Heart Burn (11 page)

Sylvia peered out of the window and searched the sky. "If it rains, our gowns will be ruined."

"There isn't a cloud in the sky, Syl," Jack said.

"There may be no clouds
now
, but you know very well it could be raining by the time we set off for home again."

"In that case, you can sit beside the driver and the boxes can ride in the cabin with us."

Her glare could have cut him it was so sharp. "Let's just get this conversation over with."

I'd met the Butterworths for the first time only recently. They were an oddly matched couple. She was taller than he and had a commanding manner, while he seemed more submissive in nature. They were both pleasant enough, however, and I had liked them on the whole. I wasn't sure what to make of the notion that one or both of them could have been involved in the summoning of the demon. It seemed unlikely.

As with our last visit, a face peered down at us from a high window upon our arrival. The girl watched us alight from the carriage, but she was too far away for me to see her expression. I waved at her and she hesitated before waving back. A woman wearing a white cap appeared and spoke to the girl, then both disappeared. The girl must have been the Butterworths' youngest daughter, and the woman her governess perhaps.

A maid ushered us through to the same parlor we'd sat in last time. I shed my hat, coat and gloves immediately and handed them to her before she departed. The fire in the grate was much too warm. Jack didn't appear nearly so uncomfortable, but then the heat never affected him as much as it did me.

We were not left alone for long. Two girls of about my own age were ushered in ahead of Mrs. Butterworth. They were identical twins, both with mid-brown hair and an abundance of curls artfully arranged to frame their long faces. They wore matching black and gold striped gowns with high collars and little bows down the front. The outfits weren't to my taste, but I noticed Sylvia admiring them.

Both girls bobbed curtsies at the same time then, eyes discreetly downcast, sat on the second sofa. They perched on the edge of the seat with rigid backs, hands clasped loosely in their laps and heads bowed forward in precisely the same way. I couldn't stop staring at them. Were they doing everything the same on purpose? Had they rehearsed this?

Mrs. Butterworth greeted us enthusiastically and introduced her daughters to Samuel and me. Jack and Sylvia had met them, of course, but we had not.

"This is Julia and Jennifer," she said. "My eldest daughters."

I wondered how she knew which was which. There wasn't a single thing to differentiate them, not even an extra freckle.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said.

Both girls looked up and smiled sweetly. "Thank you," one of them said. I don't know whether it was Julia or Jennifer.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Miss Smith," said the other. "And of course Mr. Gladstone."

Samuel gave them both a nod of greeting. "The pleasure is all mine."

He hadn't used his hypnotically deep voice to charm them, but charm them he did with those few words. Both girls giggled and blushed. Beside me, I heard Sylvia's huff of exasperation.

"Julia, ring for tea," Mrs. Butterworth said. The girl on the left rose.

"We're not staying," Jack assured her. Julia Butterworth sat again. "We actually wanted to speak to Mr. Butterworth. Is he here?"

"He's in his study. Julia, fetch your father."

Julia stood again and glanced at Samuel from beneath her lashes before she departed. I was quite sure that her walk had an extra sway to it compared to when she'd entered. If Samuel noticed, he gave no indication.

"Miss Langley, I was quite saddened to receive your note canceling the Christmas dinner." Mrs. Butterworth gave Sylvia a sympathetic smile. "Most disappointed. Mr. Butterworth and I were looking forward to it. It's been
such
a long time since we visited Frakingham House."

Sylvia sighed. "It is a disappointment to all of us, but with the renovations so far from completion, we simply had no choice but to postpone it."

"And in light of the recent deaths too," Jack added. He didn't glare at Sylvia, yet he somehow managed to scold her anyway. At least, she hurriedly agreed with him.

Everybody sympathized over the demise of Mott and Olsen until Julia returned with her father.

Mr. Butterworth beamed at us all. He reminded me of a snowman, all round and soft with small eyes and no eyelids. "Welcome, welcome! So good to see you young people again. What a pleasure, and with the girls home this time too. I've—"

"It
is
a pleasure," Mrs. Butterworth agreed, interrupting her husband. It would seem she hadn't broken her habit of cutting him off mid-sentence. "We've harbored hopes ever since your arrivals that you will all become friends. Haven't we, Mr. Butterworth?"

"I—"

"The girls asked me a thousand questions after your last visit. What did Miss Smith look like? What did she wear? Was Mr. Gladstone as handsome as Mr. Jack Langley?"

The Butterworth girls giggled again, neither looking up from their laps. I was beginning to see why Sylvia hadn't invited them to dine with us along with their parents. If they were always so silly, the conversation would be dull indeed. Besides, Sylvia was hoping the dinner would be a sophisticated affair similar to the dinners at the Beauforts' house, and there was nothing terribly sophisticated about the girls.

"We'll have to organize a picnic in the summer," Mrs. Butterworth went on. "You will both still be here in the summer, won't you?"

How should a dying person answer that? I blinked at her, my tongue suddenly too thick to form an answer. I dared not look at Jack to see his reaction, or Sylvia. Neither spoke, and it was left to Samuel.

"Of course," he said cheerfully. "Frakingham is our home now."

Mrs. Butterworth beamed. "Did you hear that, girls? Mr. Gladstone is staying. And Miss Smith too." The afterthought wasn't lost on me, although I didn't mind. I could see how a handsome gentleman would be more interesting to marriageable girls than a redhead of the same sex. "Just think, another gentleman and lady in our midst in little old Harborough."

I had the urge to giggle just like the Butterworth girls. If only they knew that I wasn't a lady. They'd turn up their prim noses at me.

"So what is it we can do for you today?" Mr. Butterworth asked, eyeing the clock on the mantel.

"This may seem a strange question," Jack said, "but I'm curious as to whether you've been planning any building works in the village recently. Perhaps for one of the societies you belong to?"

Mr. Butterworth exchanged a glance with his wife. "I can't think of any. Can—?"

"No, nothing," his wife said. "Why, Mr. Langley?"

Jack smiled and waved a hand, dismissive. "Ever since the renovations up at the house, I've become interested in architecture. I thought we could share plans and ideas."

"Oh. I see." Mrs. Butterworth seemed to accept his explanation, but her husband frowned at Jack. He said nothing. "There certainly haven't been any plans put forward through the council," she added.

I'd wondered if she had some influence in her husband's affairs, and her response confirmed it. Her domination of him was out of character for a man in a position of authority, and an elected official at that. I could imagine
her
taking charge of the campaigning on his behalf. She was quite a force.

A flash of something white by the door caught my eye. I seemed to be the only one who'd seen it. I kept watching and was rewarded with the sight of a little face peeking around the door jam. I smiled at the girl and she pulled back, out of sight.

"I'm sorry we couldn't help you, Mr. Langley," Mr. Butterworth said.

Jack held up his hand. "Another question, if you please. Do you know a man named Mott?"

Butterworth sucked on his lower lip. He shook his head. "Doesn't ring any bells."

"Why, Mr. Butterworth!" his wife cried. "Of course you know Mott. He was one of the men who died up at Frakingham. He's the reason the Langleys had to cancel Christmas dinner. Such a shame," she added with a shake of her head. Did she mean Mott's death or the canceled dinner?

"Ah,
Mott
." Her husband gave an emphatic nod. "Yes, I remember now. Poor fellow."

"Were you in communication with him?" Jack asked.

"About what?"

Jack shrugged. "About anything."

"No, Mr. Langley, I was not. What are all these questions for?"

"Nothing," Samuel said quickly. Then, more soothingly, he said, "Nothing at all, Mr. Butterworth."

Both Sylvia and I glared at him. He was not going to hypnotize Mr. Butterworth, surely! Not when others were so close and in danger of falling under his spell too. It was bad enough having the girls blushing and giggling, we didn't need them throwing themselves at Samuel as well. It had been known to happen among the women he hypnotized.

Samuel blinked his wide blue eyes back at me, all innocence. The devil. His charming nature would be his undoing one day. I was convinced of it.

I smiled at Mr. Butterworth. "Do you know a Mr. Myer from London?"

Samuel cleared his throat. I ignored him. He may not think Myer was a danger, but no amount of charm from either man could convince me to agree.

Mr. Butterworth shook his head. "Never heard of him."

"Mrs. Butterworth?"

"No," she said, patting the curl of hair dangling near her ear. "Why?"

"He's a gentleman we met in London recently."

"Not very many London gentlemen make their way here."

I bit the inside of my lip. I would have to lie, and I wasn't sure I could make it convincing enough. Thankfully Jack took over.

 "He said he was here recently, and we wondered if you'd met with him. That's all." He smiled benignly. If I hadn't known the truth, I would have believed him. 

"We don't know anyone of that name." Mrs. Butterworth glanced at the gold carriage clock on the mantel, then at her husband. He was focused on Jack and didn't notice.

"Describe him," he said.

Jack did, but Mr. Butterworth shook his head again. "I've not seen him here. Tell him to visit next time he makes his way to our little village. Any friend of yours is our friend too, Mr. Langley."

We said our thanks and goodbyes. The Butterworth girls curtsied again and demurely thanked us for coming. They looked first to Samuel, then to Jack. Not once did they speak to Sylvia or me.

"I don't think much of those girls," Sylvia muttered, flattening her skirts as she sat in the coach cabin. "Empty-headed creatures, both of them. They couldn't take their eyes off you two."

"Can you blame them? Jack and Samuel are very handsome," I said with a wink at Jack. "I'm sure most girls can't take their eyes off them. I know I find it difficult."

Jack grinned at me.

Samuel sighed theatrically. "I for one am heartily tired of being admired for my beauty and not my accomplishments. Don't these girls see me for what I truly am?"

"Vain?" Jack offered. "Arrogant?"

Samuel laughed.

The coach rolled away, only to stop abruptly at the gate. I would have ended up in Sylvia's lap opposite if Samuel hadn't put his arm across me as a barrier.

"What's wrong?" Sylvia asked, straightening her hat.

Jack leaned his head out the window, only to be startled by the sudden appearance of a face. The same face that I'd seen in the Butterworth's window and at the parlor door. It belonged to a girl with her brown hair in ringlets and a smudge of dirt on her chin.

"Hello," I said. "Have you snuck out?"

"Shhh." She glanced toward the house. "I can't talk for long," she whispered. "Listen carefully."

"What a dear little thing you are," Sylvia cooed.

The girl dismissed Sylvia with a roll of her brown eyes. "I heard you asking about that London gentleman, and I heard my mother's reply."

"She said she's never met him," Jack said.

"She's lying."

My breath caught. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I've seen him here. No one else has. He's come here twice when no one is home except me and Mama. It's been Saturday afternoons, you see. My governess's day off."

Good lord. Why had Mrs. Butterworth lied? "What's your name?" I asked her.

"That's not important." Her big brown eyes shifted to the house again then returned to us. "I have to get back before they realize I'm gone. Are you going to make sure that man never comes back, sir?" she said to Jack.

"I'm not sure I can do that," he said. "Why don't you want him to come back?"

"Because he makes my head dizzy."

Oh my God. She wasn't spinning an extraordinary tale. Myer
had
been here, and he'd hypnotized someone, most likely Mrs. Butterworth? Whatever for?

"What about your mother?" I asked. "Does the gentleman make her head dizzy too?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. She wouldn't kiss him if she had a dizzy head, would she?"

CHAPTER 7

Sylvia's gasp filled the cabin. I pressed my hand over hers to silence her. The girl sounded brave, but I didn't want to upset her any more than necessary.

"She shouldn't be doing that with him," the girl said, baring her teeth. "If she does it again, I'm going to tell Papa." She stabbed a finger at Jack, stopping just short of poking him in the eye. "So if he's your friend, sir, you should tell him to stay away."

She ran off and hid behind a garden statue of a Greek goddess carrying an urn. She peered round it at the house, just as a woman wearing a white cap emerged from the front door.

"Jane? Jane?" the woman called.

The girl revealed herself and received a scolding from her governess for her disappearing act. The coach rolled off and I didn't hear Jane's response.

"What an extraordinary little girl," Sylvia said with a shake of her head.

"What an extraordinary accusation she made," I said. "Do you think Mrs. Butterworth was kissing Mr. Myer because she wanted to? Or…?"

Samuel held up his hand. "Don't accuse him of anything like that without proof."