Grave Expectations (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 4) Page 14

  "While that sounds logical, your plan isn't working. You tried to keep me safe and yet I was kidnapped anyway."

  He flinched and stepped back from me as if my words had pushed him. With a rapid blink, he turned away and strode to the door.

  Hell. My mouth had run away from me again. "Lincoln, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." I caught his arm and forced him to look at me. He didn't quite meet my gaze, but at least he didn't try to walk off. "It's not your fault. Mrs. Drinkwater was too well organized and too knowledgeable about us to fail."

  When he still didn't look at me, I clasped his face in both my hands. Finally, his gaze met mine. "I love you, Lincoln. You frustrate me at times, but I love you regardless."

  He rested his hands on my waist and with a sigh, pressed his forehead against mine. "I'll do my best to keep you informed. But please, do not leave the house unless the danger is inside."

  "Considering how Mrs. Drinkwater operated, that is a distinct possibility."

  He stiffened. "I know. Wear the necklace at all times now. Please."

  I smiled. "Since you asked so nicely." I pulled it out from beneath my dress.

  He kissed me gently then we said our goodnights.

  I slept restlessly, and the following morning, as I prepared to go down for breakfast and see him again, I discovered a note that had been slipped under my door. It was in Lincoln's hand and it said he'd gone out again, to follow more leads into his search for Mrs. Drinkwater. There was no mention of where, however. I sighed, unsure if that was a deliberate omission, or simply because he didn't yet know where he would end up.

  * * *

  The morning dragged, but at least I wasn't as worried today as I had been the day before. Lincoln was safe, and ultimately that was all that mattered.

  The monotony was broken up by a visitor at around eleven. A visitor I neither expected nor wanted.

  "Why can't the committee leave me alone?" I muttered to Seth when I spotted the black coach through the parlor window, rumbling up the drive.

  "Let's hope he's the only one coming," he said. "Any more could pose a threat."

  We exchanged concerned glances. "You'd better fetch Gus."

  "Wait until we return to question him."

  "Question him?" I echoed.

  He stopped in the doorway. "You do want to find out if he helped the Drinkwater widow, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "Good. Because so do I."

  I watched him stride off, wondering how I was going to get a committee member to admit involvement in my abduction.

  Chapter 12

  "Good morning, Charlie." Lord Marchbank had never smiled a greeting, and this time was no exception. Even so, his grim tone worried me. He hadn't come to deliver good news.

  "Good morning, sir. Has a committee meeting been called?"

  "No." Unlike General Eastbrooke and Lord Gillingham, he looked directly at me when he addressed me. Although I appreciated it, it was somewhat unnerving, with his scarred face and abrupt manner. He was a fearsome looking man. Despite the trappings of a gentleman, he wouldn't have looked out of place on a medieval battlefield.

  He handed his coat, hat and gloves to Doyle. "I wanted to speak to you without the rest of the committee present. Have you recovered from your ordeal?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  He gaze flicked to Doyle, Seth and Gus. "May we speak alone, Charlie?"

  "Tea, please, Doyle." I did not dismiss Seth and Gus, and nor would I. "I'd like them to remain with me," I said once Doyle had disappeared.

  His brows drew together. "You don't trust me?"

  "Someone who knows where to find supernaturals is killing them, and I am a supernatural. You have access to the ministry files. So no, sir, I do not trust you completely."

  Some of the brashness left his eyes, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. My boldness had taken him by surprise. Perhaps he wasn't used to it. "I hardly think you can draw that conclusion from just two deaths."

  "Added to which, someone also helped Mrs. Drinkwater kidnap me. Someone who knew we were looking for a housekeeper but also knew about my necromancy. That limits the pool of suspects considerably."

  "I say again, you're accusing me?"

  "I'm keeping an open mind."

  He grunted. "Good for you." He indicated I should walk ahead of him.

  I led the way into the parlor. Marchbank took in the new furniture and decorations with an air of polite indifference. Of all the committee members, he seemed the most removed from his surroundings, as if he weren't a part of them but was merely on the fringes, observing and listening. It was much like that now, as he sat on the armchair furthest from me. It wasn't until much later that I wondered if that were a deliberate choice to ease my mind.

  "You've been busy," he said, indicating the new furniture.

  "Quite."

  Seth and Gus didn't sit. One stood by the door and the other near me, their arms crossed, identical frosty expressions on their faces. Neither took their gaze off Marchbank.

  "Tell me, Charlie, why do you think I would help Mrs. Drinkwater abduct you?"

  It was a question that had puzzled me ever since I concluded that someone had assisted her. Who had the most to gain? In Marchbank's case, I could only think of one reason. "You want me gone from here. Having me abducted shows Lincoln that I'm vulnerable and a target for those who want to use my necromancy."

  "True, but your prior abduction proved that. Another wasn't necessary. All this one achieved was to draw Fitzroy's ire. If you hadn't returned, he would still be looking for you and he wouldn't have given up until he found you, dead or alive."

  I swallowed.

  "There's no point removing you from Lichfield if it only serves to keep him busy away from ministry business. I want him focused on his work, Charlie, not distracted from it."

  If what he said was true—and I'd not yet thought it through enough to make that decision—then that meant no one from the committee had helped Mrs. Drinkwater. They all wanted the same thing—Lincoln's attention on the ministry, not me.

  Or did they? Had my abduction served some other purpose for the committee that I'd not yet fathomed?

  "I suppose that leads nicely to the reason for your visit," I said. "Me distracting Lincoln, and you wanting me gone, one way or another."

  He stroked the white scar slicing through his short gray beard. "You're very forward."

  "Being demure is not in my nature. I'm sorry if that offends you, but I am what I am."

  "Many people would be offended. I'm not one of them."

  I gave a nod of appreciation. Neither of us spoke as Doyle entered with the tea. We waited as he served and watched as he left, shutting the door behind him.

  I picked up my teacup. "In the spirit of being forward, sir, I think it's time you told me why you're here. I doubt it's to check on my health."

  "You're wrong there. Or partly, at least. I did want to ask how you are. You may not believe this, but I like you, Charlie. You're spirited, clever, and have a quality about you that other girls your age lack. If you were my daughter, I would be proud."

  His unexpected praise made me blush and, to my horror, turned my vision misty. I studied my tea until the moment passed. It wouldn't do to lower my guard around this man. "If you like me, why are you here to convince me to leave?"

  He set down his teacup without taking a sip. "I thought it might be better to talk to you without the other committee members present. They tend to bring a certain amount of unnecessary drama to a discussion of this nature, and I think you're someone who appreciates reason and logic."

  "Thank you," I said, once again surprised. Was that part of his plan—stun me with his kindness and trick me into agreeing to something while my guard was down? "Don't waste your breath, my lord. I'm not leaving."

  "Hear me out."

  I stood. "No."

  He picked up his teacup and sipped slowly. Several moments ticked by. With a sigh, I sat again. I could storm out and lea
ve him alone, but I wouldn't put it past him to remain all day and night.

  "There is a school up north, near my country seat in Yorkshire."

  I spluttered a humorless laugh. "I'm too old for school."

  "It's not a regular kind of school. It's more of a finishing school for young ladies."

  "I'm not a lady, and I don't need finishing." Whatever that was.

  "You could pass as a lady if you were finished properly—as long as your past was kept quiet. Being finished will help you after your school year ends."

  "It's nice of you to consider my long-term future," I said with sickly sweetness. "And here I assumed you wanted me to stay at the school until the end of my days."

  "Not unless you choose to stay on as a teacher. But I think you could do something else, if you wanted to. Something more."

  "More?"

  "After your lady's education is complete, I thought you might like to leave for the continent."

  "The continent!"

  "France, Italy, or any of a number of countries. Perhaps even America or the Antipodes. The world is your oyster, as they say." He held up a hand when I began to protest. "Hear me out. It would be the chance for a new life for you, a new beginning where no one knows you. No one will come after you because of your necromancy."

  "If it's kept a secret, that is."

  "I assumed that you would want it that way, considering all that has happened since people discovered it."

  I sat back in the chair, disregarding my bustle. I shook my head at him in disbelief. "You don't know me at all. I have no wish to have a new life. I like this one. It has my friends in it, and my fiancé."

  Beside me, Seth touched my shoulder. "I don't think it's an offer, Charlie. Not one he expects you to refuse."

  Marchbank sipped again, seemingly oblivious to my glare. "Vickers is correct."

  I set my cup down with a clatter. "I thought you were the decent one, sir, but I see you are just like them and against me too."

  "No," he said with bland indifference. "I am the only one who doesn't want to exile you to a remote island in the middle of nowhere without a hope of escape."

  My stomach plunged. Although I knew they wanted to do that to me, and perhaps worse, the thought never ceased to make me feel ill. Sometimes it felt like a thin veil separated my desire for freedom from their desire to hide me, and it would only take a puff of wind to blow that veil away.

  "At least with my plan you can have a good life," he went on. "A far better one than you had when you lived on the streets too."

  "But not better than this one."

  "Are you quite certain of that?"

  "Yes! And what of my engagement to Lincoln? I won't leave him. I can't." This last came out on a choke.

  Marchbank's unruffled gaze settled on me. "You say you love him, but I don't believe you."

  "What!"

  "You have placed him in a difficult position. He feels obligated to marry you because he has feelings for you. That's not love, that's manipulation."

  "It's not an obligation," I snapped.

  "It is, for him. He's not the sort of gentleman who will have a dalliance with a young woman then discard her."

  It was very close to what Lincoln himself had said. That I wasn't the sort of girl to keep as a mistress, and that he must marry me. I picked up my teacup again and held it tightly. I tilted my chin. "I can't leave him. We belong together."

  "Are you sure he feels the same way?"

  "Yes."

  "He's a man who has been alone his entire life. I'm sure I don't need to lay it all out before you, Charlie. You know he's never had a proper family."

  "What are you getting at?"

  "He might be infatuated with you now, and seduced by the idea of having a wife and family, but once the novelty wears off, he will return to himself."

  "He is being himself, now, with me." It was frustrating that I felt compelled to defend Lincoln and my own reasoning. I thought I didn't care about Marchbank's opinion, or that of any of the committee members. It seemed I was wrong. "I've brought out a different side to him. A better side." I sounded so arrogant, yet I had to believe it, otherwise that meant Marchbank was right. And if he was right, then I should leave Lincoln for his own good.

  "Old habits are hard to break. People don't change overnight," he went on.

  There was certainly some truth in that. Lincoln struggled to involve me fully in ministry business, despite our numerous discussions about it. Even in the note he'd left this morning, he'd told me he was going out, but not where.

  But he would learn and change. He simply needed time to adjust, and I could give him that. I must remember not to push him so much in future and allow him to adapt to being in a relationship at his own speed.

  "I see you're giving some serious thought to what I'm telling you," Marchbank said.

  "I'm not leaving him. That's final. Gus, please see Lord Marchbank out."

  "Gladly," Gus growled.

  Marchbank held up his hands in surrender. "I've said my piece. Thank you for listening." He gave me a brief bow and left. Gus followed him out.

  I didn't let out my breath until I heard his coach roll away. "Am I being foolish, Seth? Selfish, even?"

  "Neither." He sat on the sofa beside me and patted my hand. "Fitzroy needs you, Charlie. I'm convinced of it. Don't listen to Marchbank or anyone else. Do what you think is right."

  That was the problem—what if staying turned out to be the wrong thing to do?

  * * *

  "No," Gus said with a scowl that rivaled Lincoln's best. "You're not going anywhere, Charlie, and that's final."

  "She be doing the right thing," Cook told him before I could speak. "She's got to show 'em she ain't a burden."

  "Thank you, Cook." I smiled at him. He responded by chopping through a carrot and handing a chunk to me. "Gus, I have to do this. Everyone thinks I'm a hindrance. I need to show them I'm an asset, that I can be useful." I nibbled the carrot. "If I don't do this now, it'll just get harder and harder."

  "But now's when people are tryin' to kill your kind. I'm just sayin' to wait until the killer is caught."

  "And Holloway," Seth chimed in from where he stood leaning against the doorframe. It was the first he'd spoken since I mentioned wanting to go out to search for Mrs. Drinkwater.

  "Are you against the idea too?" I asked.

  He held up his hands. "Just pointing out the dangers."

  "Thank you, I don't need them pointed out. I'm well aware of what can go wrong."

  "I don't like it," Gus muttered, sounding resigned. Perhaps he knew that I would do it, with or without his consent. He picked up the other end of the carrot and pointed it at Cook. "You shouldn't encourage her."

  Cook gave him a rude hand gesture then snatched the carrot back.

  "Let me put it this way," I told them all. "Me leaving Lichfield will achieve two things. One, I can search for Merry Drinkwater."

  "Fitzroy's already doing that," Seth said, folding his arms and looking every bit determined to stop me.

  "Using different methods to Lincoln. Methods that may be more effective, in this case. And two, I'll draw out those who are trying to kill me. Or reform me, in Holloway's case."

  Gus and Seth spoke over one another until I could no longer differentiate between their protests. I let them finish before adding the final detail.

  "You will both come with me, and I'll have my imp, too."

  Gus stamped his knuckles on the table. "We ain't relying on a cat to save you!"

  "It ain't a cat." Cook shook his head. "And it be better at saving her than you."

  Gus bristled. "Shut your mouth, Moon Face."

  Cook merely snorted and scooped up the slices of carrot in his big hands and plopped them into a pot. "You can do better than that."

  Seth pushed off from the doorframe. "What will you do if we say no?"

  "Take the imp and go anyway," I said.

  "I thought as much." He slapped Gus on the shoulder
. "Better get our coats."

  Gus threw his hands in the air. "You're as mad as her!" He followed Seth out of the kitchen, arguing with him all the way. "If she dies, I'm tellin' Death it's all your fault."

  Doyle entered, wearing white gloves and holding a polishing cloth. "May I get you something, miss?"

  "No, thank you." I had a note to write. If Lincoln returned while I was out, I needed to allay his fears. A note might not be enough, but it was better than silence. Hopefully.

  I could no longer sit at Lichfield waiting for Lincoln to succeed. I could no longer pretend that I was safe here. Not only was I a sitting duck, I was reinforcing the committee's belief that I was useless and a hindrance to Lincoln. If I wanted to be neither of those, then I had to do something. I only hoped he agreed with my point of view…eventually.

  * * *

  Merry Drinkwater's sister lived with her husband in Acton, in a modern red brick house with a small front garden behind an iron picket fence. Seth stepped out of the coach and held his hand out for me, the way a well-bred gentleman would for his sister.

  "I still don't see why I couldn't be your brother," Gus muttered from the coachman's seat.

  "Because someone needs to be the servant," Seth said.

  "But why me? Why not you?"

  Seth tugged on his cuff and beamed to show off his perfect teeth. "Do I look like a servant to you?"

  Gus narrowed his eyes. "After I get a few good punches in, you will."

  "See! That's what I mean. Charlie's brother wouldn't threaten violence to get his way."

  "You're a pompous prig."

  "And you're an idiot." Seth offered me his arm. "Come, sis, before the help gets ideas above his station. And before you're seen by any murderers."

  "You shouldn't tease him," I said as he opened the gate for me.

  "Do you honestly think he would have done a serviceable job as your brother?"

  "Perhaps."

  He snorted. "Only if he pretended to be a mute." He struck the door with the knocker.