by C. J. Archer
He stopped to acknowledge me then hurried on his way. Poor man. But I meant it. Lady Vickers had a candidate for housekeeper lined up. It only remained for me to approve of her. Although I'd told Lady V I didn't know what qualities a housekeeper ought to possess, she insisted I have the final say since I was the mistress of Lichfield Towers. My insistence that I hadn't accepted Lincoln's proposal—his second one—fell on deaf ears.
Lady Vickers left the house mid morning to go shopping on Oxford Street, taking Alice with her. We hadn't told her why she had to leave, but merely said it was ministry business and that Lady Gillingham was less likely to talk in the presence of her peer. That appeased Lady V and she readily agreed that I wasn't a threat.
With Seth and Gus out with Lincoln, and Doyle busy, they had to catch the omnibus, much to Lady Vickers' horror. I thought she might suffer an attack of the vapors and decide to remain in her room, but she forged ahead when Alice claimed to be looking forward to spending more time alone with her.
"We really ought to get to know one another better," Alice said.
Lady Vickers narrowed her gaze. "Why?"
"No particular reason, but Seth speaks so highly of you."
Lady Vickers looked lost for words, a rare event. Whether she was surprised that Seth would speak highly of her, or worried that Alice and Seth had private conversations, I couldn't tell. I decided it was probably the latter, however, when she said, "We ought to have a new outfit made for you for the spring. Something to show off your slender figure to the young men. And then we'll promenade together in the park, just the two of us. Come along. We don't want to miss the omnibus."
Alice shot me a sly smile. She knew exactly how to manipulate Seth's mother and she'd only known her a little over a week. She would make a marvelous daughter-in-law, if only Lady Vickers would allow it. Or if Alice wanted it too, of course. It was difficult to gauge if she had feelings for Seth.
Lady Gillingham arrived shortly after their departure and greeted me politely if somewhat suspiciously when I informed her that Lady Vickers wasn't at home.
"The masked ball was a lot of fun," I began as I handed her a teacup.
"Yes." She sipped, her soft blue gaze darting around the room over the brim of the cup.
"I do apologize for not speaking to you on the night. It seems strange that we haven't formally met when I know your husband. He comes here for business matters from time to time," I clarified when she didn't answer.
"I know about the ministry."
I cleared my throat. "And I know about you."
She dropped her cup but caught it before much tea spilled. A few drops landed on the carpet but it could have been much worse. Lady Gillingham's reflexes were faster than mine.
Her hands shook, rattling the cup in the saucer. I took the set from her and placed it on the table. "Forgive me," I said, "that must have come as quite a surprise."
"Mr. Fitzroy assured me he wouldn't tell," she whined.
"I didn't leave him much choice." It was a bald lie, but I couldn't have her thinking that Lincoln informed me or the others lightly. He'd told us because it had been necessary, and he knew we could be trusted. Lady Gillingham wouldn't see it that way, however. "I saw the file he'd created for you when I searched the archives for something else. When I pressed him about it, he informed me of the conversation he'd had with you in your bedchamber."
"It wasn't like that," she said quickly.
She thought I suspected her and Lincoln of that? "I know."
"Really? You trust him?"
"Of course." I was about to ask her why I wouldn't but decided against it. I didn't want to hear a list of Lincoln's past mistresses.
"You're not yet married, I suppose," she said heavily. "And you're not a…a creature like me." She was thinking of her own husband's transgressions, then, not Lincoln.
"You are not a creature."
"You haven't seen my other form."
She was a pretty woman with fair hair and smooth skin. She wasn't as young as me, but she must be considerably younger than her middle-aged husband. He ought to consider himself fortunate to be married to such a lovely woman, but instead he treated her cruelly, according to Lincoln. Lord Gillingham was the monster, not his wife.
"Lincoln didn't tell you about me, did he?" I asked.
"No." She gave me an odd look. "Why?"
"I'm not normal either. I can communicate with ghosts."
She made a small scoffing sound. "Mediums are not all that unusual."
"I can also raise the dead by ordering spirits to occupy corpses."
She stared at me, her mouth forming a perfect O.
"Even decomposed ones that have been in the ground for some time," I added, picking up my cup. "Gruesome, isn't it?"
"Yes. Er, no. Not gruesome, merely…unique."
I laughed. "I can see from your face what you truly think. It's all right. I've made my peace with it. It is gruesome, but it's what I am, and I can't not be a necromancer."
She picked up her cup. "At least you can control it. I can't always."
"Like when you're asleep?"
She nodded. "He saw me, you know, while I slept. And now he…he's not as attentive."
Lincoln had told me how Lady Gillingham's beastly form disgusted and frightened her husband and that he refused to lie with her once he found out. For someone who dearly wanted children, the lack of intimacy devastated her.
"I appreciate you telling me about yourself, Miss Holloway," she said. "What is it you are called?"
"A necromancer. And please, you must call me Charlie."
She smiled. "And you must call me Harriet. My mother-in-law is also Lady Gillingham. I hate it." She giggled, reminding me of just how young she was.
"Tell me how you and Lord Gillingham met."
"I can't really recall. I was just a child. He asked my father for my hand then and there."
"How old were you?"
"Twelve. Father said he would have to wait, of course. And wait he did."
"You had no choice in the matter?"
"None. But I didn't mind. I knew it was a good match. He's an earl."
He was also a snake. This pretty woman could have had any man, and yet she'd allowed her father to marry her off to a horrid beast like Gillingham. The nobility would never make sense to me. What was more, she seemed proud of him, or at least of his position.
"You've probably already gathered that I asked you here for a specific reason," I said.
"Something to do with my shape-changing?" she whispered, glancing at the closed door.
I nodded. "A situation has arisen where a fellow impersonated another. He looked exactly like the other man, but it wasn't him. Nor is it a relative. Lincoln doesn't believe in coincidence. He thought that the imposter may have shifted shape, similar to what you can do, but so much more."
"Into another man's likeness, you mean?"
"Yes."
"That's remarkable—and so sinister. The implications are unfathomable. Such a person could change into anyone. The prime minister or even the queen! The country would be unsafe."
It begged the question, why hadn't the fellow changed into the prime minster's shape? He had more power than the dead prince consort. It didn't make sense. "As it happens, this does affect the royal family."
"My goodness." She pressed a hand to her chest. "How awful."
"Do you know anything that could help us?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "Such as?"
"Have you ever shifted into anything other than your…beast form?"
"No. I wish I could. It sounds like more fun to pretend to be another human. A man, for example. Wouldn't you want to walk in a man's shoes just for a day to see how differently they're treated?" Her eyes shone with the possibilities. I suspected this woman had a somewhat wicked streak.
I certainly understood her enthusiasm, since I had walked in the shoes of a boy. Those five years as a thirteen year old in the slums had opened my eyes to the many ways
in which males and females were treated differently. Some were significant, like the freedom with which I could walk into a tavern and not have my backside groped, and others were subtle, like the friendly jokes the other gang members shared with Charlie the lad. I told Lady Gillingham none of this, however. If her husband had informed her of my background, she showed no indication. I suspected they shared very little with each other, not just the marital bed.
"Do you know anyone else like yourself?" I asked.
"No one. I'm quite alone." She peered down at her teacup but not before I saw her eyes fill with tears.
I touched her arm. "You are not alone. I'm here if you need to talk to someone. I understand about being different and feeling as if no one can possibly understand."
"Thank you, Charlie." She attempted a smile. "You're very sweet. I wish I could help you."
"Are you sure you can't? Has there been anything unusual happen lately? Anything that could be linked to shifting shape? Or anything odd at all, even if you think it may mean nothing?"
She nibbled on her lower lip and tapped her finger against the teacup. She did not hold the cup by its handle but held the cup itself. The china looked delicate in her big hands. "There may be one thing, but it's not something I've seen, but rather a suggestion on how to find the information you need."
"Go on."
She drew in a breath, but Doyle's shout interrupted her. "My lord! Sir, you can't go in there!"
The door opened and Lord Gillingham burst through. His lips peeled back from his teeth and he thrust his walking stick in the direction of his wife. "Get up, Harriet. You're leaving."
"Gilly!" The cup trembled, rattling in the saucer. "I—I was just having tea with Charlie."
"You shouldn't come here," he snarled. "You should never come here. Understand?"
She gave a nervous little laugh and apologized to me. "I don't know what's come over my husband. He's not usually like this."
He seemed to always be a domineering turd with me. "Excuse me," I said, rising. "Your wife and I were in the middle of a private discussion. Would you care to wait outside—"
"Don't address me, witch." He stalked across the room and for a moment I thought he'd bring the stick down on me as he'd done the first time we met.
But he did not. He grabbed his wife's arm and pulled her to her feet. She dropped the teacup, spilling the contents on the floor.
She gasped and her face reddened. "Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry."
"It's all right," I said, as her husband dragged her away. "We haven't finished our discussion," I snapped at Gillingham.
He ignored me and forged ahead, his wife in tow, trying to remove her arm from his grip. "Gilly, you're hurting me."
"Good. You seem to need the pain to remember who your husband is."
"That's silly."
"Is it?" He rounded on her. His face had gone white, his lips bloodless. He shook her and she recoiled, putting up her other arm to protect herself. "Is it? Because I told you never to come here."
"But Charlie is nice."
"Do not talk back to me! Have you no shame?" He lifted his hand to strike her.
I ran toward them, but I knew I would not make it on time. Doyle, too, reacted, but he was also too far away.
But Gillingham did not hit his wife. She caught his arm and lifted him up so that his feet dangled above the floor. His eyes widened. His jaw went slack. Then his wife shoved him backward so hard that he slammed into the doorframe. The entire room shook with the impact.
He crumpled in a heap on the ground, unconscious.
Chapter 5
Harriet slumped to the floor at her husband's side. "Gilly! Gilly!"
"Doyle, send for the doctor," I said. The butler rushed out just as Lord Gillingham moaned.
"Gilly? Can you hear me?"
He opened his eyes a mere slit then they widened, almost bulging. "Get away from me!" He tried to scramble backward but the wall was in his way. "Stay back!"
"Gilly? It's just me. Harriet, your wife."
"You are not my wife. You're the devil! A witch!"
"She can't be both," I snapped, more out of relief that he wasn't dead than a need to defend her. "In fact, she's neither."
He blinked stupidly at me. Perhaps the bump on the head had affected him after all. "Harriet, get in the coach." He stamped his walking stick into the floor and struggled to his feet. His wife went to his aid but he hissed at her and she stayed back, nibbling her fingernails.
"The butler has sent for the doctor," I said.
"I'll fetch my own bloody doctor. I'll have none of your witchcraft forced on me."
"If I were a witch, I'd have turned you into a worm when I first met you and fed you to the birds."
Harriet covered her gasp with both hands and gave her husband a nervous glance. He tugged on his cuffs and stretched his neck out of his collar. "Go, Harriet!"
"You seem to be back to your usual self," I said. "More's the pity."
The small lines around Gillingham's lips deepened. If I'd been Charlie the street urchin, he would have thrashed me with his stick again. But he feared Lincoln's wrath more than he valued his pride so I would be safe. Besides, thanks to my training, I knew I could avoid his strikes now.
I helped Harriet into her cloak and whispered in her ear. "You were about to tell me something. What was it?"
She gave her head a half shake. "I can't."
"What are you two conspiring about?" Gillingham bellowed.
"Nothing!" she said, her voice high.
"Your wife was helping me with ministry business," I said. It was time he knew that she had a value beyond that of pretty ornament.
He spluttered words, but they hardly made any sense. Harriet appealed to me. "Don't, Charlie. He doesn't like discussion about my other form."
"Then it's time he got used to it. Your wife has a unique perspective," I told him. "One that may offer clues about a ministry matter that arose out of Leisl's confrontation with the Prince of Wales at the masked ball."
He went still. "You've been investigating the seer's claims?"
"Of course. It would be remiss of us not to. It led us to a meeting at the palace—"
"The palace! Why have I not been informed?"
"I'm informing you now."
"Not soon enough. The committee must be kept informed as these things arise."
"I'll pass your suggestion on to Lincoln. He is the head of the ministry, after all."
He resumed his spluttering.
"The meeting took a turn toward the supernatural and shape shifting, to be more specific," I went on. "We thought your wife might be able to advise us on the matter, considering…"
"She cannot. She knows nothing."
"I'd rather hear that from her lips, not yours."
"I am her husband! She'll do as I say."
"Yet she is the stronger. Perhaps it's you who ought to obey her."
A flicker of fear appeared in his eyes before it vanished. His cheeks pinked, however, and he turned away. It must be odd for a man so used to being in command in his own household to suddenly realize he was weaker than his wife. He still held all the legal and financial power, but she had a bargaining chip in their marriage now that she never had before. I wanted him to know it. I wanted her to know it, too.
She simply stared at me, her gentle eyes round. She'd probably never heard anyone speak to her husband the way I spoke to him, let alone a woman.
"Who else knows about her?" Gillingham asked.
"Lincoln, myself, Gus and Seth."
"Seth too?" Harriet groaned.
"Lord Marchbank and Lady Harcourt don't know," I assured her. I thought it best not to mention Alice. "None of us will tattle. Your secret is safe, but we had to tell Seth and Gus now that there's a threat to the crown."
"What is the threat, precisely?" Gillingham demanded.
"It's too early to say. We must investigate more before—"
"Bah! You know nothing. I'll ask Fitzroy."
/>
"Very well."
"A meeting will be called this afternoon, three o'clock. Be prepared."
"I can't be certain if Lincoln will be here."
"Be sure that he is." He turned and walked off. "Harriet! Come!"
She gave me an apologetic shrug and hurried after him.
"But what were you going to tell me?" I called after her.
She dismissed my question with a wave of her hand and raced down the front steps to the waiting carriage.
I sighed and shut the door behind them. I considered myself a non-violent person, but if ever a man deserved to be thrashed, it was Gillingham.
I spent the next little while interviewing the housekeeper that Lady Vickers had chosen before helping Cook in the newly refurbished kitchen until the others returned in time for a late luncheon.
I didn't need to ask how their morning went. The frustration was written clearly across Seth and Gus's faces. Lincoln's was as impassive as ever.
"We were thwarted at every turn." Seth lowered himself into the armchair in the corner of the kitchen and stretched out his long legs. "No one would answer our questions, not even when we paid them."
"That in itself is telling," I said. "Perhaps they're keeping mum because they're afraid of this fellow."
"Or they know nothing," Lincoln said, peering into the pot on the stove.
"Who did you speak to?"
"Anyone we came across," said Gus, pulling bowls out of the cupboard. "Flower sellers, vagabonds, old women who were too slow to run away from us." He set the bowls on the table. "They're a suspicious lot."
"They probably thought you were the police."
"Dressed like this?" Seth plucked at his thick brown woolen trousers. He'd discarded his coat, jacket and cap in the cloakroom upon his return. The three of them had gone out in clothes befitting laborers, not gentlemen, to blend in. It would seem it wasn't enough.
"It is strange that you didn't get a single piece of useful information," I said to Lincoln. "Interrogation has always been one of your strengths."
"Fitzroy should have questioned them more thoroughly," Seth told me. "He's gone sof—" He cut himself off as Lincoln's gaze turned hard.
Lincoln dipped a wooden spoon into the pot and tasted the soup. Cook would admonish either Seth or Gus if they did that, but he didn't even wince this time. "I find my methods of interrogation somewhat restricted these days," Lincoln said.
