I traced the letters on the headstone with my fingernail, from top to bottom. Loving Mother to Charlotte read the final words, right beneath Devoted Wife to Anselm. She had been loving toward me, but she had not been my mother. I'd accepted it immediately when Holloway told me. Perhaps it was the numbness of shock, or perhaps I'd given up thinking he cared for me long ago. But now, sitting on the grass near my mother's grave, I felt like my chest had opened up and I was bleeding over the ground.
She'd loved me during her lifetime. I'd felt sure of that. And yet what if she'd lived to see me perform my necromancy as he had done? Would she have continued to love me regardless, or would she have called me names and cast me out too? A mother was supposed to love her children unconditionally, no matter what they did, but perhaps adoptive mothers didn't feel the same degree of love.
It felt so strange, sitting there, as I'd done so many times before, and yet this time I felt more alone than I ever had. I used to have her memory for warmth, the feeling that I had once been loved. But now, I wasn't entirely sure of that love. It was like mourning her loss all over again. Fighting tears, I scooped up a handful of dirt and sprinkled it over her grave.
Something moved behind me. I sprang to my feet but it was only Fitzroy, standing as still as the angel statue marking a nearby grave. I quickly turned away and dashed my damp cheeks with the back of my hand.
"You made a noise," I told him. When he didn't answer, I added, "Just now, you made a noise as you approached. Usually I don't hear you coming."
"I know," was all he said.
"How did you know where to find me?" I hadn't told anyone where I was going upon our return to Lichfield. Seth and Gus had dropped us at the front door and then taken the horses and carriage to the stables. Fitzroy had said something about speaking to Cook. I'd wanted to visit my mother's grave, so I'd just walked out. It wasn't until I'd arrived at the cemetery that I'd wondered if he would assume I'd run away.
"I asked a grounds keeper for directions. He boasted that he knew the location of every grave. Seems he knew this one."
"I mean how did you know I'd be at the cemetery?"
"A guess."
I looked down at the headstone and the words Loving Mother to Charlotte. "She was ill for a long time and stipulated what she wanted on her headstone. It was completed before her death. Before I…displayed my true colors. I'm surprised he didn't have another one made. One that leaves off that line."
"Headstones are expensive."
"His won't say Loving Father, of that I'm quite sure." I pointed down at my feet. "He bought the plot next to hers when it became clear she wouldn't survive. Their headstones will be side by side, but they won't match now. It'll look odd."
He didn't respond, but I hadn't expected him to. I was rambling, trying to fathom what it all meant for me. A few hours ago I'd had one living relative who hated me. Now I didn't even have that. I wasn't sure if I was better or worse off. I supposed nothing had changed. I was still on my own.
"Historians will wonder about the discrepancy in years to come," Fitzroy said.
I blinked at him. What an absurd thing to say. Yet he was right. It would be confusing for anyone unfamiliar with the story. I smiled, despite myself.
"If you want to stay longer, I can wait," he said. "You shouldn't be out alone. Not while Frankenstein is after you."
"He wouldn't know where to start looking."
He arched one brow and glanced at the headstone.
"Oh. Yes, of course. I wasn't thinking." I rubbed my forehead. I felt exhausted, despite doing nothing all day. It would seem learning one was adopted was a trying experience. "I'm ready to go now." I walked away from the grave and did not look back.
"Luncheon will be ready upon our return," Fitzroy said, as we walked through the cemetery gatehouse.
"I'm not hungry."
After a moment, he said, "Cook will be offended if you don't eat."
"Cook knows I don't have a large appetite. And since when do you care if he's offended or not?"
We passed the costermonger's cart, the one I had been caught stealing from. The scruffy fellow watched me from beneath his hat, a frown on his face. Surely he didn't recognize me now. I frowned back and he quickly set about rearranging a pile of wilting lettuces.
Fitzroy and I walked back toward the house in the sunshine. It was a pleasant day, although clouds crowded on the horizon. I found it difficult to appreciate the sun, however. My mind still felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool.
"I wonder if I'm an orphan or if my parents are alive," I muttered, more to myself than him.
"If they are, it's likely they couldn't care for you. Mothers have to give up their babies all the time. Some don't want to."
"Poor, unwed mothers, you mean."
He stared straight ahead with hard eyes.
"Are your parents still living?" I asked.
After a moment, he said, "I believe so. Like you, I never knew them."
"You're adopted too?"
"No."
I frowned. How could he not know his parents but not be adopted? And yet he did know that his parents lived, so he was a step ahead of me. "Who raised you? General Eastbrooke?"
"He had a hand in my upbringing."
"Were you his ward?"
"I was nobody's ward."
Nobody's ward and nobody's child either, it seemed. Lady Harcourt had told me Fitzroy was specifically chosen to be leader of the ministry from birth. Did that mean the committee had raised him? "If I ask any more questions, will you answer them?"
"Will any of those questions be about lunch?"
"No."
"Then it's unlikely."
I sighed. "You say I'm stubborn, but you are positively obstinate."
We walked back to the house in silence, slowing down as we drew closer. Four carriages were stopped in front of the steps, two of which I recognized as belonging to Lady Harcourt and General Eastbrooke. The other two escutcheons were new to me, although I wouldn't be surprised if the one with the serpent coiled around a sword belonged to the snakelike Lord Gillingham.
"I'd hoped they wouldn't be here yet," Fitzroy said, his face dark.
"You invited them?"
"A meeting of the committee has been called. Not by me."
"You sent word about the man known as Dr. Frankenstein?"
"Not yet. I haven't had time. This meeting is in response to you agreeing to help."
"Ah. It seems you'll have a lot to discuss then. What a lark."
"You'll be present too."
I pulled a face.
"After you've eaten, of course."
I sighed. "Very well, I'll eat. If I indulge too much, however, Lord Gillingham will only have you to blame when I vomit over his shoes."
"I'll have Cook double the quantity on your plate."
We got no further than the front steps when the door burst open. "You found her!" Seth stood with hands on hips, alternately smiling and frowning at me as if he couldn't make up his mind if he were pleased or mad. "Are you all right, Charlie?"
"Fine, thank you."
Gus pushed past him, his heavy brow scrunched into a frown, his arms folded over his chest. "What'd you think you were doing, leaving without telling anyone where you were headed?"
His vehemence surprised me. "I…I'm sorry, Gus."
"Sorry! That's all you got to say for yourself?"
I shrugged.
"Be sure not to do it again or you'll find yourself locked in the tower room."
"Enough!" Fitzroy growled.
Seth smacked Gus in the shoulder. "We're not going to lock you up," he said to me.
"We been looking everywhere for you," Gus hissed at me as I passed him. "Me and Seth been out of our minds with worry."
They were worried? About me? No one had worried about my wellbeing in so long that I wasn't sure how to respond. Nor was I sure I liked being monitored, now that I was supposedly free.
I patted his cheek. "That's very sweet of you.
I simply wanted to be by myself."
A growl rumbled from the depths of his chest. "Be sure to take someone with you, next time you want to be alone."
Seth rolled his eyes and I smiled tightly. "I will."
With the two of them appeased, I thought my ordeal was over. I didn't see the four stiff, regal figures until I entered the house. They stood as one, a wall of dark austerity—three men in black suits and Lady Harcourt in her mourning crepe. Lord Gillingham was there, along with General Eastbrooke and another man aged fifty or so who was as tall and well-built as the general but considerably rougher in appearance, thanks to the scar on his temple and another slicing through his gray beard.
"There you are." Lady Harcourt broke ranks and held her hand out to me. I hesitated, then took it and allowed her to lead me to the men. "Gentlemen, may I present Miss Charlotte Holloway, daughter of Anselm Holloway. Charlotte, you know both General Eastbrooke and Lord Gillingham." Lady Harcourt waited, but I wasn't sure what for. Me to curtsy to them?
"You look better as a girl," the general said, offering a gruff nod as he gave me a thorough once over. "On the small side, but I dare say Fitzroy will fatten you up."
"Now that your lies have been exposed, I expect you've seen the error of your ways." Lord Gillingham leaned on his walking stick. If I kicked it out from under him, he would topple forward. "Do not lie to us again or there will be consequences. Is that understood?"
I stepped forward and touched my toe to his stick. I gave it a nudge so that he knew I could have done more if I'd wanted to. "Do not behave like an in-bred half-wit, or I might refuse to co-operate."
His eyeballs almost popped out of the sockets. "You can't speak to me that way!"
"Can't I? I'll try to remember that next time."
Eastbrooke placed his hand on Gillingham's shoulder as the lord's face turned an apoplectic shade of purple.
"And this is Lord Marchbank." Lady Harcourt pulled me away from Gillingham so roughly that I stumbled and bumped into her. Her smile never even wavered as she presented me to the new man.
Another lord. I'd thought the scarred man was an old soldier, but it seemed he was just another tosspot like Gillingham. My opinion was confirmed when he didn't offer me a smile. He merely looked down his crooked nose and said in the blandest voice, "Miss Holloway."
"My lord," I said in the same bland voice.
He met my gaze with a somewhat cool one of his own, but there was no obvious animosity in his eyes as there was in Lord Gillingham's. He seemed…indifferent. Indifference was fine with me. I felt the same toward him and the other committee members.
"Let's get on with it." Lord Gillingham's walking stick click clacked on the tiles as he headed toward the parlor. When he realized nobody followed, his fingers tightened around the knob. "Well?"
"Charlie needs to eat," Fitzroy said.
"So?"
"We're not starting without her."
"She doesn't need to be present! Indeed, she shouldn't be present."
"We are not starting without her." Fitzroy nodded at Gus, who left us.
Gillingham marched back, proving he didn't need his stick to walk. "You fly too close to the edge, Fitzroy." Only his lips and jowls moved. His jaw remained clenched. "Push us too far and you will see how things lie. You are not indispensable."
Fitzroy turned his back to him, as if he couldn't be bothered wasting his breath on an argument, and indicated I should walk on ahead. Gillingham spluttered his protest at the insult.
"It's only lunch, Gilly," the general said quietly. "We'll wait in the parlor."
"She shouldn't be privy to ministry business." Gillingham raised his voice, insuring I could hear.
We headed to the kitchen, where Cook stood over the range, stirring something in a pot. "Charlie," he said with a nod at me. "Hungry?"
"No, but I've been ordered to eat something."
Gus handed me a plate with lettuce, a slice of bread and a sliver of beef on it. "Sit. Eat."
"You are all so demanding." I sat and accepted the plate.
"They be staying, sir?" Cook asked Fitzroy.
"Not for lunch." Fitzroy stood by me as I ate, which would have been enough to put me off my appetite if I'd had one. "Have tea brought in."
Cook set the wooden spoon aside and handed Gus a pot. "Fill it."
Gus left with the pot just as Seth arrived. "Lord Gilly's in a fine mood today," he said. "What set him off?"
Fitzroy's gaze met mine. "Me," I said, cutting up my beef. "He seems to have something against lying, thieving necromancers. Can't think why."
"Ignore him." Seth placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I was so surprised at the intimate gesture that I pulled away. A blush infused his cheeks. "My apologies," he mumbled. "I forgot that you're a…"
"Lying, thieving necromancer?"
"Woman."
I smiled to let him know I wasn't offended. "It takes some getting used to." I wanted to tell him that his touch hadn't upset me—just that I wasn't used to it. However, there seemed no easy way of broaching the subject, so I remained silent.
I finished my light lunch, including the scoop of jelly afterward, and joined the committee members in the sitting room with Fitzroy at my side. He even remained standing by me as I sat. He must think me at risk of running off again.
"How much have you told her?" Lord Gillingham asked, before anyone had even taken a breath.
"Everything she needs to know," Fitzroy said.
"Is that wise?"
"Yes."
Lord Gillingham snorted. "I'm not sure your judgment is one we should trust."
The silence that descended was as smothering as a shroud. Lady Harcourt opened her mouth to speak after a moment, but Fitzroy got in first. His voice was as cold as ice.
"Whether you trust my judgment or not is immaterial. Charlie is an integral component in my plan, and she must be kept informed. You are not integral to any part of my plan. If you disagree with my decisions, see yourself out. My men are busy."
Gillingham's jaw dropped like an unhinged trapdoor. "I say! You dare speak to me in such a manner!"
"May we please discuss the situation?" Lady Harcourt looked distressed, and I felt a little sorry for her. These gentlemen were her peers, perhaps her friends, and Fitzroy her lover. It put her in an awkward position, particularly as the only female member of the committee. Not for the first time, I wondered how a beautiful young woman had ended up part of the body that oversaw the Ministry of Curiosities. Particularly now that I'd met the final member, another aged lord.
"See how he repays you, General!" Gillingham crossed his legs and settled into the armchair. "You should have had him disciplined more as a child."
Lady Harcourt, sitting beside me on the sofa, stiffened and pressed her gloved hand to her lips.
"That's enough, Gilly," Lord Marchbank said. "You're upsetting the ladies."
"Lady," Gillingham muttered. "There is only one present."
I sighed. This was going to be a long afternoon.
"Tell us about Charlotte Holloway, Lincoln," the general said quickly. "How did you learn the boy Charlie was, in fact, her?"
Fitzroy told them how he'd traced me back through the years, then went on to inform them that I'd seen a man visit my father. He finished by telling them the vicar had revealed the full name of the man they sought.
"Then you know where he lives!" Lord Gillingham said.
"I've not had time to investigate."
Gillingham looked as if he were about to chastise Fitzroy, but a glare from Marchbank kept him quiet.
"Good progress," said the general. "We're very pleased. Having a name at this point is more than we'd hoped for."
Seth and Gus had entered with the tray of tea things during the speech and now served cups to everyone. Seth also took one, but Gus did not. He fell back to the door, removing himself from our presence. Only Gillingham eyed him as if he didn't belong in the parlor. Seth, however, escaped his snobbery. r />
Lady Harcourt touched my hand. "Your assistance has already proven valuable. Thank you, Charlie, on behalf of not only the ministry, but the entire realm."
"The empire really is in danger from this man?" I asked.
"Yes, unfortunately. If he manages to reanimate an army of superior bodies, then we are all at his mercy."
"He will turn that army on the members of parliament," the general said. "That includes the three of us." He indicated the three gentlemen.
"And the court, too, would be in danger," Lady Harcourt finished. "The queen and her family are vulnerable to an attack from someone intent to do harm."
"How do you know that's his intention? You know him to be a murderer, but committing treason is another crime altogether."
"That is none of your affair," Gillingham snapped. "Leave these matters to your betters. You wouldn't understand them."
"Gillingham!" the general snapped. "You forget that we need the chit's help."
"Do we?" Gillingham drawled. "We have the man's name. Fitzroy doesn't need her to find this Frankenstein fellow. It seems to me we can dispense with her now."
"And leave her for Dr. Frankenstein to capture?"
Gillingham didn't answer. He sipped his tea calmly. I set mine down, unable to swallow it. Fitzroy, who'd not accepted tea, took a seat and addressed me.
"You recall we told you about the woman in Paris, whose letter to V.F. I intercepted," he said.
"I do. Her husband was murdered and you suspected she had a hand in it, or knew the murderer—Dr. Frankenstein, I assume."
He nodded. "Her husband's head was cut open, the brain removed."
My stomach rolled, threatening to toss my lunch onto the rug, but I willed myself not to throw up. Somehow I suspected that would work in Gillingham's favor. "Frankenstein wanted to put his brain into a body made up of parts from others?"
"Superior parts taken from athletes. But it was the brain of Mr. Calthorn that was crucial to his plan."
"Was Mr. Calthorn an intelligent man?"
"Yes, but it wasn't merely his cleverness that Frankenstein wanted. It was Calthorn's knowledge. He was England's spy master."
I gasped. "England has a spy master?"
"Not anymore," the general said. "Calthorn is yet to be replaced."
"You ought not tell her all that." Gillingham sniffed. "If this information gets into the wrong hands…"
"Calthorn is dead," Marchbank said. "All the girl knows is that England has a spy network. Our enemies already know that too. It's hardly news."
Gillingham sipped, watching me over the rim of his cup.
"Calthorn knew a great many important secrets," Lady Harcourt said, taking over the story. "After we were alerted to his murder, and the missing brain, we began to piece everything together. We'd already heard about the missing body parts of other murder victims, all of them physically superior in one way or another. We questioned Mrs. Calthorn at the time but she could prove she was elsewhere at the time of the murder. We didn't believe that she was entirely innocent, but we couldn't pin anything on her."
"Then she went and exiled herself to Paris," the general said. "Blasted woman."
"How did she know about me?" I asked. "It seems that Frankenstein had been searching for me, and she found out enough clues to point him in the right direction. How?"
"We don't know," Fitzroy said. "Nor do we know how Frankenstein learned of your existence. It's only clear that he failed to reanimate his monstrous creation on his own and realized he needed a necromancer to perform the deed. I think he's been seeking you ever since, corresponding with his friend, Mrs. Calthorn, in Paris. The first I learned about a necromancer is from her letter. It became a race to find you before he did."
I almost blurted out that I was glad he'd got to me first, but bit my tongue. For some reason, I didn't want Gillingham to hear my gratitude. I didn't want any of them to hear it. Not even Fitzroy. I didn't even like admitting it to myself.
"Mrs. Calthorn's information was out of date," Lady Harcourt said. "You haven't lived with your father since you were thirteen."
"He's not my father." I picked up my teacup and concentrated on not looking at anyone, even though I could feel their gazes on me. "I'm adopted, or so he informed me this morning."
"Adopted!" General Eastbrooke sat forward. One of the lords gasped as Lady Harcourt's hand touched my arm. "Then who is your real father?"
"I don't know."
"Did Holloway know? Did you question him, Lincoln?"
"No," Fitzroy said.
"Why not?" Gillingham snapped. "My God, man, this is of utmost importance! If the girl inherited her ability, we need to know who he is."
"Or she," Lady Harcourt added. "Lincoln, I agree with Lord Gillingham. You need to question Mr. Holloway."
"He won't tell us anything," Fitzroy said. "Questioning him will only produce lies or total silence. His state of mind is delicate, his fear absolute."
"It's unlikely he knows anyway," Lord Marchbank said. "Orphanages don't give out that information to the adopting parents."
"We won't know if Fitzroy doesn't ask." Gillingham slammed the foot of his walking stick on the floor. "To hell with the fellow's state of mind. I don't care if your questions turn him into a blathering idiot, unable to function in society. It's an oversight on your part, Fitzroy."
"Not an oversight," Fitzroy said in a voice so quiet that Gillingham's swallow was audible. "It was a deliberate decision."
"One that I protest."
"You can protest all you like. It changes nothing."
"I command you to ask him!"
Fitzroy stood, very slowly, his hands curled into fists. Gillingham lifted his chin as Fitzroy stepped closer. "You don't command me."
"I bloody well do. We all do. You work for us, Fitzroy."
"I work for England. I can also stop working for England."
Gillingham snorted. "You were born to do this, Fitzroy. It's your entire life. You won't leave."
Several moments passed, in which I expected Fitzroy to either deny it or punch Gillingham in the nose. He did neither. "If you disagree with my decision, you're welcome to question the vicar yourself."
Gillingham's gaze slid away and his hands increased their rapid rubbing over the head of his stick.
"Don't wish to get your hands dirty, I see," Fitzroy said.
Gillingham's fingers flared then closed around the knob again. He pointed his stick at me. "I wager her real parents were sewer rats, just like her. Breeding always reveals itself in the end, you know. Bad blood breeds only more bad."
Fitzroy's knuckles turned white.
"I'm famished," I said quickly, rising. "Unless I'm needed, I think I'll find something to eat in the kitchen."
Seth set down his tea. "I'll escort you. Gus?"
Gus shook his head and nodded at Fitzroy. Fitzroy, however, took a step back. It wasn't until Gillingham tugged on his tie that I realized he'd been anxious.
Lady Harcourt clasped my hand before I walked off. "Everything will be all right. You'll see."
"I'm not worried," I said with a shrug. And I wasn't. I didn't care if Fitzroy gave Gillingham a bloody nose. I just didn't want to see it.
"You ought to be," Lord Marchbank said. "Of everyone here, I'm the only one who saw the crime scene. I know what this Dr. Frankenstein is capable of."
He was right, and I should have been more concerned about the murdering doctor. He wanted me, and he seemed desperate enough to go to great lengths to get me.
"Was that necessary?" Lady Harcourt said to Lord Marchbank. "You've scared her now."
"Good. Fear will keep her safe."
He was correct there. It was a sentiment that had helped me get through five long, hard years relatively unscathed.
I hadn't decided whether I liked Lord Marchbank. He spoke less than the others, only talking when he needed to impart an important point. In that, he reminded me of Fitzroy. It was a trait that made it very difficult to read ei
ther man.
Gillingham pushed himself to his feet. "Good day, gentlemen, Lady Harcourt. I've got business to attend to."
I stepped aside to let him pass. The other committee members also made their excuses. They, at least, addressed me in their farewells.
"Remember what I said," Lady Harcourt whispered as she took my arm. "There will be a place for you in my household, if you wish, when this is over. You won't have to live on the street anymore."
"Thank you." I decided not to go through the ritual of refusing her offer again, but I knew I could never live with her, either as a servant or her companion. Indeed, I couldn't imagine living anywhere other than Lichfield Towers.
The admission shocked me and left me speechless as the carriages rolled away. I'd only resided there less than a week, and most of that as a prisoner, and yet I felt more comfortable there than anywhere. Perhaps that had more to do with the fact that I had no home now. Not in the Tufnell Park house I'd grown up in, or any of the derelict buildings I'd lived in with the boys' gangs. Dr. Frankenstein would be looking for me in all those places. I wasn't safe there. I was only safe at Lichfield.
Seth confronted me at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed over his impressive chest, making him seem even broader. "You didn't wish to eat more, did you?"
"No. I needed to leave the parlor."
He sighed. "I thought as much."
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you believed me."
"I was hopeful." He lowered his arms. "At least you ate all your lunch."
"And I promise to eat all of my dinner, as long as the plate isn't piled too high or Cook serves sprouts."
He pulled a face. "I'll boycott the sprouts too, if he does." His gaze slid to a point past my shoulder. He cleared his throat, gave me an uncertain smile, then moved away.
I turned to see Fitzroy hovering. "I'm not going to try and escape." At his small frown, I added, "Your constant presence…you seem to think I'll run away at any moment. I won't. I gave you my word and I intend to keep it."
"I never doubted it." Still, he did not leave.
"Is there something you wished to speak to me about?"
"No." He went to walk away but stopped. "Yes. Are you comfortable here? Is there anything you require?"
"I'm not sure. I haven't resided here as a free woman for very long yet." At his blank face, I added, "I have everything I need for now. Thank you."
It was a strange, awkward conversation, which seemed to be leading onto a further question, perhaps the one I suspected he truly wanted to ask, yet he merely said, "I will be out all afternoon, searching for Dr. Frankenstein."
"Without me?"
"Your presence isn't required."
"I suppose not." I was relieved, on the whole, yet a part of me wanted to go with him. Or wanted, at least, to be with him.
I forced myself to walk up the stairs. I didn't like my growing feelings for someone who'd kidnapped me without qualms and held me prisoner until I'd made myself useful. I doubted he thought about me in the same way I thought about him. He'd certainly given no indication that he did. Such an imbalance of feelings between two people was never a good thing.
I read A Guide To The Spirit World in my small sitting room and learned more about my power in thirty minutes than I'd discovered in eighteen years. Most of it chilled me. A necromancer was different to a spirit medium, in that mediums could only speak to ghosts that had decided to remain and haunt their place of death. They could summon spirits into the living body of another through possession, but the spirit had a will of its own and a medium could not control it. A necromancer could raise a spirit that had already crossed over and control it—any spirit, no matter how long ago they'd died. The spirit could go anywhere in its ghostly form and not be confined to their place of death. That made necromancers much more powerful. Frighteningly so. The only limitation was that a spirit raised by necromancy couldn't be placed into a living body, only a dead one. The book didn't specify whether the body had to be its own or could be any cadaver.
I re-read the page three times then shut the book and folded it against my chest. It seemed I'd only scratched the surface of my capabilities so far. What unnerved me was that Fitzroy already knew this information, and so, perhaps, did the others. It was no wonder he wanted to keep me away from madmen and evil ones.
I set aside the book and read a novel to lighten my mood until Gus and Seth coaxed me outside for a walk. I'd been surprised to see them, having assumed Fitzroy took them with him in his search for Frankenstein.
"If Fitzroy finds him, do you think he'll confront him alone?" I asked as we ambled through the orchard.
Seth, who'd been striding ahead, slowed to walk alongside me again. "He might."
"That's rather foolish. He ought to have you two as support."
"He don't need us," Gus said, picking off an unripe apple and throwing it at a trunk. It missed.
"Fitzroy works better alone," Seth clarified. "Especially when he's following someone."
"We ain't that bad!"
"No, but he's better. If he's following you," he said to me, "you'll never know it. A hunting cat makes more noise than Death."
I could attest to that all too well. "What do you know about him? His background, his family, where is he from?"
"Wouldn't know." Gus snapped another apple from the tree and threw it as hard as possible. It split when it hit a nearby trunk and he gave a whoop of delight.
"We know very little about him," Seth said. "Neither of us has been employed by the ministry for long."
"How did you end up working for him?"
Seth picked an apple and threw it at the same tree, but missed. Gus snorted. We'd stopped altogether, both men distracted by their sport. I thought they wouldn't answer my question, but after three misses, Seth did.
"I found myself at a loose end one evening. Death was there and offered me a job."
"Bloody liar," Gus said with a shake of his head. "Seth were gambling and drinking like there ain't no tomorrow. He had nothing left to lose, except his own person, so he staked it."
"What do you mean, 'staked it'?"
"Himself. His body."
"That's enough," Seth growled. "She's a lady. She doesn't want to hear the particulars."
"I'm no lady, and I certainly do want to hear the particulars. They're the best part."
Seth's face turned a bright crimson as he glared at Gus. Gus ignored him. "Some old, fat lord took the wager. Said his wife would like to lie with a young, handsome fellow again." He leaned closer to me, his grin splitting his face. "Only I think the old lord wanted Seth for himself. The look on his wrinkly face when Seth removed his shirt to prove—"
"I did not remove my shirt!" Seth rolled his eyes. "It's not true, Charlie. That part isn't, at least. Anyway, how would you know, Gus? You weren't there."
"You told me, you blathering idiot. That first night you arrived at Lichfield, feeling all sorry for yourself. You got rollicking drunk and tossed up your guts and your story."
"That doesn't explain how you wound up here, working for Fitzroy," I said. "So you lost to the lord at cards."
"Got soundly beaten," Seth said. "Fitzroy was there and offered to pay my debt in exchange for coming to work for him."
"The gentleman accepted?"
"Not at first, but Death offered him a large sum." Seth puffed out his chest. "He realized my worth."
"Realized how desperate you were," Gus said, pulling off another apple. "You were available at just the right time too, and had some skills he could use." He slapped his colleague on his brawny shoulder. "He ain't just a pretty face, Charlie. He can shoot straight and bare-knuckle box with the best of 'em. I saw him defeat Toothless Tom in the ring."
"Why were you fighting in a bare knuckle boxing match?" I asked Seth. "It's not the sort of thing a toff does." Attending the illegal matches was, but I'd never heard of one actually getting his hands dirty.
"I like to fight," Seth said with a shrug.
/>
"He were desperate, and the pay were good. Everyone in the city came to see the toff in the ring. Including me, and maybe Death. That's probably where Fitzroy first saw him." Gus threw his apple, not at a trunk but into the middle distance.
Seth picked off another and threw it in the same direction. It passed Gus's. He gave his friend a smirk. Gus took that as a challenge and got another apple. He threw it hard, and it traveled so far I couldn't see where it landed.
"Ha! Beat that," he said.
Seth's next apple also disappeared from sight.
"Wait a moment." I hiked up my skirts and climbed the nearest apple tree. It felt like an age since I'd scrambled over a fence or wall. It was something I used to do several times a day. That and run, usually away from my pickpocket victim or the police.
"Charlie! What you doin' up there?" Gus cried, tilting his head back.
"Seeing who won. I think it was Seth."
"Get down before you hurt yourself," Seth called up.
"I'm not going to fall."
"If you get hurt, Death'll kill us," Gus said. "Come down now or we'll come up and get you."
I sighed and began to descend. "I was just having some fun. Turn away so you can't see up my skirt."
Both men dutifully turned their backs. I took the opportunity to pluck two apples and drop them on their heads.
"Oi!" Gus cried, rubbing his head.
I landed on both feet beside him and grinned. He frowned, but Seth laughed. "You're unlike any girl I know," he said.
"That's because I'm not used to behaving like a girl."
"That be true," Gus muttered. "You shouldn't be climbing trees. Lady Harcourt would have a fit."
"I don't care what Lady Harcourt thinks. Or anyone, for that matter. If I want to climb a tree, I'll climb a tree. Girls should be allowed to."
"Ain't proper," Gus grumbled, striding off. "Besides, you ain't a girl, you're a woman."
I stared at his retreating back, as rigid as a plank of wood. Why had my behavior upset him so much?
"Don't mind him," Seth said as we followed at a slower pace. "He's still not sure what to make of you. Sometimes he thinks of you as a lad, and other times he becomes aware of your femininity and he gets embarrassed."
"Why?"
"Because he doesn't know how to act around females. They scare him."
"Why do we scare him?"
"I'm not sure. Why don't you ask him?"
Perhaps I would, but another time. Gus didn't look in the mood to talk to me.
We headed back inside the house, where I spent a dull afternoon waiting for Fitzroy to return. The day stretched into the evening, and Seth, Gus and I dined in the kitchen with Cook. Afterward we played cards and I learned some new games from the men. If we'd been playing for real money instead of dried broad beans, I would have lost a fortune. I couldn't concentrate. Every creak of the house made me glance at the door. Every chime of the long case clock in the entrance hall set my teeth on edge. When it finally chimed ten, I couldn't stand it any longer.
"Where is he?" I tossed my cards down on the table and got up.
The others watched me pace back and forth with bemused expressions. "There's no need to worry," Seth said. "He'll be fine. He always is."
"You don't know that. He could be lying injured or dead somewhere."
Gus swept the cards up in his big paw and began shuffling them. "Come sit down and stop worrying. For one thing, he don't deserve it. For another, he can take care of himself. You ain't seen what he's capable of, yet."
Cook and Seth both nodded in agreement. When I refused to sit and continued pacing, Seth got up and intercepted me. He clasped my arms and dipped his head to peer into my eyes. He was about to say something when a shadow blocked the doorway.
I gasped at the sight of Fitzroy looking as unruffled as always. "You're back!" I wrenched free of Seth's grip, but stopped myself rushing to Fitzroy like I wanted to. "Did you find him?"
"Yes." He came into the kitchen and immediately the space seemed smaller. His gaze flicked over me then settled on Seth.
Seth swallowed heavily and sat at the table again.
"I'll warm up dinner," Cook said, rising.
"And?" I asked, as Fitzroy poured himself a glass of water from a jug. "What happened after you found him?"
"I lost him."
That had everyone staring, even Cook.
Fitzroy set the glass down and regarded each of us in turn. The men returned to their tasks, but I met his gaze directly. "Go on," I said.
"I learned where he lived, but when he didn't show up there, I returned to Holloway's house."
"Father's? Why?"
"I suspected he would visit again in a desperate attempt to find you. Holloway is his only link to you. I was right. He did."
I bit my lip to stop myself voicing my fear that Frankenstein had injured the man who'd raised me. Fitzroy, however, must have understood my concern. "He realized Holloway couldn't help him and left without harming him. I followed but lost him."
The other three men exchanged glances but made no comment. I suspected that was wise. Fitzroy seemed frostier than usual. His failure probably frustrated him.
"I'm sure it wasn't easy to follow him in the dark." My attempt to mollify him earned me the full force of that icy glare. I cleared my throat and forged ahead anyway. "I'm sure you'll find him again soon."
He didn't respond. Instead, he took his dinner to his rooms. The others resumed their card game, but I yawned and said goodnight. Upstairs, I contemplated knocking on Fitzroy's door, but I had nothing to say to him and I would only embarrass myself by asking after his wellbeing.
I prepared for bed, then lay under the covers listening to the silence. An hour later, I could no longer stand it. I got up, threw a shawl around my shoulders, lit a candle, and padded along the hallway to Fitzroy's rooms. I was about to knock on the door when it opened. Fitzroy seemed as surprised to see me standing there as I was to see him dressed for going out.
"Where are you headed at this time of night?" I blurted.
His eyebrows arched and I pressed my lips together. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Out."
"But it must be almost midnight. What can you possibly— Oh." Where else did a gentleman go at such a time, but to visit his lover? Thank goodness the light from my candle flame wasn't strong enough to show my reddening face. "I was concerned for your welfare," I mumbled pathetically.
He paused. "Why?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I just am. You were out for so long tonight, and now you're going out again." I lowered my candle. "Of course you must want to see her, and she you."
"Who?"
"I don't know. Lady Harcourt, I presume."
His eyes briefly flared.
"It's none of my affair who you see in the evenings, secretly or otherwise," I went on. "If it is her, however, I can think of no one more lovely. You're both interesting people and you make a handsome couple." Ugh, strike me down before I say something even more humiliating. I turned to go, but Fitzroy grabbed my hand, the one holding the candlestick at a slight tilt.
"You're dripping wax on the floor." He righted the candle, but didn't immediately let go. His hand remained over mine, his warmth seeping through my skin to my bones. "I am not going to see Lady Harcourt." He spoke softly, his voice a deep purr.
"Oh," I said on a breath. I angled my face to peer up at his, only to be caught in his black, fathomless gaze as thoroughly as an insect in a web. I couldn't pull myself free, no matter how much I wanted to. "Another, then."
"You're bold, Charlie." His thumb stroked my knuckles and his head dipped closer to mine. It was such a small move, yet I'd noticed it. It gave me hope and courage to ignore the voice within me shouting at me to stop.
Another voice was louder. It urged me to kiss him.
CHAPTER 12