The Wrong Girl (Freak House) (11 page)

The lie was beginning to eat me up inside, turning me cold where the heat of Jack's blast had warmed me only moments ago. Would he ignite like that if he touched Vi? Or had that only happened because he liked
me
, and it was something only
I
had the power to do?

Despite my doubts, the notion that Langley would use Vi as a test case still gnawed at me. If it were just August Langley who'd kidnapped me, I would have been certain that he wanted Vi so he could study her, but it was Jack and Sylvia's involvement that threw water over that theory. They
seemed
quite harmless. What I needed was a test of my own to determine once and for all if I could trust Jack.

"Are the police following up that information you gave them about the boot print?"

He half turned in the saddle to look back at me. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm simply curious. Don't you think it's unusual that a thief entered the house, stole some papers, then got out again without anyone seeing him?"

He focused on the path ahead once more, but I saw the slight stiffening of his back. "Unusual, but not impossible. It's a big house."

"Yes, but not one single servant heard or saw him."

"What are you getting at, Violet?"

"Just that I'm surprised none of them mentioned seeing or hearing an intruder to you." He made no comment, so I asked as boldly as I could. "They didn't, did they?"

"No."

My heart sank. It was an outright lie. He'd told Tommy that the maid named Maud had described the intruder to him. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth.

"When we go to London, will you be staying with Sylvia and me the entire time?"

His hesitation was small, but it was there. "If you wish me to."

I urged Clover to speed up and she trotted alongside Jack's horse. He glanced at me then away. "You won't be going to visit people you used to know there?" I asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your accent sounds cultured now, but when you grew angry in your uncle's rooms, it changed."

"A person's manner of speaking can do that when they're ruled by their emotions."

"Yes, but they don't switch to London slum accents. I wondered if you would visit your old friends upon your return, and if you'll take Sylvia and me with you."

He turned to me again. His jaw was set as hard as stone, his eyes even harder. "How do you know what a London slum accent sounds like, Violet? Heard many while locked away in the attic of a grand house?" He squeezed his horse's flanks and the big animal set off at a gallop.

By the time Clover reached the stables, my rear was sore and my heart sorer. Jack was nowhere to be seen.

***

"You got back all right?" Jack asked me the next day as we waited in the entrance hall for the carriage to be brought around.

"No thanks to you." I'd spent half the night wondering if I'd lost a potential friend and the other half considering what I ought to do. By the time I finally fell asleep, I'd decided I needed more time before I admitted that I was not Violet Jamieson. Jack was keeping too many secrets, and until I found out if they would endanger Vi, I would pretend to be her. I was utterly convinced that August Langley's reasons for kidnapping me weren't purely charitable, and I suspected Jack's lies were somehow tied in with his uncle's. All I needed to do was unravel them so that I could make a clear decision.

"It was unforgiveable of me to leave you like that," he said. "And for speaking harshly. I'm sorry."

I had still not come to terms with the fact he'd lied to me, and after he said he liked me too! Jack Langley was more of a mystery than ever. I wasn't about to make life easy for him. "It was unforgiveable."

He sucked in a breath. "I suppose I deserved that. I'll have you know that I didn't neglect you altogether. I checked not half an hour later, and Olson said you made it back in one piece shortly after me."

"I could have been lying dead in a ditch by then, and no one would have known."

Tommy approached and handed Jack his coat and gloves. Jack slung the coat over his arm and clutched the gloves. "Olson would have alerted me immediately if Clover had turned up riderless."

"That may have cost valuable time."

"If you'd been dead, there wouldn't have been any hurry, would there?"

I gave him a withering look, and he gave me a triumphant smile. Tommy smirked in the background, but sobered when I switched my glare to him.

"I notice you've been avoiding me ever since," I said to Jack. "Any reason for that?"

"None in particular."

The carriage pulled up in front of the house, laden with our luggage. Sylvia descended the stairs wrapped in fur from head to toe. "Are you two arguing?" she said. "It's going to be a long journey if you are."

Jack walked outside, ignoring her.

"Everything's fine." I caught up to Jack. "You can't avoid me now," I said. "You'll have to endure my company all the way to London."

He held the door open and Tommy helped me inside, then he did the same for Sylvia. She sat opposite me as Jack shut the door without getting in. I pushed the window down and poked my head out. He doffed his hat, gave me another one of those irritatingly smug smiles, then sprang up onto the driver's seat alongside Olson.

I sat back heavily and clicked my tongue. "Your cousin is..." I couldn't think of what to call him. The truth was, I liked Jack and he liked me. I just wished he hadn't lied to me.

"Infuriating?" Sylvia offered. "Stubborn? Secretive? Volatile?"

"Secretive, yes! Tell me about his past. He said his parents died when he was young, yet he didn't come to live here with your uncle until he was fourteen. What did he do in between? Where did he live?"

She stroked the fur collar of her coat near her chin to flatten it. "It's not my place to tell you. Besides, I'm not really sure of the entire story myself. Be patient. He'll tell you in time."

Time. How much did I have?

***

London was nothing like I expected. I thought it would be all gleaming glass windows and vibrant color, but the reality was quite different. It was gray. Gray buildings, gray muddy roads and gray air. Even the people were dressed in gray, their faces merely a paler shade of the same color. The smells of horse dung and factory fumes clung to the city, and I insisted Sylvia keep the carriage window closed.

"It's been so long since we've been here," she murmured, her nose pressed to the pane. "I'd quite forgotten what it was like. Look, there's a milliner's, and another, and...my goodness, there's four on this street alone!"

"You'll be sure to find a hat you like then."

"And you too."

"You forget I haven't any money. There was no opportunity to ask Lord Wade for an allowance before I came."

"Don't be like that, Violet. Uncle will buy you anything you want."

"I doubt his generosity will extend to extra hats considering he's already provided several, thanks to you."

She turned her bright smile on me. "Don't be silly! Of course he will. Anyway, Jack's in control of the money and he won't deny you anything."

I smoothed down my skirts, intent on ignoring the rush of blood to my face that betrayed my thoughts. "Hasn't your uncle given you an allowance of your own to spend any way you like? Why must you rely on Jack?"

"Because that's the way Uncle wishes it. Who am I to gainsay him?"

"Perhaps you ought to try," I said, but she mustn't have heard me. She was too busy bouncing up and down, pointing at a confectioner's shop.

"We'll be sure to visit there," she said. "I long for something sweet, a tart perhaps. Oh, and bonbons since Christmas isn't far away. I wonder how long before we arrive at our hotel."

She chatted on as the carriage drove down streets bustling with late afternoon shoppers, pointing out things that took her fancy, which was almost everything. Her enthusiasm was infectious, however, and I too became engrossed in the sights through the window. London was truly an amazing city, and extensive. We seemed to be driving through it forever.

But what really took my breath away was the lack of nature. No trees, no grass, not even a bird flew overhead. Not that I would have seen it anyway through the murky haze. Indeed, the only thing flapping up high were washed linens hung out to dry in some of the narrow alleys we passed. How anything dried in that filthy, damp air was a mystery.

The carriage turned a few more corners, winding its way through the traffic, until finally the buildings became more magnificent and the pedestrians fewer and better clothed. This part of London at least seemed a little less gray than the rest.

"We're here," Sylvia said as the carriage slowed. "Claridges."

We pulled up at an impressive red brick building, and a liveried footman opened the carriage door for us. Jack jumped down from the driver's seat as the footman helped me down the carriage steps. More servants retrieved our luggage and carried it inside.

"Did you know that royalty has stayed here?" Sylvia said to me as we crossed the tiled floor of the entrance hall.

"It's very grand." The ceiling was high and the room enormous, much like Windamere's entrance hall. Indeed, the opulent furnishings and gleaming surfaces made it seem very similar to Lord Wade's home. I dared not touch anything lest one of the hovering footmen frown at me. At least at Frakingham the furniture was more functional and the servants scarce. For the first time since my abduction, I wished I was there.

***

"I can assure you Lady Violet will be quite safe," said the little man with ruddy cheeks and several chins. He sat on one side of a very broad desk, his younger assistant beside him. Jack, Sylvia and I sat opposite. "Mr. Gladstone is very good at inducing a state of hypnosis in—"

"Your assistant!" Jack shook his head. "No. I want
you
to do it, Dr. Werner. Someone with experience."

Dr. Werner's glasses slid down his nose but were rescued by the upturned tip. He pushed them back up and gave Jack what could only be described as a practiced professional smile. "I can assure you, Mr. Langley, Mr. Gladstone is very good. He may be only a young man, but being a youthful gentleman yourself, you'll know that age is not necessarily a good indicator of a person's abilities. Mr. Gladstone has never failed to put my patients into a hypnotic state. Never."

Jack narrowed his eyes at the assistant, a handsome sandy-haired man with clear blue eyes and a mischievous mouth that hadn't stopped smiling since we entered Dr. Werner's medical rooms. Mr. Gladstone's happy countenance was in stark contrast to Jack's dark mood. He hadn't stopped peppering poor Dr. Werner with questions since our arrival.

"Is he a qualified hypnotist?" Jack asked.

"I'm studying medicine at University College here in London," Mr. Gladstone said, speaking for the first time. "I'll graduate next year."

"We're neurologists," Dr. Werner added. "Hypnotist is not a medical occupation."

"
You
are a neurologist," Jack said. "
He
is not yet qualified."

Dr. Werner sighed. "Mr. Langley, will you allow your friend to undergo treatment or not?"

"It's a little late to have doubts now, Jack," Sylvia said, checking the small pocket watch she kept in her reticule.

"It won't hurt," Mr. Gladstone said to me. "There won't be any ill effects after you come out of hypnosis." His smile was so warm and genuine that I couldn't
not
believe him.

"It's what will happen
during
hypnosis that concerns me," Jack said.

"Then you're welcome to stay and watch as long as you keep out of the way."

"I intend to."

"It's settled then," said Sylvia. "Begin, Mr. Gladstone."

I suddenly felt like I wanted to run out of the room. I knew nothing about hypnosis. Did it hurt? And what if they discovered the truth while I was in a hypnotic state? What if I said something I shouldn't, something that would lead them to the truth of who I was?

"You may wait for me outside," I told Jack and Sylvia.

Jack blinked then leaned closer. "Violet, I don't think you should be alone with these men. We don't know much about them."

"Dr. Werner came highly recommended by your uncle," I whispered back. At his troubled look, I added, "You don't trust your uncle?"

"I don't make a habit of it." He squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He looked like he carried the weight of the world, and I desperately wanted to touch him in some way, tell him that he needn't feel burdened. But I dared not. Could not.

"Jack, please. I'll be all right."

"I give you my word that she will be unharmed," Mr. Gladstone said, coming out from behind the desk.

"As do I," said Dr. Werner, rather irritably. "Indeed, I can ill afford to upset my patients now, can I?"

Jack gave a single nod, albeit a reluctant one.

Mr. Gladstone held out his hand for me and I took it. Jack glowered and stalked off toward the door. "Are you sure, Violet?"

"Yes."

Sylvia took his arm and steered him out then shut the door.

"Lie down on the sofa," said Dr. Werner. I did, with Mr. Gladstone's assistance. "Now, it would help if you told us what is being blocked."

I glanced at the door. "Memories."

"Of what?"

"Of..."

"Go on, Lady Violet," said Mr. Gladstone in a soothing voice. "Whatever you tell us will remain in confidence if you wish, as will our findings from the hypnosis itself. If you don't want anyone else to know, then we'll not divulge a thing."

Dr. Werner patted my hand. "Tell us what you know of the memories that are blocked, Lady Violet. Indeed, what makes you think you have some missing memories at all?"

"I fall asleep with no warning," I said. "At least, I believe there's no warning. That's the part I can't remember. Whatever happens just before I fall asleep is lost to me."

"You're a narcoleptic?" Dr. Werner said. "Interesting."

"Not from my point of view."

"From a medical perspective it is. You're unique. Memory loss is not normally a symptom of narcolepsy."