Heart Burn (12 page)

"We have a witness who said the man makes her head dizzy," Jack said.

"That's proof that he has hypnotized, not proof that he, er, kissed Mrs. Butterworth without her consent."

"Samuel, I don't know whether your defending him is admirable or worrying," I said. "Why do you do it when you hardly know the man?"

He rested his elbow on the window frame and rubbed his finger along his top lip. "Just because he's hypnotized people, doesn't mean he does it all the time without their knowledge. I know what it's like to be accused of something you didn't do."

We all stared at him. He merely shrugged one shoulder and turned to look out the window.

Jack cleared his throat. "What it does prove is that Myer has been here. Mrs. Mott recognized him too. We can't dismiss him as a suspect in the demon summoning yet."

"Nor can we dismiss the Butterworths," I said.

Sylvia scoffed. "Surely you can't blame Mrs. Butterworth. If she contacted Mott, then it's likely she was doing Myer's bidding while under his hypnosis."

"Actually, I was referring more to
Mr
. Butterworth. He pretended not to know about Mott or his death, when clearly his wife knew."

"Perhaps he doesn't know everybody in the village."

"A man was mauled to death! That can't happen so frequently in such a small village that it goes unnoticed by the mayor."

She sighed. "Whether they're guilty along with Mott or not, there is one thing I can be certain about. The Butterworths are a very odd family."

Jack grunted a humorless laugh. "Almost as odd as us."

***

Langley had asked Sylvia to fetch him as soon as I awoke from my afternoon nap. I waited in the parlor. Jack, who'd joined me as soon as I emerged from my room, crouched next to me.

"This is as good a time as any," he whispered.

"To look through his things?" I whispered back. "Jack, are you sure you should do this?"

"No, but I have to try."

I didn't get the chance to protest further. Bollard wheeled Langley in. He had a tray in his lap, a neatly folded cloth on it. I pulled a face. "You want more blood."

Jack slipped out of the room as Langley unfolded the cloth. Neither he nor Bollard appeared to notice.

"Bollard," Langley said, passing the syringe to his servant.

"
He's
going to do it?" I shook my head. "No. He's not sticking that thing into me."

"Bollard is capable."

"I don't want someone who is merely capable. I want a professional!"

Bollard took a step toward me, and I shrank back. "Don't bring that thing near me."

Langley huffed out a breath. "You're being hysterical. He won't hurt you."

"He nearly beat me to death with a shovel in the woods. Do you remember that?"

Bollard's lips parted and a wheeze of air escaped. Was that his way of protesting? Apologizing? I'd since learned that he wouldn't harm me—most likely anyway—but at the time, I'd been terrified of the silent giant. I was still wary of him. My reluctance to have him poke me in the arm with a needle was genuine, although I was partly doing it to buy Jack time.

"He wasn't going to hit you with it," Langley said under his breath. "And you forget that you were trying to escape, something which was
not
in your best interests at the time. He was merely following my orders to keep you here."

"That makes me feel so much better," I said, snippy.

"I didn't expect these hysterics from
you
, Hannah." Langley wheeled himself closer and snatched the syringe from Bollard. "Roll up your sleeve."

I did as told, keeping an eye on the mute. He stepped back behind the wheelchair again, his expression once more vacant.

Langley prepared the needle and stabbed my arm with it. It stung, but I did not look away. I watched as the syringe filled with blood then Langley removed the needle. He handed me the cloth, and I pressed it against the drop marking the entry point. I was surprised that I didn't feel at all faint or nauseous. It was a small problem, one that needed rectifying—and considerable acting skills.

I groaned and fluttered my eyelids closed. "I feel strange," I murmured, then promptly fell sideways onto the sofa.

"Hannah!" Langley cried. "Hannah!"

Somebody helped me to sit up. I opened my eyes to see that it was Bollard. He tucked me into his side, my head beneath is chin. He flapped a copy of the
Young Ladies' Journal
in front of my face to cool me down.

"Thank goodness you're all right," Langley mumbled.

Bollard took my chin in his hand and gently forced me to look up. His narrowed gaze studied my face before letting me go. He stood and handed me the journal. I swallowed hard and continued to fan myself with it.

"Fetch some tea," Langley told his servant. "And perhaps something stronger."

My ruse had worked better than I'd hoped. Bollard would be gone for a few minutes, allowing Jack extra time. The only problem was, I'd not expected to feel so guilty. Both Langley and Bollard had been visibly shaken by my fainting spell.

Langley pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. "You feel hot."

"I'm all right," I tried to reassure him.

He asked me a series of questions about my health then felt my pulse at my wrist. We sat in silence as he counted, then continued to sit in silence until Bollard returned with Tommy. Bollard handed me a glass of sherry and Tommy poured me a cup of tea.

"I'm quite all right now," I said. "No need to fuss."

Samuel came into the parlor along with Sylvia and Jack. Sylvia gave a little gasp and plopped down beside me.

"Poor Hannah," she said, taking my hands in hers. "Are you all right?"

"I'm well." I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "Please stop fussing."

"This isn't fussing. It's us taking care of you."

"It doesn't require
all
of you."

Langley signaled to Bollard to wheel him away. "Take care of her, Samuel. I have to test this sample. Jack, those accounts need seeing to."

Jack nodded. "I'll do it now."

Bollard glanced back over his shoulder at me from the doorway. He still looked worried. I think I was more shocked by that than anything else that had happened all day.

"Hannah?" Jack said, handing me the teacup. He eyed me closely. "You are all right, aren't you?"

"Yes. Perfectly. Now stop fussing everybody." I was desperate to ask him what he'd discovered in Langley's rooms, but held my tongue. "What of the accounts? Shouldn't you be seeing to them?"

"I did last night. August is trying to get rid of me." He glanced at Samuel. "I'd rather stay here."

We all talked of other things until it was time to go in for dinner. Occasionally Sylvia would ask how I felt, but otherwise we passed the time as we usually did, in amiable conversation.

When Tommy announced dinner, Sylvia and Samuel went through to the dining room first while I hung back with Jack. "Well?" I asked him. "What did you discover?"

"A lot of old papers." He strode off.

"Any of them important?"

"No," he said without slowing down.

He was quiet through dinner, however, and afterward. I didn't get a chance to speak to him privately again before I retired for the night. By the time I rose late the following morning, Jack had gone into the village.

"He's hoping to find out more about Myer," Sylvia said when I joined her in the parlor.

"And to spy on the Butterworths," Samuel said. He folded the newspaper he'd been reading and tossed it onto the table beside him. "Sylvia, did you think he was acting strange this morning?"

She pulled hard on her sewing needle. "I don't know what you mean."

"Strange in what way?" I asked. "Quiet? Reflective?" That was how he'd been the previous night during and after dinner. I was beginning to think he'd discovered something in Langley's rooms after all. But why would he lie to me about it? He knew he could tell me anything.

"I'd say he was angry," Samuel said.

"Angry? That doesn't sound like Jack. Well, not most of the time and not without good reason."

"He was short with me over breakfast," Samuel said. "I only asked him what he planned on doing today and whether I could assist him."

"Perhaps he's frustrated that you still insist on going to London and Myer."

"That must be it," Sylvia said.

"No, I don't think so." He rubbed his finger over his lip. "He wasn't angry at me when we returned from Harborough yesterday, or last night. It's as if something has happened since then."

I bit the inside of my cheek. I couldn't tell him about Jack sneaking into Langley's rooms. Samuel might not approve and Sylvia certainly wouldn't. Besides, it was Jack's business. If he wanted anyone else to know, he'd tell them himself.

"Sylvia? You're very quiet," Samuel said. "Do you know something we don't?"

She lifted the fabric close to her face and inspected her stitching. "I'm often quiet."

He snorted. "No, you're not. Silence is not golden where you're concerned. It's worrying. Well then? What is it? You'd better tell us, or I'll insist on quizzing the servants. Perhaps Tommy knows what troubles you."

She set the fabric down with a huff. "Don't be ridiculous. Very well, I'll tell you what I think. I think Jack received some news that has upset him."

My heart skipped. I pressed my hand to my chest and could feel the thud through my gown. "What do you mean? What news?"

"A letter came for him early this morning, before breakfast. I saw Tommy give it to him. Ever since then, Jack's been snapping at everybody. I tried to engage him in chatter about the ball, and he as good as bit my head off! Then he stormed away and I haven't seen him since."

"Who was the letter from?" Samuel asked.

Sylvia pierced the fabric with her needle. "I couldn't say." That was her code for 'I'm not going to tell you.'

"Sylvia, we should try to get to the bottom of this."

She turned her shoulder to him.

"Ah, here's Tommy," Samuel said.

The footman hesitated just within the door, looking somewhat startled to be noticed. "Sir?"

"Jack received a letter this morning. Who was it from?"

"Don't you dare say anything!" Sylvia warned.

Tommy swallowed and seemed to shrink beneath her glare. "Er…"

"Sylvia, why won't you say who it was from?" I said. "Did Jack ask you to keep it private?" I asked Tommy.

"No, Miss Smith. He gave me no instructions about it whatsoever."

"That's not the point," Sylvia snapped. "I don't think it's wise to divulge who it was from."

"Aha!" Samuel crossed his arms and fixed her with a glare. "So you
do
know."

"Yes," she said on a sigh. "I know who it's from, but not the contents. It's not my place to tell you, that's all."

"That's never stopped you before."

"Well!" she huffed. "Of all the things—"

"It's true," I told her.

She threw her sewing in the basket at her feet. "For goodness sakes, Hannah! I'm not telling you for your own good!"

My own good? Why was she worried the letter would upset me? It couldn't have been estate business then, or from the Beauforts or Culverts. Lord Wade would correspond with August, not Jack, and everybody else Jack and I both knew lived here. Except…

Charity Evans.

A pang pierced my ribs. Miss Charity was a teacher at a school for orphans in London, but before that, she'd lived in the slums with Jack and Tommy. She'd also been Jack's lover for years, and there was a turbulent but deep history between them. It connected her to Jack in a way that I could never be. After meeting her recently and speaking to her about Jack, I'd thought myself no longer jealous of their relationship. It would seem I still was after all.

"It's very sweet of you to worry, Sylvia," I said, trying my best to be nonchalant. "But there's no need. I only hope Miss Charity is all right."

"Oh." She pouted. "You worked it out."

Tommy came more fully into the room. "Jack would have told me if she was in trouble."

"He's Mr. Langley to you," Sylvia said with a thrust of her chin.

"Hush, Sylvia," Samuel scolded. "What kind of trouble could she be in?"

Tommy's gaze slid to his. "That's not for me to say, sir."

Samuel nodded. "Good man. I understand perfectly. Perhaps I can look in on her from time to time at the school where she teaches."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I was being silly. If Jack was receiving letters from Charity, they were entirely innocent. I was sure of it. Absolutely, positively, quite, almost sure.

"We'll be in London in a few days ourselves," I said. "Jack can check on her then if need be. Or we all can."

"Let's not worry about it until we know the contents of the letter." Sylvia picked up her sewing once more. "Tommy, I'd like some tea."

Tommy bowed and left. The rest of the morning dragged until Jack returned just before luncheon. As soon as he walked in I could see what Samuel meant. His shoulders were stiff, his eyes dark and piercing. It put us all on edge.

"Is everything all right?" I asked him.

He nodded and came to sit by me. "How do you feel today, Hannah?"

"The same." In truth, I felt like I was boiling inside. Sweat pooled in my armpits and behind the backs of my knees, even though I wore a light summer dress. "I'm going for a swim this afternoon."

"Will you be all right on your own? I'd better not come although I'll watch from a window if that makes you feel safer."

"I'll be fine. I won't go in too deep." I smiled, but he turned away as if he didn't want to look at me. Or didn't want me seeing him.

"Did you learn anything in the village?" Samuel asked.

Jack leaned his elbows on his knees and rummaged a hand through his hair. "No. It was a waste of time."

"Did you ask around the Red Lion?"

"Of course I did." Jack's tone was as hard as his glare. "I told you, Gladstone, I learned nothing that we didn't already know."

Samuel held up his hands in surrender and arched a brow at me. He mouthed, "
See?"
To Jack, he said, "Have you received any worrying news lately?"