***
Lady Harcourt came to my new room the following morning. She was dressed in a steel gray gown that would look grim on anyone else, but looked elegant on her, with its slender fit, large bustle and white frills at cuff and collar.
She was followed by Fitzroy. I hadn't seen him since our return the night before. His eyes seemed a little tight as he regarded me from beneath half-lowered lashes. If he was annoyed, I doubted it could be because of me this time. I'd done exactly as he'd asked.
Lady Harcourt also seemed somewhat provoked as she greeted me with a brief smile. I suspected they'd argued about something. Me? Or perhaps Fitzroy's methods?
"It's a little warm for a fire," she said, glancing at the fireplace. She gasped when she saw what was burning in the grate. "Oh, Charlie! You didn't."
"It accidentally caught fire."
"How?"
"It somehow found itself in the grate among the kindling with a flame put to it."
She gave me a withering glare. "If you didn't want to wear the corset, you could have simply left it off when you dressed this morning. There was no need to burn it."
I begged to differ. I felt a very strong need to destroy the damned thing.
Fitzroy added a scoop of coal to the fire. "How do you find your new rooms?" he asked, straightening.
"Very nice. Thank you." While the bedroom and adjoining sitting room were better than the tower chamber, they weren't as spacious as his suite. My new abode was located down the hall from his and was comfortably furnished. It was better than I expected.
"Do you have everything you need?"
"Seth delivered the books earlier."
"You ought to sew," Lady Harcourt said. "Do you remember how?"
"I think so." I'd never been very good at sewing, always rushing my stitches, frustrating my mother. Her needlepoint had been particularly fine, but she'd had far more patience than me.
"When you come to live with me, I'll see that you're given something simple to begin with."
"Live with you! But I thought I was to remain here?" I glared at Fitzroy, but he was looking at Lady Harcourt.
"Julia," he intoned. "That's not how we agreed to approach this."
Lady Harcourt sighed and swanned further into the room. The sitting room was small enough that the presence of three people filled it. Fitzroy, in particular, looked much too large for the room. He stood near me, making me very aware of the power contained within his tall frame. For the first time since it happened, I thought of how he'd killed the man who'd accosted me beneath the bridge. Fitzroy had not given him a chance to beg forgiveness. He'd stabbed him as he would a sack of grain, and left his body there to be picked over by thieves and rats.
As glad as I'd been at the time, today I was struck by the brutality of it—the coldness. Yet, only moments later, he'd carried me gently away from the scene.
Lady Harcourt pressed a flat palm to her stomach and seemed to be gathering herself. "Very well," she said. "Charlie, I've come to ask you, once again, to live with me. Now that you have agreed to help, there is no need to lock you up."
"No, thank you. I have no desire to wear corsets and scrub your floors."
Her fingers splayed. "You don't have to be a servant. You may be my companion."
"What does a companion do?"
She shrugged. "We sit together, talk and walk together. You can pay calls with me."
"On who?"
"My friends."
It didn't sound like something I'd like to do, but I didn't want to offend her. "I prefer to remain here."
She opened her mouth to protest, but Fitzroy cut in. "Charlie has given her decision. You promised to abide by it."
"Yes, but I'm not sure she's thoroughly thought it through." Lady Harcourt turned a winning smile onto me. "What is there for a girl to do here?"
"Gamble and play cards," I told her.
She clicked her tongue.
"Drink whiskey and smoke cigars."
"Charlie, really, now you're just being stubborn."
"Apparently I make a habit of it," I said, ignoring Fitzroy as best as I could.
"She won't come to any harm here," he assured her. "You know that, Julia. Indeed, you also know that this is the safest place for her, while we try to draw V.F. out. I won't expose her to danger because you believe she needs feminine company."
It was quite the speech, and I was surprised at his vehemence. It would seem he took my safety seriously.
"Very well," she huffed. "I'll have some embroidery sent around. And you are to keep Gus and Seth on a tight leash. If anything happens to her—"
"Nothing will happen," I said. "They're not going to…compromise me under Fitzroy's nose. He'll skin them alive."
He lifted his brows at Lady Harcourt in what I suspected was triumph, but I wasn't entirely sure.
She sighed. "Then that is that. I'll retreat. I must dash anyway, but I'd like a word with Charlie alone before I go."
Fitzroy bowed then left us. Once the door was shut, Lady Harcourt picked up the fire iron and stabbed at the burnt corset. Her vigorous thrusts quickly made her breathless. I could have told her she'd be able to breathe better if she threw her own corset into the fire, but I didn't think the suggestion would be welcomed.
"Do you have your courses?" she asked.
"Pardon?"
"Your monthly woman's courses."
"I…no. It stopped some time ago."
She eyed me up and down. "That can occur with underweight girls. I expect, now that you're eating, it will return. I'll have linens sent to you along with the sewing."
"Thank you, my lady. You're very kind." I meant it. She had thought of difficulties that hadn't even occurred to me. "I know you're worried about how a girl who doesn't like to wear corsets will behave around the men, but I can assure you, I am not interested in…those sorts of activities."
She stabbed at the ruined corset again. "Not yet."
I sighed. "Fitzroy won't allow it under his roof anyway. He'll make sure the men treat me with respect."
Stab, stab, stab.
"And I won't tempt them." I laughed. It sounded ridiculous. "As if I could, anyway."
She stopped and placed the fire iron in the stand. "You underestimate yourself, Charlie. And I think you underestimate men, too." She lifted a finger when I opened my mouth to protest. "Men, not boys. They are not the same. Well, some are, but many are not. Now, tell me something."
"What?" I mumbled, unsure if I'd been chastised or advised.
"How did Fitzroy convince you to stay and help us?"
"He didn't tell you?"
She smiled sweetly and hooked her arm through mine. "I thought I'd ask you."
"Perhaps you ought to ask him." I extricated myself, but not before I felt her fingers tense on my arm.
I headed for the door and opened it. Fitzroy wasn't there, and nor were any of the men. It took me a moment to remember that I was no longer a prisoner. I walked down the stairs with Lady Harcourt. We found Fitzroy in the library, propped against the windowsill, a book in hand.
He looked up as we came in and closed the book. "We need to talk."
I wasn't sure if he spoke to me or Lady Harcourt and whether his announcement meant the other should leave. Lady Harcourt, however, seemed to know. She gave him her hand and he bowed over it.
"I look forward to your report," she said.
"I'll be in touch with the committee soon."
He walked her out, leaving me alone in the library. I picked up the book he'd been reading—A Guide To The Spirit World. How curious. I flipped it open and began to read, but didn't get very far before he returned. Outside, Lady Harcourt's carriage rolled away.
"Tea and cake?" he asked. "Cook has been baking."
"I'm not hungry."
"You need to eat."
"Breakfast wasn't that long ago."
He tugged on the bell pull in the corner of the library. The house was so vast that I couldn't hear the correspo
nding bell ringing in the service area.
He stood by the table while we waited, hands behind his back, and nodded at the book. "You should read that. It might help you understand your necromancy."
Seth entered. "Can I get you anything, Charlie?" His smile made him even more handsome, and not for the first time I wondered why he was working for Fitzroy alongside a ruffian like Gus.
"Tea and cake." Fitzroy's gruff manner wiped Seth's smile from his face.
Once he was gone, Fitzroy indicated I should sit at the table. I did, and a moment later, as though it were an afterthought, he did too.
"Now that you've agreed to help, I want to keep you informed," he said.
"You do? Oh. Thank you. Is there more to what you've already told me?"
"Not much. I've learned that a man has been calling at all the homes of London vicars and asking after girls living in the same house. Daughters, wards, servants…"
"I'm sure that went down well. Did he know my name?"
"I don't think so, but I didn't know it at first, either. Not until I learned about the tragic disappearance of Anselm Holloway's daughter, two days ago."
"And you investigated further," I finished. "How did you learn the piece of information about the vicar? How did V.F.?"
He sat quite still, one palm flat on the polished tabletop. I thought for a moment he would keep that secret to himself, but then he answered. "A woman we'd been watching in Paris wrote to him. Her husband had died in suspicious circumstances here in England, and she'd exiled herself to Paris to avoid the police, and us, asking uncomfortable questions."
"You think she killed her husband?"
"I think she knew the killer and was possibly present for the murder. I also believe the murderer to be the man she wrote to, this V.F. Her husband's body was cut open and the brain used to—"
"Stop!" I pressed a hand to my lurching stomach and drew in a deep breath. "So you watched this woman in Paris and waited for her to send a communication. You must have intercepted the letter."
"I did. She'd written it in code and tried to have an unsuspecting couple deliver it, since the usual postal service would be too slow and unreliable. I intercepted and decoded it. The letter claimed she'd found the girl V.F. was seeking, and that she was living with a London vicar. I don't know how she learned that. I then made sure the missive found its way to V.F's hands."
"Thereby putting the girl—me—in danger."
"You weren't in danger because you weren't living with a London vicar."
"You didn't know that at the time."
"And I would not have allowed V.F. to capture you."
"Forgive me for doubting your competence on this, Mr. Fitzroy, but you are only three men, if you include Gus and Seth, and there are many vicars living in London. You couldn't watch them all."
The fingers on the table splayed wide.
"Tea," Seth announced, as he entered the library with a tray. Behind him, Gus followed, carrying a second tray laden with plates and slices of cake.
They set the trays down and began to pour and pass out plates. There was enough for them too. It would seem they were to join us. The household arrangement was odd, and I still wasn't sure whether the two men were supposed to be servants, assistants, or something else. Not friends. Fitzroy certainly didn't treat them as equals.
"You need a maid," I told Fitzroy.
"Aye," Gus muttered, as he handed me a plate.
"Or dress these two in livery."
Seth had been about to hand me a cup and saucer, but he held it back. "I am not wearing livery."
"We're not bloody footmen," Gus added, pulling up a chair. He sank his teeth into his slice of cake, scattering crumbs over his chest.
"Then you definitely need a maid," I said. "And footmen too. Is money a concern?"
"No," Seth said.
I arched a brow at Fitzroy, but he didn't notice. He pushed my plate closer to me. "You should eat."
"I told you, I'm not hungry."
"Eat."
"Better do as he says," Seth warned me. "He likes getting his own way."
Fitzroy shot him a flinty glare that turned Seth's face pale. He cleared his throat and sipped his tea.
I nibbled the cake to appease them. It gave me time to think anyway. It seemed I knew something Fitzroy didn't—what V.F. looked like.
"I saw him at my father's house," I said. "V.F. I assume it was he. Father called him 'doctor.'"
"Doctor?" Gus shook his head as he swept crumbs off his jacket. "If it's the same man we're after, the one who chopped Mrs. Calthorn's husband into pieces, then he don't cure people."
Fitzroy sat forward. "When was this?"
"The day you kidnapped me. I sometimes sit in the garden of my old home." I looked into my teacup, not wanting to see what they thought of my pathetic behavior. "I overheard this doctor ask if there was a girl living there—he even mentioned my name. He must have learned about me having gone missing through neighbors or parishioners."
"Or via publicly available birth records. Either way, he'd done some research before his visit. What did he look like?"
I described the doctor as best as I could. "I would recognize him again if I saw him." When I saw him. I had no doubt I would be seeing him again. "I think he gave Father his name, but I didn't catch it."
Seth set down his cup in the saucer with a loud clank, and Gus stopped chewing. "Why didn't you say so?" Seth said. "Sir? Shall we go now?"
"Prepare the coach and horses," Fitzroy said.
Both men ran from the room. Their keenness unnerved me. Neither man had shown much intensity until now. It seemed I'd given them the first true clue for discovering V.F.'s identity they'd had in a long time.
"Can you learn where a man lives from his name?" I asked Fitzroy.
"Yes, particularly if he's a practicing doctor. If he's not, there are still ways." He got up and strode from the room.
I raced after him, almost tripping over my skirts in my haste. I picked them up to keep them away from my boots and caught up to him in the entrance hall as he retrieved his hat and gloves from the hallstand.
"You're going to my father's house," I said.
"Yes."
"And then on to the doctor's, as soon as you can connect his name to an address?"
"It might take some time to find the address."
"You may not need me to lure him out after all."
"Hopefully Holloway will give us the name without coercion, and V.F. will be found easily. If not, you will be required." His thumb and forefinger stroked the brim of his hat, and I suspected he was contemplating saying something else. But then he strode away toward the door, leaving me standing there by the hallstand.
"Mr. Fitzroy," I called. He paused and raised his brows at me. "Can I come with you? To Father's house, I mean."
He lowered his hat and faced me fully. "You wish to speak with him?"
"I…I think so. Yes."
"You don't need to. I'll get the information from him in my own way, if necessary."
I suspected his way meant beating the answer out of him. While I wasn't entirely against the idea, I did want to see my father. And speak to him. It was time, and I had a lot of things to say. "If you intend to scare information out of him, I think you may need me. He won't be too frightened of a mere human, but having the devil's maid in his midst will scare the stuffing out of him. Answers too, I expect."
"Then you'd better fetch your gloves."