Beyond the Grave Read online

  "You are very perceptive, Miss Redding. I admire your powers of deduction immensely."

  She smiled a genuine smile. "I hear he's very eligible, and I know him to be handsome."

  "He comes here?"

  "Not anymore." She sighed. "Such a pity, but after she broke his heart, he hasn't set foot in The Al."

  "She?"

  "Oh, I am sorry." Her hand fluttered at her chest as she gave me a pitying look. "I see that I have shocked you, and you don't even know the worst of it yet. Yes, your fiancé used to spend many an evening in the promenade with us dancing girls. He was very well liked for his generosity and his charming manner. He could have had his pick. But I'm sure you know how he is. You can't blame a fellow for cutting his teeth here when he were but a mere lad."

  "How long ago was this?"

  She counted on her fingers. "Four or five years ago."

  "He would have been quite young." I didn't know Andrew Buchanan's exact age, but I didn't think he was more than twenty-two or twenty-three.

  "He just started university, I believe. He would come here on holidays, sneaking out of the house when his father thought he was asleep." She merely shrugged one shoulder, as if it were not unusual. "As I said, I am sorry to be the one to tell you about his past, but you cannot be surprised." She didn't look sorry. From the cruel twist of her mouth and the spark in her eyes, I'd say she was enjoying every moment. Perhaps it wasn't just Lady Harcourt's good fortune she resented, but Buchanan's rejection of her, if she was one of the dancers who had admired him.

  "That would have been during the time Lady Harcourt performed here," I said. "So he must have seen her."

  "Oh yes, he saw her. He also fell in love with her."

  Chapter 4

  I had to wait until the following day to impart my new knowledge. Lincoln and the others hadn't returned by midnight when I sank into bed, too tired to concentrate on my book. Seth and Gus emerged from the attic bedrooms late morning, yawning and rubbing red-rimmed eyes, but there was no sign of Lincoln.

  "Did you have any success?" I asked them as they joined Cook and me in the kitchen.

  "None," Seth said, inspecting the contents of a pot on the range.

  "He's disappeared good and proper," Gus said. "Ain't a stick of truth in any of the rumors we been chasin' down all night. Nobody knows where he is."

  "Nobody particularly cares, either, except those who claim he owes them money. They're worried they'll never see their debts paid if he's dead." Seth dipped the soup ladle into the pot and lifted it to his pursed lips.

  Cook snatched it before his mouth could touch it. "Where be your manners? Get a bowl."

  "It was just a little sip!"

  Cook clicked his tongue and shook his head. "And you be raised a gen'leman, too."

  Seth pouted and fetched himself a bowl from the cupboard.

  "Get one for me too," Gus said. "Charlie?"

  "I've already had some."

  "Did your expedition to The Alhambra produce any results?" Seth asked, holding out the two bowls for Cook.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, but I don't want to repeat myself. I'll wait for Mr. Fitzroy to come down."

  "He already been down," Cook said. "He went out while you were cleanin' in the parlor."

  "Oh. Well. I'd still like to wait."

  I occupied the next little while with dusting. It felt good to be able to perform my duties once again, even though I used the walking stick to get around. Lincoln returned when I'd just completed the library. I saw him ride up the driveway at speed, then a few minutes later, Gus came to collect me.

  "Death wants you to wait for him in the parlor," he said in a plummy toff accent.

  "You have to stop calling him that. It's neither accurate nor fair."

  "I think it bloody well is. Wherever he goes, a dead body is sure to turn up sooner or later."

  I sighed and followed him across the entrance hall to the parlor. Lincoln and Seth joined us a few minutes later. Lincoln had removed the leather strip tying his hair back and the locks fell in waves to just below his collar. He ran his hand through it in a self-conscious move that was rare for him.

  "Seth tells me you have information about Lady Harcourt's past," he said.

  "And a good afternoon to you too." I gave a little curtsy which he couldn't fail to notice mocked his lack of gentlemanly greeting. He did not move a muscle. "I have indeed learned some things from The Alhambra staff. Lady Harcourt met Lord Harcourt in the promenade when she was a dancer at that establishment."

  Seth's jaw dropped, and Gus's eyes bulged. Then he tipped his head back and laughed. "Her ladyship were a dancer at The Al? I'd wager she was popular at interval with her big—"

  Seth smacked his shoulder and Gus choked on the rest of his sentence. "She's a lady now," Seth said, "and one doesn't blacken a lady's character by discussing her figure, or her past."

  "But what if it's true?"

  "Even more reason to sweep it under the rug and nail the rug down so tightly that it can never be lifted again. This news goes no further than this room." Seth arched his brows at me. "Charlie?"

  "I'm surprised at you, Seth." I was rather put-out, to be honest. Lady Harcourt was no better than me, yet he was prepared to protect her honor. Would he have done so for mine, or was it because she was a proper lady now, through her marriage? "We have to confront her about her past."

  "No," Lincoln said. "We let the matter rest here."

  I leaned on my walking stick, gripping the mastiff's head tightly in my fist. "You knew, didn't you?"

  "Suspected. She always seemed more…worldly than a schoolmaster's daughter ought to be."

  Gus snickered.

  "I wondered how she met someone of Harcourt's standing, and long suspected it was under circumstances that some would frown upon," Lincoln went on. "I didn't know it was at The Alhambra until you found those references."

  "If you already knew, and you weren't prepared to take the matter further, why allow me to investigate?"

  His gaze slipped away. "You would have gone anyway. I thought it best to get it out of your system."

  "Get what out of my system?"

  Several seconds passed before he answered. "You can see now that Lady Harcourt has had a difficult past. Sometimes she acts in a particular way to preserve herself because she's afraid of losing what she's gained."

  I blinked at him. "Are you saying you want me to be friends with her? After she threw me to the wolves?"

  "I am not a wolf."

  "Then stop growling like one."

  Gus and Seth exchanged glances, clearly lost by our conversation. They didn't know Lady Harcourt had used me to betray Lincoln's trust and then scarpered so that I would take the blame. Lincoln did, however, yet he wanted me to sympathize with her and excuse her behavior.

  I would not. It was unthinkable, and it hurt that he expected it. It hurt even more that he still held her in high regard.

  "So the matter will be forgotten," I said. "I think that's a mistake."

  He shook his head, but it was Seth who spoke. "One does not ask a lady about her past, Charlie, particularly in matters of the heart."

  "She wasn't a lady then."

  Gus grunted a laugh. "And I'd wager the heart had nothin' to do with it."

  "All the more reason to let sleeping dogs lie," Seth said. "That's the etiquette when a gentleman discovers these things."

  "I doubt other ladies would be so blind," I said.

  "They would savage her," he agreed. "I can't have that on my conscience. I suggest that this goes no further than the four of us." He arched his brows at Lincoln.

  Lincoln nodded. "It has nothing to do with our search for Buchanan, so I will not mention it in her company or elsewhere. Nor will any of you." He glared at Gus and Gus swallowed heavily and nodded. Then he looked to me.

  "You may be wrong," I said, trying to keep the smugness out of my voice. "There is a connection with this piece of information and Andrew Buchanan, as it happen
s."

  All three men gave me their full attention.

  "Buchanan used to frequent The Alhambra too. He fell in love with the dancer known as Miss D.D.—Julia Templeton—but was quickly set aside when a more eligible gentleman took an interest in her—his own father. Such rejection from a mere dancer would have angered him. Couple that with jealousy, and then to have the same woman become his stepmother! Can you imagine it?"

  Gus was the first to recover his voice. "Blimey," he muttered. "That's a kick in the bollocks that he'd feel for years."

  "Precisely. Perhaps Buchanan had finally had enough of seeing her every day and decided to walk away from his life, and her, forever."

  Seth stroked his chin and pulled a face as he thought. "It doesn't sound like something he would do. Why now? Why not when they married?"

  I shrugged. "He had no money and needed the financial support of his father, and now his stepmother perhaps."

  "But nothing has changed. He still has no money. The long list of creditors proves that. Fitzroy?"

  "It's an interesting fact, but irrelevant."

  As much as I was in the mood for an argument with him, I couldn't do it over this point. He was right. If there was a connection linking this piece of information with Buchanan's disappearance, there was no evidence of it. Yet. Hopefully I would uncover it some other way, as questioning Lady Harcourt was out. I wouldn't go against Lincoln's wishes.

  Seth shook his head over and over. "Imagine being usurped in your lover's bed by your own father. Not that I've ever fallen madly in love, but it would gall me to have found my father's fat arse in the bed of one of my conquests."

  "He were married to your mother right up to the end, weren't he?" Gus asked.

  "Marriage vows never stopped him from exploring outside the matrimonial bed."

  "I wonder if Lord Harcourt knew about his son and wife," I said to cover the awkwardness I felt at hearing Seth reveal such information about his own father. He rarely spoke about his family, but I suspected they'd cast him aside when he did whatever he'd done to disgrace himself. One day I would ask him about it.

  "Buchanan was very much sought after in those days," Seth said. "This was before he ruined his reputation by racking up debts and the maidenheads of virgins."

  "That's what Miss Redding at The Alhambra told me. Minus the part about debts and maidenheads. Apparently the dancers were besotted with him."

  "Girls of good family were, too. A wealthy nobleman for a father and a handsome face is a combination that appeals across the class divide."

  "It ain't done you much good," Gus said. "Or Buchanan. He's been livin' off his stepmother and you been livin' off Mr. Fitzroy."

  Seth batted his lashes. "You think I'm handsome?"

  Gus rolled his eyes.

  "Besides, my family are no longer wealthy, and the title is a noose around my neck. It tends not to be of help when one's mother has run off with the second footman."

  I gaped at him.

  He touched my chin and closed my mouth for me. "Yes, Charlie, the second footman. Not even the first."

  Lincoln cleared his throat. He seemed unperturbed by Seth's revelation, so he must have known about it. Gus too. "Were there any girls in particular who were associated with Buchanan?" Lincoln asked.

  Seth nodded in thought. "One rumor had legs. He supposedly put a girl in the pudding club."

  Gus gave him a blank look. "Huh?"

  "Got her with child, you dolt."

  "One of The Alhambra's dancers?" I asked.

  Seth shrugged. "I don't know for certain, but since it was a rumor circulating among my set, I'd say she was rather more than a dancer. I can't recall the details, not being particularly interested in Buchanan at the time, and I have no idea if the child was born at all."

  "Thank you, that may be useful," Lincoln said. "An ear for gossip is a skill I lack, but you don't."

  Seth puffed his chest out like a rooster at the rare compliment.

  Gus flicked his finger at Seth's temple. "Pity you didn't mention it sooner, eh?"

  Seth shot him a murderous glare and rubbed his forehead.

  "Our visitors will arrive shortly," Lincoln told them. "If you could help Cook prepare, I'm sure he will be grateful."

  "Visitors?" I asked as Seth and Gus left us. Clearly they already knew who was expected at Lichfield.

  "Lady Harcourt is joining me for afternoon tea with her other stepson, the current Lord Harcourt, and his wife. I want to question him about his brother's habits, friends, that sort of thing."

  "That'll get confusing with two Lady Harcourts in the same room."

  "Lord Harcourt's stepmother—Julia—is referred to as the Dowager Lady Harcourt, but you should continue to refer to her as madam or Lady Harcourt, as you've always done. I'm sure the ladies will work out who you're speaking to. If you need to speak to them at all, that is."

  "Ah, yes, maids should be seen and not heard, isn't that right?"

  He flinched and I was taken by surprise. I'd not expected my silly barb to impact him at all. "You'll be expected to behave as a maid ought to, yes." He clasped his hands behind his back and added, "I don't like it either, but we must maintain our respective roles in front of the committee members or pressure will mount for me to send you away."

  "You're right. Of course. Thank you, Lincoln."

  He shifted his weight ever so slightly from one foot to the other. "You don't need to thank me."

  "I do. I've forgotten in recent days how fortunate I am to be here. As…disappointed as I am, that you set me aside after that kiss, I'll always be grateful to you for allowing me to stay on in any capacity. I don't resent being a maid here. Far from it."

  He was silent for so long that I forced myself to look at him, catching him staring at me. His gaze darted to my left ear. "You earned your position here, Charlie, and I'm very aware that it's beneath you, as the daughter of either Holloway or Frankenstein. Your gratitude is misguided."

  I twisted my hand around the walking stick knob and was about to admonish him for not accepting my thanks gracefully when he added, "But it is appreciated."

  He turned on his heel, and since I couldn't run after him, I had to call out. "Why are you protecting Lady Harcourt so fiercely?"

  He stopped in the doorway and unclasped his hands. He turned. "I'm not protecting her."

  "You are. If it were another woman, you would have questioned her about her past and her relationship with her missing stepson in particular. You wouldn't leave any stone unturned, even if that stone appeared to be small and insignificant."

  "Usually small and insignificant stones prove to be just that and nothing more. Besides, she has endured enough humiliation in her lifetime."

  "You think dancing to earn enough money to live off is humiliating?"

  "I imagine it was for her. She's a very proud woman."

  He sounded as if he admired greatly. Or pitied her. Either way, he was clearly no longer angry with her for pressing me to question the spirit of Mr. Gurry, the tutor he'd killed. "I see." I busied myself with fluffing the cushions on the sofa to hide the tears welling in my eyes.

  I was jealous. I knew it as clear as day, even though I'd never experienced the emotion before. That didn't mean I could extinguish it as easily as blowing out a flame.

  I didn't hear his footsteps receding, but he had an extremely light step so I abandoned the cushion plumping and turned to leave. He was still standing in the doorway, his gaze on me. Intently.

  "Charlie," he murmured.

  I limped toward him. "Yes?"

  "I…congratulate you on learning so much at The Alhambra. May I ask how you forced your informant to talk to you?"

  That was it? That's what he wanted to say to me? "First of all, I didn't treat Miss Redding like an informant, but more of a confidant. With the application of a little sugar for sweetening, and a large dollop of lying, I simply allowed her to tell me what she wanted to tell me. It helped that she disliked Lady Harcourt when she w
as a dancer there, and her resentment has only deepened over the years."

  A resentment born of envy and, perhaps, jealousy too. I hoped I would never be like Miss Redding, bitter and unhappy, and eager to knock another woman down from her pedestal when the opportunity presented itself. Good lord…was I as bad as her?

  My conscience weighed heavily on my shoulders and I could no longer look Lincoln in the eyes. What must he think of me? Probably that I was an immature, jealous little viper.

  "Excuse me," I mumbled, stepping around him. "I have work to do before our guests arrive."

  "Well done, Charlie," he said softly from closer behind me than I expected. "I doubt I could have learned what you did from Miss Redding."

  He strode off in the direction of the stairs while I headed to the kitchen, again feeling a little bruised from our encounter, but not quite in the same way. This time the bruises had been inflicted by my own fists.

  "Her brain is full of wool, and she's not much to look at," Seth was saying as I limped into the kitchen, "but she's got a malleable personality. Not to mention old Edgecombe was fond of his only daughter and handed over a plump dowry."

  "Who?" I asked.

  "Lady Harcourt—the younger, not the dowager." Seth sat on the edge of the table and put one foot up on a chair, only to have Gus shove it off.

  "Talk and work," Gus snapped. "If your own woolly brain can manage to do two things at once."

  I grinned, and Gus grinned back at me. Their banter was just what I needed to get out of my glum mood. "Pass me those cups and I'll arrange them."

  "No, you sit. Seth and me'll do it."

  "But—"

  "No buts," Seth said. "You've been dusting for hours. Your foot must be aching."

  It did hurt a little. I decided to take them up on their suggestion and rest for a few minutes before the guests arrived. "The new Lady Harcourt sounds nothing like the dowager. I certainly wouldn't call her mind malleable."

  "And she weren't rich," Cook noted from where he stood at the opposite end of the table, layering cream in a halved sponge cake.