Seared With Scars

by C. J. Archer

  "Uncle," Sylvia said, her voice small. "Is this true? You're creating a mind reading instrument?"

  "Don't judge what you don't know," he growled.

  I jumped at his tone. My tea rippled in the cup grasped in my shaking hand. My initial instinct led me to mumble an apology and lower my head as Sylvia did. My second instinct was to become angry with myself for being meek and afraid. Langley wasn't dangerous. Jack trusted him, and so I should too. But I found it difficult to fight against the urge to run to my room and shut myself away.

  That was the old Charity reacting to a scolding from a man. The old Charity tried to avoid whippings for impertinence at all costs. The new Charity needed to remember that the master was dead, his spirit far away in London. August Langley wasn't going to beat me for asking a few challenging questions.

  I drew in a deep breath and forged on. "I am simply concerned that your invention could be dangerous."

  "It will only be as dangerous as the person controlling it."

  "Precisely! Imagine the harm that could be inflicted."

  "Not every man wishes to harm others, Charity." The guttural growl of his tone had vanished, replaced by a quieter, more sympathetic one. "Even you must concede that."

  I swallowed hard and tried not to think about the master and my time trapped in his house. "No," I said, matching his soft tone. "But there are many who want to control, and this would make controlling people very easy indeed."

  "I beg to differ. I say it will make people understand one another better. Anyway," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "there will be mechanisms in place to ensure no one but me can operate it."

  "What sort of mechanisms?"

  "Your inquisitive mind will have to wait for the answer to that. When the device is complete, all will be revealed. I promise you will be among the first to be given a demonstration."

  "No, thank you. I'd rather be far away when that thing is in operation."

  "As you wish, but I assure you, there will be nothing to fear from it. Indeed, you might find it benefits you."

  "How could a machine that reads minds be of benefit to me?"

  "Wait and see, Charity, wait and see." He made a twirling motion with his finger. "Turn me about, Bollard. We've work to do."

  "Wait," I said and Bollard stopped. "Is Samuel helping you because he wants to?"

  "He isn't being coerced, if that's what you mean," Langley said.

  "So you're not forcing him to help in exchange for him living here?"

  "Samuel is welcome to stay at Frakingham as long as he wants."

  "And what about Myer?"

  "When I first wrote to him asking for his assistance, he wrote back and insisted his involvement came with a price."

  "That price being access to the ruins."

  "Precisely. Whether you think I manipulated him or he me, it doesn't matter. The fact is, the agreement is to our mutual benefit. He has certainly never expressed any qualms. Neither has Samuel." He turned away. "Onward, Bollard."

  I watched them go, frustrated with his lack of concern. At least I now knew what he was doing, but it worried me that he thought it a worthwhile invention. It worried me even more that Samuel did too.

  "Do not stir up Uncle's ire like that, Charity," Sylvia said, once more sipping her tea. "He's a good man. If he believes his invention is good, then we should too."

  "Your trust in him is admirable." Yet misguided. No woman should trust a man without questioning his motives. Even if that man was a relative.

  ***

  The demon didn't approach the house, although I was quite sure I saw a naked figure running through the woods at dusk on the second night of my return. The light had been too poor to determine if it was human or not and besides, I wasn't particularly sure what a demon looked like. According to Sylvia it was too horrid to even attempt to describe and Tommy refused to tell me anything about it.

  I realized on the morning of the third day of my stay that the demon's absence was due to Tommy leaving food at the edge of the woods. The wagon driver who'd delivered me from the station had also brought supplies of meat with him. Not just a few cuts either, but entire carcasses of sheep from a farm on the other side of the village. The farm had been struck by a disease that killed some of the flock and rendered the meat inedible. His misfortune had turned around when Tommy heard of it and offered to pay full price for the dead animals. So far, the demon had been satisfied with its meals and not needed to hunt further afield.

  But supplies had run out and Tommy had told Mrs. Moore that he was going to the farm to see if more animals could be procured. Worried about his safety, she'd come to inform Sylvia of his plan.

  I was rather glad of the interruption. Sylvia and I sat side by side on the piano stool in the music room. She'd been teaching me a simple piece to pass the time. I wasn't very good, not having had lessons, and she wasn't the most patient teacher. Every time I hit the wrong key she wrapped my knuckles with a closed fan.

  "It's a foolish idea," Sylvia said to the housekeeper. "Send Dawson in to see me."

  Mrs. Moore went to fetch Tommy and Sylvia played alone while we waited. She pounded the keys with such fury that her hair came loose from its arrangement. Her face had lost the innocent sweetness and was a picture of tempestuous concentration. I inched aside to get out of the way of her frenzied playing.

  "You summoned me, Miss Langley?" Tommy said from the doorway.

  Sylvia did not immediately look up, but finished her piece with a violent flourish that almost knocked me entirely off the stool. When the last note faded completely, she took a deep breath and looked coolly at Tommy.

  "I forbid you to leave the house," she said.

  "We need to feed the demon," he said. "Otherwise it will come closer."

  "Or it will retreat into the woods and hunt there."

  "We don't know that for sure."

  "No one is to leave the house unless absolutely necessary."

  "This is necessary."

  "I disagree."

  He waited, his hands behind his back, his chin thrust out. If he were a regular footman, he'd be in trouble for his open defiance. But he was Jack's friend. The usual rules didn't apply.

  "Am I understood?" Sylvia demanded.

  "Perfectly, Miss Langley," he said. "But someone has to fetch more food for it."

  "Send the stable lad."

  "No!" he and I both cried.

  "Sylvia," I said, "if you refuse to allow Tommy to go, you cannot send anyone else out. Tommy is the strongest and fittest. He should be the one who fetches the meat."

  "I also have the most experience with demons," he said. "And I know how to use a knife better than any soft lad from the stables. Jack's blade will be in my hand the entire time."

  "There," I assured Sylvia. "He'll be quite safe."

  She gave an emphatic shake of her head. "No. He's not leaving the house. No one is. It's too dangerous."

  Tommy clicked his tongue. I thought he would say something back to her, but he simply spun around and stalked out of the music room before being dismissed.

  Sylvia stood and strode to the door. "Come back here, Dawson!"

  He didn't return.

  She stamped her foot. "Dawson!"

  A pounding on the front door interrupted her tantrum. Her anger dissolved and she shot a worried glance at me. "Who could that be?" she whispered.

  I took her hand and squeezed. "It's probably not the demon. I'm quite sure they don't knock."

  Her shudder rippled through our linked hands. "Not the uncontrolled ones, no, but if its summoner is here…"

  "Shall we go and see?"

  "I suppose we must."

  We reached the entrance hall just in time to see Samuel pass his coat and hat to Tommy. The handle of a pistol peeped out of the inside pocket of the coat.

  "Samuel!" Sylvia let go of my hand and raced to him. She clutched him by the arms and he embraced her briefly. "We weren't expecting you back so soon."

  H
e glanced at me, as I slowly approached. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "What are you doing here?"

  "I decided to come after all." I tried not to cast my eye over him, but I couldn't help it. He was quite an impressive sight with his windblown cheeks and unkempt hair. And was that the beginning of a beard on his jaw? It made him look rather wild. If it weren't for his neat clothing I'd have thought he'd lost all sense of propriety. "Are you sure you should be away from your family so soon after the funeral?"

  He grunted. "I thought you'd be a little more pleased to see me. I must say that I'm pleased to see you. Very pleased." His heated gaze raked over me, lighting a fire in my belly. I blushed fiercely and turned my face away.

  "We are happy to see you," Sylvia said, clasping his hand. "We're glad that you're here. Come into the drawing room. Tommy, fetch some tea. I mean, Dawson." She cleared her throat and resumed her earlier haughty pose of nose in the air. "Now that Samuel's back there will be no more discussion of going to the farm alone, will there? Will there?" she repeated when he didn't answer.

  "If that's what you want," Tommy said, sullen.

  "What farm?" Samuel asked.

  "We'll explain in the drawing room," Sylvia said cheerfully. "You need some tea first."

  She led him into the drawing room. I shared a grim smirk with Tommy before he left to prepare the tea, then followed Samuel and Sylvia. I felt a little like the moth drawn to the flame, unable to keep away from him even though I knew I should.

  "I had to return," Samuel said, standing by the window and looking out to the lawn. "I couldn't allow you to defend yourselves against the demon alone. I need to send it back."

  "You don't think Tommy can do it alone?" I asked.

  "I don't want Tommy to attempt it on his own," he said without turning to face us. "That demon is my responsibility."

  I somehow managed to swallow my gasp before it burst out of my mouth. His responsibility?

  "Wh…what do you mean?" Sylvia asked, breathless.

  He turned around. The fathomless depths of his blue eyes swirled. "I mean it killed my father. I want to be the one to return it."

  She swallowed audibly and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. "Of course."

  He frowned at me. "Charity? What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," I said.

  "You didn't want me to come."

  I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. Of course I hadn't wanted him to come. And yet some deep place inside me had leapt for joy upon seeing him. It would seem I was still conflicted where Samuel was concerned, despite the stark reminder that he wasn't the gentle soul I used to think him to be. Perhaps a few more days in each other's company would hammer that home once and for all.

  "I assumed you wouldn't return for some time," I said. "Your family needs you."

  "Bert can cope without me."

  "Surely he needs to lean on your strength at a time like this," Sylvia protested.

  "He's perfectly strong of mind. It's only his body that fails him."

  "And what of your mother?" I asked. "I'm sure she wants you near."

  "Mother is more capable than she looks." He turned back to the view. "Despite what she says, she doesn't need me. Besides, my presence only gives her hope that I'll remain longer. She needs to grow used to not having me around again."

  I didn't particularly blame him for leaving. His mother was quite the devious dragon and I wouldn't want to live with her. No doubt she was also trying to throw Ebony into his path once more. It must be frustrating to continually fend off both women.

  Tommy arrived with tea and the men fell into discussing the plan to kill the demon. I listened intently, eager to help if I could. Sylvia, on the other hand, picked up her sewing basket and seemed to tune out of the discussion altogether.

  ***

  Samuel and Tommy left Frakingham that afternoon, heavily armed and with the fastest, strongest horses harnessed to the cart. Sylvia and I watched them go from the tower window.

  "I'm glad he's back," she said, reclining on the chaise once they disappeared from sight. She tucked her feet up under her skirts and yawned. "His assistance is sorely needed."

  "Tommy hasn't coped on his own?"

  She closed her eyes and sighed. "Tommy doesn't seem his usual self lately."

  I sat on the edge of the chaise near her feet. "You've been worried about him?"

  She opened her eyes and frowned. "Yes. I suppose I have. Are you happy to see Samuel, Charity?"

  "I don't know. I'm glad he's here to help Tommy. I'm not so glad that he's here to be of service to help Langley with his mind reading contraption."

  "We don't know for certain if it's a bad invention," she said. "Let's give Uncle the benefit of the doubt. I'm sure he knows what he's doing. And anyway, you haven't said whether you're glad that Samuel is back."

  I turned to the window and stared out at the lake and ruins in the distance. I didn't answer her. I wasn't at all sure if I was glad to see Samuel or not. Having him nearby, in all his handsome glory, was suddenly the worst scenario imaginable.

  ***

  I couldn't settle while Tommy and Samuel were out. Sylvia snoozed on the chaise in the tower room, but I felt too restless to sit by idly and wait. I ventured downstairs with the intention of walking the length of the house to get some exercise when I came across Mrs. Moore standing in the entrance hall, hands on hips, glaring at a large valise and a small wooden casket.

  "Do those belong to Mr. Gladstone?" I asked.

  "Aye," she said. "Tommy was meant to take them up, but he and Mr. Gladstone left in a hurry so they haven't moved."

  "Are you taking them up instead?"

  "The valise is too heavy for my bad back," she said.

  "Is there no one else who can do it for you? What about the stable boy or one of the other men?"

  She wrinkled her nose in horror. "I can't let one of the outdoor servants touch Mr. Gladstone's things! Or wander about the house! They'll get airs."

  "Oh, of course. Quite right."

  "I know things are done differently where you come from, Miss Evans, but here at Frakingham we like to maintain standards." She stared at the valise again as if it were a naughty child in her way. "A man of Mr. Gladstone's ilk should have a valet. I don't know why he doesn't."

  "Would you like me to help you?" I asked.

  "Now that wouldn't be proper. You're a guest."

  "Of sorts," I said, appealing to her snobbery. "Besides, I'm strong. I could carry the valise up to Mr. Gladstone's room and you can take the casket."

  She twisted her mouth from side to side and gave the items another accusatory glare. Finally, with a huff, she nodded. "Very well. If you insist."

  "I do."

  "Then follow me."

  The valise was indeed heavy, but I managed to get it to Samuel's bedroom without needing to set it down in the interim. I placed it beside the bed and was about to leave when the casket toppled off the desk where Mrs. Moore had set it. The contents scattered across the rug.

  "I'm such a clumsy fool!" She knelt awkwardly and gathered up a notebook and inkwell that had fallen out of the casket. "I do hope nothing is broken."

  I knelt too and helped her pick up Samuel's belongings, despite her protest that I'd done enough. Fortunately everything seemed intact, including the glass bottle of ink. Aside from the inkwell, pen and notebook, there were also two books. Both had landed upside down and open. One was a slender tome on the study of phrenology and the thicker one was titled An Introduction to Chemistry. I picked them both up and a necklace fell out of the chemistry book. I flipped the book right side up and was surprised to see that it wasn't a book at all, but a box. The book's front cover formed the lid and the sides had been very carefully painted to look like pages. How clever.

  I picked up the necklace to return it to the book-box, but something struck me about the wooden disc dangling from the slim leather strap. The carvings on the disc's face were startlingly familiar. The swirling pat
tern was the same as the one on the handle of Jack's knife. He'd carried that knife with him everywhere for as long as I could remember. It had also turned out to be a weapon that could kill demons. He'd left it in Samuel and Tommy's care while he was away.

  How were the disc and knife connected?

  And why had Samuel hidden the disc in the box?

  Mrs. Moore packed the things back into Samuel's casket and set it once more on his desk, a little further away from the edge. "Thank you, Miss Evans," she said as we left together. "I hope you won't mention this to Miss Langley or Mr. Gladstone. There's no need to trouble them about my bad back."

  "I'm sure they would be sympathetic," I said. "Perhaps if they knew they would employ another maid to assist you."

  "There's no one else who'll work up here," she said on a sigh. "Frakingham is a dangerous place, what with wild dogs roaming about, off and on."

  She bustled away down the hall. I didn't leave immediately. I stood outside Samuel's room and stared at his closed door. That disc had shaken me. The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. Jack's knife was connected to the slaying of demons, so it stood to reason that the disc—with its identical motif—did too. Or perhaps not slaying, but something else; after all, it didn't look like a weapon. I knew little about demons and decided it was time to learn more.

  I headed up to the tower room and found Sylvia still dozing on the chaise. I coughed to get her attention and waited while she awoke.

  "Oh," she said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "It's you. Are Tommy and Samuel back?"

  "Not yet." I sat on the edge of the chaise near her feet. "Sylvia, what do you know about demons?"

  She blinked sleepily at me. "Why do you ask?"

  "Because if I am to stay here while there is a demon on the loose, I think I should know everything there is to know about the creatures."

  "Understand your enemy?"

  "Something like that."

  "Well, it's not often I get to be teacher, but I'll try my best. Demons live in another realm but can arrive in ours either through being summoned by someone here, or can be sent by their own people. Nobody seems to know much about the latter method, but the former has happened a few times. Once here, they must be controlled by their summoner, using special chants, or they'll run wild. Oh, and they're hungry when they first arrive. Horribly hungry," she mumbled, pulling a face. "That's when they're most…violent."