Her Majesty's Necromancer

by C. J. Archer

  "You can still serve. I'll take in the cake and you take the tea things. Two trays, two servants."

  He relented without argument so Lincoln mustn't have said "Don't let Charlie do it." Even if he had, I would have fought to perform my role. I wasn't going to let Lord Gillingham think he'd frightened me when he hadn't. On the contrary. I was pleased with myself for foiling his so-called test. He'd bolstered my confidence without intending to. I must be sure to tell Lincoln that later. It might make him a little less angry.

  I heard his voice before I reached the parlor. He was recounting the evening we'd found the bodies at the butcher's and learned about the captain from Pete and Jimmy. There were a few holes in his story, however, and the committee members pounced on them.

  "How did you return the bodies to the cemetery?" Lord Marchbank asked.

  "I appropriated the butcher's cart."

  "And moved them on your own?"

  "Am I not enough?"

  I entered, with Gus behind me, and set the tray on the table near Lincoln. I avoided his glare and set about slicing the cake. Ordinarily I would place the tea things near Lady Harcourt, as she liked to perform hostess duties, but this way I would have to remain in the parlor longer. I glanced at Lord Gillingham as I handed him a slice of cake. Both of his cheeks sported bruises above his beard, and there was a rigidity about his shoulders that hadn't been there before. He didn't acknowledge me, for which I was grateful.

  "Lincoln," Lady Harcourt said, accepting a cup of tea from Gus, "how did—"

  She stopped when Lord Gillingham put up his hand. "Wait for the maid to leave," he said.

  "All of my staff are aware of what happened," Lincoln told him. "They're ministry employees and as such need to know ministry business."

  "Did you hear that?" Gillingham directed his spluttered appeal to General Eastbrooke and Lord Marchbank. "He's lost all reason! Involving a maid in our affairs is dangerous, as well as ludicrous. Particularly this maid."

  "Calm down, Gilly," Eastbrooke said with a shake of his head. "She already knows what we're about, and Lincoln won't tell her anything he thinks ought to be kept from her. You know that."

  "Bloody mistake," Gillingham muttered.

  "If anyone can be trusted, it's Lincoln," said Lady Harcourt. "May we move on? I have a question. How did you get the grave robbers to tell you about the captain?"

  Lincoln tore his steely glare away from Gillingham and fixed it on her. "I used my charms."

  She stared directly back, unsmiling. Gillingham snorted.

  "You beat the stuffing out of them, didn't you?" Eastbrooke said around a bite of cake. "Be sure to keep your name out of it. We don't want any more trouble with the police."

  Lincoln shook his head when I offered him cake. His gaze met mine and for a brief moment, it seemed to warm. But the moment was fleeting and the pits became dark, cold wells again.

  "You should have learned more from them," Gillingham said. "You've got no name of the man paying them, no place of residence, and only a general description. If it were me, I'd have scared something more useful out of them."

  If it were him, he'd probably have soiled his trousers.

  "Not good enough, Fitzroy," he muttered into his teacup. "Your charm didn't work on this occasion."

  "That isn't fair," I snapped, rounding on him.

  Lord Gillingham gulped too much of the hot tea and coughed until his eyes watered. I took the moment to continue, ignoring Lincoln's warning of "Charlie, don't." It wasn't fair that he be blamed, and it was about time they became aware of how useful I could be.

  "It wasn't Lincoln who scared them off but the body of a dead man."

  "What do you mean?" both Eastbrooke and Marchbank asked.

  "I raised one of the bodies in the butcher's and used him to scare answers out of Pete and Jimmy. It worked effectively. The men were tight-lipped until that point and weren't going to give us anything. While we think they gave us enough to continue the investigation, if you do not, then it's my fault, not Mr. Fitzroy's."

  "You did what?" Gillingham exploded. "Are you mad, girl? Fitzroy, you allowed her to do this?"

  "I ordered her to do it," Lincoln said. "Not that it is your affair, what I do and how I manage ministry business."

  "It bloody well is!" Gillingham had the sort of coloring that reddened easily, but his face had turned positively crimson.

  "That's enough!" Eastbrooke shouted. "You're out of line, Gilly. Lincoln's methods may not be conventional, but they are effective. It's precisely because of his unconventional methods that he's good at what he does. You know that as well as anyone in this room. Now pipe down and listen to what he has to say."

  "Unconventional and ungentlemanly."

  Lady Harcourt dropped her teacup into the saucer with a clatter to draw everyone's attention. "He is more of a gentleman than you, Gillingham, in every sense of the word."

  Gillingham sneered at her, but she simply picked up her teacup again and took a sip. I tried to catch her eye and smile my approval, but she didn't look my way.

  "If the necromancer is living here, she might as well be useful," Lord Marchbank said quietly, with a nod in my direction. "As long as she's discreet."

  "How discreet is it to have a dead man walking the streets?" Gillingham muttered in a last gasp effort to speak his mind. He remained silent on the topic after that, thankfully. Another protest and Lincoln may have decided to break the man's jaw after all.

  "I've investigated further," Lincoln went on, picking up the story. "The four men whose bodies were taken were probably all opium addicts. The captain visited them at either one or more opium dens while they were still alive, and he targeted them specifically after death. It's unclear why. The grave robbers think the captain may be an army man, but his description says otherwise. He wore spectacles and doesn't have a strong build. That, coupled with his interest in cadavers, makes me think he might be a medical officer in the armed forces rather than a regular officer."

  I hadn't thought of that but it was a good guess, based on what we knew.

  Everyone looked to the general. "You don't expect me to know him, do you?" He shook his head. "There are countless captains in the medical corps. Besides, I retired some years ago."

  "There isn't enough information to go on," Marchbank agreed. "We need a name."

  "There may be countless medical officers," Lincoln added, "but how many have been dismissed for dubious behavior?"

  "It's possible he did something of a similar nature during his tenure, I suppose." The general stroked his mutton chop whiskers and stared into the middle distance. "No one comes to mind, but I'll look into it."

  "Good thinking, Fitzroy." Marchbank nodded his approval. I liked the middle-aged nobleman on the whole, even though his visage was perhaps the most frightening of all the committee members with his scarred face, crooked nose and gruff manner. He certainly looked nothing like the soft Gillingham, yet of the two, I'd rather spend time in Marchbank's company.

  Gus had already left the parlor and I'd lingered as long as I possibly could without raising suspicions. I went to walk out but Lincoln, standing near the door, caught my elbow.

  "Stay," he said quietly. "This concerns you." He let me go and addressed the rest of the room. "Someone is trying to find Charlie's mother."

  "Damn," Eastbrooke muttered. "I was afraid of this."

  "How do you know?" Lady Harcourt asked.

  "We became aware of it when we visited an orphanage. Someone had already been there and asked the same questions."

  "We?" She arched her brows at him. "Have you been looking for her too? Together?"

  "Yes," he lied.

  I arched my brows at him too, but he ignored me.

  "Damn," Eastbrooke said again. "I thought nobody except Holloway knew she was adopted."

  Gillingham shook his head. "The threat should have been removed as soon as we learned of the adoption."

  I gasped. "Removed? You would kill my—kill Holloway?" I lo
oked to Lincoln but he was stony faced.

  "What did you expect, girl?" Gillingham snapped.

  "But what if he hasn't told anyone?"

  "Who else could it have been? He is the only one living who knows you are a necromancer and adopted."

  "Aside from all of you."

  He half rose from his chair, his face turning a mottled red once more. "How dare you accuse us of betraying the ministry!"

  "I'm not accusing you of betrayal, but of searching for my real mother without informing anyone."

  "Be seated, Gilly," Eastbrooke snapped. "The girl is right. She hasn't accused anyone of anything. But I must inform you, miss, that everything of a supernatural nature must go through the ministry first. You and your mother are supernatural creatures, and as such, any investigation surrounding you both must be tabled at a meeting before Lincoln takes care of it."

  "I am not a creature, sir." I had the feeling his little speech had been more for the party's benefit than mine specifically. Reminding them of their duty to not act without official sanction, perhaps?

  "Of course you're not, Charlie," Lady Harcourt said. Her soft brown eyes settled on me. "The general was talking in broad strokes."

  "We must learn who it is and how he knows about her," Marchbank said.

  "Charlie and I will continue to search for her mother," Lincoln told him. "Hopefully we'll learn more about the other party as we do so."

  "You'll be quite busy then. Can you manage, Fitzroy?"

  "Of course. My staff will help."

  Marchbank rocked out of the deep armchair and lurched to his feet. "Their household duties will suffer if you spread them too thin."

  "We'll be sure not to let standards slip," I told him.

  Marchbank grunted. "A house this size ought to have more staff. Have you considered employing some extras?"

  "That would only cause complications," Lincoln said. "I don't need a large staff. Not all the rooms are in use."

  "Pity," Lady Harcourt said, setting down her teacup and also rising. "I do wish to see the ballroom filled with music and dancing. It's quite a magnificent room."

  "Are we done?" Marchbank asked. "I have to get ready for dinner. Lady Marchbank will expect me home to receive the guests."

  General Eastbrooke chuckled. "Makes me glad I never married. The army was my wife and my children for so long, I don't think I could have adjusted to a domestic life in retirement. I like living alone."

  No wife or children? But if that were the case, then which family had Lady Harcourt been referring to? I'd heard her tell Lincoln that he was protective of his family, yet it seemed he'd been brought up in General Eastbrooke's house, alone except for tutors. Surely there'd been someone there whom she called his family, even though they may not have been his natural ones. Could she mean the general's household staff? Lincoln certainly didn't treat us the way a gentleman ought to treat his servants, so perhaps that habit had begun in his childhood when he was close to the only people he saw regularly, the maids and footmen.

  I wondered if he would tell me. So far he'd been close-lipped about Gurry, and only given me the bare facts about his upbringing when I asked. Perhaps I was asking the wrong questions. Lincoln had been brought up to be the ministry's leader, so his childhood was inextricably linked to the ministry itself. Perhaps if I asked about its history, I would learn something about his. If nothing else, I would gain an insight into the organization I now worked for—if he gave me answers.

  "Fetch Gus to retrieve cloaks," Lincoln said to me. "Take the rest of the cake with you."

  "I want another slice," Gillingham protested, holding out his empty plate to me.

  Lincoln picked up the tray with the rest of the cake on it and handed it to me.

  "I think it would be wise to leave now," Lady Harcourt warned Gillingham.

  I left with the tray and walked quickly to the kitchen. The sponge—my sponge—was half eaten, but at least I would get some. I smiled as I recalled the look on Gillingham's face when Lincoln refused him another slice.

  "What're you smiling about?" Gus asked when I reached the kitchen.

  "Nothing." I set the tray down. "This is for us, but first we have to get coats for the guests. They're all leaving."

  "'Bout bloody time."

  "I'll make tea," Cook said as Gus and I left. "It be ready in five minutes."

  We were about to enter the entrance hall when Lady Harcourt's lyrical voice carried to us. I put my arm out to stop Gus and shook my head. I didn't want to disturb them.

  "He didn't mean that, Lincoln," she cooed.

  "Who didn't mean what, Julia?"

  "The general. You are his child, as much as any natural one could have been."

  There was a slight pause after which he said, "You couldn't be more wrong."

  I heard a carriage roll away outside, its wheels crunching on the gravel. Lord Marchbank, I assumed, hurrying home to his wife and dinner guests. He must have fetched his own coat. Lady Harcourt and Lincoln seemed to be alone. Gus moved past me to join them and I followed.

  He retrieved the cloaks from the hooks and handed Lady Harcourt's to me. Lincoln held out his hand for it and I passed it along.

  "Why did you call the meeting, Julia?" he asked her in an idle voice as he helped her into the coat.

  Her gaze flicked to me and Gus and she gave a slight shake of her head.

  "Answer me," Lincoln said. The idleness had vanished, replaced with iciness.

  "They needed to know what you've been up to. We all do. The sketchy details you gave me this morning weren't enough, and I doubted you would elaborate if I asked."

  He strode past her and held open the door. "Don't go behind my back again. Is that understood?"

  The black choker at her throat moved with her heavy swallow. "I didn't go behind your back, Lincoln. I called a meeting. As a member, I am allowed to do so." Her hands shook as she pulled on her gloves, but her chin remained at a defiant angle.

  The general and Gillingham entered from the parlor. "Is all well?" the general asked, eyeing each of them.

  Gillingham didn't seem to notice the tension in the hall and strode up to Gus. He snatched his cloak and marched to the door.

  "Perfectly," Lady Harcourt said with a smile for Eastbrooke. "Walk me out, please, Gilly."

  Gillingham stopped in the doorway, sighed, and put out his elbow for her to take. They left together. Lincoln followed them out with General Eastbrooke, and Gus and I returned to the kitchen.

  I sank onto a chair and accepted a cup of tea from Cook. The steaming liquid helped settle my nerves, but I suspected a slice of cake would do more.

  "Glad that's over with." Gus sat opposite me and stretched his legs out under the table. "So what happened after I left the parlor?" His thick brow bunched into a frown as I recounted the meeting to him and Cook.

  When I finished, I proceeded to cut the rest of the cake into four slices. I was about to take my first bite when Lincoln entered.

  "That was supposed to be all for you," he said with a nod at the cake.

  "There's enough left for the four of us." I pushed a plate toward a spare chair while he poured himself a cup of tea at the stove. "Seth will have to miss out."

  He joined us but didn't eat the cake. Cook, Gus and I gobbled ours up then Lincoln pushed the plate in front of me. I ate his slice too.

  "You be dining here, sir?" Cook asked.

  "Just something quick before I go out. I'm returning to Lee's, and I'll investigate some other establishments during the night."

  I dabbed my mouth to catch all the crumbs. "It was clever of you to suggest the captain is a medical officer in the army."

  "It's a possibility."

  "A likely one, I think. I wonder if the general will learn more. It can't be difficult to find details of doctors dismissed from the medical corps for misconduct."

  "That's if he was dismissed," he said. "He could still be practicing. His army record could be an exemplary one."

  "Tr
ue, but wouldn't he be stationed overseas? He wouldn't have been able to visit the men here regularly over the last few months if that were the case."

  "He might have been stationed here, or on long leave for an illness." He shrugged. "But hopefully you're right. A dismissed officer will be more conspicuous in the records than an active one." He continued to watch me, but I couldn't begin to fathom why.

  After a moment, unable to stand it any longer, I got up and collected the dishes.

  "Charlie," he called after me before I disappeared into the scullery. "Will you go to another orphanage tomorrow?"

  "I…are you giving me time off to do so?"

  He nodded.

  "Then yes, I will. Thank you." I disappeared into the scullery and stacked the dishes in the tub. I couldn't stop my smile as I went to fetch water. He'd not only given me time off, but he'd actually trusted me to leave the house when he knew someone was searching for my mother, and potentially me. It meant he trusted me enough to protect myself.

  One day, he would hopefully trust me enough to take care of myself alone at night in the streets, but for now it was enough that he accepted that I could do so in broad daylight with lots of people milling about.

  He probably wouldn't have let me go if he had known someone had followed me the other day, however.

  CHAPTER 9

  Lincoln was out all night and hadn't returned by the time I left the house in the morning. I paused as I passed through the Lichfield gate, looked left and right, then continued on when I saw no one about. I caught an omnibus into the city, then another over the bridge. I felt terribly conspicuous in my new cloak, among the women wearing practical woolen ones, but by the time I alighted in The Borough, I no longer cared. Indeed, I felt rather grand and important. A gentleman even gave up his seat for me and another doffed his hat.

  Although I kept alert, I was quite sure I hadn't been followed when I arrived in Bermondsey. The orphanage was small compared to those I'd visited in the north of the city, and unhappy faces peered down at me from second floor windows. They must think me a well-to-do lady in my cloak, and I regretted wearing it again. I wasn't a lady; I was just like them. Or I had been once, as a baby, and then again at thirteen when Anselm Holloway had thrown me out of his home. While I'd chosen to live on the street instead of taking myself to an orphanage or workhouse, I'd been friendless in the city too.