Her Majesty's Necromancer (17 page)

"You know him?" he spat. "You know my murderer?"

"We do," I said. "He was your pupil, wasn't he?"

"Where is he?" He swept around the room then came to settle in front of me again. "Is that dog here?"

"No. Tell us why he killed you, Mr. Gurry."

"
That's
what you want to know?" His low chuckle plucked at my taut nerves. "Why not ask him?"

"I'm asking you."

"I can't tell you. I don't know. He came across me in a lane one night, years after I'd finished teaching him. He held a long knife. Without so much as a word, he attacked me and cut my throat." He rubbed his neck above his collar. "I pleaded with him for mercy, but he showed none. He's a vicious animal, with no conscience and no soul. Take my advice and stay far away from him."

I glanced at Lady Harcourt, only to find her staring back at me. She urged me with a nod. "Well?" she whispered. "Has he told you?"

I shook my head. "Was it a chance meeting?" I asked Gurry.

"I don't know," he said. "Perhaps not. He was always devious like that, always plotting and scheming. I wouldn't put it past him to have planned the meeting for years. Who knows how long he harbored a grudge against me?"

"Why did he harbor a grudge?"

He turned his back to me. "I already told you, I don't know."

"You have no inkling? Surely you must."

"No."

"Mr. Gurry, please answer me so I can send you on your way."

He circled me slowly, his feet not touching the floor. The lines on his forehead folded together into a deep frown. "He was a willful dog. I tried to train him, but he wouldn't follow orders from the start. I had to employ more and more drastic measures to get him to listen."

"Did you beat him?"

"Of course."

I pressed a hand to my mouth but quickly drew it away. It was too late, however. Lady Harcourt would have guessed Gurry's answer from my question and reaction. She too covered her mouth and left her hand there.

"The general knew," Gurry protested. "He approved. He gave me full reign to do as I saw fit to teach my charge."

The general
knew
? It grew worse and worse.

"I wasn't the only one," Gurry said. "I saw other marks on his back, not inflicted by me. He didn't kill me because of a few beatings, girl. Do you understand? No, he killed me because he's mad, a crazed dog. He shouldn't be allowed out of his cage."

I slapped my palm down on the chair arm. It silenced him, but also made Lady Harcourt jump. I didn't care. I was too intent on what he was telling me, too horrified to think of young Lincoln at this man's mercy, and at the mercy of his other tutors. How many had beaten him?

Gurry was probably right. Lincoln hadn’t killed him for the beatings, or Gurry wouldn't be his only victim. Then why? Was Gurry holding something back from me?

"There has to be a reason," I said. "Tell me. I command you."

His lips flattened and he swirled again before standing still. "My methods had begun to work. I'd almost beaten that willfulness out of him when a distraction emerged. I removed the distraction. Perhaps he's angry with me for that." He shrugged.

"What distraction?" I pressed. "Another person?"

"What's he saying?" Lady Harcourt asked. I raised my hand, but she batted it away. "Charlie, you must tell me what he's saying."

"He's a bad seed," Gurry said. "A very bad seed. You can't trust a man with gypsy blood in his veins."

Gypsy! It was the second time I'd heard Lincoln referred to as such. The first time I'd thought it simply derogatory, but now…perhaps Lincoln's mother had been a traveler. She'd been a seer, and he'd told me she had dark coloring, so it was possible.

But it wasn't a word I would repeat to Lady Harcourt. For some reason, I didn't want her to know.

"Nothing important," I told her when she asked again what Gurry was saying. "Cruel accusations, nothing more."

"They are not accusations!" The spirit dashed left and right, around furniture, across the mirror and pictures hanging on the walls, as if trying to disturb them to show his anger.

"Why did Lincoln become distracted?" I pressed.

The spirit chuckled again and came to settle between Lady Harcourt and myself. "It was an annoying little distraction that he was much too fond of. I got rid of it. That's all you need to know."

"Tell me!" I shot up from the chair and faced up to him, but he merely chuckled again.

"Or what?" he sneered. "You can't do anything to me, girl."

"Mr. Gurry, I'm ordering you to—"

The door behind me crashed open. I knew without turning that it was Lincoln. No one else would dare interrupt without knocking. If I needed any further confirmation, I got it from my companions. Lady Harcourt's face drained of color. The spirit of Mr. Gurry flinched and whooshed backward.

My legs felt suddenly too weak to hold me, and I sat down. I wished the armchair would swallow me, but there could be no escaping Lincoln. Fury vibrated off him in waves, leaving me in no doubt that he knew who I was talking to, and why.

Lady Harcourt recovered first. She rose and put out her hand. "Good afternoon, Lincoln. I'm so pleased to have caught you before I go."

"Get out." The quiet order was more brutal than any shout could have been. I held my breath, waiting for him to explode, but he didn't. He merely stood by the door and watched Lady Harcourt with a ferocity that had
me
trembling.

I knew it would soon be my turn.

She blinked. "Pardon?" Whether she had more nerve than me, or simply didn't see his anger, I couldn't tell. She sailed up to him, smiling sweetly. "Linc—"

"You heard me."

"My dear, what is it? What's the matter?" Her act was a wasted effort, but she didn't seem to realize it.

I did. Perhaps because I knew Lincoln's secret, or perhaps because I knew him better than she did, but I knew he was aware of Gurry's spirit hovering nearby. There was no point in keeping up the charade.

"I said,
get out
." The sharp edge to his voice cut through me, and Lady Harcourt too, it would seem. She paled even further and stepped around him, keeping her distance.

"I see that I'm in the way here," she said from the door. "Charlie, remember my promise to you."

She didn't want me to tell him? Even now that we'd been caught in the act? But that wasn't fair! I watched her rush out with a sinking heart. She
did
want me to lie to him. If I didn't, she would tell him about my betrayal at the General Registry Office.

I wasn't so sure it mattered anymore. If he knew about this, then he might as well know about the other. What was one more? From the quiet rage turning his knuckles white and his eyes impossibly dark, I already knew I was condemned.

"Let me go!" Gurry's spirit cried. "I don't wish to see him anymore! Release me!"

"You are released," I said, heavily. "Go away."

The spirit mist sank through the floorboards and out of sight. I was truly alone with Lincoln now, and I wished I could be anywhere else but there.

"Will my apology be enough?" I mumbled. I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

It was a long time before he spoke. I thought he might walk out, or do the opposite and approach; perhaps shake me. But he simply remained near the door, and I had no sense of what he might be thinking.

"What did you learn?" His voice was quiet, but the steely edge was still there, albeit a little tarnished.

"That he beat you." I dared to glance at him, but his face gave nothing away. "And that you had a reason for killing him."

"And that reason?"

"He didn't say. He claimed he got rid of a distraction to your studies."

His nostrils flared. "A distraction."

"Will you tell me what it was?"

Another long pause, and then, "Not today."

I swallowed. Did that mean he would one day? Did that mean he wasn't throwing me out? "I'm sorry, Mr. Fitzroy. I truly am. I don't expect your forgiveness—"

"Good."

That quietly spoken word was enough to shatter my nerves. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks and my chin wobbled. I dashed away the tears with the back of my hand, but he saw them. He folded his arms over his chest and tucked his hands out of sight.

"Tell me why you did it," he said. "Did she coerce you somehow?"

I nodded but stopped. It wasn't entirely fair to lay all the blame at Lady Harcourt's feet. I had got myself into the situation by betraying Lincoln at the General Registry Office, and I had not refused her request. I could have. I
should
have. "Yes, and no."

He spun round and jerked the door open. "I would have told you what you wanted to know," he said over his shoulder.

"I already asked you," I shot back. "You refused to answer."

"I wasn't ready then. But in time…" He strode out the door and shut it, leaving me alone with my thoughts and misery.

I doubted he would he ever confide in me now. Whatever connection there had been between us was utterly broken, and I wasn't sure it could be mended.

I remained in my rooms for the rest of the day and evening. I couldn't face the others, even though I knew Lincoln wouldn't be among them. Either he'd gone out or he kept to his rooms. At every creak of the floorboards outside, every groan of the settling house, I lifted my head from my pillow and held my breath. But no one came to my door. Perhaps he wasn't going to throw me out, after all.

The longer I dwelled on it, the more I came to realize he wouldn't do that. He wasn't petty. Yet I knew we couldn't go on as we were. I'd crossed a line, and there was no going back. Nothing would be the same. He would never confide in me again, never take me with him to investigate a ministry matter, never simply sit in the library and read alongside me. He might even stop my training. He would treat me as a maid.

I
could
cope with the change between us. I
must
. Lichfield was my home, and I didn't want to leave it, or Seth, Gus and Cook. Or him.

I drifted off to sleep but awoke with a start sometime in the middle of the night. I'd had a dream about the pendant I'd found in his room with the blue eye inscribed on it. That eye had stared back at me in the dream, then winked.

I didn't fall back to sleep, yet I waited until the morning to look through the library books. I did my chores first, making sure the house was perfect, and ate breakfast with Seth, Gus and Cook. They were somber too, and seemed to know that something was amiss. They didn't ask me what had happened, and I didn't offer an explanation. Nor did I ask after Lincoln like I usually did.

I slipped into the library late morning. Lincoln hadn't come down at all, and it seemed that he'd gone out. Even if he walked in on me, it wouldn't matter. Our friendship was in tatters already.

My fingers brushed over the leather spines of the books as I read each one. They were organized by subject matter, with non-fiction occult books near the fireplace. I found one on symbols and flipped to the index. There were several entries for Gypsy, and I checked each page reference until I found the drawings of the blue eye similar to the one on the amulet in Lincoln's drawer.

According to the book, it was a charm to ward off the evil eye, a curse that several cultures believed in, not just gypsies. It was said that witches and evil spirits cursed good people with the evil eye, bringing them bad luck. The amulet with the blue eye defended the wearer from such curses when it was worn close to the body.

If I had any remaining doubts that Lincoln was part gypsy, they were banished. The amulet must have come from his mother.

I returned the book to the shelves and continued with my chores until the early afternoon. Lincoln still hadn't returned when two visitors arrived. Having strangers visit was unusual enough, but the fact that they were two ladies was even more curious. They arrived in a carriage with a footman standing sentinel at the back. He hopped down and opened the door for them. The older lady emerged first. Her gaze took in the house, the garden, and me, standing in the doorway. She wrinkled her nose.

The second lady was much younger, but clearly her relation. Both were beautiful, with high cheekbones, large gray eyes and smooth skin. The older lady wore a green turban that covered much of her hair, while the younger's fair locks were arranged beneath a large brimmed hat trimmed with green ribbon. Both wore striking outfits that hugged their slender frames, although the elder was a more sedate lavender than the girl's vibrant jade.

They looked past me, as if expecting to see a butler hovering nearby. It must seem rather odd to have a maid greet them.

"Is Mr. Fitzroy at home?" the elder woman asked without introducing herself.

"Not at present."

The young woman pouted. "I told you we should have sent a note ahead, Mama."

"When will he return?" the mother asked me.

"I don't know." I stepped aside. "Would you like to wait for him? I'll bring tea and cake into the parlor."

"Please, Mama," the girl begged. "I'd like to see him again."

The mother tilted her head in a nod. "Very well. We will wait. Where is the parlor?"

"Through there." I bobbed a curtsy as both filed past me. "Whom shall I say is calling upon him?"

"Mrs. and Miss Overton," the woman said without turning to me. "We'll stay half an hour, Hettie. No more."

I hurried into the kitchen. "He has guests," I announced to Cook and Seth. Gus wasn't there. "I need tea and cake."

Cook waved his bandaged hand at me. "Can't." He went back to the recipe book open in front of him on the table.

Seth sighed and got up. "Who is it? The general? Does he have an address for Jasper?"

"Not the general. It's Lady Overton and her daughter."

"Lottie and Hettie?" Seth brightened. "Well, that is an intriguing prospect."

"Which one?" Cook asked.

"Definitely the daughter." Seth touched the side of the kettle on the stove to test its heat, while I fetched cake from the pantry.

"You been servicing 'em?"

"Servicing?" I called out from the pantry. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Not the daughter," Seth said. "She's a sweet little thing, but completely ruled by her dragon of a mother, who is even more of a dragon in the bedroom."

"Seth!" I shook my head at him.

He shrugged. "There's domineering and then there's dictatorial. Only one of those is fun, and it's not the one that she is. What are they doing here?"

"They've come to see Mr. Fitzroy."

"About?"

"How should I know?" I lied. If Lady Harcourt had been correct, they were here to see if Lincoln was as interested in Hettie Overton today as he had been at the ball. I didn't think my heart could sink any further, but apparently it could. Hettie Overton was very pretty.

Seth prepared the teapot while I gathered plates and cups. "He'd be bored out of his mind with Hettie," he told me quietly as he placed the teapot on the tray. "The mother is a dragon, but the daughter is a simpering witless girl. And that's putting it kindly."

I shrugged. "There is a lot to be said for simpering witless girls. They tend to do exactly what they're told. Most men like that."

"Not Fitzroy."

I picked up the tray. "Don't be so sure."

I entered the parlor and set the tray down on the table. Mrs. Overton didn't break off their conversation, or so much as pause. Indeed, if she'd not accepted the cup of tea I poured for her, I would have thought she hadn't noticed me at all.

"The sofa will be the first to go," she said.

"Yes, Mama. I quite agree."

It wasn't until Hettie Overton inspected the sofa on which she sat that I realized they were discussing it, and not their own furniture.

"Everything is at least five years out of date." Mrs. Overton pointed her teacup at a painting of a Paris street scene. "That will be second."

"I wonder what the rest of the house is like," said the daughter.

"Nobody knows. Hardly anyone has been inside Lichfield Towers for years."

"What about Lady Harcourt? They're friends, aren't they?"

Mrs. Overton sniffed. "So I hear," she muttered into her cup.

The girl seemed oblivious to the mother's innuendo. She was too intent on checking out the room as if she were cataloguing its contents. "What do you think of the color scheme?"

"Too drab."

"That's what I thought. I don't mind those chairs, though."

"They don't go with the rest of the room at all."

"That's what I was thinking. They're much too…"

"Ugly."

"Quite, quite ugly." Hettie blinked those big eyes at her mother and sipped her tea.

Seth was right. The girl didn't have a mind of her own. Lincoln wouldn't be interested in her.

I was about to leave the parlor when he walked in. My face colored as his gaze skimmed over me. His thoughts on seeing me there were unclear however. His expression remained bland.

"Mrs. Overton," he said, walking past me and bowing over the mother's hand. "Miss Overton. This is an unexpected pleasure."

A pleasure? He was a fast learner.

"We didn't hear you arrive, Mr. Fitzroy," Mrs. Overton said, smiling.

"I came in via the back door. It's closer to the stables."

"How…interesting. Lichfield's standards are quite lax. We're unused to it." Her tinkling laugh was echoed by her daughter. "A maid greets us, there are no signs of footmen or butler, and now the master of the house tells us he uses the servants' entrance. What are we to think, Mr. Fitzroy?"

"That Lichfield needs a guiding hand to bring it up to standard. As does its master."

I held my breath and walked slowly to the door. This was an exchange I wanted to hear.

"A guiding hand?" Mrs. Overton's voice had softened since Lincoln's arrival. When she'd been talking to her daughter, it had been strong, inflexible. Now, it took on a girlishness that sat awkwardly on her. "Would that be a feminine hand, Mr. Fitzroy?"

"That remains to be seen, Mrs. Overton. Miss Overton, did you enjoy yourself at the ball?"

"Very much," she said in a breathy voice. "I do enjoy balls, don't you?"

"I rarely attend."

"So we've noticed," said Mrs. Overton. "Where did you run off to at the end? Hettie and I looked everywhere for you."

"Then I must apologize. I hope I can make it up to you."

Hettie beamed at him and blinked those big eyes. It made her look even lovelier, if somewhat childlike. Mrs. Overton's smile was less overt. "You can. Come to my dinner party this Friday night."

Lincoln didn't answer straight away. He seemed to be caught, and I wondered if he'd unintentionally backed himself into a corner. It would seem his instincts had failed him on this occasion. If we'd been on better terms, I would have teased him about it later.

He suddenly turned to me, as if he'd just realized I was still there. "That will be all," he said. "You may go."

I bobbed a curtsy and hurried out. I didn't hear his response to Mrs. Overton's invitation.

"Well?" Seth said when I returned to the kitchen. "What happened?"

"I think he plans on getting more servants." I frowned. "Or a wife. Perhaps both."

Cook snorted. "Don't know why he be wantin' more servants
or
a wife. Both be trouble."

"Agreed," Seth said. "Surely the four of us is enough."

"Every gentleman needs a wife," I said quietly.

"True."

"And a wife would want more servants."

"Also true." Seth sighed. "I believe we have our answer. But I can't believe he would be seriously considering Hettie Overton as a candidate. She's not to his taste at all."

"Perhaps we don't know his taste in women."

Cook snorted.

Seth narrowed his gaze at me. "I think we do."

My situation had felt precarious enough last night; now it felt like I had my toes poking over the edge of the cliff. It only remained to be seen whether Lincoln pushed me off or I jumped.

I busied myself in the scullery until the Overtons left. Lincoln didn't come into the kitchen afterward, and I got the impression he was avoiding me. My frayed nerves were stretched so thin that I could no longer bear it. I had to do something, and there was only one thing in my power to do.

With a heavy heart, that wouldn't cease its hammering, I went in search of him. I found him in his rooms, exercising. He opened the door with a towel in hand, wiping away the sweat at his brow. It was the first time I'd seen him sweat during all the times he'd trained, either with me or alone.

I lowered my gaze. "I'm sorry to interrupt." I cleared my throat but the ball of panic that had lodged there wouldn't go away. Part of me couldn't believe I was doing this, but I knew I had to. Our situation was impossible, the tension unbearable. I had to end it.

"Yes?"

I cleared my throat again. "I…I need to talk to you."

"About?"

Hell. He was still furious with me. I'd hoped he would be past it, but I knew in my heart he wouldn't be. He never could be. I'd betrayed him, and he felt it keenly. His reaction helped me realize I'd come to the right decision, but it was no easier to voice it.

"It seems that I can no longer work here," I said to our feet. "Things will never be right between us now, and I can't…" I closed my hands into fists and swallowed past the lump in my throat. "I have to go."

The long pause almost had me meeting his gaze, but then he finally spoke. "You can't," he said gruffly. "You have nowhere to go to." It was hardly a convincing argument to stay. It certainly didn't seem like he
wanted
me to stay.

Any hope I'd held that he would beg me not to go was dashed. It had been a foolish hope anyway. "I have some experience now and should be able to find work in another house as a maid."

"Don't be absurd."

"I'm quite good!" I said hotly.

He blew out a measured breath. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

A bubble of laughter escaped my throat. It held no humor. "I know no such thing. I can't begin to fathom what you're thinking, Mr. Fitzroy." I stretched my fingers and willed my heart to stop its wild beating. "I will only get another position if you give me a good reference, however. Without it…"

"This is because of yesterday. Because I shouted at you."

"You didn't shout at me." Far from it. I wished he had. Shouting might have got the anger out of his system. "You have every right to feel betrayed, sir, and we both know that a gentleman cannot have his servants betraying him."

"You can't go," he said quietly.

"I have to," I murmured into my chest. "It's for the best, for both of us, and don't try to tell me otherwise. You can never forgive me for what I did."

"You don't know that."

I shook my head and swiped the tear that trickled down my cheek. "Perhaps not, but while I see you every day, I know I can never forgive myself." I swiped my other cheek. "Please place the reference under my door, if you can bring yourself to write a favorable one." I turned and walked quickly down the corridor to my room.