Grave Expectations (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 4) (7 page)

He arched a brow.

"I suppose she might be the murderer, but it does seem like a convoluted way of getting to me. Besides, she could have killed me in the parlor."

"Were you alone?"

"Doyle remained."

"Then she couldn't have attacked."

I sighed. "I still think it's an overly obscure way to get to me, but you're right. She should be thoroughly checked first. I'll send word to put her off another day."

He shook his head. "I'll investigate her tonight. If you have an address for her previous employer, it won't take long."

I scrutinized him to see if there were any signs of exhaustion on his face, but he seemed perfectly fine, albeit somewhat gruffer than usual. I put that down to worry. "If you're sure."

"I am." His lips flattened into a kind of smile.

I smiled back at him, and after dinner, I took him in my arms before he went out again. "How long will you be gone?"

"No more than two hours. It's a simple matter of ensuring she worked where she claims, and that can be answered with a few questions of the present staff."

"I think I'll look up the name Webb in the files, just to be certain. It's a pity I didn't ask for her maiden name."

"Good idea. Perhaps I can learn the maiden name from the other servants."

He kissed me lightly then left in a carriage driven by Seth. I checked the ministry records kept in the attic, but found no information for Webb.

Upon his return, Lincoln confirmed that she had indeed worked at the Powell residence in Mayfair for several years before her marriage to Mr. Webb. Her name prior to her second marriage was Cotwell, so I searched the archives again while Lincoln returned to his rooms.

"Find anything?" he asked when he rejoined me in my sitting room.

"Nothing. Come sit by me near the fire. Your feet must be freezing."

He looked down at his bare feet. "They're a little cold."

"And you only just noticed?" I clicked my tongue and ordered him to sit. Then I sat on his lap. "We'll find him, won't we?"

"Holloway? Yes."

"And the other killer."

He circled his arms around me. "I suspect learning the identity of the killer will lead us to finding Holloway."

"You think the murderer helped Holloway escape?"

"They must be linked. I don't believe in coincidence."

I laid my head on his shoulder and enjoyed how his arms tightened around me and his body began to relax. "I hope you're right."

M
rs. Webb's
first day was a baptism of fire. Not only did she have a great deal of housework to accomplish, but a delivery of furniture arrived from Monsieur Fernesse's gallery. And then there were the applications for the maids' positions to sift through.

When the cart with our new sofa and armchairs rolled up shortly after lunch, Lincoln instructed Gus to remain home with me "to assist with the lifting," while he took Seth with him to speak to Widow Drinkwater. I suspected he wanted Gus near me as an extra safety measure while strangers came and went from the house. Apparently more of our French purchases were on their way.

I didn't mind. I enjoyed Gus's company, but he had a terrible eye for decorating. "The vase would look better on the table by the window," I told him, setting it there. "And that old statue is hideous. Put it in the attic."

He pouted at the clay statue of a bulldog in his hand. "But it's unique!"

"It's still hideous. I wonder where it came from."

"Last owner of Lichfield, prob'ly. The committee bought the house and contents, lock, stock."

"Should we leave the new sofa on the right of the fireplace, where the old one was, or on the left? I can't decide." It wasn't lost on me that in a matter of months I'd gone from stealing food to survive to rearranging furniture and managing a household. Fortune had certainly smiled upon me. I would never forget it.

Gus stroked his grizzly chin. "Don't know. I ain't good at this sort of thing."

"Perhaps we'll ask Seth when he returns."

"What about Lady H?" At my wrinkled nose, he added, "P'haps not. Mrs. Webb?"

"Why not. Will you fetch her, please? I think she's in the kitchen, going through applications."

He placed the statue in a chest earmarked for the attic and went in search of the housekeeper. She entered a few minutes later, Gus at her heels carrying a tray of tea things and slices of walnut cake.

"This looks lovely," Mrs. Webb said, running her hand along the curved back of the sofa. "What marvelous pieces!"

"Monsieur Fernesse has an excellent eye," I said.

She poured tea and handed a cup to me and the other to Gus. Her mood was buoyant, yet her smile was odd and not quite genuine.

"I hope you've settled in, Mrs. Webb. I know it will take time to grow used to our ways here at Lichfield, but I hope you'll be happy."

"It's difficult to know, yet." She stood by the fireplace, her hands clasped in front of her.

I sipped. "Do you see anything in this room that you think ought to be changed?"

She arched a brow and glanced around again. "No. It's quite lovely."

"Good." I sipped again, and this time the tea seemed to taste odd. Bitter. "Is this a different brew?"

She nodded. "It's my own that I used to make for my last mistress. She found it soothing."

"I'm not sure I'm in need of soothing."

"I ain't," Gus said with a chuckle. He too sipped and pulled a face. He caught Mrs. Webb's pained frown, sighed, and took another mouthful. "It's…unique."

It was bloody awful, but I too took another sip so as not to upset Mrs. Webb's feelings, then put the cup down. Just in time too as everything went a little blurry and I felt unstable for a moment.

"There are several suitable candidates for the position of maid," Mrs. Webb said.

"Yes?" The room spun, making my head swim. I put my hand out for balance.

"Shall I make inquiries into their references?" she droned on.

I tried to nod, but it felt as if my head would roll off so I stopped. My heartbeat slowed, and the blood oozed through my veins like sludge.

"Charlie!" Gus rasped in a loud whisper. "Charlie! Something's been put in the tea."

I turned my heavy head in his direction, just in time to see him list to the side like a sinking ship. He slumped against the arm of the chair, his eyes closed. Oh God, what was happening?

"Mrs. Webb?" That surely wasn't me slurring. "Help."

I too must have fallen to the side because Mrs. Webb walked toward me at an angle. The smile on her face was now genuine. Not cruel, but satisfied. "You're coming with me."

G
us was there
, nearby.

That first thought dodged the hammer blows in my head and reached my numbed brain. The body beside me
had
to be his. Nobody else snored like that. Thank God he was alive. We both were.

I cracked open a dry eyelid and reached out a hand to his sleeping form, but couldn't move. My hands were tied behind my back. My feet were tied together too. I lay on my side on a lumpy bed, my back to Gus. We were in a room surrounded by damp brick walls and little else. There were no windows and a stone staircase led up to a door. The only light came from a torch flickering in a wall sconce. We were alone.

"Gus," I whispered. "Gus, wake up."

He murmured something under his breath then resumed snoring. I nudged him with both feet and he awoke with a jerk. "Huh? Charlie?"

"Here, behind you."

He rolled over with a groan. His eyes fluttered. "Me head's splittin' in two."

"Mine too, but I think I'm otherwise unharmed. You?"

He opened his eyes and wriggled. "A few sore spots at the back of my ankles, but nothin' bad. What happened? Where are we?"

I sat up. My head swam and everything turned foggy. It took a moment to clear, but the pounding remained. I tried to ignore it and think. "A cellar?"

Gus sat too, wincing. "I'll throttle that bloody housekeeper when I get my hands on her. I only drank that disgustin' tea so as not to upset her."

It galled me to think that Mrs. Webb had tricked me into hiring her, but not as much as it galled me to think I'd fallen for her lies. There was some comfort in the fact that Lincoln had also been fooled.

"If I spin round," Gus said, swiveling on his rear so that his back was to me again, "I can try to untie you."

"Good idea. Do it quietly. I don't want to alert Mrs. Webb that we're awake. I'm in no hurry to find out what she wants with us."

"Shoutin' for help's out of the question then."

"Agreed. I don't think any passersby would hear us anyway. We're in a cellar, and those walls look thick."

He fumbled with the ropes tying my wrists, muttering obscenities under his breath as he failed to make headway. "The devil take the bitch."

"Look on the positive side, Gus. We're not dead."

He grunted.

"That means Mrs. Webb isn't the one going around killing supernaturals, or I probably wouldn't have made it out of Lichfield alive. Nor would she have taken you."

"Why did she take me?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I hope Cook and Doyle are all right."

He grunted again and twisted around. "I can't see what I'm doin'."

"Here, let me try."

But it was hopeless. The knot was too elaborate and, without seeing it, I couldn't untie it. I let out a string of vile words that had Gus admonishing me.

"You can't talk like that now you're mistress of Lichfield Towers."

"I don't bloody care about that right now." I drew up my knees. How long had we been unconscious? Did Lincoln know I'd been abducted yet?

"You make a habit of this," Gus said.

"It's not my fault everyone wants a necromancer for their evil plans."

"Fitzroy's plans ain't evil."

I sighed. "I know. But you're right, I do get abducted an awful lot. It's no wonder the committee want to send me away and not tell anyone where I am."

"Don't think like that. You ain't goin' nowhere. Lichfield wouldn't be the same without you.
We
wouldn't be the same."

Tears welled and hovered on my eyelids. I tipped my head back until I touched his shoulder. "Thank you, Gus. I'd miss you all enormously." And I couldn't leave Lincoln. Not ever.

"He won't let 'em take you away," he said, as if he could read my thoughts. After a few moments’ silence, he added, "So what'll we do now?"

"Wait for Mrs. Webb, convince her to untie us then overpower her."

He chuckled without humor. "Nothin' can go wrong with that plan, Charlie. Nothin' at all."

I got off the bed and hopped awkwardly around the room. I didn't know what I was looking for, but it felt better than sitting. After a moment, Gus joined me. He hopped to the bottom of the stairs and gazed up at the door.

"You'll hurt yourself if you fall," I warned him.

"Then I won't fall."

"You'll probably find the door is locked."

"I have to try."

It was a good plan, but I had a better one. "I could summon a spirit and then ask it to go to the mortuary, find a dead body, and rescue us. Do you remember Gordon Thackery? He helped us capture Captain Jasper."

"Aye."

"He's a nice fellow and I'm sure he'll help again."

"It might work, but what if we're a long way from a mortuary or cemetery? What if Thackery don't reco'nize where we are and gets lost on his way back?"

"He
can
read street signs."

"What if someone sees him, all decayin' and disgustin'." He pulled a face and shivered. "We don't want to frighten the public."

"He's smart enough to hide himself beneath a hat and clothing."

He glanced up at the door again. "S'pose it's worth a try. I'm still goin' up though. I'd feel a right idiot if the door was unlocked the entire time."

"Be careful."

I watched him as he hopped up on the first step, paused, then hopped onto the second. It would take a while for him to reach the top, but at least he was doing something. I couldn't sit idly by either.

"Gordon Moreland Thackery, I summon you here. Gordon Thackery, it's Charlie Holloway. Please come. I need you."

The white cloud slipped through a crack in the brickwork and swept across the room. I didn't flinch as it washed through me and came to a stop near the bed. The familiar face of Thackery broke into a grin.

"Miss Charlie! I never thought we'd meet again." Even in spirit form, the ravaging signs of the opium that had taken his life were evident. While his eyes were clear, they were sunken into his skull along with his cheeks. He looked much older than mid-twenties, the age he'd been at his death, but his cheerfulness made up for it.

"We're in a spot of difficulty." I turned so he could see my bound hands.

"Having another adventure, eh?"

"Gus and I were kidnapped."

He glanced at Gus, who'd paused in his laborious progress up the stairs when I began talking. Gordon nodded but Gus couldn't see, and he jumped up to the next step.

"I can't untie you." Gordon held up his ghostly hands.

"We were hoping you'd find yourself a fresh corpse and come back and rescue us."

His brows arched. "A fresh corpse?"

"I know it's gruesome, but we're desperate."

"So I see. I'm happy to help." He glanced around the room. "Where are we?"

"I don't know. We were brought here while unconscious. The walls must be thick, or we're deep underground, because I can't hear a thing."

He circled me then drifted up to the ceiling. "I'll get you out. When I do, I want a full account of all the adventure I missed out on."

"I promise. Now please hurry."

He disappeared and I blew out a breath. I felt more at ease now that Gordon had been enlisted. Although I'd never known him during his lifetime, I trusted him. He'd not only proven very capable in the past, but also loyal and rather sweet. I liked him.

A key tumbled in the lock and Gus and I glanced at each other. The door opened and Mrs. Webb appeared like a black raven about to swoop. A few steps down and too far away to tackle her, Gus groaned. He slumped against the wall.

"An admirable attempt at escape, but it wouldn't have worked." She held up her lantern, illuminating that pale, ethereal face. She looked as ghostly as Gordon. "The door was locked and it's too thick to break down, even if you had a run at it. Return to the bed, Gus. You too, Miss Holloway."

I considered defying her, but decided against it. Escape was now a matter of biding time until Gordon returned. If we protested in any way, she might hurt us, and then we wouldn't be in any shape to get out.

"Do as she says," I told Gus.

He scooted down the steps on his rear end and hopped back to the bed. We both sat down. Mrs. Webb stood at the bottom of the staircase, well out of reach.

"I trusted you," I spat. "I allowed you into our home!"

She lifted her chin. The effect was one of entitlement and poise, not of a humble housekeeper. I couldn't believe I'd been so easily fooled. "There was no other way. I would apologize, but your immorality makes me disinclined to do so."

"My what?"

"Your living arrangements are disgusting. Lichfield Towers is a den of vice. A young woman living unchaperoned with an older man in his house…it's unthinkable." Her voice had become louder and more aggressive as she spoke, and her lips pursed into a tight O.

"We're not sleeping in the same room! Mr. Fitzroy is a gentleman, and your implication that he is not shows more about how your mind works than his or mine." I lifted my gaze to the ceiling. "I can't believe I'm arguing about morals with someone who abducts people and ties them up in her cellar."

"Desperate times and all that." Mrs. Webb set the lantern down on the floor at her feet. "Besides, you're not hurt, are you?"

"The backs of Gus's feet are sore."

"Aye," Gus muttered. "Untie me and I'll show you."

"He was too heavy and I had to drag him down the steps then lift him onto the cart and drag him down here," she said.

So she had worked alone. Escaping from one person ought to be easier than two. Hppe rose in my chest. "Which cart?"

"I borrowed one from the Lichfield stables."

Gus clicked his tongue, admonishing her. "Death don't take kindly to having his belongings stolen or his fiancée kidnapped."

"You call your master Death?"

"It fits. I should warn you, the last person to abduct Charlie died, as did the men who helped him. Violently. It weren't pretty."

I wasn't sure I liked Gus spreading rumors that Lincoln had killed Jasper and his two thugs. Lincoln had assured me he hadn't done it, and I believed him. We'd never learned who had murdered the captain in the holding cell after his arrest, and we likely never would.

"What do you want, Mrs. Webb?" I asked.

"I need you to summon my husband and raise his body."

I wasn't surprised. At least it confirmed that she wasn't the killer of supernaturals. It was the silver lining on a very trying experience. "Why do you want to raise him?"

"That's none of your concern."

"It is. If I'm going to do it, I need to know certain things. That's one of them."

She stepped toward me and lifted her hand to strike my cheek. I flinched, but she didn't lash out. "I'm not a violent woman, but I am quite provoked at the moment. Don't make the situation worse for yourselves by lying."

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

"I know a lot about you, Miss Holloway. For example, I know that you can raise the dead by calling them by name. Just a name. You don't need to know anything else."

"I see that you also knew I was in need of a housekeeper. How?"

"I saw your advertisement in
The Times
."

"I don't believe you. It's too coincidental to be true, and I don't believe in coincidences." Lincoln had said the same thing to me, and it felt satisfying to spout his words at her. But if it wasn't a coincidence, that meant she
knew
to look in
The Times
. "My God," I whispered. "Who told you we were advertising for a housekeeper?"

Her jaw set hard and her dark eyes glittered.

Gus twisted to look at me. "Blimey, Charlie. Who would do that?"

"Someone who knows our situation." That narrowed it down to Doyle and the committee members. Unless Cook, Seth or Gus mentioned it in passing to someone connected with Mrs. Webb. None of us could have any inkling that posting the ad would lead to this, and our advertising for a housekeeper was no secret.

"
Who told you?
" I ground out between my clenched teeth.

"It's not important."

"It is to me."

"You're in no position to dictate terms, Miss Holloway."

I lifted one shoulder. "Then I refuse to summon your husband's spirit."

Her top lip curled. I couldn't believe I ever thought this woman suitable enough to live with us. "I was told you'd say that." She turned, picked up the lantern and strode up the stairs and out of the cellar. The lock tumbled.

"Why'd she leave?" Gus hopped off the bed again but didn't advance. There was no point. With the door locked, there was no possible escape.

"I don't know. Hopefully Gordon will return before she does."

"Don't hold your breath, Charlie. We could be in the Scottish Highlands, for all we know. If we do escape, how will we get home?"

"I doubt we're that far from London. I don't feel either hungry or thirsty, which means we couldn't have been unconscious for long. I would say we're somewhere in the city."

The lock tumbled again and the door opened. Mrs. Webb came down the stairs, the lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other. I gasped. Gus moved in front of me.

"That's very brave but rather foolish of you, Gus," she said with a smile. "It's not Miss Holloway I plan to shoot. Why would I do that when she's the one who's going to summon my husband?"

"W…what?" he spluttered.

"I'm going to shoot
you
, you big idiot. Why do you think I went to all that trouble to bring you along? I simply drugged the others, but decided to take you too, in case she refused to do as I asked. Refuse again, Miss Holloway, and I'll shoot him."

"Don't!"

She smiled. She knew she had me. "Move a little away, Gus. You wouldn't want me to miss you and get her now, would you?"

Gus hesitated then hopped to his right until he was well away from me.

"Listen to me, Mrs. Webb." My voice trembled. My heart thundered. We could no longer delay her in the hope that Gordon would return. I had no doubt that she would shoot Gus if I didn't do as she wanted. "Raising a spirit is not safe. It should only be done in extreme circumstances, and only when I can be sure nothing will go wrong."

"Nothing will go wrong. We're good people, Miss Holloway, although you probably don't believe that at this moment."