From The Ashes (Ministry of Curiosities Book 6)

by C. J. Archer

  "Nobody likes getting beat up, particularly Seth. He adores looking in the mirror too much."

  He snorted a laugh. "Let me get my things."

  "You'll come back to Lichfield tonight?"

  "Course. Miss Parkin won't mind. She hardly remembers who I am most of the time. Gets scared when I come round a corner, and I have to tell her all over again that I'm rentin' one of her rooms."

  "Perhaps she should take in female boarders."

  "Or ones whose faces won't frighten the hairnet off her."

  He disappeared and reappeared at the coach window a few minutes later. He knocked and I lowered it. "Evenin', milady." He doffed his cap to Lady Vickers. "Charlie told you we're takin' you home first?"

  I sat back and kept my mouth shut. I'd told her no such thing. Perhaps it was wicked of me, but I saw no reason why she shouldn't see the places her son had frequented in his quest to pay back the debts she'd left him with. To be fair, the debts had been run up by her first husband, Seth's father, but she could have stayed in London to help her son face their creditors.

  "I will be coming with you," she said with a haughty lift of her chin. "I want to make sure Seth does as he's told and returns home, tonight."

  Gus rolled his eyes, then joined Doyle on the driver's seat. Perhaps I should have too. Lady Vickers sat sullenly opposite me, muttering, "He's been away long enough. He made his point." I thought Seth's point had nothing to do with her, but perhaps I was wrong.

  We drove along the near-empty streets, the darkness punctured only by the hazy glows of the streetlamps and our own carriage lamps. Although it was early, few people were out, and those that were, hurried with their heads bent and their collars pulled high. At least there was no fog, yet.

  The carriage pulled up outside a tavern with dim light rimming the windows. The Brickmaker's Arms sign swung in the breeze, its hinges squeaking tunelessly. The door opened and a drunkard spilled out along with a blast of voices. The fellow stumbled then managed to continue on his way, stopping only once to prop himself against the tavern wall before heading off into the pitch black lane.

  Gus opened the carriage door and I hopped down. Lady Vickers hung back, a handkerchief over her nose and mouth.

  "Stay here," I told her. "We'll fetch him."

  "He's here?" she mumbled into her handkerchief. "He's in this filthy place?"

  I walked ahead of Gus, only to have him grab my arm and pull me behind him.

  "I'll go first, Charlie. Put your hood up. Don't let 'em see your pretty face. I ain't goin' to be able to make 'em all leave you alone, and we don't know what condition Seth'll be in to help."

  I swallowed. If Seth was badly hurt…it didn't bear thinking about.

  My arm was accosted again, but this time by Lady Vickers. She marched in step with me, the handkerchief tucked away out of sight. She looked like a commanding officer about to step into a battle she knew she couldn't win, but was determined not to surrender anyway. It didn't fill me with much confidence.

  I patted her hand. "I'm sure he'll agree to come home tonight."

  She blinked hard. "Thank you, Charlie. If you will employ all your powers of persuasion, I would be most grateful."

  I smothered a smile. "I'll do my best."

  Lady Vickers emitted a small gasp as we entered the tavern then pulled out her handkerchief again. She coughed into it and muttered something I couldn't make out over the voices and laughter. I'd wager it had something to do with the stink of urine and sweat, a combination that reminded me all too much of the dens where I'd lived alongside other boys in my gang.

  "You get used to it," I told her.

  "I think I'm going to be sick."

  "Do it in the corner where no one will notice."

  Gus forged a path through the patrons and the broad sweep of Lady Vickers' skirts widened it. I trailed behind and only had to hiss once at a man who tried to pinch my cheek. He snickered but didn't try again.

  Gus asked the keep behind the bar if Seth was "down below". The keep nodded, then turned his squinty gaze onto Lady Vickers and myself.

  "Who're they?" he asked.

  "Seth's mother and my friend," Gus said. "They're all right. They know to keep their mouths shut."

  The keep looked dubious, but a few coins passed across the counter by Seth's big paw changed his mind. The keep jerked his head and we followed him to a door that led to a storeroom lit by a single lamp. It stank of ale, a pleasant change from the rest of the tavern, although Lady Vickers didn't lower her handkerchief.

  The keep lifted a trapdoor in the floor hidden behind barrels and Gus descended the steps without a word. I indicated Lady Vickers should go next. She peered through, but didn't follow.

  "Why is Seth in the cellar?" she asked, pocketing the handkerchief.

  "Dancing lessons," the keep said with a chuckle.

  "He's already an excellent dancer."

  "Get a bloody move on," he growled. "I'm busy."

  I urged her with a nod and a smile. She wrinkled nose, lifted her skirts, and stepped through the trapdoor. Not many women of her station would have. I admired her fortitude.

  I followed them down the staircase into the room. It was a vast space and mostly empty except for tables and broken chairs stacked along the walls. A shirt and waistcoat hung on the leg of an upturned chair. Four lengths of rope marked out a large central square in which Seth stood, his bare back to us. He spoke with another man dressed in a yellow cravat and a green and gold waistcoat. His dapper attire and oiled moustache were at odds with his protruding brow and thick neck. The men were alone.

  "Seth!" Lady Vickers cried, her voice managing to be both shrill and trembling. "Seth! Come here, at once."

  His shoulders slumped as if all the breath had suddenly left his body. "Gus, I'm going to kill you."

  "She ain't the only one I brought, if you care to look, Dolt," Gus said, grinning.

  Seth turned and I drew in a gasp at the sight of his cut lip and bruised cheek. I suspected his knuckles would be in a worse state but he'd tucked them behind his back so we couldn't see.

  Lady Vickers whimpered. "Oh, my dear boy. Your beautiful face."

  Seth didn't seem to have heard. He broke into a grin. "Charlie!"

  He came toward us, but his mother intercepted him. She grasped his chin and twisted him this way and that. After a thorough inspection, she let him go. "What is the meaning of this? Why are you naked? Cover up at once. There's an innocent young woman here."

  "And thank God that she is!" Seth bypassed his mother and scooped me up into a hug. "Avert your eyes, innocent young woman, before my nakedness corrupts you."

  I laughed and hugged him back. "Put me down before your mother faints," I whispered.

  "She never faints. Her constitution is much too strong, unfortunately. A fainting spell every once in while would give me peace." He put me down, still grinning from ear to ear. The cut on his lip opened and began to bleed, but he didn't seem to notice.

  His mother swooped in with her handkerchief in one hand and Seth's shirt in the other, her lips pursed tight. She reserved her scowl for me, however. "Remember your promise," she whispered.

  Seth was too busy dressing to have heard. "You escaped!" he said, tucking in the shirt. He did not complete the task and left half of it out. His mother finished the job while he buttoned. "I knew you would. Good girl."

  "What are you doing down here?" Lady Vickers asked before I could respond. "And don't tell me it's dancing lessons." She looked around, taking in the rope marking out the boxing ring, the thug who stood watching us with an impatient tap of his foot, and finally, the blood-stained floor.

  Seth quickly tucked his hands behind his back again, but not before I noticed the cut and bruised knuckles. Poor Seth. Why had he taken up the brutal sport again? Not only was bare-knuckle fighting illegal, it was utterly inhumane. The toffs loved it as much as the low-lifes upstairs. It was one of the few activities that crossed the class divide. That and whoring.
/>   "I'm, er…" Seth swallowed and stared at his mother.

  I tried to think of something to tell her, but couldn't. Gus came to his rescue. "Meeting his tailor." He nodded at the brute. "Who else would dress like that but a man of fashion?"

  I pressed my lips together to suppress my grin. Gus winked at me.

  The brute suddenly stood straight, and drew back his round shoulders. He fidgeted with his cravat and stepped forward. "I was just fittin' the mister here for a new suit, ma'am." He shot a smug grin at Seth, pleased to be included in the lie.

  Lady Vickers sniffed. "Does no one use your title anymore?" she said to Seth. "It's Lord Vickers," she said loudly to the brute, as if he were hard of hearing. "And you will address him as such or he'll take his custom elsewhere."

  The brute's top lip curled up like a dog ready to attack. "I'll return for another fitting later," Seth told him quickly. He ushered us toward the steps, shooting wary glances back at the thug.

  "What about tonight's fitting?" the man growled. "We had an agreement."

  "You'll have to find another…client. Surely you must see that I can't stay now."

  The brute hurtled toward us like an out of control boulder rolling down a hill, his yellow teeth bared. "Come back here, you fucking cock licker!"

  Lady Vickers' jaw dropped. Then it became hard and her eyes harder. She planted her feet and turned. Definitely not a fainter.

  "Mother!" Seth shouted. "Move!"

  She thrust her hands on her hips. "How dare you call my son such vile things!"

  "Move, lady," the thug snarled. "I ain't got no quarrel with you." When she didn't budge, he shoved her aside with a sweep of his arm.

  She stumbled and would have fallen if Gus hadn't caught her.

  "Go! All of you!" Seth settled his feet in much the same way as his mother had done. He closed his hands into fists and hunched into a fighting stance. "Gus, see that they get to safety."

  "Seth!" Lady Vickers screamed. "No!"

  Chapter 6

  "He'll be all right," I assured Lady Vickers, taking her hand and dragging her with me to the steps. "He's very capable with his fists."

  She allowed us to usher her up the stairs, only stopping when the smack of skin against skin signaled the start of a fight. She turned in time to see Seth duck beneath the thug's fist and land his first punch. The brute reeled back, but Seth didn't leave it there. He went after him.

  Lady Vickers whimpered and pressed her handkerchief to her nose again.

  "Don't watch," I said, taking her arm. "We'll wait for him in the carriage."

  We hurried through the storeroom and the tavern, then outside to the carriage. "That man…" she murmured once inside the coach cabin, "he's not a tailor, is he?"

  "No," Gus said, taking the seat beside her. He laid the blanket across her knee and tucked it around her. "Nor a dancing instructor, neither."

  We didn't have to wait long before Seth tumbled into the carriage. "Go!" he shouted to Doyle. His clothing was in disarray, his hair hung in sweaty tangles, and blood smeared his nose. He grinned. "Bloody hell, it's good to see you, Charlie."

  "And you too," I said, smiling at the absurdity of our situation. "You're getting blood on your shirt."

  He wiped his shirtsleeve across his nose then inspected it. "Damn. Blood's hard to get out."

  "I'm sure Bella will try for you."

  His mother's flinty glare told me she knew precisely what Bella would try to do with Seth.

  "God, we missed you, Charlie." He still grinned, his perfect white teeth flashing in the light from the lamp hanging by the door. "How did you escape? Where are you hiding? Are we heading there now?"

  "Slow down." I laughed. "I didn't escape. Lincoln retrieved me."

  His smile wilted. His lips parted. "Who knocked some sense into him, then? Mother?" He laughed. I covered my mouth to hide my smile.

  "Seth!" Lady Vickers' barked. "Explain yourself. Have you been fighting? For money?"

  "What gave it away? The blood? The fight promoter with the thick neck and no fashion sense? His outfit is a crime, but try telling him that. He thinks he's the modern day Beau Brummel."

  Beside me, Gus snorted. "Did you get hit in the head? You're talkin' like somethin' came loose in there."

  Lady Vickers leaned closer to Seth and inspected his cuts and bruises. Aside from his bloody nose and cut lip, one of his eyes sported a yellow bruise that must have happened previously. Perhaps he had been hit in the head too many times in recent days. No one ought to be as cheerful as Seth after being battered black and blue.

  "Look at your beautiful face." Lady Vickers clicked her tongue as she turned his chin this way and that. "And at such a crucial time too, when you need to be looking your best. What will the girls think now?"

  He jerked out of her grip. "You'd be surprised at how excited a few bruises gets them," he growled. "If this doesn't elicit more callers, I don't know what will. I'm sure you'll be satisfied with their newfound enthusiasm once word gets out."

  "Once word gets out that you've been prize fighting, we'll be fortunate to be invited anywhere ever again." She sniffed and dabbed at the corner of her eye with her handkerchief, but it was already dry. While she had certainly been worried about him when the fight broke out, she showed no signs of concern for her son's wellbeing now.

  "Never fear, Mama. All will be well now Charlie's back. You'll see."

  Lady Vickers scowled. I suspected I would once again have to reassure her that I had no intentions of trapping her son into marriage.

  Seth grinned at me. "And just in time for her birthday too."

  Lady Vickers shadowed Seth all the way to the kitchen, her handkerchief fluttering and her black skirts rippling. "Let me at least wipe the blood off."

  "I'm fine!" he snapped over his shoulder. "Nothing a hearty meal can't cure. What's for supper, Cook?"

  Cook looked up from the pot he was stirring on the stove and greeted Seth with a grunt. "Supper's for them that live here."

  "I live here again, as of tonight." Seth clapped him on the shoulder and peered into the pot. "I'm half starved. Look at me! I'm fading away." He picked up the wooden spoon Cook had rested on the pot rim, dipped it in and slurped off the contents.

  "Oi!" Cook snatched back the spoon. "Lost your manners as well as your common sense, I see."

  "It's been a trying evening," Lady Vickers said from the doorway. "Bella can bring me supper in my room. Will you dine with me tonight, Son?" She didn't seem to want to venture in any further. It was as if we stood in the sea and she on the shore, not willing to get her skirts wet.

  "I need to speak with Charlie. I'll join you for breakfast." Seth strode back to his mother, kissed her forehead and told her he loved her dearly. Always the charmer.

  It worked too. She smiled and patted his cheek. "Goodnight, dear boy." She left but not before shooting a warning glare my way.

  I fetched bowls and Cook ladled soup into them then removed bread from the oven. Gus and Doyle joined us after seeing to the horses, and we four sat at the table like a family, albeit an odd one. Yet it wasn't complete. Lincoln's absence left a hole that I, for one, felt keenly. Gus was the first to mention him, soon after his first slurp of soup.

  "When's Death gettin' back?" he asked Doyle.

  "He didn't say," the butler said.

  "You know what he be like," Cook said. "He could be gone for days."

  "Or he could wander in at any moment," Seth added.

  We all looked to the door.

  I sighed. "Apparently he's warning all the…" I glanced at Doyle and searched for another way to tell them without giving too much away.

  "Supernaturals." Doyle patted the corner of his mouth with his napkin then continued consuming his soup as if he'd not said anything significant. "Mr. Fitzroy informed me of the ministry's true purpose before he left."

  Seth and Gus exchanged looks. "And you don't think it…odd?" Seth asked.

  "I'm not employed to have an opinion on my e
mployer's affairs."

  "Bet it don't stop you from havin' 'em," Gus muttered into his bowl which he'd brought to his lips. He tipped the final dregs of soup into his mouth and set the bowl down with a satisfied thunk on the table. "There enough for seconds?"

  "Just leave some for the others," Cook told him.

  "Why did Fitzroy collect you?" Seth asked me. "Did he say?"

  "He thought I might be in danger," I said without meeting their gazes.

  "He must have seen it," Gus said, concentrating on not spilling any soup from his very full bowl as he made his way back to the table.

  "He told us about his seeing power," Seth clarified. "Before we left."

  "He didn't tell me," Cook muttered.

  Doyle had a stunned look on his face. It would seem this was news to him too.

  "He doesn't know what you're doing all the time," I assured him. "And he can't read your mind. He only knows when someone is here or not."

  "And when Charlie's in danger," Seth said, watching me. "It's strongest where she's concerned. So what happened? Or did he overreact?"

  "Lincoln, overreact? The word isn't in his vocabulary. There was a situation at the school, but it resolved peacefully when Alice woke up." I gave them a brief version of events, which led into a discussion about Alice's powers and that of the other girls. "It seems we witches are considered wayward by our parents and guardians."

  "Wayward?" Cook asked.

  "The school's name."

  They gave me blank looks.

  "It's the School for Wayward Girls, up near York. Didn't he tell you?"

  "He told us nothing," Seth muttered, tearing off a chunk of bread. "Not the name of the school, where you went, how far away it is. Nothing."

  "Oh. I see. Well, that's its name, and so-called difficult girls are sent there to be polished and primped into young ladies. There were several supernatural students."

  "So you be a young lady now?" Cook asked with a lopsided grin.

  I laughed. "Two weeks wasn't nearly long enough. The teachers gave up in despair and the headmistress…" Sent me to the dungeon. "The headmistress saw me as a personal challenge." There was no point in telling them what she'd really said and done. Besides, Mrs. Denk and I had come to a truce, of sorts.