by C. J. Archer
He settled on the bed beside me but did not slip under the covers. I was acutely aware of his presence and the warmth his body exuded. I sidled closer, not that it was cold in the room but simply because I wanted to. To my surprise, he did not move away. In fact, he put his arm around me and nestled me into his side. This was my opportunity to take our relationship beyond kissing. Finally we were alone, in a bed, and it was early enough that only the servants were awake. Lincoln could sneak out afterward and not be seen. Perfect!
"Do you think the K refers to an initial?" he asked.
I blinked rather stupidly at him. "Huh?"
"The notebook." He took it off me and flipped through the pages. "Do you think Source K's name begins with a K?"
"Oh. Right. I was thinking of…" I bit the inside of my cheek and looked away.
"I know what you were thinking," he said with a smile in his voice.
"It's unfair that you can read my mind."
"Not always. But this time your thoughts are clearer than the words on these pages. So back to my question, do you think Source K's name begins with a K?"
"No. It's just the next letter of the alphabet. If you look through the book at the previous sources, they're lettered A to J." I slumped back into the pillows. "There is nothing of an identifying nature in there. Salter has been very careful."
He kissed my temple then scooted off the bed. "Try and get more sleep. I suspect it'll be a long day ahead."
"Why?"
" I hear other newspapers are picking up the story. That means more public interest in it, and more public interest means the authorities will need to act."
"Against us?"
"I don't yet know but I want to be prepared."
With that news ringing in my ears, sleep was impossible.
* * *
A letter from the Prince of Wales arrived over breakfast, warning Lincoln to be careful. He'd heard that certain members of parliament were looking into the reports of werewolves and the existence of the ministry. He suspected they'd demand to know more about it and we must be prepared to be questioned.
"And what is he going to do about it?" I said irritably.
"He says he'll use his influence to diffuse their interest." Lincoln passed the letter on to me then buttered his toast. "He can buy us time."
"To do what?" Lady Vickers asked.
"To get our stories straight," Seth told her. He and Gus had only slept for a few hours, like Lincoln. They were too on edge to rest. "And to hide the evidence."
"What would you like us to say if we're questioned?" Alice asked, peering at Lincoln over her teacup.
"Don't deny our existence, but play down our influence and knowledge," he said. "Don't tell anyone about the records, don't mention our recent spying jaunts, or any of our previous investigations." He lowered his knife and fork and fixed a glare onto each of us in turn. "Do not mention Charlie's necromancy or I will—"
"Lincoln," I said sweetly, "pass the butter."
His lips flattened but he took my interruption well.
"And for God's sake, don't mention your dreams, Alice," I added. "If the authorities know an army came here through you, they'll lock you up."
"It wouldn't do any good," Gus said, knocking the top off his boiled egg. "They'd still come."
"Gus!" Seth scolded.
"Well they would."
"Who will question us anyway?" Lady Vickers asked Lincoln. "Who are these so-called authorities and what authority do they have over me?"
"The police will be sent," Lincoln said. "I suspect the members of parliament will request that Scotland Yard question us."
"I want nothing to do with the police," Lady Vickers snipped. "I'm not a common thief. I'll refuse to talk to them."
"Then you'll look guilty," Seth said. "It's better to just lie."
"I do not just lie, Seth. I'm a Christian woman. I tell the truth in all things."
"Is that so?" He set down his knife and fork then leaned forward. "Tell me, Mother, when did you last see Cook?"
She pushed her chair back and got to her feet. "I don't have to answer that."
Seth spread out his hands. "Then you're guilty."
"Of what?"
"Of…of… You know what!" He screwed up his napkin and tossed it on the table then stalked out of the dining room.
Lady Vickers sat again and lifted her teacup. "I need to find him a wife quickly. If only he wasn't so particular." She sipped calmly, putting on a good show of being unruffled. But I wasn't fooled.
I went in search of Seth after breakfast and found him in the attic. "You should apologize to your mother," I said. "You upset her."
"I know." He sat by the window, staring out at the overcast sky. Some of the ministry's records were spread on the desk near him but he wasn't making any attempts to copy them. "But she upset me too. She and Cook are…" He shook his head. "I can't believe it's happening again, right under my very nose again."
I clasped his shoulder. "Let it run its course. Their affections will wane soon enough. They're quite unsuited."
"That's what I thought about the footman, and look what happened—she ran off to America and married him."
He turned back to the window so didn't see my smile. I couldn't help it. The story was rather a romantic one.
"Besides," he added quietly, "Cook is my friend. I don't want her to ruin that friendship."
"It won't be ruined. Your friendship is strong." I took a seat at the desk and pulled a stack of ministry records toward me. "You know what will irk her?"
He eyed me sideways. "What?"
"You and Alice."
He sighed. "Charlie—"
"You've hardly paid Alice any attention of late. How do you expect to grow in her affections if you ignore her?"
"Paying her attention didn't advance my cause. Perhaps absence will make the heart grow fonder." He joined me at the desk. "Or something."
Gus arrived but not to help copy the records. "Gillingham's here," he announced.
"What does he want now?" Seth muttered.
Gus's finger twirled small circles at his temple. "He's do-lally. He's going on about the newspapers exposing him and his family, putting his wife and unborn child in danger."
"And Lincoln's just listening to him?" I asked.
"He ain't home. Gillingham's in Lady V's ear."
"I'd better rescue her," I said, rising. "Seth?"
He shook his head. "I'm staying here. I don't want anything to do with either at the moment."
I headed downstairs on my own and found Lord Gillingham pacing the parlor, his walking stick stabbing at the floor with each stride. Lady Vickers sat on a chair by the window but stood upon my entrance.
"I must leave you," she announced and swanned past me. I tried to appeal to her but she didn't meet my gaze.
I was alone with Gillingham, a position I'd not found myself in for some time. Lincoln saw to that. My history with the earl was turbulent, and even violent when I'd first come to Lichfield. A lot had changed since then. The balance of power had shifted and I even counted his wife among my friends. Despite all that, my nerves still jangled and my stomach tied itself in knots.
"Where's Fitzroy?" he demanded before I could speak.
"I don't know," I said. "Nor do I know when he'll return. Is something the matter?"
"Of course something's the matter!" he roared. "My wife's life and that of my unborn child have been put in danger!"
I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "She has not been named in any articles."
"It's only a matter of time now that the ministry has been exposed." He thrust his walking stick under his arm and stood stiffly by the mantel. "What if I am connected? Someone wants to harm my family. It's not on. Not on, I tell you."
"I don't think it's personal," I said. "If it is, then Lincoln is the target, not you."
"Does it matter who is the target? We'll all get injured in the crossfire. Can't you see that? No, of course you can't. You can
't think beyond the scope of your own limited experience and education. If you were brought up properly, with a view to understanding how the world works, you'd be aware of the dangers." He sniffed. "Ignorance is bliss, as they say."
"Kindly refrain from insulting me in my home," I bit back.
"Your home. Ha! Just because you managed to twist Fitzroy around your little finger and trap him into marriage doesn't mean you'll ever own this place. It will always be his, never yours. He can throw you out like that." He clicked his fingers. "You won't keep his interest forever, Charlotte. Just wait until you've born him a couple of brats, he'll grow tired and look elsewhere. And Julia will be waiting for him."
I stepped forward and slapped him across the cheek. "You never learn, do you?"
He rubbed his cheek and shot me a vicious glare. "You little whore."
I rolled my eyes and strode out of the parlor. "Whistler!" I called.
The footman emerged from the back of the entrance hall. "Yes, miss?"
"See that Lord Gillingham finds his way out immediately."
"I'm waiting for Fitzroy," Gillingham said.
"No, you are not," I said over my shoulder. "He's far too busy to bother with your hysteria."
"Hysteria? How dare you?"
I suppose it was rather awful of me to assign him an affliction usually attributed to nervous women, but it felt quite satisfying listening to his protests as I walked up the staircase.
"I will not be so insulted!" he continued to declare behind me. "Get your hands off me!"
I looked down when I reached the landing, just in time to see Whistler close the front door on Gillingham. I smiled at him and the footman grinned back.
I informed Lincoln of Gillingham's visit when he returned, but didn't mention how I'd needed to slap him to stop his tirade. "He's anxious," I said. "He's worried about Harriet and the baby. It's good to see him being the dutiful loving husband, I suppose, but he's still obnoxious."
"He's more worried about his own reputation than his wife's safety," Seth said. We sat in Lincoln's study again after lunch, with the intention of going over the day's developments.
"I'm not so sure," I said from where I sat on the sofa in the area used as a sitting room. "But I could be wrong. Lincoln, where did you go today?"
"To speak to my contact at Scotland Yard," he said, leaning back in the chair at his desk. "He'll see what he can find out, but he doesn't have enough authority to be involved at a high level."
"Another letter arrived for you from the palace," I said. "Have you read it yet?"
He opened his top drawer and pulled out the thick paper with the broken seal. He handed it to Seth, sitting on the other side of the desk. "It's from the Prince of Wales. He says the queen and duke are campaigning against the ministry now. They're using their influence to drum up support to close us down."
"The queen too?" I whined. "But she's on our side! She likes me! I summoned her husband for her."
"She has the realm's interests at heart and if she believes we are harboring a murderer, she'll put her personal feelings aside."
"Then she ought to listen to her eldest son. The prince has the realm's interest at heart too."
Seth handed back the letter. "She's listening to the duke on this. God knows why."
"This is what Eva warned us about," Gus said. "The queen will cause us danger."
I rubbed my forehead, trying to wade through the fog in my brain. What began as an article to be scoffed at had developed into a dire problem. I only hoped common sense would prevail and the royal family would stop pushing for our abolition. For that to happen, they had to stop listening to Swinburn.
And therein lay our problem. He was too powerful. They would continue to listen to him if he continued to prove his worth and loyalty to them. It was a bloody mess.
"Leave us," Lincoln said to Gus and Seth.
They obliged and shut the door, leaving Lincoln and I alone.
He crouched before me and took my face in his hands. "It'll be all right, Charlie. Trust me."
"I do trust you," I said hollowly. "But some things are beyond even your control."
His thumbs stroked along my jaw. "This is our home and it can't be taken away from us. Our friends will always be our friends, and I will always be the one who loves you most." He kissed me with heart stopping gentleness and a longing that melted me. He broke the kiss all too soon and folded me into his arms. "Think about the wedding in five days’ time, not this. I'll see that the persecution ends."
A knock interrupted us before I could ask him how. "You're needed downstairs, Fitzroy," came Seth's voice through the door. "We have visitors."
"Not Gillingham again," I said on a groan as Lincoln opened the door.
"No," Seth said. "The police."
Chapter 7
It was not just Detective Inspector Fullbright who demanded to speak to Lincoln. A member of parliament by the name of Yallop also stood in the drawing room. Behind the two men ranged four uniformed constables, all at attention with their hands by their sides, waiting for a command.
Mr. Yallop made the introductions, although he was not the older of the two. His position outranked the frothy whiskered Fullbright's, and the inspector seemed content enough for Yallop to do all the talking. Perhaps because he was too busy observing. His gaze took in his surroundings and each of us more than once. I felt like a freak in the circus, every inch of my person scanned and judged, his assessment to be imparted to others at a later point.
Mr. Yallop only had eyes for Lincoln. "I am the appointed head of the parliamentary Select Committee that was quickly formed in response to the articles in The Star," he said with a lift of his double chins. He was a much larger man than the inspector, with a girth that tested the seams of his waistcoat and jacket, and an unhealthy florid complexion.
"You're investigating the ministry," Lincoln said flatly.
"And, by extension, yourself. I am in charge of the investigation and Inspector Fullbright has been assigned to me. As one of the most experienced detectives at Scotland Yard, his insight will be invaluable."
"The most experienced," Fullbright said in a soft voice.
"Pardon?" Yallop looked as if he were annoyed at the interruption.
"I am the most experienced detective inspector at Scotland Yard. Sir."
"What's a select committee?" Gus asked.
"I'm glad you asked," Mr. Yallop said. "It is a group made up of MPs who investigate matters of national importance then report their findings and recommendations back to their respective department so that relevant policy can be formed. In our case, we are under the Home Office."
"So they're going to make a policy about us?" Gus looked to Lincoln. "Can they do that?"
"They can," Lincoln said.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Seth said. "My name is Lord Vickers," he said to Mr. Yallop. "You have my word as a gentleman that the claims made by Mr. Salter are false. The ministry is not corrupt or biased. We exist to protect the public from—"
"Forgive me, sir, but your word means nothing to me as I do not know you," Mr. Yallop said. "I've never heard of Lord Vickers. Are you a sitting member in the House of Lords? Not all of them are familiar to me."
"I am not."
"Are you in fact the leader of this so-called Ministry of Curiosities? Is my source mistaken?"
"They are not." Seth didn't seem at all perturbed to be put in his place. "That honor belongs to Mr. Fitzroy, a more amiable gentleman you will never meet. I'm sure he'll be most obliging and answer your questions in full."
Lincoln gave Seth a sideways glance. "Who is your source?" Lincoln asked the politician.
"I cannot say," Yallop said.
"Then can you say why parliament responds to sensationalist reporting now?"
"We cannot afford another Ripper situation. News of these latest murders and The Star's accusations has spread very quickly. The city is still on edge and fears have resurfaced. The Ripper crimes were not so long ag
o. Something must be done, and done quickly, to prevent another murder."
"Agreed. We are on the same side, Mr. Yallop."
"That remains to be seen."
"You have my attention," Lincoln said. "I'll answer whatever questions you have. There's no need for such a heavy police presence in my home. You're frightening my fiancée."
As much as I wanted to deny it, he was correct. I was anxious. There were too many constables for a mere interrogation.
"The constables are needed," Mr. Yallop went on. "The police failed to apprehend the Ripper monster and are eager to make amends for that disappointing outcome. Isn't that right, Inspector?"
Detective Inspector Fullbright's whiskers shook. "There are some who would agree with you."
"The ministry is not the vehicle for a political statement," Lincoln said. "Or for the police force to 'make amends.' It transcends politics and exists solely to maintain control over the supernatural, as it has done for centuries. Salter's claims of corruption are false, made simply to sell more papers. Kindly get on with your questions as I have an investigation to undertake."
I placed my hand on Lincoln's arm. It would do no good for him to get angry now. He needed to be at his most diplomatic, if there were such a thing.
"Then let's begin." Fullbright turned to his constables, but Yallop interrupted him.
"Even if Salter's claims come to nothing, I should warn you that things will change." Mr. Yallop jutted out his jaw, making his chins wobble again. "Your group is far too secretive. It needs to be more open, more accountable, or it's ripe for corruption."
"Not while I am its leader," Lincoln said.
"And how long with that be? Hmmm? No, Mr. Fitzroy. You have had it your own way for too long. Such an organization cannot be allowed to possess as much power as your anonymity gives you."
"You're proposing that we answer to parliament?" Seth scoffed. "And be weighed down by factional politics? It will tie our hands. It's an absurd idea."
"I am yet to give my recommendations on how to run the organization," Mr. Yallop said stiffly. "Or whether it should exist at all. Perhaps abolition is a better alternative. We have a police force, after all."
