Edge Of Darkness (The 2nd Freak House Trilogy Book 3)

by C. J. Archer

  "Are you certain?" Samuel asked.

  "Yes," Frakingham said.

  I thought Samuel wasn't going to respond, but a few beats later he said, "I was told there was no connection to that group."

  "By your parents?"

  "My mother. Are you implying she lied to me?"

  Be careful, Samuel.

  Lord Frakingham's jaw worked from side to side, as if he were considering what to tell him, or how much. "I suspect she wants to avoid the link between herself and that group of…persons. As do I. They're a radical movement and I no longer subscribe to their views."

  The Society For Supernatural Activity was a group interested in the paranormal, headed by their master, Everett Myer. Myer was interested in the abbey ruins. Despite our distrust of him, he was a great source of information that we had occasionally had to call upon.

  "Care to elaborate on those views?" Samuel asked.

  "No."

  Samuel acceded the point with a nod. If he was disturbed by the fact that his mother lied to him, he showed no sign of it. "Then can you tell me what the group did do here, and down at the ruins?"

  "No, Mr. Gladstone, I cannot. Just like your experiments with Mr. Langley, it's a secret." He didn't quite smile, but he didn't need to for me to get a strange feeling. Why wouldn't he tell us? What were he and Mrs. Gladstone hiding?

  "Perhaps you'd like a tour of the ruins tomorrow," Samuel said. "To see if they've changed since your time here."

  "Thank you, no. I'll remain at the house. There's much to do."

  There followed a conversation about the sorts of things in the attic and which of them may interest Lords Frakingham and Malborough. Samuel didn't contribute, but continued to eat in silence until it was time for Sylvia and I to retire to the drawing room and the gentlemen to the smoking room.

  "I wonder what it was the group did down there at the ruins?" I asked her as I sat on the sofa.

  She flounced into a deep armchair. "That man is horrid," she said as if she hadn't heard me.

  "Frakingham?"

  "His son. He was drunk and crass. I'm glad I didn't wear the pink rosette gown for him!"

  "Perhaps he's feeling put out. After all, this was supposed to be all his, one day."

  She sniffed and folded her hands in her lap. "That's no excuse. Honestly, you'd expect a nobleman to behave more like a gentleman than the average fellow."

  Clearly she'd not met many noblemen. In my experience they were mostly boorish buffoons, and all behaved as if they owned the very air we breathed.

  "It sounded like they had quite an interesting time here in those days," I said. "Imagine all the parties. There must have been guests coming and going all the time."

  "It does sound exciting."

  I sighed. "Excitement comes at a cost, it would seem. If they'd invested the money they spent on parties back into the estate, they might have been able to keep it."

  "Fiddlesticks." Sylvia pouted. "What's the point of having a house like this when you can't show it off?"

  Indeed. It begged the question of why Mr. Langley had bought the estate. He lived like a recluse and wanted Sylvia to do the same. Why not let her host some parties, even on a small scale? Why purchase Frakingham at all, if he didn't want to enjoy it?

  "I'd wager that's why Jack has control of Frakingham's finances and not you," I said with a smile.

  She grinned. "I probably would have bankrupted Uncle by now."

  "What shall we do while we wait?" I cast about for a deck of cards. "Shall we play a game?"

  Samuel strode in, sending my heart into my throat. The unexpected sight of him always quickened my pulse.

  "You're here already?" Sylvia asked.

  "They've retired for the evening," he said. "Malborough was worried about his shirt and I suspect Frakingham was avoiding me. I asked more questions about that group and mentioned the picture we found in the attic of them all down by the ruins." He stood by the window and frowned out at the lawn and the ruins beyond, now shrouded in darkness. "He wouldn't comment."

  "I wonder what he's hiding," I murmmured.

  "Who said he's hiding anything?" Sylvia cried. "You two are so suspicious. Perhaps he joined the Society For Supernatural Activity then decided it wasn't of interest to him after all. Perhaps he no longer believed in the supernatural."

  Samuel turned away from the window and sat. He cradled his bandaged hand in his right one. "Nevertheless, his response proves that both my mother and Myer lied." He spoke matter-of-factly, as if he wasn't speaking about his own parent. Perhaps he simply didn't care. "The question is, why?"

  "To hide what they were really doing down there at the ruins," I said with a nod at the window.

  Sylvia groaned. "I suspect I'm not going to like where this conversation leads."

  "Myer said he thinks the ruins have a powerful supernatural energy," Samuel said. "But it has been blocked."

  "If it's been blocked," I said, thinking out loud, "how does he know it's even there?"

  Samuel nodded slowly, his gaze intent on mine. But it wasn't one of his unsettling stares, more of a thoughtful one. "Very good question."

  "He must have a source. A written account, perhaps."

  "Mr. Culvert the demonologist suggested the Society has all sorts of works in its library that don't exist elsewhere. Some are quite old or written in foreign languages."

  Sylvia pulled a face. "As much as I like Mr. Culvert, I do find his occupation rather unsettling. Not to mention unseemly for a gentleman."

  "Yet a necessary occupation, wouldn't you say?" Samuel asked. "I think it's time we learned more about the abbey ruins."

  "How?"

  "We could ask Myer," I suggested. "Indeed, it may be interesting to see his reaction when he and Lord Frakingham meet again."

  Samuel turned to me, a cool smile on his lips. "That's a devious thought. I like it."

  To my surprise, I found myself returning his smile. "Failing that, we might be able to find something in the attic here. Perhaps some historical records about the ruins." Even as I said it, I thought it unlikely. If there was something of a supernatural nature written about the ruins, Frakingham had probably taken it with him when he vacated. On the other hand, if he was no longer interested in the supernatural, he might have deliberately left all accounts behind. Or destroyed them.

  "Shall we go and investigate?" Samuel asked.

  "Now?" Sylvia cried. "Are you mad?"

  "Possibly."

  "I certainly will not go poking around in the attic dressed in evening clothes."

  "Change."

  She lifted her chin. "I'm not going. You two can ferret through the dust without me."

  Yet I wouldn't venture into the attic alone with Samuel. He knew it too, which was why he wanted Sylvia to join us. Unfortunately she wasn't budging.

  "I'll go alone," he said. "Sylvia's right. The dusty attic is no place for ladies."

  I didn't want to be left out of the adventure. Rummaging through the attic sounded like fun to me, but I wouldn't go anywhere with Samuel unless someone I trusted was present. I knew it was ridiculous. I knew I shouldn't be so worried. He was essentially a good man. But he had a power over me, one that frightened me to my core, and it had nothing to do with his hypnosis. He could have me doing anything he wanted. And I couldn't bear to lose my freedom, or my self-control, to a man again.

  "Please come with us," I pleaded quietly.

  She shook her head.

  "Perhaps Tommy will join us," Samuel said, rising.

  "Is that meant to convince me?" Sylvia asked as he pulled the bell pull.

  "No. It's meant to reassure Charity."

  She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. "Oh. Well. Of course."

  Tommy arrived within a few short moments. "Can I get you something, Miss Langley?"

  "You can accompany us to the attic."

  I rolled my eyes, only to catch Samuel shaking his head in dismay. It would seem Sylvia was coming along after all. I
presumed we had Tommy's presence to thank for that.

  "The attic?" Tommy frowned. "Whatever for?"

  Samuel explained our idea. Tommy agreed it was worth an exploration, and returned to the service area to fetch the key. We met him at the base of the main stairs, then we each took a candelabra and headed quietly up, careful to avoid any creaking boards. We didn't want to disturb Lord Frakingham or his son.

  Once we entered the attic, however, we could talk freely again. "I take it you're still employed, Tommy," Samuel said as he picked his way across the objects strewn on the floor. "I saw Langley approach you as I left."

  "He told me I ought to be more careful with the wine, especially the expensive stuff." He grinned. "He said nothing about Lord Muck's shirt."

  "Don't call him that," Sylvia snapped. "He and his father are important men."

  "They don't have as much influence as they used to, Syl," Samuel said. "Not since they sold off this place, declaring their poverty to the world. No matter what their rank, I'd wager your uncle can get more people to dance to his tune than Frakingham. If he wanted to, that is."

  She stared wide-eyed at him, but he didn't notice. He was already peering into a box that sat on top of a table near the back of the attic. "Really?" she murmured. "Well. That's interesting."

  She and Tommy moved to opposite sides of the attic, as far away from one another as they could get. Both set their candelabras down and began moving objects aside.

  I remained near the entrance. There was something wrong. The attic looked different compared to the last time I'd been in it. There were still a great many things crammed into the huge space, from toys and scientific instruments, to papers, books and clothes. Furniture and boxes were stacked neatly in some places and scattered haphazardly in others. Dust sheets covered an object here and there, but it wasn't clear in the gloom what was being protected. The flickering candlelight picked out the lacy swathes of cobwebs drooping from the rafters like ghostly decorations, and dust covered everything.

  No, not quite everything. That's what was wrong. There were some areas where it had been disturbed. Some of it had been disturbed by us, on our last visit to the attic when we'd discovered the daguerreotype of the small party down by the ruins, but that couldn't explain the other cleared areas.

  "Has anyone been in here recently?" I asked.

  Samuel lifted his head. "Not me."

  "Nor me," Tommy said.

  "Don't look at me." Sylvia inspected a moth-eaten black velvet hat between finger and thumb. "I can't stand this room."

  "You're right, Charity," Samuel said, looking around. "Someone's been in here. That box was closed last time, I'm sure of it."

  "Look at this," Tommy called out, holding up a small canvas

  We descended on him from three different directions. "What is it?" Samuel asked.

  He held the canvas close to the candlelight. "I think that's Lord Frakingham."

  Sylvia took it before I could get a better look. "It is him!"

  She handed it to me. The painting showed a young Lord Frakingham standing outside, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a small pick in one hand. In the distance stood the house and immediately behind him were the crumbling ruins of the abbey. Only they looked quite different. Instead of grass licking at the stones, there was nothing but overturned earth and deep holes beside the broken walls.

  "It's an archaeological dig," Samuel said. He stood behind me, peering at the picture over my shoulder. I could feel the warmth of him at my back, his breath on my hair, and even though he didn't touch me, it felt as if the vibrations of his heartbeat traveled the inches of space between us and echoed through me.

  "It looks like Frakingham himself was an archaeologist," Tommy said.

  "He did say he had an interest," Sylvia said.

  "An interest, not an active participation."

  "He doesn't have to give us an account of his entire life."

  Tommy straightened. "If you say so, Miss Langley."

  "The question is," I said, to interrupt their bickering, "why won't he go near the ruins now? He seemed to have no problem exploring them at the time this was done."

  Nobody had an answer to that. We dispersed again to go through as much of the attic's contents as we could, but after an hour, I was ready to give up. We'd found no old accounts of the house or abbey, no records from before the time the modern house was built, and nothing that hinted of supernatural energy.

  "Everything has been destroyed," Samuel said with a bitter twist of his mouth. He pounded a table with his fist.

  I jumped at the noise and pressed a hand to my chest in an attempt to steady my wildly beating heart. Samuel noticed.

  "My apologies, Charity. I didn't mean to startle you." He moved toward me, but I turned my back to him. I didn't want to see the regret in his eyes.

  "Careful," Sylvia scolded. "You don't want to damage your good hand. I won't be cutting your meat for you."

  "Are we done?" Tommy asked. "I don't think we're going to find anything."

  The attic door opened, setting my nerves on edge once again. But it was only Mrs. Moore, thank goodness, and not Lord Frakingham or Malborough. She seemed as relieved to see us as we were to see her.

  "I heard something," she said. "I thought it might be rats."

  "Rats!" Sylvia hopped onto a footstool and searched the floor.

  "Just us," Tommy said to the housekeeper. "We're sorry to disturb you, but now that you're here, perhaps you can clear something up for us. Do you know if anyone has been up here recently?"

  Her brow furrowed. She gazed around the room and touched her temple as if a headache brewed there. "I…I'm not sure."

  "What do you mean?" Samuel asked, moving closer to the housekeeper. "Can't you remember?"

  "No, I…I can't. Not really. But…it's so odd."

  "What's odd?"

  She blinked worried eyes at him as he advanced on her. She shrank a little, and I couldn't blame her. Samuel may be dressed like a gentleman, but the wildness in his eyes gave away his troubled nature.

  Instead of standing over her and demanding answers, he surprised me and gently took her hand in his bandaged one. "It's all right, Mrs. Moore," he said, patting her hand. "Take your time and tell me everything you can recall."

  "I know I unlocked the door for someone, but I just can't remember who." She clutched at her throat, and her frown deepened. "Why can't I remember?"

  I knew why. All four of us did, but we didn't tell her. The only reason she wouldn't be able to remember was if she'd been hypnotized into forgetting. And the only two people capable of that were Samuel and Myer.

  CHAPTER 3

  "When did this happen?" I asked Mrs. Moore. "Recently?"

  "In the last week, I think," she said. "Yes, since the latest wild dog episode."

  My gaze connected with Tommy's grim one. Sylvia rested her hand on my shoulder and stepped down from the footstool.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Moore," Samuel said. "And don't worry. I'm sure you'll remember who you gave the key to, in time. Perhaps you were tired. It's been an exhausting week for everyone." He held the door open for her and closed it after she left. He turned to us. "It wasn't me."

  "I know," Sylvia said.

  Samuel appealed to me, but I said nothing. Perhaps that was unfair. I didn't think he would hypnotize the housekeeper in order to get into the attic. He could have taken the key for himself, since he knew where it was kept. Yet I didn't trust him. He may not have hypnotized Mrs. Moore, but there was more than one thing he wasn't telling me.

  "We need to speak to Myer," Tommy said.

  Samuel didn't take his gaze off me, and I forced myself to watch him in return. That's how I saw the hope fade in his eyes. Hope that I would believe him. He turned away with a heavy sigh. "He's coming here tomorrow, to continue Langley's work."

  Work that involved creating a contraption that could read minds. Work that needed the assistance of two hypnotists to complete. I'd been shocked when Mrs. Gladston
e had told me the purpose of the sinister looking throne with the copper tubes attached to it in Langley's laboratory. The shock had since worn off, but not the horror. The implications of such a device filled me with dread. Imagine what crimes could be committed if the device fell into unscrupulous hands. Worse still, imagine the violation to one's privacy. I felt somewhat exposed with Samuel knowing my memories, but if he could read my thoughts as well, I would be completely at his mercy.

  Myer's involvement in helping Langley with the device was unsurprising. The man lacked morals and had an insatiable curiosity for the paranormal. I even understood why Langley was driven to create it—because it had never been done before and he was a man who liked to be the first and therefore the best. What I didn't understand was Samuel's involvement. He could hypnotize and block memories, or unblock them, at will. Why did he want to read minds as well?

  ***

  Mr. Myer arrived after breakfast in the Butterworths' coach. A resident of London, Myer stayed as a guest of the Harborough mayor and his wife when visiting the area for research. He was currently being allowed to investigate the Frakingham Abbey ruins in exchange for helping Langley with his experiments. He met Sylvia and I on the half landing with a blustery, "Good morning! Pleasant day out. Are you going for a walk?"

  "Actually we're heading upstairs too," Sylvia said. "To the attic, as a matter of fact."

  "The attic?" His smile stiffened and the thick, wiry sideburns twitched. "Whatever for?"

  I almost asked him then and there what he'd taken from the attic after coercing Mrs. Moore into giving him access, but hesitated at the last moment. Myer had the potential to be very dangerous, with his ability to hypnotize, and I wasn't one to walk into dangerous situations anymore.

  Whether Sylvia would have confronted him instead, we never learned. Lord Frakingham called down from the staircase above us. "To assist me."

  Myer's head jerked up. His eyes briefly narrowed. "My lord! What an unexpected surprise. Good to see you again, sir. How many years has it been?"

  "Not enough," Frakingham said, his voice a harsh growl. His son appeared beside him. He didn't take his eyes off Myer. Where anger flowed off Frakingham in waves as he glared daggers down at Myer, Malborough seemed more curious. I wondered if they'd met before.