CHAPTER 13

"H—how do you know?" I whispered. Had she followed me? Was it her man who'd caught the same omnibus as me and followed me through the city? No…that was a different day. But…my God, I'd trusted her.

Lady Harcourt's nostrils flared. "That's irrelevant."

"I don't think it is."

"It's ministry business."

"And I'm not a ministry employee," I finished for her. "Only a Lichfield one."

Movement on the stairs had us both turning toward Lincoln. "Julia, what are you doing here?" He looked like a prince, dressed in his tailcoat, white gloves and waistcoat, his hat in hand. His hair, tied at the nape of his neck, gleamed like polished jet with the Macassar oil he'd used in it. He cut a fine, handsome figure that made my heart ache even more. No woman could resist such a handsome man if he gave her his full attention. I envied the ladies at the ball, and one in particular. He couldn't take his eyes off Lady Harcourt as he joined her at the base of the stairs.

"I wanted to make sure you arrived at the ball." She beamed at him and held out her hands. He took them and kissed both her cheeks.

I sank into the shadows near the library door, wishing I was anywhere but there, witnessing their friendly greeting. My heart hammered like an anvil; my blood thudded through my veins. I felt like I was caught in a spider's web, unable to run off like I wanted to and forced to watch the exchange.

Caught too by my own actions at the General Registry Office. I was a fool to have gone there. A damned fool.

"Your gown is lovely," he said with stiff formality.

"You haven't even seen it yet." She shrugged a shoulder and her fur coat slipped off. She caught it and twirled for him. Her smile increased when she spotted me watching.

She did indeed look lovely. The slender fit of the dress accentuated her tiny waist and the low cut revealed the swell of her bosom. Her neck seemed even longer, with her hair piled on her head and the off-the-shoulder sleeves. Many men would want to plant a kiss on the smooth skin of her shoulders tonight. It made me feel ill to think that Lincoln might be one of them.

It made me feel worse when I thought of his reaction when he learned I'd betrayed him. Oh God. What had I done?

Lincoln helped Lady Harcourt with her coat then escorted her out of the house. "Goodnight, Charlie," he called back to me.

That's all the attention I received—a hastily tossed out goodnight. It was pitiful, but not as pathetic as my own heartache.

***

My guilty conscience kept me awake. When the longcase clock in the entrance hall chimed three times, I gave up trying to sleep and padded downstairs in my nightdress with a coat over the top. I curled up in a library armchair but couldn't concentrate on my book, so I took my candlestick and headed to the kitchen instead. Hot chocolate would soothe my nerves and perhaps help me sleep. By the time I reached it, I'd come to a conclusion—I would tell Lincoln what I'd done at the General Registry Office. It would be better coming from me than Lady Harcourt.

The alternative, to raise Gurry's spirit and keep both betrayals from Lincoln, was tempting, but I suspected I would be found out, sooner or later. He was much too clever to remain in the dark for long.

I had just located a small saucepan when the back door unlocked. My heart lurched into my throat. It would be either Lincoln or Seth; neither had yet returned. I found myself hoping it was Seth.

Lincoln strode into the kitchen. His hair was still neatly tied back, but he'd removed his tie and undone the collar so that it flapped open. Thick brows crashed above eyes as black as midnight. Eyes that bored into me with a ferocity that chilled me.

She'd told him already.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. It came out pathetic, small, and I was afraid it didn't carry to him.

"What are you talking about?" he snapped. "What have you done?"

I frowned then shrugged. I had a feeling it was better to act stupid.

He shook his head. "Whatever it is, tell me in the morning. I'm in no mood tonight." Instead of leaving, however, he strode into the pantry. He opened the cupboard where the cooking sherry was kept and poured himself a glass. He downed it in one gulp then poured another.

"How was your evening?" I ventured.

He raised his full glass. "You can't tell?" He drained the glass then slammed it down on the kitchen table. Thankfully it didn't shatter. "What're you doing up?"

"Waiting for you."

He set the sherry bottle down too and came over to me, slowly, like a sleek cat stalking its prey. Heavy lids shielded his eyes, but I didn't need to see them to know he was in a black mood. It was written in the bitter twist of his mouth, the severe set of his jaw, the rigidity of his shoulders.

I gulped and backed up into the range. If he didn't know about my visit to the General Registry Office; why was he mad? "Lincoln, are you all right?"

"It's Mr. Fitzroy. Do you hear me? I am your employer, and you should treat me as such." His hands bunched into fists at his sides, and it took all my courage to remain there and not slink away. He needed to know I wasn't afraid of him when he was like this. He wouldn't hurt me. Telling myself that was one thing, but getting my nerves to believe it was another.

"Tell me what happened at the ball," I said in a calm voice. "Something must have—"

"Stop acting as if you can fix things, fix me." With a growl that emerged from the depths of his chest, he wrenched around, presenting me with his back. It rose and fell with his heavy, ragged breathing. "I don't need…you. I don't need anyone!"

I stepped closer and lifted my hand to press it against his back, but I curled it into a fist before touching him. "I don't care whether you need me or not. I will be here regardless."

He wheeled around and loomed over me. Hot anger had given away to cool control and he no longer looked as if he would throw things around the kitchen. But in some ways, the change was worse, because now he looked like he wanted to wound intentionally. "Your affection for me is misguided, naive and childish." The chilly tone sent shivers down my spine. "Me telling you this now is a kindness. When you're older, you'll understand why."

Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to give in to them. I couldn't stop shaking, however. It felt like ice slid through my veins to every part of my body.

"Me, childish?" I snapped. "You're the one throwing a tantrum." I stepped past him and marched out of the kitchen. When I reached my bedroom, I threw myself on the bed and cried into the pillow.

***

Gus teased me about sleeping in the next morning, when I came down late for breakfast. Cook, however, slapped him in the chest and told him to "Shut it" when he saw my face. All three of them spent the rest of the morning treating me as if I would break. If they knew I was feeling fragile because of Lincoln, they didn't let on.

They told me he'd gone out but didn't know where. I wasn't looking forward to our first encounter. Lincoln needed to know that he couldn't speak to me that way for no particular reason.

Except he did have a reason, only he didn't know it yet.

When Lady Harcourt arrived, I told the men I needed to lie down. Unfortunately, it didn't stop her from seeking me out. Seth showed her up to my rooms then bowed out and shut the door. He didn't notice my glare because he didn't take his eyes off her.

"You look exhausted," she said, lowering herself onto one of the chairs in my small sitting room. "One would think you were at a ball all night."

I didn't answer. My night and my conversation with Lincoln were not her affair.

She pointed to the seat opposite her. "Sit. Don't you want to hear how the evening went?"

"Not particularly."

"Don't be difficult, Charlie. Of course you want to know. You want to know everything about him. It's quite obvious, my dear, and rather sweet. I'm sure most men would be flattered. Not Lincoln, I'm afraid. He doesn't appreciate that sort of thing, and certainly not from his own maid. Take my advice and put aside your infatuation. It won't go well for you, otherwise."

Coming on top of last night's tirade, it was all I could do to hold myself together. Or stop myself from throwing her out.

"He seemed to enjoy himself at the ball," she said. "He chatted with many ladies, some gentlemen, and I think I almost caught him smiling at sweet little Miss Overton. He seemed quite taken with her. She's quite a pretty thing, all big eyes and golden hair. She reminds me of you, Charlie."

Her description of him flirting and conversing was so different to the man who'd come home at three AM that I wasn't sure whether to believe her or not. She might just be teasing me.

"Don't look so disappointed," she said with a tilt of her head. "He will marry, you know. He must." She sighed. "It's something we both need to grow used to. Miss Overton would make a nice match for him, as long as she's careful not to bore him."

"Why do you want him to marry Miss Overton?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Don't you want to marry him yourself?"

She plucked the fingertips of her gloves to remove them. "You've become quite bold, for a maid."

"Let's not play games, my lady. We both know what you're here for. Let's get on with it."

"First things first. You asked about me marrying him, and I'd like to answer you." She placed the gloves in her lap and folded her hands on top of them. "I've been married before, Charlie, and it's not a state I want to enter into again. Not lightly, anyway, and not with Lincoln. I know he'd treat me well enough, but there's no advantage for me in marrying him. Do you understand?"

"I do. If you marry someone, it will be a man higher than your last husband."

"Or richer. You must think me terribly avaricious. Or perhaps you understand me." Her crooked smile was almost friendly, knowing, as if she were sharing a secret with a confidant. "We have, after all, come from similar stock."

I didn't bother to tell her that I was nothing like her. I didn't care for wealth or privilege. A home with a solid roof over my head was all I wanted, and people who cared for me. It was the latter that I thought I'd found in all of Lichfield's residents. This morning, I was no longer certain of that, or even of the solid roof. If Lincoln was still in the same mood as the night before, he might be tempted to throw me out, particularly if he learned about my visit to the General Registry Office.

"Did you see him when he returned last night?" Lady Harcourt asked.

"Why?"

It was a long moment before she answered. "He left abruptly; one would say angrily. I didn't see whom he was talking to before he left, so I have no way of knowing why he was upset. He had no transport home so I suspect he walked all the way."

"I don't know anything," I said. "You'll have to ask him."

"We both know how well that conversation will go," she said with a wry twist of her mouth. "Now, are you ready to summon Mr. Gurry's spirit?"

I gripped the chair arms harder and blinked down at my lap. As I'd watched dawn creep over the horizon that morning, I'd decided not to tell Lincoln about the inquiries I'd made; partly because I was angry with him over his treatment of me and felt he didn't deserve to know, and partly because I felt like a fool for caring about him. If he knew I'd cared enough to investigate him, it would only heighten my humiliation.

"Come now, Charlie, don't think badly of me for asking this of you. I only want what you want—information about Lincoln. It's your own fault if I tell him about your inquiry at the General Registry Office. You refuse me this request and I will speak to him about it. You can be assured I haven't told him anything yet, however."

"That's such a comfort," I sneered.

"It'll remain our secret, if you want it to. I promise."

I wasn't entirely sure if her promise meant all that much to me anymore. But I had to trust her. If I couldn't…well, part of me no longer cared. Let him discover every bad thing I’d ever done behind his back. Let him throw me out. It might help me bury this infatuation, as he called it.

I drew in a deep breath. "Mr. Nelson Hampton Gurry. I summon the spirit of Nelson Gurry to this world to answer some questions."

I didn't see the mist until it was surrounding my shoes and coalescing into a human form. It must have filtered up through the cracks in the floorboards. "Who're you and what do you want?" grumbled the ghost of Mr. Gurry. He appeared to be a man of about sixty, with a receding hairline, long nose and strong frown lines scoring his forehead. He must have spent much of his life scowling for them to be so deep.

"My name is Charlotte Holloway," I told him, "and I'm a necromancer."

"A what?"

"Is he here?" Lady Harcourt whispered.

I pointed to the ghost hanging between us like a faint cloud. "There."

"Mr. Gurry," she said in her imperial voice. "Can you hear me?"

"Is she a necromancer too?" he asked. "Or just stupid?"

"She can't see or hear you."

"That answers neither of my questions, girl. You must be stupid too. Typical females," he added in a mutter.

"Mr. Gurry, I would appreciate your civility."

"I'm sure you would, but I don't care." The mist blew away to the ceiling, but returned immediately to me as if I'd beckoned it. "What's going on? What can't I leave?"

"I haven't dismissed you."

"You dismiss me?" He snorted. "I beg your pardon! If I were alive I would smack you for impertinence."

"And then I would beat you. Yes, Mr. Gurry," I added sweetly, "I am quite capable of doing so, even though I am a female."

His top lip curled in a snarl.

"I'm beginning to see why Mr. Fitzroy killed him," I said to Lady Harcourt. "He's insufferable."

Lady Harcourt stared wide-eyed at me. Gurry's spirit swelled to twice its size then flew at me so fast that I flinched out of instinct.

"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.