"Lincoln!" My shout was swallowed up by the now rowdy crowd. They surged forward, surrounding the boy and Fitzroy. "I can't see him." I tried to pull free of Seth, but he held me. His gaze wasn't on me, however, but on the spot where Fitzroy had been standing.
Gus went ahead and tried to part the crowd, but they would not let him through. They jostled him and one another, their angry, vengeful shouts drowning out all other sounds.
Until a gunshot brought sudden silence. The echo left no doubt that it had come from down the sewer. Seth's hands tightened around me, and no matter how hard I tried to pull away from him, I couldn't.
"Sir!" I heard Gus shout. "Take this!"
"What's he doing?" God, how I hated not knowing. The ball of frustration growing inside me became too much and it burst out. I kicked Seth's shin then kneed him in the groin. His grip loosened and I pulled free. I was too fast once I was out of his reach.
"Lincoln?" I called as I pushed through the crowd to where I could see Gus standing over the manhole. "Gus! Where is he? What's going on?"
"Fitzroy's chasing him."
"But he's injured!"
"He's got my gun." He straightened. His breathing came hard and fast as if he were the one doing the chasing. "Where's Seth?"
"Gus, I saw the knife in his side."
"Seth got stabbed?"
"Fitzroy!" I punched him hard in the ribs and he coughed. "He's gravely injured." The drops of blood on the cobblestones were testament to that. The knife, lying forgotten near the manhole, was covered in blood. "He needs to dress the wound."
"He needs to catch Frankenstein. It's our best chance."
I went to punch him again, but he caught my fist. "That hurt," he said, rubbing his chest. His gaze lifted above my head. "Bloody hell, what happened to you? You look like you seen a ghost."
"I got embroiled in a melee."
"Why the white face?"
"My sword got in the way."
"You ain't carrying— Ah." Gus snorted. "Dagger, more like."
Seth peered down the manhole. "Where's Fitzroy?"
"Gone after Frankenstein. He's armed." He tapped Seth's shoulder. "I think it's time we left."
Three of the local men glared at us, their teeth bared. Behind them, the rest of the crowd still gathered around the boy and his family, offering comfort.
"We didn't do anything," Seth grumbled. "Fitzroy saved him."
"They want someone to blame. We're here, Frankenstein isn't." Gus took my elbow and tried to steer me away, but I refused to go.
"We can't leave Fitzroy down there!"
"We can and we will," Seth said. "He won't necessarily resurface this way, anyway. It's a warren of tunnels down there. We have no idea which one he's taken or where he'll end up. Come home with us, Charlie. He'll want you to be safe now."
I allowed them to escort me out through the arch. Seth dropped some coins and the crowd pounced on them instead of us.
We hurried up Totten Lane and returned to the stables, some blocks away, where we'd lodged the horse and carriage. Seth drove and Gus rode in the cabin with me. His gaze flicked to me often but he didn't speak, mercifully. I wasn't ready to talk about what had happened. About Frankenstein being my father.
Back at the house, I sat in the library where I could watch the driveway. Seth joined me, but not near the window. He sat at the central table, one foot on the chair opposite, and crossed his arms. I felt his eyes on me, but I didn't engage him in conversation. Gus delivered tea then left again to get cake.
When we were alone again, Seth finally spoke. "He's not worth it."
I said nothing and continued to look out the window.
"You're better than that. Better than him." He sounded annoyed. I supposed getting kneed in the family jewels can upset a man. "This is your home now, Charlie. You don't need him. You have us."
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Frankenstein. He may be your father, but he's lying about wanting you. He doesn't even know you."
"Oh. Frankenstein. Yes, of course." I turned back to the window, somewhat more distracted from my vigil than I had been before. Frankenstein had almost duped me, until he'd endangered the life of the child. What sort of man did that?
A desperate one. One I shouldn't want to associate with. Nevertheless, I wanted to talk to him, and discover everything there was to know about my ancestry—my mother.
"You don't believe anything he said, do you?" he went on.
"I believe he is my father."
"Yes. Well, that, I suppose. Now that I've seen him, the resemblance is remarkable, I'll admit. But that doesn't mean he wants to be a loving father."
But Frankenstein knew who my real mother was. No one else did.
A movement between the trees at the base of the drive caught my attention. I rose and leaned closer to the window. A hansom cab rolled up to the house and Fitzroy emerged from the cabin. He held his arm close to his body. His side was damp with blood.
I picked up my skirts and ran out of the library then flung the front door open. "Lincoln!" It wasn't lost on me that I used his first name to greet him.
It seemed it wasn't lost on him either. He blinked at me from the bottom step. His face was a little pale, his eyes circled by shadows. I trotted down the steps as the cab pulled away.
"Thank God you're all right. I've been sick with worry." I went to take his arm to help him, but he kept his distance.
"You shouldn't have concerned yourself." He strode past me.
I stood there, staring at his back, dumbfounded by his snub. What had I done to deserve that? "You cannot tell me what I can and can't be concerned about!"
My protest might as well have fallen on deaf ears. He didn't slow down, didn't acknowledge me at all.
Seth, standing in the doorway, moved aside to let his master pass. "Did you catch him, sir?"
"No."
Seth gave me a sympathetic smile. "He'll be in a foul mood for the rest of the day," he whispered when I drew closer. "Don't mind him."
"Why will he be in a foul mood? Because he failed?"
"Yes, and he's worried that Frankenstein will get the better of him and harm the royal family."
"You got all that from the few curt words he spoke?"
Fitzroy headed straight for the stairs, just as Gus came down them in the opposite direction. "Thought I smelled you." He wrinkled his nose. Fitzroy did indeed stink of the sewers, and his trousers were wet and filthy from the knees down. "At least you're balanced now, sir," he said cheerfully. At Fitzroy's hesitation, he added, "Charlie shot you on the other side, didn't she?"
Fitzroy glanced back at me, and I froze at the coldness in his eyes. If looks could kill, I would have been turned into an icicle. I gulped and dipped my head, hoping he didn't see the color rise to my cheeks.
When I looked up again, however, he was no longer there. He'd gone quietly up the stairs.
"Better get some clean bandages to dress the wound," Seth told Gus. "I'll boil the water."
"You're going to dress his wound?" I asked. "Not a doctor?"
"If it's not too deep, he'll do it himself. He has some medical knowledge. We're just delivering the supplies."
"I wonder how Frankenstein got away," Gus mused.
"Probably lost him in the sewers," Seth said.
I left the two of them pondering that and headed toward the service area at the back of the house. "Where are the bandages?"
"Leave it to us," Gus said. "He'll prefer it."
"That's too bad. Besides, everyone knows women make the best nurses. You two lugs are too rough." They protested some more, but I refused to listen.
Cook gave me some warm water in a jug and Seth found bandages. "I'll see to the rest," he said.
"You sure you want to face him now?" Gus asked me. "He'll be a bloody-minded bear."
"He's less likely to lash out at me than you."
"True. Good luck."
I headed up the stairs, only to realize Fitzroy was in the
bathroom. I could hear water spilling in the tub. I waited in his sitting room for his return, and he arrived some fifteen minutes later, looking damp, disheveled and delectable.
Thick straps of muscle stretched across his shoulders and chest. His hair hung loose, brushing the nape of his neck, and blood smeared his side. He stopped in the doorway when he saw me, his eyes huge. He seemed startled, not at all his gruff, cool self. The change threw me a little off balance and I remained rooted to the spot, uncertain how to proceed.
"Where are Seth and Gus?" he asked, recovering before I did.
"Fetching supplies." I moved close enough to him that I could smell the sharp tang of the carbolic soap he'd used. "Let me look at the wound."
"It's fine."
"It's not fine. There's fresh blood."
"The bleeding has almost stopped."
"Let me see. Is it deep?"
"It requires suturing."
Every time I came close, he either turned or moved away so I couldn't inspect the cut. After three attempts, I'd had enough. "Stop behaving like a child, and let me see."
He squared up to me and looked down that imperial nose of his. It was a pose that was probably meant to intimidate but failed miserably. It made him even more appealing, a wounded yet defiant warrior.
"A child?" he intoned.
"Yes."
"I am merely trying to protect your feminine sensibilities."
I burst out laughing. "I don't think I have any feminine sensibilities." At his flattening lips, I thought it best to be more serious. My laughter seemed to offend him. "Thank you for your consideration for my wellbeing, sir, but I'm not going to swoon when I touch you."
"That is not the point," he ground out.
I stamped my hands on my hips. "Do you honestly prefer Gus or Seth to do this instead of me?"
"I can do it."
"You can't."
He tried to prove me wrong by inspecting the wound. While he was able to reach it, he couldn't see it very well; he certainly wouldn't be able to suture it himself. "Seth can do it," he finally said, giving up.
"Seth is all thumbs, and Gus's fingernails are so dirty he's probably growing mushrooms under them. I'm gentle, methodical and can sew a stitch." Without waiting for his next protest, I dipped the cloth into the warm water.
To my surprise, he allowed me to clean the blood away without protest. The cut wasn't too deep, thank goodness, but it was important to keep it clean and avoid infection. I concentrated on my task, circling ever closer to the cut itself. I almost forgot that I was playing nurse to a very handsome man until that man sucked air between his teeth.
"Sorry," I said, glancing up at him.
He watched me from beneath lowered lashes. His face flushed when he realized that he was caught staring.
"Did I hurt you?"
He shook his head then stared straight ahead. He drew in a ragged breath. "Continue."
He stood as stiff as a statue while I finished cleaning the wound. Not even his chest rose and fell with his breathing. He only moved away when Seth and Gus arrived. I hadn't quite finished cleaning, but it would have to do. It seemed he didn't want the men to see me tending him. That would make stitching him up somewhat difficult.
He inspected the supplies the men had brought up. "Is everything sterilized?"
"Steamed the needle and thread in the kitchen," Seth said. To me, he added, "Surgical thread. We keep some just in case."
"You get wounded often?" I asked.
"Enough that we need a supply of it on hand. Mr. Fitzroy does all the stitching, though. Never had to do it myself."
"Nor me," Gus chimed in. "I'm happy to try my hand."
"Try your hand?" I shook my head. "I may not be much of a lady, but I've been sewing and embroidering since I was old enough to hold a needle. I'll do it."
"Were you any good?" Seth asked.
"Adequate." I shot Fitzroy a reassuring smile. "The wound is straight. Unless you want me to embroider Home Sweet Home, I can manage."
Gus laughed so hard his eyes watered. Seth couldn't hold back his grin either, until Fitzroy's glare withered it.
"Stand still and keep your arm out of the way," I told him.
Gus handed me a pair of sterilized gloves and I threaded the needle. Despite my bravado, I was nervous. Stitching a sampler was one thing, a human being entirely another. I didn't want Fitzroy to see my apprehension, however, and managed to steady my shaking hand enough to proceed, under his guidance. He calmly informed me how deep I ought to go and how wide apart the stitches needed to be. It was over in a few minutes. He hadn't winced, flinched, groaned or hissed once. I wasn't sure he felt pain at all.
"Where did you pick up your medical knowledge?" I asked as I handed the needle back to Gus.
"A surgeon taught me," Fitzroy said.
"Your lessons included surgery?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Seth shaking his head at me in warning. I frowned at him, but Fitzroy caught it and arched a brow. Seth cleared his throat and followed Gus out of the room.
"My education was more varied than a regular student's," Fitzroy said.
"Why?"
"So that I could fulfill this role," he said matter-of-factly. "It's been my destiny since birth. The ministry is new, but its origins are ancient. I was chosen early as a future leader."
"At birth," I muttered.
"Before."
I laughed, then realized he was serious. "How could you have been chosen before your birth?"
"It happens." He picked up the gauze and placed it over his wound. "The bandage, Charlie."
If he had been chosen before birth, that implied there was something special about his parents. Perhaps a combination of characteristics that were deemed important in a future leader of the ministry. I wanted to ask, but he seemed to not want to talk about it. I gave up, for now, but I intended to find out more about his parents and childhood. It was thoroughly intriguing. He was intriguing.
I wrapped the bandage around his torso. It brought me close to him, my face just below his shoulder height. If I leaned a few inches forward, I could kiss him. I dared not look up into his face, but staring at the hollow of his throat did nothing to settle the blood raging through my body. Where before my ministrations had been clinical, now they were anything but. Every part of me was aware of him and how close we stood; how easy it would be to close the gap between us, tilt my head, and receive his kiss.
As I wrapped the bandage around him, my fingers brushed the smooth skin of his back and sides. I slowed, not wanting the connection to end. Wanting only to touch him more, to feel the muscles twitch with restrained desire, the thud of his pulse, the heat of his skin.
He wanted those things too. I could sense it, rather than see it or feel it. It was in the way he didn't move when I fastened the bandage in place, and how he lowered his face to my hair and drew in a deep breath.
With my hands still resting over the bandage, I dared to glance up at him. His eyes were closed, his jaw slack, making his face a little softer and even more handsome. I wanted to capture him in that moment, so I lifted my hand and cupped his cheek.
His eyes flew open and his face hardened. He turned away.
"Lincoln," I whispered.
He gathered up his ruined, bloody clothes. "Mr. Fitzroy," he snapped. "Or sir."
I stepped back as if he'd pushed me. "I—I thought—"
"You thought wrong." He stalked into the adjoining bedroom but didn't shut the door. He emerged a few moments later wearing a clean shirt. If I'd thought his jaw was rigid before, now it was positively rock-hard. His eyes were as black and bleak as I'd ever seen them, and his gaze didn't waver from mine. "I've decided. You can't stay here."
"Wh—what?" He was talking too fast. My head was still fuzzy from desire and his brutal rejection.
"When Frankenstein is caught, you'll go to live with Lady Harcourt."
He might as well have slapped me. My head was suddenly clear again. "
No! You said I don't have to live with her if I didn't want to."
"I've changed my mind. It's the best place for you."
"Here is—"
"You can't stay here." He moved to the door, as if to see me out.
I stayed put. "Why not?"
"Because your infatuation with me is inappropriate."
My face burst into flames, or it might as well have, it felt so hot. I crossed my arms, as defiant as I could possibly be when utter humiliation ate me alive. I wanted to shout at him that he desired me too but, in truth, I wasn't sure. If he'd liked my touch as I bandaged him, it could have been because the fingers touching him belonged to a woman. Any woman. The look on his face may not have had anything to do with me.
"It's unhealthy," he went on. "And not in either of our best interests for you to live here."
Tears stung my eyes and tingled my nose. I had to hold myself very tight to keep from unraveling. "I understood your point. There's no need to pour salt on the wound."
"This is the way it has to be. You will be well taken care of at Lady Harcourt's house. She's kind."
"And if I don't wish to go there?"
"You would be a fool not to."
"I think we've already proven that I am indeed that." I sniffed, but fortunately my tears didn't spill. I didn't want him to see how pathetic I was, crying over a man I hardly knew.
"It's that or a house of charity," he said.
"I hate you, Fitzroy."
"No, you don't," he said stiffly. "That's the problem."
His cruel words were enough to shock me out of myself, and forced me to see what I was doing and saying. A small flame of anger burned in my chest, and I fueled it with thoughts of how he'd abducted me, treated me like a prisoner, and callously ridiculed my affections. I took a deep breath and felt quite a bit better; more determined than ever to conquer my feelings for him.
He was right when he'd called it an infatuation. What I felt for him was quite possibly fleeting, and certainly foolish, brought on by living in the same house and my gratitude at being rescued from poverty. I could conquer my feelings, given a little more time.
There. Better. Admitting that my affections were misplaced was the first step.
"I'll miss Seth and Gus, and Cook too," I told him with a tilt of my chin. "Perhaps more than I'll miss you, in the long term. They've shown me nothing but kindness, whereas you…have not."
I never got to see what he thought of that. Seth and Gus returned, their steps full of bounce, and they asked for an account of Fitzroy's chase through the sewer tunnels. They lapped up the details as eagerly as the boys from the gangs did, when I told them stories in the evenings. I sat on a chair and listened too. The distraction was a welcome relief.
"He exited the sewers near the docks in Wapping," Fitzroy said. "He was far enough ahead the entire time that I couldn't catch him or get close enough to throw my knife."
"Why didn't you shoot him?" Gus asked.
"The gases in the tunnels are volatile. Shooting would have been hazardous. Once above ground again, there were too many people. I followed him to a small warehouse, tucked away behind the larger ones along the docks. I decided to return here instead of entering."
"Why?" Seth asked.
Fitzroy hesitated before continuing. "In the brief glimpse I caught as he slipped inside, I decided I needed to be better armed and have a plan of attack."
Seth and Gus glanced at one another, perhaps wondering if they were going to be part of the plan. "What did you see?" I asked him, sitting forward.
"A half dozen others, perhaps more."
"Men?"
He paused. "In a way."
I gasped. "They were his monsters, weren't they? His creations, as he calls them?"
"Bloody hell," Seth murmured. "What did they look like?"
"I saw them only briefly, and from a distance. They bore scars across their foreheads, necks and chests. They wore trousers but nothing else, and appeared to be strapped to large chairs."
I was about to remark at the horrible inhumanity of chaining someone to a chair, but remembered that the creatures weren't entirely human. "Were they…alive?"
"I'm not certain. They sat very still and their eyes were closed."
I shivered. "Thank God." I remembered how horrid it had been looking into the dead eyes of the bodies inhabited by the spirits of my mother and my savior from the holding cell. I wouldn't want to see the eyes of Frankenstein's creations open.
"Did you see anything else?" Gus asked in a hushed voice.
Fitzroy shook his head. "He closed the door, and all the windows were covered. I returned here."
"That might have been the best chance to capture him," Seth muttered, half to himself. "While his monsters were strapped to their chairs."
Fitzroy just looked at him.
"He's injured!" I said on his behalf. "Indeed, he ought to be resting and regaining his strength."
"Right. Yes." Seth jerked his head at Gus. "We should go. Is there anything you need, sir?"
"No."
"Come on, Charlie," Gus said, escorting me out with a hand at my back.
I stopped in the doorway. I found it difficult to meet Fitzroy's gaze, but I managed it. What I had to say had nothing to do with our earlier conversation, and I shouldn't let that stop me. "There's something you ought to know. Frankenstein claims to be my father. Having seen him face to face now, I admit there's a strong resemblance."
His lips parted and for several long heartbeats, he didn't speak.
"The news has shocked you as much as it did me," I said with a wry twist of my mouth.
"That's his shocked face?" Gus grunted. "Looks like his normal face, to me." He quieted when Seth elbowed him in the ribs.
"Why didn't you say before?" Fitzroy said.
I shrugged. "I was going to. Stitching you up was more important."
"But I—" He shook his head. "You should have told me. I wouldn't have spoken so harshly to you."
"What does the news about my real father have to do with…anything else?"
"The day has been ordeal enough for you. I might have been kinder. Or left our conversation for another day."
"That would only delay the inevitable. Besides, you were simply being honest, in that uniquely cool way of yours."
"I'm—"
"Don't trouble your conscience over it. A kinder delivery probably wouldn't have achieved the same result anyway. I'm grateful that you chose to enlighten me on your thoughts today rather than a point in the future. It allows me to plan ahead." I turned away quickly so that I couldn't see the impact my words had. I expected he would be relieved, since he'd managed to achieve precisely what he wanted—my willingness to leave Lichfield when this was over.
"What was that about?" Gus asked as he caught up to me in the corridor.
Seth drew alongside too. "What were you two discussing before we returned?"
"The future," I told them, pausing outside my bedroom door.
"And?" Seth placed his hand on the doorknob but didn't open the door.
"And he decided that my future does not lie at Lichfield Towers."
"You're going to live with Lady Harcourt?"
"No. I'll find somewhere else."
"Where?" Gus blurted out. "There ain't no work in the factories, you ain't trained for domestic work, and you're too bloody stubborn besides."
"Perhaps I'll offer to speak to the souls of the dying as they pass away. I wonder how much one ought to charge for such work."
"That's not funny," Seth growled. His face was surprisingly grim.
I patted his arm. "I'll think of something. Don't worry about me."
"Don't you think about goin' back to live on the streets," Gus warned. "That ain't no life for you. I'll hide you in the stables myself, if necessary."
I took his hand. "Thank you, Gus, but it won't come to that."
"I'll speak to him." Seth pointed his chin over my head back up the corridor. "He won't throw you ou
t."
Gus snorted. "He won't listen to you. Or me. He don't even listen to Lady H."
"It's all right," I told them. "I just need some time to think up a plan."
"And what if he don't give you time? He's just as likely to toss you out the minute Frankenstein is caught. That could be as soon as tomorrow."
"I'm sure he'll give me more time. He's not that heartless."
"Isn't he?" Seth shook his head. "I'm not so sure." He opened the door and offered me a grim smile. "I'll bring you some tea, shortly."
I thanked him and entered my room—my cozy room with the pile of books, clean clothes, and soft bed. I sighed as they shut the door and left me to contemplate my uncertain future.