by C. J. Archer
I patted his hand. "I believe you."
"You do?" He seemed surprised. "Thank you. I'm glad someone is finally asking these questions. They should have been asked many years ago."
"Why didn't you tell the police?"
"Tell them what? That Edith may have foreseen her parents' deaths? Or that the Hatfields never killed themselves? Why would they care what I thought? Nobody has asked my opinion until now, Miss Moreau. I assumed nobody cared."
"I do."
"Why?"
I hesitated, unsure how to proceed. "I'm a private inquiry agent and a client has asked me to look into the deaths." It was an outright lie and I hoped it wouldn't blacken my soul.
"Who is your client?"
"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say."
"Very well. I will respect your need for discretion. I am simply glad to impart what I know to someone willing to dig for the truth. Their deaths have been a dark spot in my life all this time." Another sigh deflated his entire body and hollowed out his cheeks even more. "It was a dark year, sixty-six. A very dark year."
"Thank you, Mr. Duffield. I have to leave now. Is there anything I can get you?"
He gave me a flat smile. "I am well taken care of here."
I saw myself out and was deep in thought when I encountered Mrs. Forbes again at the base of the staircase. I gave her some money for Mr. Duffield's lodging and food, which she accepted without thanks or a smile. It almost didn't matter where the money went. I was too pre-occupied to care.
Despite having all my questions answered, I was only marginally better off than before. I was more certain than ever that Myer had pursued Edith for her fortune, and was ready to believe that he'd had a hand in the Hatfields' deaths to secure their daughter. But I was beginning to wonder if Edith herself had poisoned them.
Mr. Duffield's words kept spinning around and around in my head. He'd repeatedly called her change of behavior before her parents' deaths odd. Her reclusiveness was "unlike her, " and her questions about things she should know "strange. " Indeed it was, but only if Edith Hatfield had been herself.
It was entirely normal behavior if she'd been possessed.
The idea grew on me as I walked through the streets of Soho. I hardly noticed where I went, only that I was heading in the direction of Belgravia. The more I thought about it, the more I thought my idea had merit. Possession explained it all, including the theory that both Myer and Edith had conspired to kill her parents for the inheritance. But who had possessed her body and why? And was she still being possessed even now, over twenty years later?
It was an extraordinary notion, but one I couldn't shake. I needed to speak to someone about it, and since Samuel was the one who'd sent me to Duffield, I decided to catch the omnibus to his home. There was one other reason why I wanted to visit Samuel—I wanted to ask him if he would hypnotize Edith Myer and compel her to answer my questions.
CHAPTER 7
"Bloody hell," Samuel muttered when I'd finished telling him what I'd learned from Duffield. "Possession."
I hadn't got as far as to share my suspicions with him; he'd come up with the idea of possession on his own. I was relieved that he agreed with me and that I wasn't jumping to conclusions. "I think so too."
"What does St. Clair think?"
I sipped my tea, taking my time to look around the sitting room and not at him. "I don't know. I haven't see him today."
"You're not investigating this together?"
"He's busy watching de Mordaunt and Myer."
"Of course. Administrators' business."
I set down my teacup. "I have a request to make of you, Samuel, if you don't mind."
He arched a brow. "This sounds ominous."
"I want to ask you to hypnotize Mrs. Myer."
He stroked the handle of his teacup with his thumb, his gaze intent on the liquid inside.
"I know it's a lot to ask," I said. "And I know you don't like hypnotizing people without their permission."
"Charity wants me to refrain, and I don't want to go against her wishes."
In other words, he wasn't against the practice, but he would do whatever his fiancée asked of him. He loved her deeply, and upsetting her would upset him. "Talk to her first and press upon her the need for such action," I told him. "I'm sure she'll understand."
"I will try."
"If you tell her what Duffield told me, and our conclusion that Edith is likely possessed, she'll agree. It's not like you'll be hypnotizing Edith, only the spirit in her body."
He seemed to warm to that idea. "I think she'll agree to it if I put it like that."
I was about to take my leave when I had another thought. "I think Mr. and Mrs. Myer conspired to kill her parents. Or the ghost possessing her did, I should say."
"It's very likely."
"That makes them allies, of sorts."
"Yes." He leaned forward, his eyes blazing with curiosity. "Why, Cara? What are you thinking?"
"I've overheard snippets of Myer's conversation with de Mordaunt. They seem to be waiting for her to return home. It's as if Myer brought de Mordaunt here for something that involves his wife. I wonder what it is."
"Perhaps he needs to silence her. If she decided to babble about their crime, he would be in a lot of trouble."
"But why, after all these years, does he need to keep her quiet when she is as guilty as he is?"
"Perhaps the possession of Edith Myer has ended and she's her original self again. Perhaps she has memories of the time she was possessed and knows what Myer did. She might have threatened to go to the police and have him arrested."
"True. But telling the police of Myer's involvement would implicate her too. She cannot claim innocence because she was possessed at the time. They'd lock her up in Bedlam asylum and throw away the key."
He nodded. "You're right. So the question is why is he after her now?"
"And why does he need the involvement of a supernatural fellow?"
"The administrators from Purgatory have sanctioned de Mordaunt's presence here, correct?"
I nodded.
"So whatever Myer and de Mordaunt are up to, it's probably nothing that will cause harm to any good soul, or they wouldn't have agreed to the scheme."
"Hmmm. I'm not sure I believe Myer to tell the administrators the truth," I said. "They might think him up to one thing when he is, in fact, attempting to do something else."
Samuel stroked his lower lip. "Myer cannot be trusted, but to think that he's had a purpose for wanting to open the portal and get his hands on the book all along is quite a stretch of the imagination. I thought him quite the idiot, to be honest. A zealot, but a foolish one."
"We all did." I stood and thanked Samuel. "Speak to Charity, and let me know when you're ready to hypnotize Edith Myer."
"That's all well and good," he said, also rising. "But we have to find her first."
"Perhaps she returned home late last night or early this morning."
"If that's the case, we may be too late. Myer and de Mordaunt have likely got to her and done whatever it is they intended to do by now."
A sobering thought. "I'll find Quin and see what he knows. Then I must return to Eaton Square." I checked my pocket watch. "I've asked Nathaniel Faraday to meet me there to discuss his possession a little more. He might have remembered something."
"He came to see me recently." Samuel had been walking me to the door, but I stopped and stared at him.
"Nathaniel? What for?"
He smiled. "He wanted to talk about you, as it happens."
I lifted my chin. "Oh? What did he want to know? And what did you tell him?"
"I mentioned nothing about you being a medium." He rested a hand on my arm and steered me back into the sitting room, away from the door where the servants might hear our conversation if they walked past. "He wanted to know your situation, so I gave him the brief version of your life, leaving out the medium aspect. Is that all right?"
I nodded. "I don't keep my
upbringing a secret."
"He then asked me questions about the supernatural. Many questions. He wanted to know everything I knew."
I eyed him closely. "It sounds as if he believes."
"He seemed to. He was insatiably curious. I directed him to George Culvert and suggested he ask to borrow a book or two. Just something general, as an introduction."
"A good idea. It will save a lot of questions. Thank you for telling me. I'm at least a little more prepared for our meeting later."
"Are you? Cara, he might not want to ask you questions about the supernatural. His interest in you lies elsewhere."
I sighed. "I know. Forewarned is forearmed."
He laughed and shook his head. "He seems like a decent fellow. You could do well with him."
"He's not for me, Samuel. You understand."
He sighed and put out his arm for me to take. "I do, and that's why I won't advise you to take any offer Faraday makes seriously."
I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Samuel. You're a good friend."
He grunted. "Just don't tell Beaufort I sided with you on this matter. Emily may be sympathetic, but I doubt he would be. His preference for you would be Faraday over St. Clair."
Unfortunately, I suspected he was right.
***
I didn't expect to find Quin at Claridge’s Hotel, but I had the cab wait for me outside while I enquired within. The concierge informed me Quin had left early that morning and not returned. I drove on to the Myers' house, but I couldn't see him lurking in the park opposite. The footman told me that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Myer was at home.
With no idea where anyone could be; I continued to Eaton Square. The cab drove off and I was about to head up the steps when a large, dark figure lurched in front of me. Thick fingers grasped my upper arm, digging into my skin.
I gasped and tried to pull away, at the same time peering up into the face of…
"Lord Alwyn!" I stopped struggling. The earl's grip was too strong, and surely I was in no danger from him while standing outside my home in full public view. "What do you want?"
A dollop of ash dropped from the cigar dangling between his lips and landed on his jacket lapels. He didn't seem to notice. "You did something to me." His snarl was as vicious as any guard dog's on the scent of an intruder. "I don't take kindly to girls who try to get the better of me."
"Did something to you?" I echoed. He knew he'd been hypnotized, but that didn't mean I should admit my friend had been the one to do it.
"Don't play the fool with me, little bitch." White foam frothed at the corner of his mouth. "Myer told me I'd been hypnotized. He removed it, and now I remember everything."
I swallowed. He'd been hypnotized because he wanted me to give him the book—which I didn't have—and threatened to harm my loved ones if I failed to deliver. In the time between announcing his threat and Samuel applying the hypnosis, my father had died. We'd never been entirely sure if it was coincidence or not.
"What do you remember, Alwyn?" I refused to address him as "my lord" or acknowledge his status in any way. This man was not my superior, no matter what his title suggested.
"I remember that you owe me a book."
"I still don't have it."
"I know. Myer told me after he removed the hypnosis."
"When did he come to see you?"
"This morning. He's looking for his wife. During our discussion, it became clear my memories had been tampered with. I knew it must be you, bitch."
I arched a brow. "Did Mr. Myer find his wife?"
His eyes narrowed to slits. "You may not have the book, Miss Moreau, but you do have something else I desire."
"What could I possibly have that you want?"
"Money."
I snorted. I was hardly rich. Jacob was, and he gave me a generous allowance while I was in London, but I doubted it was enough to satisfy the expensive tastes of the brute before me. He was a notorious gambler who liked to play and win big, but it also meant he lost great sums too. Money he couldn't afford to lose.
He chomped down on his cigar, his fat lips stretching into a cruel smile. "Is that a no, Miss Moreau?"
"Of course it is. I don't have any money."
His grip tightened and I winced as pain spiked down my arm. "You can get it."
"And if I don't?" Despite the defiant lift of my chin, my insides were somersaulting and my mouth went dry.
Alwyn's face drew closer to mine. He puffed a ring of smoke in my face, making my eyes water and my throat clog. I refused to cough. "I can ruin your reputation in this city. You'll never make a good marriage after I tell them you frequented gambling dens like a common whore."
"It was only one den, and I wasn't dressed as a whore, I was dressed as a boy."
"You've spent your nights whoring yourself to that foreigner, St. Clair. I'm surprised Beaufort let it go on under his nose."
"Go ahead, Alwyn. Tell the world. I don't care." It was the truth, but I worried that by shrugging off his threats I was pushing him to even more dangerous depths.
He jerked his head at the front door. "Then how fortunate that your family is out of the city. Safe."
I swallowed bile. I'd been right, but knowing that held no comfort. "Jacob would see you hang if you touch anyone in his family. If he let you live that long."
His grin returned, crueler than ever. "You have other friends in the city, I believe."
Did he know where to find Charity and Tommy? Samuel could take care of himself, and them, if he had warning. I had to get word to him quickly.
I tried to pull myself free but Alwyn wouldn’t let go. He only grinned wider. "That's it, little bitch. Fight me. Show me some of that fire I know you possess." He removed his cigar and I had the horrible thought that he was going to kiss me with those fishy lips of his.
I leaned back as far as possible and scanned up and down the street. If I called out, would anyone come to my rescue? There were a few passersby on the other side, but none particularly close, and most were nannies pushing perambulators. I couldn't imagine them wanting to interfere and confront a man the size and stature of Alwyn. On the other hand, Jacob's butler and footman were inside the house. If I screamed loud enough, they would come to my aid.
I opened my mouth to shout, but a strong voice carried to me on the breeze. "Remove your hands, sir!"
"Nathaniel!" I cried, as both Alwyn and I turned toward the figure striding toward us. I felt as if I should warn him, but what did one say about a prick like Alwyn? "Careful, you don't want to be associated with me or he might kill you" seemed inappropriate for the public place we found ourselves in.
"Cara," Nathaniel said upon reaching us. "Are you all right?"
I tried to pull away again but Alwyn wasn't letting go. He plugged his cigar back into his mouth and glared at Nathaniel.
"Leave us," Alwyn growled.
Nathaniel bristled. "Unhand her now."
"Or you'll do what, you pathetic turd?"
Nathaniel's fist slammed into the side of Alwyn's face. Alwyn's feet remained planted on the pavement, but the force sent his upper body back with a jerk. His grip loosened enough that I could pull free.
Nathaniel flexed his fingers. "Or I'll do that."
Alwyn recovered and fisted his hands at his sides. His great hulking frame straightened to his full height. He was a giant, with the girth to match. Nathaniel may have been tall, but he was slight by comparison. Alwyn could pummel him with one of those ham fists of his.
I stepped back again to put some distance between us, then bellowed, "Watkins! Outside! Now!"
Alwyn's top lip curled back, the cigar still pressed between his teeth. "You haven't heard the last from me." He strode off just as Watkins opened the front door. He and the footman both emerged and trotted down the stairs.
"Miss?" the butler asked.
"It's all right now. Thank you, Watkins. But do not, under any circumstances, allow Lord Alwyn into the house." I pointed at the retreating f
igure as he rounded the corner. "Ever."
"Yes, miss. Understood."
"Thank you, Watkins."
"Would you like tea prepared for you and your visitor, miss?"
"Yes, thank you. We'll be in the sitting room."
He bowed and headed back inside with the footman. I turned to Nathaniel. He seemed to be in shock, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes huge. It probably wasn't every day that he punched a gentleman while standing on an exclusive London street.
"That was impressive," I told him. "Thank you for your timely rescue."
He closed his mouth and bowed. Upon straightening, he offered me his arm and we walked up the stairs together. Another glance back up the street confirmed that Alwyn was indeed gone.
"Glad to be of service."
"I didn't picture you as a pugilist."
"I learned how to fight on my recent jaunt to Melbourne. It can get a little rough there in the evenings." He tugged on his lapels, straightening his jacket, and eyed me with concern. "Are you all right?"
"Quite well, thank you." I didn't tell him that my insides were still feeling somewhat wobbly and my heart raced. "Your timing was perfect."
"Who was that man and what did he want?"
"Lord Alwyn."
"A lord!" His eyes grew even wider. "Bloody hell. What have you gotten yourself into?"
I sighed. "It's quite a tangled story. Untangling it will require some time."
"I have time."
I watched him out of the corner of my eye and kept my voice low. "It involves the supernatural."
He didn't flinch, wince, pull a face, curl his lip or do anything that indicated he thought me mad. "Then I am all ears."
He delivered me to the sofa in the sitting room and took up a chair opposite. I kept alert for any sounds of the staff approaching but heard no footsteps. "You sound as if you believe now," I told him. It would help if I knew how much he knew and what he believed in. There might still be some things outside the realm of his knowledge, and just because he said he believed, it didn't mean he didn't have doubts anymore. He could be pretending for my sake.