by C. J. Archer
His little speech left me stunned. If it were anyone else, such devoted love would be the stuff of poetry, but with those two, it was too sordid for even the penny dreadfuls. "I…I'll think about it. We're busy with an investigation now and we have few staff. Dinner parties are not on our list of priorities."
"But they will be, if I know Lady Vickers." He went to kiss my cheek, but I moved away. He snorted a laugh then patted my shoulder instead. "Thank you, Charlie. You won't utter a word of this to anyone, will you?"
"I don't keep secrets from Lincoln."
"He's hardly the gossiping sort." He lifted one shoulder. "You can tell him, if you like, but no one else."
"You have my word."
"Good. Excellent." He eyed his empty glass. "Perhaps just one more before I go."
"Doyle!"
The door swung open and Doyle rushed in, Cook and Alice behind him.
Buchanan held up his hands in surrender. "Bloody hell, Charlie, call off your dogs. I was just leaving."
Cook and Doyle escorted him out.
"Are you all right?" Alice asked, frowning into my face.
I nodded and wrapped my arms around my body. "I need a bath."
I waited in the library alone, my feet tucked under me, the fire and a blanket keeping the chill at bay. Alice and the servants had gone to bed an hour ago. I tried to read but worry for Lincoln, and thoughts about Buchanan and Lady Harcourt, distracted me.
Soft footsteps and murmured voices after midnight had me throwing off the blanket and leaping out of the armchair. I met Lincoln in the doorway. Behind him, Seth and Gus retreated up the stairs, their steps weary.
I released a long breath. "You're back," I said simply.
Lincoln inclined his head and searched my face. "You look tired."
"I'll go to bed after you tell me how it went." I took his hand and led him to the fireplace. He ought to be cold, but he wasn't. Nor did he look tired. He was fully recovered from the explosion then, thank goodness.
He sat after I did, our two armchairs facing across the hearth. He stretched out his legs and crossed his feet at the ankles. "There's little to tell," he said. "Our inquiries were met with silence, despite offering a financial reward. We even gave assurances that we only wanted to talk to him, nothing more, but we received no answers."
"It's a dead end then. Speaking of dead, perhaps King is. It was years ago that Lord Erskine spoke to him."
Lincoln shook his head. "We spoke with old timers, and none claimed to know him. I think they lied."
"How do you know?" Lincoln wasn't all that good at understanding people, but he usually knew when someone lied to him.
"Small signs. The lack of eye contact, for one, and the quick dismissal of our questions altogether. Seth and Gus reported the same strange behavior."
"You split up?"
He nodded. "We entered the Cat and Fiddle separately and left the same way. We questioned discreetly. Even I was discreet," he added with a wry smile.
I laughed softly. "So they're all protecting this man, King. How interesting that he inspires such loyalty."
"I wish I knew his secret."
"You inspire loyalty, Lincoln."
"Perhaps now, but certainly not before you came here. You inspire their loyalty, not me. At least I no longer expect to wake up to someone standing over me with a knife."
I laughed again, even though I knew he spoke the truth, or close to it. The men hadn't particularly liked him when I arrived at Lichfield, and I certainly hadn't. I'd even planned to kill him in his sleep, although I knew now that I never could have carried out that plan. "You would never let anyone get that close," I said lightly. "So now what?"
"Now we take our questions outside the Cat and Fiddle. Perhaps we'll find someone less loyal."
"We'll return to Mink's hideout tomorrow," I said. "Hopefully he'll be prepared to spy for us." I yawned, covering it with my hand.
"Bed," he said, rising and holding out his hand to me.
I took it and stood. "I have to tell you something. Buchanan was here tonight."
"Did he cause trouble?"
"No more than usual." At his frown, I added, "He wanted to talk to me about Lady Harcourt, as it happens."
"Why?"
I stifled another yawn and he tugged me toward the door, plucking the lamp from the table.
"Tell me tomorrow," he said.
He led me up the stairs to my room. I leaned back against the closed door and placed my hands on his shoulders, gently drawing him to me. His hand cupped my waist and he lowered the lamp.
"Orange blossoms." His whispered breath tickled my ear.
"Hmmm?"
"You smell like orange blossoms."
"I had a bath."
His lips brushed the skin of my neck. He drew in a deep breath then suddenly stepped away. I grasped his shoulders tighter in an attempt to keep him there.
"Kiss me," I murmured.
He hesitated. "We shouldn't."
"I don't care."
He glanced along the corridor and leaned toward me. His face was near mine. His eyes were two dark wells, as he stared at me.
"Kiss me," I said again, circling my arms around him.
He pecked my cheek. "Goodnight, Charlie."
I sighed and considered making a scene to get my way. But that was something the old Charlie would do, not this one. This one was more patient, more mature, and knew that she wouldn't get her way on this. "Goodnight, Lincoln."
"I can't make my mind up about him," I said to Lincoln as we drove toward Clerkenwell. He and I sat in the cabin while Seth and Gus sat on the driver's seat so we could discuss Buchanan's visit in private. "Is he a selfish, unscrupulous prick or is he trying to do the right thing by Lady H?"
"Don't try to understand either of them," Lincoln said. "They're driven by forces unlike any that drive you or I."
He'd listened impassively while I told him how the conversation with Buchanan had evolved. He didn't even seem surprised when I told him that Buchanan had been the one to notify the papers.
"You knew he did it, didn't you?" I asked him now.
"He was on my list of suspects, but not at the top."
"Did you warn her? Did she even know you had a list of suspects?"
"No. I wasn't investigating, merely surmising. Not for any particular reason," he added. "The exposure of her secret means nothing to me."
"I know." My heart lifted a little to hear him deny it, even though I already knew there was nothing between them now. "Shall we invite her to dinner parties we may have in the future? I suspect Lady V will wish to have a dinner for her friends, with eligible gentlemen on the guest list for Alice and ladies for Seth."
"If you want to invite her, then do so."
"I don't. Not really."
"Then we won't."
He wasn't being very helpful. "I'll worry about it when we decide to host something."
We stopped outside Clerkenwell and walked to the hole in the wall that led to the hideout. I slid the planks of wood aside and wriggled through.
"It's me," I announced to the guard on duty. "Charlie."
Finley grinned back at me, his gap-toothed smile just visible by the dull light. "You come for your answer?" he asked without preamble.
"Have you got one for me?"
"Depends." He hammered on the trapdoor.
"On what?"
"On what answers you give Mink."
The trapdoor flipped back and Mink's greasy head appeared. He peered at me through the curtain of hair and rested his elbows on the floor. He gave me a thorough inspection then climbed all the way through.
He glanced at the exit. "Your man out there again?"
I nodded.
"He's protective."
"He is."
"Does he treat you well? Or does he…?" It was impossible to see if he blushed, but from the way he dipped his head and wouldn't meet my gaze, I suspected he did.
"Fuck you?" Finley finished for him.
> "Finley!" Mink sounded mortified.
"Pimp you?" Finley offered with a shrug.
"Bloody hell, you're an idiot."
I laughed to show him I didn't mind. A few crass words didn't shock me. "Lincoln treats me well. He employed me as a maid when I first lived with him, and now I work for him in the ministry."
"Ministry?" Mink asked. "That's who we're working for?"
"So you've accepted?"
"Depends. What's in it for us? Be specific."
"Regular food, warm clothes, money and blankets."
Mink scratched his neck. "We want medicines, too, for when we're sick."
"Yes."
"And supplies to fix this place up." He shoved his big toe, protruding from his boot, into the wall. Plaster sprinkled from the ceiling like snowflakes. "It's getting real old."
"You need to move out of here," I said, eyeing the ceiling. "It might collapse."
Mink snorted. "And go where?"
"You can come and live with us," I blurted out without thinking it through. What would Lincoln say to five extra residents, and adolescents at that? At least we had room. Gus's aunt did not.
Finley's face lit up. "Really?"
Mink put a hand on Finley's arm. "Depends on how this arrangement turns out," he said. "You trick us, we'll cut you up. You got it?"
I nodded, even though I didn't think Mink or Finley were capable of cutting anyone up. They might be desperate, and would protect themselves with violence if necessary, but Stringer was the cutting up for revenge sort, not these two.
"You can trust me," I said. "You know me."
"Aye, but can we trust him?" Mink jerked his head at the hole in the wall.
"Yes, you can. In time, you'll see that I'm speaking the truth. Do we have an arrangement?"
Finley and Mink glanced at one another. They exchanged no words or nods, but must have communicated in some way because they both turned back to me.
"We do," Mink said.
Finley spat on his palm and held it out to me.
Mink brushed him aside. "She's a girl now, remember?"
Finley wiped his hand down his shirt. "Right. Forgot." His gaze dipped to my chest.
"Come outside and meet Lincoln Fitzroy," I said.
"He the one with the money?" Mink asked.
I nodded and went out first. Finley followed. He blinked at the sudden brightness, even though it was another dreary day. Mink came through next, hesitating when he saw Lincoln leaning on the wall opposite.
Lincoln nodded a greeting. Mink nodded back and looked to me. Since Lincoln made no move to approach them, I led the way.
"This is Mr. Fitzroy," I said. "Lincoln, this is Mink, and you already met Finley."
Finley crossed his arms as Lincoln did and puffed out his chest. Mink remained a few feet away, warily assessing. Lincoln put out his hand and took a step forward. Mink paused then shook it.
"We have a task for you," Lincoln said.
Mink glanced up and down the lane, but we were alone. The wind, cold and threat of rain kept the streets quiet. "Something that'll get us into trouble with the bobbies?" he asked.
"No. Information gathering. There's a man known as King from the East End, most likely Whitechapel. He'll be mid-thirties, receding brown hair, and has large hands and feet."
Finley snorted a laugh. "You want us to look at every old man's hands and feet?"
"Mid-thirties is not old."
"You would say that."
"What else can you tell us about this King?" Mink asked.
"He inspires a great deal of loyalty in his friends," Lincoln said.
Mink waited. When Lincoln didn't go on, he said. "That's it? That's all you can tell us?"
"He drinks at the Cat and Fiddle, or used to."
"That ain't much."
"It's all we have," I told them.
Lincoln handed Mink a pouch of money. The coins clinked musically as Mink tore the drawstring open. Finley grinned. "Cor, I ain't never seen so much ready before."
Mink pocketed the money and once again glanced up and down the lane. "It might take a few days."
Lincoln nodded. "Be discreet."
"Be careful," I added. "If anyone seems to get suspicious, stop asking. Don't put yourselves in danger. And don't let anyone know who you work for." I suddenly regretted giving them Lincoln's name in case they were forced to reveal it.
"Never thought you were one for rules, Charlie," Finley said with a chuckle.
"I've changed."
He glanced at my chest again. "Aye."
"I live at Lichfield Towers in Highgate on the edge of the Heath," Lincoln said. "It's the big estate with iron gates on Hampstead Lane. Come there if you have anything to report."
We watched Finley and Mink return to their hideout then we turned to go. "You shouldn't have told them where we live," I said.
"You don't trust them?"
I glanced back over my shoulder. The plank of wood had stopped swinging, hiding the door completely. "I don't know."
Lincoln had some informants he wanted to question alone, so Seth, Gus and I returned home without him. We arrived at the same time as the post.
Alice met me on her way to the library, a book in hand. "There's a letter for you," I said, passing it to her.
She tucked the book under her arm and opened the letter. She read it once then re-read it. The color leached from her face. "I can't believe this," she said, shaking her head over and over. "The nerve of them!"
"Of who?"
"My parents." She looked up at me, her eyes full of tears. "They're demanding that I return to the school immediately. If I don't, they'll have Mr. Fitzroy arrested for abducting me."
Chapter 10
"They can't do that!" I accepted the letter she handed to me. "They disowned you." Alice's parents had refused to pay her school fees any longer and ordered her not to return home. She'd had nowhere else to go but here.
She folded the book against her chest and looked as if she would burst into tears. "I don't want to bring trouble here or to Mr. Fitzroy. You've all been so kind to me, and you have enough worries."
I shook my head as I read. It said they regretted their hasty decision to cast Alice out and traveled to the school to take her home for Christmas. There they learned that she had fled here after receiving their message, and they now worried that Lichfield was a den of sin and that Lincoln is a whoremaster. "Good lord, it's so outrageous as to be laughable," I said.
"I'm not laughing, Charlie, and neither are they, I'm sure. My parents always think the worst of strangers."
"If they were that worried, why not come here themselves? Why send a letter?"
"Because they don't really care what happens to me. They simply want to be seen to be doing the right thing." At my frown, she added, "Me being here makes me look wayward. If any of their friends found out, they'd be horrified. My parents care more about the opinions of their acquaintances then my wellbeing."
"In that case, the threat to have Lincoln arrested is just that, a threat. Going through with it would bring them notoriety they don't want."
"They would be horrified," she agreed. She blew out a breath and looked relieved beyond measure. "Hopefully you're right and it's just an empty threat."
Doyle appeared from the shadows at the back of the entrance hall which led to the kitchen and service area. "My apologies, miss, I didn't hear you arrive home," he said.
I handed the letter back to Alice and removed my coat and hat. Doyle took them, and I walked with Alice to the library.
"Write a polite response," I said. "Tell them you're simply visiting me and will, of course, return home if they wish."
"But I don't want to go! They hate me."
"I doubt they hate you. It's more likely they're afraid of you." I hooked my arm through hers. "Afraid of your dreams."
"I suppose," she said heavily. "But they might make me go back to the school. Charlie, what if they insist I return to the school forever?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," I said. "For now, just tell them that Mrs. Denk didn't want you to return. Lincoln can write to your parents, too, and reassure them that you're welcome here and that you're a good companion to me, his…ward."
"Not fiancée?" she asked.
I removed my arm from hers. "His letter requires a delicate and amiable touch. Perhaps I should draft it. I'll end it with an invitation for them to visit and see our household for themselves." There. That ought to ward off any more threats of arrest.
Alice, however, didn't seem quite so convinced. "It's something, I suppose."
I spent the rest of the morning discussing housekeeping matters with Mrs. Cotchin, including the employment of more staff. Lady V sat in on the meeting, but didn't interfere unless I asked her opinion, which I did frequently. I had a lot to learn. Running a household the size of Lichfield was not an insignificant task. Mrs. Cotchin and Doyle had already discussed how many extra servants were needed, and had settled on two maids and a footman, with extra ones to be employed on a temporary basis for balls or dinner parties. Mrs. Cotchin already had candidates in mind.
If deferring to me and not Lincoln or Lady V struck Mrs. Cotchin as odd, she didn't say. It didn't occur to me until after she left how it must appear. I was not the senior lady of the house, I wasn't engaged to Lincoln, nor was I officially his ward, yet everyone treated me as if I was in charge in his absence.
I had a mind to sneak into his rooms and try on the ring, but his return after luncheon put an end to that idea. I got the opportunity to see the ring again when he called a meeting in his study over luncheon.
