Grave Expectations (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 4) (16 page)

"Asked?" Seth snapped. "Or blackmailed."

She looked down at the rug.

I sat on the bed beside Seth, tired and a little overwhelmed. "Mrs. Drinkwater, perhaps if you tell us everything from the beginning. Leave nothing out. We need to get to the bottom of this. I need to know who I can and can't trust."

"I wouldn't trust Julia," she spat. "That woman would sell her own mother if it meant she could bury her past."

I placed my hand over Seth's when he bristled. Thankfully he got the message and kept quiet.

"I admit that I enlisted Julia in my scheme," she said. "I knew her from our time together at The Al, but we'd lost touch. She wanted nothing to do with any of us after her marriage to Lord Harcourt." She sighed. "I suppose it's understandable, but honestly, it was the way she went about it. She was such a hoity-toity miss, always putting on airs, even when she was simple Miss Templeton, the schoolmaster's daughter."

Her mouth twisted into a sneer as she spoke, reminding me very much of Miss Redding. Both women disliked Lady Harcourt intensely.

"You threatened to go to the newspapers if she didn't help you," Seth said.

"I did write a letter to her implying such a thing, yes, but I would never have carried it out."

"That is irrelevant!"

She lifted her chin. "I beg to differ. One cannot be accused of something that one didn't do. Besides, she deserved to be a little shaken and reminded of her past. Someone like that shouldn't be allowed to lord it over the rest of us. She's just as common as we are."

"How did you know about her connection to me and my necromancy?" I asked before Seth could get into an argument with her.

"I didn't. Not specifically, anyway. I knew she had an interest in magic, you see, because she approached us years ago and asked Reggie questions about his work. She must have read about his research in one of the science journals and suspected he was using magic. When she knocked on our door, I was so surprised to see her, as was she to see me." She smiled, but it was bitter, cold. "You ought to have seen her face. It went as white as a sheet. I thought she was there to see me, but she told me she wanted to ask Reggie some questions. She asked him about his skill, made some notes, then went on her way again without so much as an explanation as to why she needed to know.

"So when I decided I wanted to see Reggie again, after his death, I thought of her and her interest in magic. If anyone could speak with spirits, or know someone who could, it would be her. She denied it at first and claimed she couldn't help. I was so angry! I went home and, after thinking about it some more, wrote the letter telling her to meet me or I'd tell everyone about her past at The Al. So you see, if she ever wanted to kill me to silence me, it would have been then."

She was right. Lady Harcourt wouldn't kill her. She wasn't a murderess. "So she agreed to help after that?"

She nodded. "I only wanted to speak to Reggie's spirit to find out if he knew who had killed him, but she suggested something better. She told me all about you and what you can do."

Lady Harcourt hadn't needed to do that. She could have simply told Mrs. Drinkwater that I could speak with spirits. She didn't need to mention the full extent of my necromancy at all. I glanced at Seth.

He looked away and dragged his hand through his hair. Behind us, Gus swore under his breath.

"Who formed the plan to kidnap her?" Seth asked.

"I did, after Julia said Miss Holloway wouldn't agree to raise anyone. She was a little reluctant about the idea, but gave in once I renewed my threats. It was her suggestion that I apply for the position of housekeeper to gain your trust and access to the house and your person." She fixed her unsympathetic gaze on me. "As I said at the time, I'm sorry for the abduction, but it was necessary. I missed Reggie terribly, and he needed to exact his revenge or his spirit could never rest."

"You don't know that," I said. "What you did…I'm still rather speechless about the whole thing."

"I'm not." Gus marched up to Merry Drinkwater and leaned down so that his face was level with hers. She gave a little squeak, leaned back, and screwed up her nose. "You're a mean-spirited, selfish, connivin', cowardly bitch, and I hope Death makes you pay for what you did when he gets here."

Mrs. Drinkwater flinched. She leaned so far back in the chair she was in danger of tipping over.

"Gus," I said quietly.

"What?" he growled.

"You forgot hypocritical." Everyone looked at me. "She told me that our living arrangements here were amoral," I elaborated, "when she herself had been a dancer at The Al, of all places."

Her face flushed. "I just danced. Nothing more. Not like Julia."

"And I am just living here. Nothing more."

Gus marched back to the door where he once more stood guard, arms crossed over his chest. The scowl remained on his face, making him look fiercer than ever.

"Gus is still very upset," I told Mrs. Drinkwater. "As am I."

She looked down at the knotted fingers in her lap. "So what are you going to do with me?"

"That depends on how much more information you can give us."

"I've told you everything! Julia was the one who helped me. Ask her if you don't believe me."

"We will. But before we can let you go, we need to know about the person who almost commissioned your husband's work."

She lifted one shoulder. "I know nothing about him."

"Nothing? What is it a man, for example?"

"I…I suppose, although I never met him. Reggie did say 'he,' so I presume he was male. Oh, I don't know! What does it matter anyway? The commission ended some time ago. It never really began."

"Why not?"

"The fellow learned that Reggie used his magic to make the limbs work. He never kept it a secret from those who asked, though few did. Most people don't know anything about magic, you see, but this man must have. Reggie wrote back and never heard from him again."

"Did your husband mention anything about him?"

She frowned. "I recall now. He knew nothing about the fellow because the letter bore only a signature, and an illegible one at that. No letterhead or printed name."

An illegible signature with no monogrammed letterhead…it reminded me of the letters the orphanages had received some weeks back, asking after me. Could this be the same person? It was almost unthinkable that there could be a connection. Yet someone wanted to know about supernaturals, perhaps to kill them, and I was a supernatural.

I suppressed a shiver. "Did your husband keep the letter?"

"He threw it out when nothing came of the arrangement."

I sighed. We were no closer to knowing an identity than before.

"Of course, Reggie probably wouldn't have taken the fellow as his patron anyway, even if magic hadn't been an issue."

"Why?"

"He wanted Reggie to extend his work and reanimate bodies. Like you do, Miss Holloway."

I stared at her. Then I stared at Seth. He nodded. It
must
be the same man who'd approached Frankenstein and who went on to commission Jasper's work. He wanted to bring the dead back to life, but through scientific means, not magic. For what purpose? And why not with magic?

"Mrs. Drinkwater, do you have any notion as to why your husband was killed?" I asked.

She twisted her hands into her skirt. "None whatsoever. I suppose we'll never know now." She looked close to tears. Seth handed her a handkerchief and she dabbed at her eyes.

"Could it be to silence him?" I asked no one in particular. "Perhaps Drinkwater knew the man's name, or something that could identify him."

"Or perhaps he just wanted him dead because he was a supernatural," Seth said with a shrug.

"The Brumley woman too," Gus added. "Don't forget her."

Mrs. Drinkwater whimpered. "This is horrible. So, so horrible. I just want my Reggie back. How am I to go on without him? He was my whole life."

"There, there," I said, absently. "Perhaps move in with your sister for a while." To Gus and Seth, I said, "We should find out more about the hired gunman who shot Mr. Drinkwater and Miss Brumley. Who was he in recent contact with, for example? Perhaps he left clues as to who paid him."

The door opened, thumping Gus in the back. "Oi!" He swallowed his protest as Lincoln stormed in, still wearing his coat and gloves.

His gaze flicked from me to Mrs. Drinkwater and back again. His face remained passive but a pulse throbbed in his jaw. "Charlie," he said quietly, ominously, "why are you covered in soot?"

"
W
e should talk privately
," I said with a telling glance at Mrs. Drinkwater.

Lincoln inclined his head and stood aside. I walked out ahead of the men and waited until Seth had locked the door again. Then I threw my arms around Lincoln.

"I'm so glad to see you!" He felt so good, so solid and warm, although he looked every bit the wild gypsy with his hair hanging loose and his jaw roughened with dark stubble.

His arms circled me all too briefly before gently holding me at arm's length. "My rooms," he said. "All of you."

Gus's audible gulp set my nerves on edge. Lincoln was in a terrible mood, but I had to believe that was because he'd seen that I'd been in danger. Once he realized I was all right, he would calm down.

He closed the door behind us and directed me to sit in the wingback chair in his sitting room. I did, only to find the men preferred to remain standing. Seth and Gus stood near the door, as if they hoped to escape quickly if necessary.

Lincoln stripped off his gloves, jacket and tie, throwing them onto another armchair.

"We found Mrs. Drinkwater," I said in a lame attempt to fill the taut silence. "As you saw."

"You left the house to find her."

"She was at The Alhambra. Her friend, Miss Redding, hid her there. They danced together years ago, along with Lady Harcourt."

He didn't blink or show any sign of surprise. Perhaps he knew, or suspected. "How did you learn of the connection?"

"From Mrs. Southey, Mrs. Drinkwater's sister."

A slight tightening around his mouth was the only indication that this piece of information intrigued him. "I visited her and wasn't told that. What threats did you make?"

"No threats. We simply told her that her sister could be in danger if we didn't warn her. Don't blame yourself, Lincoln. Women tend to trust other women more readily. She may have my found presence reassuring."

"Don't make excuses."

"Pardon?"

His fingers dug into the leather back of the chair. "I failed at something that should have been easy."

I went to him and rested my hand on his arm. The muscles beneath his shirt jumped. "It's hardly a failure. We simply have different methods, and my method was more effective this time. Next time, yours will be."

He placed his hand over mine. Then he plucked it off. "You promised me you wouldn't leave the house."

"I decided to make an exception. It was necessary—"

"It was not!"

I swallowed. "I had Seth and Gus with me, and the imp." I pulled the necklace out of my pocket. "Don't make an issue out of this. I was successful and unharmed. It's pointless to worry now."

"Explain your appearance." He folded his arms and waited expectantly for me to tell him.

Gus and Seth glanced at one another. I decided to remove them from the line of fire.

"If you wouldn't mind giving us some privacy," I told them.

"No," Lincoln said. "They stay."

"Why?"

He strode to his desk where he proceeded to rifle through his papers. After a moment, he put them down again, having achieved nothing. It was as if he was trying to get away from me. As if he didn't want to be alone with me.

I fingered the sleeve of his jacket but stopped again when I saw how dirty my hands were. "Holloway's dead."

His head jerked round. His lips parted. He took a step toward me, then stopped and put his hands behind his back. "How?"

"I killed him, in a way."

"It weren't your fault," Gus said.

"He's right," Seth added. "If he hadn't taken you, he'd still be alive."

"Will somebody tell me what happened," Lincoln ground out.

"We spotted Mrs. Drinkwater as we were leaving The Alhambra," I said. "Seth and Gus pursued her—"

"Leaving you alone." His razor sharp glare tore shreds off his men. Both turned a shade paler.

"Holloway had a gun and threatened to kill me if I didn't go with him."

"A gun?" Lincoln dragged a hand through his hair, down the back of his neck. "What about the imp?"

I explained to him how it would only save me if I was in direct danger.

"You could have summoned it anyway so that it was ready," he said.

"In full public view?"

A beat passed, two, in which his eyes went from icy to cool, to shadowed. "You wanted to ask Holloway questions, didn't you? That's why you went with him."

I bristled. I'd expected this inquisition, but had hoped he would temper it with a show of affection. There was nothing affectionate in his barked questions and the taut planes of his face. "We needed answers," I said.

"And what did you learn?"

"That a man helped him escape. A man who doesn't like magic or supernaturals. I think this man wanted Holloway to kill me, that's why he helped him escape. I also think it's the same man who commissioned Captain Jasper's work, and almost commissioned Reginald Drinkwater, Miss Brumley and Frankenstein, killing both Drinkwater and Brumley when he learned they were supernaturals. Paying someone else to kill them, I should say. We must look at the hired assassin more closely. He could be the key to finding out the identity of the villain behind it all."

"I learned his name and address from the Kensington Police Station yesterday. There was nothing in his house to identify anyone who might have hired him. I checked thoroughly. He also has no family and few friends. There's a possibility some of my other contacts may have heard who he was working for, but I haven't questioned them all yet. I will continue tonight."

"Oh."

He arched his brows.

"I was hoping you would stay in tonight and we could…" I glanced at Seth and Gus. They looked as uncomfortable as I felt. "Talk."

"I need to go out, Charlie. This must be resolved." Lincoln dragged both hands through his hair this time then pinched the bridge of his nose.

I clasped both his arms. "If you two wouldn't mind leaving us for a moment," I said over my shoulder.

"Stay," Lincoln barked, pulling away. "You haven't explained the soot."

I sighed and retreated back to the armchair. I wouldn't beg for his attention. Not in front of the others. "Holloway took me to a factory. I started a small fire to distract him from killing me. Unfortunately the small fire became a larger one when some powder exploded and the rafters caught alight. The chimney fell on Holloway, killing him. I escaped."

"With the help of the imp?"

I nodded.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Gus is right. His death is not your fault."

I rubbed my arms, to chase away the chill, and studied the floor so he couldn't see the tears puddle in my eyes.

Another deep breath from Lincoln drew my attention back to him. He quickly looked away. "Take a warm bath. Afterward, if you're feeling up to it, you can summon Holloway's spirit and question him about the man who helped him escape."

"If he didn't tell me in the factory, he won't tell me now. He thinks that man is the only one who will remove the demon from me, and telling me who it is could ruin everything. He knows you'll hunt him down. I think we'll have more chance with the hired killer."

He shook his head. "It's likely he received anonymous instructions. It's how the man operated with the scientists."

I suddenly felt utterly drained. Instead of getting closer to learning who was killing the supernaturals, we seemed to be treading water. At least we knew about Lady Harcourt's involvement in my kidnapping now.

Lincoln strode past me to the door. Gus and Seth leapt aside to get out of his way.

"Where are you going?" I asked, hating the tired plea in my voice.

"To speak with Mrs. Drinkwater."

"We've told you everything she said. Lady Harcourt helped her."

He paused with one hand on the door handle and eyed me from beneath half-closed lids. He looked as exhausted as I felt. I ached to be with him, hold him and be held by him, but in his present mood there was no chance of that. It had not been the happy reunion I'd hoped for.

"Go and have your bath, Charlie. Doyle will bring up supper for you."

He might as well have ordered me to go to bed. His brusque, impersonal response certainly drove home the point that he didn't want to be with me. I had to hope that it was a result of his fury over my leaving the house and perhaps his disappointment in himself for not finding Mrs. Drinkwater first.

But a niggling doubt told me something else was wrong. Something that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Later, when I finally got him alone, I would find out what it was.

I
didn't wake
up until mid-morning. Despite my determination to confront Lincoln, I'd fallen asleep after eating supper in my rooms. I quickly dressed and hurried to his rooms, but he wasn't there.

Downstairs, I searched the library and parlor before going to the kitchen. Cook and Doyle were there alone. Doyle stood upon seeing me, and Cook glanced up from the pot he was stirring on the stove. Both glanced anxiously past me to the door. I turned, expecting to see Lincoln, but there was no one there.

"Good morning, miss," Doyle said. "May we prepare you something for breakfast?"

"Just an egg will do fine. Where is everyone?"

"Out," Cook said. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you. Out where?"

"Seth and Gus be in the stables."

"And Mr. Fitzroy?"

"Riding."

"Riding where?"

Cook and Doyle busied themselves with their tasks. Something was definitely up.

"Where is he?" I pressed.

"Riding around the estate, I believe," Doyle said.

"That doesn't sound like something he would do."

"I overheard him tell Gus that he wanted to be nearby."

"Oh. To keep an eye on me, I suppose, to insure I don't leave again." I sat at the table and sighed. "It does seem odd that he would go riding for no particular reason, though." He rarely rode for pleasure or exercise. If he wanted to stay nearby but felt restless, why not simply exercise in his rooms like he usually did, or offer to take me through a training session?

The silence thickened as I ate my boiled egg, and I got the impression they weren't telling me everything. Instead of asking them, I went out to the stables. Gus and Seth greeted me with as much nervousness as Doyle and Cook had. Neither could hold my gaze for long.

"You should go back inside," Gus said as he cleaned out the empty stall. The stall belonged to my horse but she was nowhere to be seen. "It's freezin' out here."

I checked the next stall along for Lincoln's horse. It was also empty. "Who's riding Rosie?"

Seth dusted off his hands. "Now don't get upset."

"Ah. It must be Lady Harcourt if that's your first response."

"Idiot," Gus muttered.

"She sent a message early this morning," Seth told me. "She wanted to speak with Fitzroy but he refused to leave the estate."

"Because of me?"

He nodded.

So he hadn't gone out to question his contacts about the killer, yet he hadn't come to me either.

"He sent word back to her, summoning her here instead," Seth went on.

"I'm sure that went down well. I doubt Lady Harcourt is used to being summoned anywhere these days."

"She came wearing a riding habit. She didn't want to talk in the house."

"Don't know why," Gus said, joining us. "We don't listen in on private conversations."

"Speak for yourself," I told him.

The corner of his mouth lifted but the smile was half hearted. "They've been gone a while now."

I eyed the stable entrance. Was Lincoln giving her short shrift over helping Mrs. Drinkwater? Or was she needling her way back into his good graces with her charms and excuses? I wouldn't put it past her to have a credible answer prepared.

"Is there something I can do in here?" I asked.

"Why?" Seth hedged.

"Because if I'm going to wait, I might as well be useful."

"I don't think that's a good idea. Go back inside where it's warm. We'll tell Fitzroy you were looking for him when he returns."

"The cold doesn't bother me. I won't even notice it once I start working."

"Charlie, stop being difficult! I'm trying to get you out of the way so you won't come face to face with Julia. The air was tense enough when she arrived, and by the look on her face, she felt awful for what she'd done. Don't make this even more difficult for her."

I snatched the broom out from beneath Gus's arm. Since he'd been leaning on it, he almost tumbled over. "I don't bloody care how difficult it is for her," I snapped at Seth. "She can bloody well face me, whether she likes it or not."

His lips pressed together. "You are being deliberately obstreperous." He marched toward the back of the stables, opened a stall door and disappeared inside.

"What's obstrep, obstrop…what's that word mean?" Gus whispered.

"Interesting?" I said with a shrug.

He chuckled.

Seth exited the stall again, leading a horse behind him. He moved it into one of the clean stalls and shut the door. He pointed to the newly emptied one. "Go on then. You want to help, you can help in there. You know where the mops and pails are. Get to work."

I peeked through the stall door. It was filthy. I pressed my hand to my nose but it didn't block out the smell of dung. "What have you been feeding him?"

"No time for talking," Seth tossed over his shoulder as he walked away with a cocky step. "There's work to do."

I signaled a rude hand gesture behind his back, coaxing another laugh from Gus.

Some fifteen minutes later, the clip clop of horses' hooves in the courtyard signaled the return of Lincoln and Lady Harcourt. Now that my temper had cooled and the time had come to face them, I wasn't sure what to say. Perhaps if I'd spent some time with Lincoln alone I would have felt more at ease. Something was bothering him, and that bothered me. I was as anxious about seeing him as I was at seeing her.

"Pleasant ride?" I heard Seth ask.

"Not entirely unpleasant." Lady Harcourt sounded like she was in a good mood. If she'd sounded upset, perhaps I would have remained hidden and allowed her to leave without confronting her, but it was that cheerfulness that brought my temper bubbling to the surface all over again.