.

  "Miss Langley, I was quite saddened to receive your note canceling the Christmas dinner." Mrs. Butterworth gave Sylvia a sympathetic smile. "Most disappointed. Mr. Butterworth and I were looking forward to it. It's been such a long ti
me since we visited Frakingham House."

  Sylvia sighed. "It is a disappointment to all of us, but with the renovations so far from completion, we simply had no choice but to postpone it."

  "And in light of the recent deaths too," Jack added. He didn't glare at Sylvia, yet he somehow managed to scold her anyway. At least, she hurriedly agreed with him.

  Everybody sympathized over the demise of Mott and Olsen until Julia returned with her father.

  Mr. Butterworth beamed at us all. He reminded me of a snowman, all round and soft with small eyes and no eyelids. "Welcome, welcome! So good to see you young people again. What a pleasure, and with the girls home this time too. I've—"

  "It is a pleasure," Mrs. Butterworth agreed, interrupting her husband. It would seem she hadn't broken her habit of cutting him off mid-sentence. "We've harbored hopes ever since your arrivals that you will all become friends. Haven't we, Mr. Butterworth?"

  "I—"

  "The girls asked me a thousand questions after your last visit. What did Miss Smith look like? What did she wear? Was Mr. Gladstone as handsome as Mr. Jack Langley?"

  The Butterworth girls giggled again, neither looking up from their laps. I was beginning to see why Sylvia hadn't invited them to dine with us along with their parents. If they were always so silly, the conversation would be dull indeed. Besides, Sylvia was hoping the dinner would be a sophisticated affair similar to the dinners at the Beauforts' house, and there was nothing terribly sophisticated about the girls.

  "We'll have to organize a picnic in the summer," Mrs. Butterworth went on. "You will both still be here in the summer, won't you?"

  How should a dying person answer that? I blinked at her, my tongue suddenly too thick to form an answer. I dared not look at Jack to see his reaction, or Sylvia. Neither spoke, and it was left to Samuel.

  "Of course," he said cheerfully. "Frakingham is our home now."

  Mrs. Butterworth beamed. "Did you hear that, girls? Mr. Gladstone is staying. And Miss Smith too." The afterthought wasn't lost on me, although I didn't mind. I could see how a handsome gentleman would be more interesting to marriageable girls than a redhead of the same sex. "Just think, another gentleman and lady in our midst in little old Harborough."