The Wrong Girl (Freak House)

by C. J. Archer

  "We have to find her," I said, clawing at Jack's shirt.

  He glanced down at me. He seemed shocked to see me still awake. "I'll do it," he said, but as he set me gently on the ground, Tommy ran out of the house, Sylvia tucked into his side.

  He brought her to us, and she flopped down beside me and drew me into a hug. She sobbed against my throat.

  I held her close, so relieved she was all right. She was shaking and crying, but seemed unharmed.

  Tommy and Jack raced off to join the male servants fighting the fire. Smoke billowed out of the windows and rose into the wet night. I heard Jack give orders to protect the rest of the house, and I closed my eyes and prayed for the first time in a long time. I just hoped God remembered me and listened.

  "Sylvia?" said Langley. He was still in Bollard's arms. The servant held him as if he weighed nothing and seemed in no mind to put him down. "Sylvia, are you harmed?"

  She shook her head and wiped her cheeks. "I'm all right, Uncle. I'd gone to bed early, but Tommy rescued me. If he hadn't..." She sobbed again and I circled her shoulders with my arm. "He's so brave."

  "It will all be over soon," I said, eyeing the top floor of the house. "Perhaps I should go and help."

  "No!" Sylvia and Langley cried.

  "Stay here with me," Sylvia said. "Let the men do it."

  "But I ought to help."

  "It's not your fault," Langley said. He sounded surprisingly humble and kind. There was none of the anger and taunting of earlier. The fire must have shocked him into sensitivity. It must certainly be a shocking thing to watch as one's house went up in flames.

  "I know that," I said. "But I don't like to do nothing when I'm needed."

  "There's a well out the back and a pump and hoses stored in the service area for just such an emergency. They'll cope without you."

  It was a long way from the service area to the well and up to Langley's rooms, but I didn't say so.

  Sylvia held my hand and snuggled closer. Her body shook. She must have been freezing in her nightshift and shawl. I tried to keep her warm by rubbing her arms and feet, but her shaking didn't subside even when one of the maids brought her a blanket.

  It seemed to take all night for the fire to die down completely, but in truth it was probably less than an hour. From where we sat on the front lawn, it was clear that Langley's room had been destroyed, but beyond that, we couldn't tell.

  When Jack joined us, Sylvia was half asleep against me. She leapt to her feet as he approached and ran to him. "Where's Tommy? Is he all right?"

  "Everyone's fine." Jack wiped the back of his hand across his brow, smearing it with soot.

  "The house?" Langley said. Bollard had held him the entire time and still did not look as if he wanted to put him down.

  "The eastern wing may be unstable, but the service area and rest of the house are fine."

  "But our rooms are on the eastern side," Sylvia said, pulling the blanket to her chin. "Where shall we go?"

  "We'll open up the southern wing," Langley said. "Come, before we freeze to death."

  Bollard led the way with Langley in his arms. Sylvia and I followed, Jack behind us. I heard him question each of the servants, asking if they were all right, reassuring the frightened maids that the fire would not flare again.

  "Boil as much water as you can as quickly as you can," Jack told the housekeeper, Mrs. Moore. "Bring water bottles and hot tea to the parlor in the southern wing then see to your own comfort. Everyone is to avoid the eastern wing until further notice."

  "But none of the rooms are ready in the southern wing, sir," said Mrs. Moore.

  "Prepare rooms for the ladies and Mr. Langley. I'll remain in the parlor until the morning."

  We skirted the front of the house and the housekeeper unlocked a side door with one of the keys hanging at her waist. We followed Bollard and Langley into a small room that smelled musty and stale, with only a hint of lingering smokiness. Pale mounds loomed out of the darkness, but as my eyes adjusted, I realized they were dust sheets covering the furniture. Nothing hung on the wood-paneled walls, not even wallpaper. It was a cheerless, bland room.

  Jack lit two candles on the mantel with a single touch of his forefinger, while Sylvia and I whipped off the sheets. Bollard finally lowered Langley onto one of the chairs and stretched the muscles in his arms. Tommy entered carrying wood and a box of kindling. A maid trailed behind, laden with hot water bottles. Sylvia grabbed one and cuddled it to her chest. He watched as Tommy set the wood box down.

  "You're a savior," she said to him. Tommy smiled sheepishly and dipped his head. Sylvia appeared not to see him blush as she blew on her bare hands. "It's freezing in here."

  Tommy placed the wood in the grate and Jack lit the fire. Sylvia sighed and spread her fingers in front of the flickering flames. "That's better," she muttered.

  "Go get some rest, Tommy," Jack said. "You deserve it."

  "But you need—"

  "Never mind us," Langley said. "Mrs. Moore will bring in the tea and we can serve ourselves."

  Tommy left and silence blanketed our little group. I watched the flames flicker around the wood, their dance seductive as they ate their fill. We all seemed mesmerized by it, but I for one felt quite sick. The fire had destroyed part of the house, and it had almost destroyed us too. If we hadn't got out of Langley's rooms...

  I shuddered to think what may have happened.

  I glanced at Jack and was startled to see that he was watching me. He offered a small smile, but I didn't return it. The shock of what he'd done was too fresh. His anger was far more volatile than I'd thought, and more dangerous. He'd said he could control it, but clearly he could not.

  And of course, I knew now that he'd lied to me all along. There'd never been any agreement to let me go at Christmas. Langley had intended to keep me prisoner no matter what. And Jack knew it.

  Langley also watched me, but with a gravity that was at odds with his earlier nastiness. Ever since then, he'd been quiet, reflective, and not at all the confrontational man I'd come to expect.

  Mrs. Moore entered with a tray of tea things and left us to serve ourselves. Sylvia poured and handed out cups. She drank hers quickly and gave a deep sigh, then refilled it from the pot.

  "Well, this is awkward," she said, setting the pot down with a loud clank. "Would someone care to tell me what caused the fire? I take it that one of you couldn't control yourselves," she said with a pointed glare at first me then Jack.

  When neither Jack nor Langley answered, I said, "Your uncle said something rather shocking to me. Something that Jack didn't want me to know."

  You can't leave, Violet.

  The words sliced through me like a blade. I sucked in a breath to try to steady my nerves, but it was no use. Unlike earlier, I wasn't angry anymore. That moment had passed. Now...now, I was terrified.

  "What didn't Jack want you to know?" Sylvia looked so innocent, so untouched and honest. Yet she knew the truth too. She and her cousin—if that's what he was—were part of Langley's plan to keep me prisoner at Freak House.

  "It's not important," Langley said. "The important thing is that you didn't fall asleep, Violet. You were close, weren't you, but you didn't. It's a triumph."

  "Is that what that was all about?" Jack said. A thread of steel ran through his otherwise calm voice. "That's low, August. Even for you."

  "Will someone tell me what's going on?" Sylvia asked. "Who set the house on fire? Violet?"

  "Yes," Jack said at the same time that I said, "No."

  He blinked at me. Langley lowered his cup to his saucer. "You don't know?" he murmured.

  "All I know is that you are a pack of wolves and I despise you. If I must stay here, then I will, but I will not be a party to your charade. I'll not pretend all is well. You'll have to lock me up if you wish to keep me here." My voice shook. My hands too and I had to set the cup down lest the tea spill.

  "Violet?" Sylvia was at my side, crouching on the floor near my feet. Her g
aze searched mine before she turned it on Langley. "What have you said to her, Uncle?"

  "Wait." Jack held up his hand. He shook his head, his brow deeply furrowed. "Tell us what happened up there, Violet. What happened within you, I mean."

  "I'll not tell you a thing," I snapped. "If you and your mad uncle wish to learn anything about me, you'll have to dissect my cadaver in his laboratory. I'm sure it'll give you much pleasure."

  "Violet, stop," he whispered, kneeling in front of me beside his cousin. "It's not what you think."

  "Isn't it? You heard him as clearly as I did. I'm a prisoner, and you and your cousin are aiding him. You are a liar, a kidnapper and much more besides."

  "What?" Sylvia straightened. "That's ridiculous. We have an agreement. You're to stay until Christmas, but then you're free to go. You're certainly not a prisoner."

  "Wait, Syl." Jack laid a hand on her arm, but he continued to stare at me. "You got angry, Violet. Remember? You were furious with August and me, perhaps more than you've ever been in your life. You felt tired, and usually you would fall asleep, but not this time. This time you stayed awake, so you know what happened next. You know, Violet. Remember?"

  His melodic voice soothed me somewhat and tears welled in my eyes. How could he have lied to me? After his kindness, his affection. "I believed you," I whispered as tears spilled down my cheeks. "I trusted you." Sylvia reached for me and I pushed her away. "Both of you."

  "How could you?" Sylvia wailed at Langley.

  Her uncle sat stoically, unmoved.

  "Tell me what happened next, Violet," Jack said, his voice urgent. "The sparks. Do you remember those?"

  "This is absurd," I muttered. "Very well, if you want to relive it then I'll recount the events. You grew angry with your uncle because you didn't want him to tell me what was really going on—that I am a prisoner and you all know it. It seems you couldn't control your temper this time, Jack. Perhaps you're the one who needs training, not me." I sounded bitter, but I didn't care. My energy had leached from me, and I was too tired to play their game. It was the truth or nothing. They were mad and I truly was their prisoner.

  But not forever. I would escape and warn Violet. They couldn't be allowed to win. There was only one way to beat them, and that was admit the truth, or part of it. I would not admit it all and put Vi in danger.

  "No, Violet," Langley said, his thick brows plunging into a frown. "You're incorrect. It wasn't Jack. It was you."

  "Impossible," I snapped.

  "You'd better explain why," Jack said.

  "I can't start fires, you see. I never could." There. I'd said it and I felt relieved beyond measure. They'd not want me now that they knew I was of no use to them. All I had to do was convince them that Vi couldn't do it either and they'd just let me go. Dear God.

  Jack sat back on his haunches. "Yes," he said, reaching for me then pulling away. "You can. August, Bollard and I just witnessed it. Those sparks didn't come from me. They came from you. Don't you remember?"

  My laughter came out harsh, but even as my head thought he was lying, my heart knew the reality. It drummed out a different tune in my chest. It was time I listened.

  He was right. I was a fire starter.

  CHAPTER 11

  "Violet?" Jack's soft voice startled me out of my foggy stupor. "Violet? Are you telling us you didn't know?"

  "How could she not know?" asked Sylvia.

  How indeed.

  Her face appeared in front of mine, her big eyes filled with concern. "Are you all right, Violet? You look very pale."

  I gripped the chair arms until my fingers ached, but I didn't let go. If I did, I was sure I would tip over. My thoughts raced so fast I couldn't quite grasp them. All I knew was that if I could start fires, then everyone at Windamere had lied to me.

  Including Vi.

  "Violet?" Jack still knelt in front of me, so close I could feel the heat radiating from him. It made my skin hot, my blood hotter.

  Or was that the heat within me? It all began to make sense. I'd never felt cold, never needed a coat to go outside and I hated wearing gloves. Where Vi had shivered through our wintry walks, I'd relished the cold breeze against my skin, the frost in the air.

  "Do you need to lie down?" he asked me.

  I shook my head. "I need...answers."

  "Whatever we can provide, we will." He took a deep breath and scrubbed his hand over his jaw.

  "Why did you lie to us?" Langley said. "You let us believe you could start fires even though you thought you couldn't."

  "Don't," Jack warned. "Our questions can wait. Let Violet ask hers first."

  Langley heaved a deep sigh. "Very well. I suppose you'd like to know what happened up there."

  I nodded.

  "Bollard told me what the Gladstone fellow told you."

  "Bollard followed us!" Jack snapped. "Bloody hell, August. Why?"

  "I originally sent him to London to make sure Violet didn't escape." He gave a jerky nod of apology. "I didn't quite trust her." At Jack's protest, he put up his hand and continued over the top of him. "He followed all three of you when you visited your friend. Bollard's deaf mother taught him to read lips, and he used the skill in order to keep his distance. He missed some of the conversations thanks to the poor light, but he caught most. As well as the meeting you had with your friend, he told me everything the Gladstone fellow told Violet."

  "What did he tell her?" Sylvia clicked her tongue. "And why am I always the last to know?"

  "Gladstone informed Violet that her narcolepsy could be cured by subjecting her to a profound dose of the emotion that triggers it."

  "But we didn't know what that emotion was," Jack said.

  "I suspected it was anger. I always did. That first time she unexpectedly fell asleep here and almost set my laboratory on fire, her temper was pronounced."

  "The first time...?" I whispered. "There...there was a fire? Why didn't anyone tell me?" I remembered the fresh scorch marks on Langley's floor that hadn't been there upon my first visit...I'd thought Jack had put them there. That was me?

  Jack and Langley looked askance. "We merely assumed you'd been aware of what happened that day," Jack said. "It never occurred to me to discuss the incident in detail. Wait a moment." He turned to Langley. "I see now. You lied to her about not being able to leave because you wanted her to get angry. You let her think Sylvia and I were in on the trickery."

  "What do you mean?" Sylvia stamped a hand on her hip. "Once again I'm the last to know everything."

  "I had no choice," Langley said to Jack, ignoring her. He shrugged, as if it were nothing. As if manipulating my emotions and making me believe Jack lied didn't matter, as long as he got the outcome he wanted.

  The heat rose within me again, but not enough to produce sparks or flames. Unlike Jack. He looked like he wanted to set something alight. His breathing had become ragged, his nostrils flared. At least there were no sparks.

  "What happened in your room, Uncle?" Sylvia asked.

  Jack gave a low, bitter laugh. "Our dear Uncle August knew that anger would cure Violet of her narcolepsy and was also the trigger that would ignite the heat inside her. He decided to set up a little experiment."

  "Not an experiment," Langley said. "An experiment is where you test a hypothesis within a controlled environment. I bypassed the experiment and went straight to administering the cure."

  Sylvia gasped. "Good lord. Was that wise?"

  "I think we all saw how unwise it was," Jack muttered.

  "Now it makes sense," Sylvia said. "You deliberately made her angry with a lie about her being kept prisoner here. Uncle, how could you?"

  "Enough! I did what was necessary to remove the narcolepsy and memory block. Now we can start her training anew."

  I pressed my fingers to my temples. My head ached. My heart was sore. I should be disturbed by Langley's admission, but I couldn't muster any thoughts in that direction. All I knew was that Vi and Miss Levine had lied to me for many years. My world
had been turned upside down and shaken about. I felt like I was watching a grand illusionist working his magic so cleverly and subtly that the sleight of hand went unnoticed. Nothing was as it seemed anymore.

  "I think you need to lie down," Jack said, once more crouching in front of me. He peered at me as if he would see my thoughts. It was clear from his earnest gaze that he wanted to hold me, just as I wanted to be held by him. But touching of an intimate nature was impossible. He may have been able to carry me to safety, but there'd been no desire in his touch then, only urgency.

  It would seem that anger caused me to light fires, but mutual desire caused us both to combust.

  "I'll find out if the maids have made up any of the bedrooms," Sylvia said.

  "Wait." Langley tapped his finger on the arm of his chair. "You owe me an explanation, Violet."

  "She doesn't," Jack growled.

  "It's all right," I said. "I want to tell you." I needed to, if only to help me make sense of it.

  "Why did you not tell us you thought you couldn't light fires?" Langley asked. "If you didn't want to stay here, why not inform us of what you thought was the truth?"

  Three sets of eyes watched me intently. Only Bollard seemed disinterested. I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly before beginning. "I was protecting my friend. I thought she was the fire starter, not me. She's not as strong as me, you see. She scares easily and I wanted to protect her from...your experiments. If your intentions truly were to do harm or to study her then I wanted to keep her safely at Windamere."

  "That's so sweet of you," Sylvia said, sniffing and dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

  "She's lucky to have a friend like you," Jack said.

  "Except we're not friends, are we?" I said, bitterness souring my tongue. "How can we be? She's been lying to me for years. She knew I was the one who started the fires, yet she allowed me to think it was her and that my narcolepsy was somehow tied to it." I shook my head. It sounded ridiculous now that I thought about it. Why would my narcolepsy have been caused by her being able to start fires, or vice versa?

  "Why would she do that?" Langley asked.