Seth blocked the exit and inspected the hessian bags in the wheelbarrow. He would have opened one if Mr. Yallop hadn't slapped his hand away. "We've never seen this before," Seth told him.

Mr. Yallop merely smiled that sickly smile.

The detective ordered his man to load the evidence onto the carriage.

"Evidence?" Seth said, all innocence. "Evidence of what?"

"My guess is those are the files Mr. Fitzroy refused to hand over," Fullbright said. "They'll prove he has been withholding information about potential murderers from us."

"You planted them here!"

"Nice pun." Mr. Yallop chuckled.

"Nobody planted anything, sir," the detective said to Seth. "I became suspicious after my constables reported this entire walled garden had been covered with manure when the rest of the garden had not. It's too hot to be spreading manure. I'm a gardener in my spare time, and I only spread manure in spring. Early summer is not the best time."

"What do the files prove?" I asked. "How can they convict Lincoln of conspiracy to murder?"

"The thing is, Miss Holloway," Mr. Yallop said, "Mr. Fitzroy's refusal to hand them over didn't look good. But you are correct, it's not enough to convict him. I suspect proving that he was involved with Mr. Gawler and the murders will be, however."

"Lincoln had nothing to do with them! He was trying to find out who caused the deaths, just as you were."

"Mr. Yallop, sir," the detective warned. "Don't divulge too much."

"There's no harm in telling them that you spoke with Mr. Gawler's friends and neighbors, Fullbright. They all mentioned how Mr. Fitzroy called upon Gawler several times, both before and after the murders. Snippets of their conversations were overheard."

"Sir," Inspector Fullbright hissed.

"They spoke about the murders in an attempt to find out who did them," I cried, "not because they were colluding."

"Fitzroy defended Gawler," Mr. Yallop said.

The inspector shook his head and stormed off toward the carriages.

"That doesn't make him guilty," Seth growled.

"Doesn't it?" Mr. Yallop walked off too, the other constables in his wake.

"Mr. Yallop, please!" Alice called after him. "You can't do this. Lincoln and Charlie are getting married tomorrow."

"It will have to be put off until after the trial." Mr. Yallop stopped and looked at me. All supercilious smiles had vanished, and he seemed in earnest. "If I were you, Miss Holloway, I'd call off the wedding indefinitely. You should distance yourself from him. Being closely associated with Fitzroy now will not work in your favor."

I felt sick. I slumped against the brick wall and closed my eyes. My dream of marrying now lay in ruins. But worse, Lincoln's freedom and life were at risk.

I'd never thought it would come to this. He was so competent, so self-assured, that he almost seemed above the law, or perhaps outside it, somehow. He'd not always followed a straight and narrow path to get results, yet none of that had ever got him into trouble before. Not on this magnitude.

It was being the leader of the Ministry of Curiosities that had brought about his downfall, the very essence of his identity—indeed, the reason for his existence at all. How cruelly ironic.

Alice and Seth flanked me as we headed back to the house. My. Yallop had driven off in one coach while Inspector Fullbright oversaw the loading of the files into the other.

"By the way," he said. "You were acquainted with the late Lady Harcourt, so I was told."

"Yes," Seth said. "And?"

"I feel obligated to tell you that she may not have taken her own life as first thought. A witness has come forward claiming he saw someone push her."

"Push her!" I said. "Who?"

"A man, according to the witness, but he could give no description. The suspect wore a hooded cloak."

"In the middle of summer?"

"Is Scotland Yard investigating?" Seth asked.

"Of course," the detective said, "but I'm afraid that unless another witness comes forward with a description of the hooded man, it will likely come to nothing. I simply wanted you to know that she did not take her own life. I hope it's some comfort to you in your time of loss."

Neither Seth nor I spoke. I felt somewhat guilty that we were not mourning her, and perhaps he felt the same. "That's very kind of you, Inspector," Alice said. "We appreciate you telling us. Have you told her family?"

"Lord Harcourt and Mr. Buchanan have been informed." He climbed onto the coachman's perch beside the driver and touched the brim of his hat to bid us good day.

"Who would do such a thing?" Alice asked as we walked up the front steps to where Lady Vickers stood waiting.

"Swinburn," both Seth and I said together.

Harriet's words echoed in my head—Swinburn was done with Lady Harcourt and wanted to be rid of her. I suspected she grew angry with him for ending their engagement. Perhaps she railed at him and threatened him. He wouldn't like that. He wouldn't like it at all.

"Come inside, you poor pet," Lady Vickers cooed at me. "Come and sit down. Cook will bring you something to eat."

Cook was one step ahead of her. He held a plate loaded with cream puffs. He knew I adored them, and I accepted one for his sake. He looked as worried as the rest but seeing me eat seemed to bolster his spirits a little.

No one spoke until Gus joined us and Seth informed him of what had happened. He swore under his breath. "This ain't right," he said. "What'll we do?"

"The lawyer is looking into it," Seth said.

"Does he think there's a chance Lincoln can be freed?" I asked.

"Not in time for the wedding."

"Forget the wedding. I mean at all?"

"It's too early to say." He tore a strip off his cream puff but didn't eat it.

"Go on," I said. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing."

"Seth," his mother snapped. "She's not a child. Stop trying to shield her and tell her what you told us."

He gave me a sheepish look. "The lawyer said he doesn't like the involvement of Mr. Yallop. He has a reputation for bulldoggish behavior and getting the results he wants, not necessarily the right results."

"You mean he's a bloody liar," Gus spat.

"A manipulator of the truth."

"Same thing."

"Apparently Yallop is the man that parliament puts in charge of the committees where they want a certain result."

"So someone is manipulating the select committee," I said with a sigh.

"It may not be someone. It may be a number of parliamentarians. The government want to move swiftly against the ministry—and Lincoln, since they believe he is connected to Gawler. It's in their best interests to quash the public's fear and look as though they're working decisively against undesirable elements."

"Supernaturals."

Seth nodded.

I told them how Gillingham was Mr. Salter's original source about werewolves in general, and Mr. Gawler in particular, but not the source for information about the ministry or Lincoln. "That, at least, wasn't Gillingham's doing."

"Are you sure he didn't lie?" Lady Vickers asked.

I nodded. "Gillingham's been a committee member for a long time. He could have caused problems before this, but he hasn't. He supports the ministry's main purpose—to act as custodians of information about supernaturals in order to control them."

"And that's precisely the reason Swinburn wants to get rid of us," Seth said. "He doesn't want us to have that control over him. My money's still on him for dropping the ministry in the dung heap."

I looked out the window at the drive, quiet and empty. "The police have the files now, and those files contain his name as well as those in his pack." The files did not contain mine. Lincoln never included my information, for fear someone would get hold of it and use me for their nefarious purposes. That was a relief, at least.

"Speaking of Swinburn, you won't believe what the inspector just told us about Lady Harcourt's death." Seth informed his mother, Cook and Gus of Lady Harcourt's suspected murder. After their shocked exclamations, the conversation naturally turned to suspects. Chief among them was Swinburn.

I did not pay much attention to the theories. My mind kept returning to Lincoln and my growing sense of hopelessness. Why hadn't we removed the files from the estate? Or spread manure elsewhere in the garden? It seemed like such an obvious thing to do now, yet at the time we thought we were clever by burying the records. Even the best lawyer in the city couldn't free him now that the files had come to light. They were evidence of Lincoln's involvement with the ministry, and Mr. Yallop was intent on aligning the ministry with the werewolf murders. It was grossly unfair.

I had to free him before he went to trial, and the only way to do that was to somehow use my necromancy. Tomorrow I would visit him and tell him my plan. He wouldn't like it, but that wouldn't stop me.

"You look exhausted, Charlie." Alice stood beside me. I hadn't seen her approach, so lost in my thoughts was I.

"As do you," I said. "Perhaps we both need an early night."

I retired to my room after dinner but did not lie down. I picked up my wedding gown and placed it against me. It was beautiful, the silk soft to touch. It was a shame to leave it behind, but I could only take the essentials with me.

I packed a small bag and put on the plainest dress I owned, then checked the corridor before heading to Lincoln's room. I quietly closed his door and placed the lamp on the desk. Would he need any personal papers? I eyed the painting, behind which lay the safe. I couldn't carry much on my own, so I left everything that wasn't absolutely essential. With Lincoln's formidable memory, we wouldn't need papers so I decided to leave everything but a few personal items. The only item I removed from the safe was money.

I wrote a letter to Cook, Seth and Gus, giving them the safe's code and instructing them to destroy the letter after reading it. The final lines proved almost impossible to write. Tears streamed down my cheeks and dripped onto the paper, smearing the ink. My hand shook.

I wrote, "I love you all. You are my world but Lincoln is my universe and I must be with him, no matter what. We will meet again one day, my dearest friends. I promise."

I set the letter aside to leave on my dressing table in the morning where they would find it when they came looking for me. My heart burned with a fiery ache as I pictured it being read. An ache that I doubted would ever leave.

With my tears still flowing, I collected some essential clothes from Lincoln's bedroom. Later, after I could be sure the household was asleep, I'd take what I could from the pantry. We might need food for a few days.

God, it was so hard. My body felt heavy, as if a great weight pushed down on me from above. I sat on Lincoln's bed and stared through watery eyes at the pillow. His head should be there now, and tomorrow night, mine should be next to it.

I lay down, wanting to be as close to him as possible. His scent was on the pillow. I curled up and closed my eyes, imagining his body behind me, holding me, protecting me. I could almost feel him there.

Almost.

Tomorrow night, I would lie with him like this. But not here at Lichfield. Never at Lichfield.

---

Wan light edged the curtains when I awoke. But that's not what woke me.

"Charlie!" Gus's shout boomed from outside Lincoln's rooms.

I'd fallen asleep on his bed, my arms around the pillow. I got up and straightened my dress then went to grab my bag. No, not yet. I'd intended to sneak out before the household woke up but that wouldn't be possible now. I'd have to find time after breakfast. Until then, I would act normally. The last thing I needed was someone to realize my plan and stop me from rescuing Lincoln.

"Charlie! Where the bleeding hell are you?"

I opened the door and slipped out to the corridor. "I'm here. Gus, what's wrong?"

His rough features lightened. "Thank God! When I saw your bed hadn't been slept in, I thought you'd gone out there."

"Out where? Gus, what is it?"

"I need to show you." He took my hand and led me back into Lincoln's sitting room. Luckily I'd left my bag in the bedroom.

"Why are you up so early?" I asked, trotting behind him.

"Keeping watch. Seth and Cook are awake, Alice too. They're arming themselves."

"Arming themselves!" Oh God, no. Not now. Please, not now.

He stopped by the window and edged the curtain aside. I gasped. A line of about one hundred soldiers ranged across our front lawn dressed in red and white regimentals. Each carried a sword strapped to his hip. Behind them stood a line of archers, bows in hand. And still another dozen or so pushed an enormous catapult into place near the orchard. And then there was the battering ram on the drive, ready to be slammed into our front door. A man on horseback barked orders as he rode back and forth in front of the troops. When he turned to look at the house, I recognized him as the commander of the army who'd attacked the school at Inglemere Castle.

His gaze suddenly lifted to our window. I released the curtain and stepped back.

"They've surrounded the house," Gus said.

"You said Alice is awake?"

He nodded.

Then they must have used a portal device and spell to get here, as the rabbit had done. Damnation.

I peeked out again and wished I hadn't. The catapult was being loaded with a boulder as large as me. Lichfield wasn't a fortified castle like Inglemere. A weapon that size would do considerable damage. The battering ram could easily break through the front door, too.

"What do we do?" Gus sounded scared. He'd never sounded scared before, no matter what he faced.

I pitched backward against the desk. I clutched the edge with both hands and tried to think of a solution. Gus waited for instructions. Without Lincoln to guide us, he put me in the position of leader. He and the others were depending on me.

But I wasn't Lincoln. I didn't have his quick wits and intense focus. And I had no clue how to fight an entire army.

"I don't know, Gus. I honestly don't know."