"He has everything he needs up here," Sylvia said, her tone clipped.
"Everything except his freedom."
"When one doesn't have the use of one's legs, how much freedom can be expected?"
I thought it a narrow view, but didn't say so. Her curt manner invited no opinion. Besides, I was too anxious to argue with her. My stomach began to churn again and I had a pressing urge to turn around and run back down the stairs. I wondered what Sylvia and Jack would do if I just walked out the door.
Return to Windamere and kidnap the real Violet Jamieson?
We paused at a door on the landing, and Sylvia drew in a deep breath. She let it out slowly and knocked. The door was opened by Jack. He'd changed into formal evening wear of black tailcoat, waistcoat and trousers, white shirt and necktie. His hair was neatly combed back, and he looked every inch the lord of the manor. "Come in, ladies." He stepped aside. "He's waiting for you."
The room was very large, running half the length of the eastern wing. The far end was crowded with low tables, cupboards and desks, and a bench ran along one wall. Most of the surfaces were covered with lamps, paperwork or equipment that appeared to be scientific in nature. I recognized glass bottles, burners, at least two sets of scales and a cabinet housing dozens of small drawers. There were tools too, but I was too far away to identify them, and I probably couldn't anyway. Science was not my strength, as Miss Levine had frequently informed me.
The rest of the room where we stood was more sparsely furnished. A deep leather chair hunkered near the hearth, a small table close by, and one wall housed densely packed bookshelves. I couldn't make out their subject matter. Three of Sylvia's Frakingham paintings decorated another wall in a perfectly neat row. Not a single one hung crookedly.
There was another chair too, but it had wheels instead of legs and was occupied by a man dressed in a crimson and gold smoking jacket. He was quite handsome for a gentleman of about forty or so, despite the silvery streaks through his blond hair and the slight slackening of his jaw. He could have been even more handsome if he wasn't frowning so hard that his mouth was little more than a pink slash in his pale face. He was broad in the shoulders too, but his waistcoat bulged at his middle and he filled the chair completely.
Behind him stood a very tall man with stooped shoulders. His dark hair had receded, leaving a pronounced widow's peak at the front. It was difficult to tell how old he was, or what his nature might be. Indeed, he reminded me of an automaton awaiting his key to be turned. He simply stood there, quite still, his hands behind his back, staring unblinkingly ahead.
"Welcome, Lady Violet," the man in the wheelchair said. "I am August Langley. You've met my niece and nephew."
"You know I have," I snapped. I refused to make it easy for him, just as I refused to wipe my clammy palms down my skirt. Instead, I clasped my hands in front of me, the picture of calm serenity. Or so I hoped.
August Langley looked down at his lap and expelled a breath. It was a long, awkward moment before he spoke again. "Please sit down."
"I'd rather stand."
Sylvia gave a little gasp, and I felt Jack stiffen. It wasn't just that I didn't want to do this man's bidding—although that was certainly part of my reason for refusing—I also felt awkward sitting when others were standing. If Sylvia and Jack left, then perhaps I would sit to be on a level with Langley. Being alone with him was the very last thing I wanted, however.
"Forward, Bollard," Langley said.
As if his key had been turned, the man behind Langley came to life. He stooped even more and pushed the wheelchair until Langley put up his hand to stop. The servant let the chair's handles go and settled once more into a stiff stance.
Langley tipped his head to look up at me. "I suppose you've guessed why you're here."
"Actually, no. It's quite a mystery. Your relations wouldn't divulge anything, despite my questions. After the method in which I was snatched from my home, I think I'm entitled to some answers, don't you?"
"Don't try to turn this into something it's not, Violet. I may call you Violet?"
I looked down my nose at him in the most imperial manner I could muster. It was not something I'd seen Vi ever do, even with Miss Levine, but I thought I made a good attempt. "What do you mean, turn it into something it's not? This is exactly what it appears to be. Abduction, imprisonment, extortion."
"Not extortion." He said nothing about the other two accusations. So it was true. He intended to...keep me.
My knees suddenly buckled, but Jack caught me by the elbow and steered me to the chair. I sat down heavily and struggled to catch my breath. The damned corset was too tight, and I had to gasp for air.
"It's not what you think," Jack said, crouching beside me. "We mean you no harm."
"Jack!" Langley snapped.
Jack straightened to his full height and glared down at his uncle with such ferocity I thought he might punch him. "She's frightened. I was the one who had to do your dirty work, and now she's frightened of me. Forgive me if I find the need to offer comfort."
Langley didn't take his hard gaze off his nephew, and I got the feeling if he could stand, he would square up to Jack and use his bulk to intimidate.
"Jack, perhaps now is not the time," Sylvia said in a sing-song voice. She came up beside him and looped her arm through his. Despite the placating tone of her voice, I could tell she was using all her strength to drag Jack away.
Finally, with a flare of his nostrils, Jack obliged her. I immediately felt less secure, and when I felt afraid, I talked.
"Then what do you want with me? If you mean me no harm, why am I here?"
Langley turned his steely gray gaze on me. "I'd heard you were clever."
I bristled. "Heard from whom?"
"Never mind that. You're here not because of who you are, but what you are."
My heartbeat slowed. My cheeks cooled. I sat very still and stared at Langley, although I didn't really see him. I'd known it all along, but I'd not wanted to admit it—I'd been kidnapped because they thought I was Vi, and Vi could start fires with her mind.
I swallowed hard. Langley was going to be in for a rude shock when he discovered I couldn't set anything alight without matches. And once he did, then what?
"But why do you want someone who can start fires?" I asked.
"To train you."
"Pardon?"
"Jack is going to teach you to use your power at will and control it."
I held up my hands, closed my eyes. My breath seemed unnaturally loud in my ears. "One thing at a time. For what purpose are you training me?"
"You cannot go about setting things ablaze willy nilly. You'll never be able to function in the real world if you don't learn to control it. We're going to help you, Violet. The sooner you see that, the sooner you'll accept your situation here."
"My situation being that I am a prisoner at Frakingham."
"Leaving would be foolish, and I've already established that you're a clever girl."
"Clever people can do foolish things."
He gave a slight nod. "I advise you against trying to leave. I know your father kept you confined to the attic, but you'll have more freedom here."
"He was worried I would set fire to something! And we lacked nothing."