Her Majesty's Necromancer

by C. J. Archer

  Seth sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Jesus, Charlie. How far have you walked like that?"

  "From Savile Row. Captain Jasper has rooms at number nineteen."

  "You went to see him? On your own?"

  I shook my head. "I went for a walk last night and he abducted me. He had Jimmy and Pete with him. It happened right here on this spot. He wanted to use my necromancy to complete his experiments. You were right," I told Lincoln. "He was expelled from the army for misconduct. He was testing a serum on near-dead men. It was supposed to bring them back to life, but it doesn't work yet."

  "Bloody hell." Seth shook his head and glanced at Lincoln as he rose. "Will we ride to Savile Row now, sir? Want me to get the pistols first? Knives would be better. Something that can be attributed to a burglar."

  He meant to kill Jasper? Bile rose to my throat. I didn't know why I found the thought abhorrent. Jasper had abducted me, and he didn't deserve mercy. Yet he wasn't a bad man. Strange, yes, and deluded, but not a monster.

  I wobbled on my good foot and Lincoln caught me around the waist. Before I knew what was happening, he'd picked me up and planted me in the saddle.

  "Ride to the police station," he ordered Seth. "Give them a brief account of the abduction, no more. Have Jasper and his men arrested."

  Seth blinked twice, then nodded. "Yes, sir." He mounted and rode off.

  "It means the police will come to question you," Lincoln said to me.

  "I know."

  "You won't have to answer any questions until you feel ready." He walked the horse along the drive, his gaze straight ahead.

  "Lincoln," I said softly.

  "Yes?"

  "Seth seemed to think that I'd left of my own accord. Is that what you believed too?"

  "It seemed the most likely scenario, considering the tension between us lately and that you asked me for a reference just before your disappearance. A reference I refused to give."

  "I wouldn't have left without saying goodbye."

  "Not…not even after the way I treated you?"

  I touched his shoulder and he finally glanced my way. He scanned my face and I smiled gently to reassure him. "You treated me far better than I deserved. I would have thrown me out, if I were you."

  "I doubt that." He turned away and we walked on in silence. We were just rounding the side of the house when he spoke again. "They blamed me for your departure." His hand stroked the horse near my leg. "I blamed myself," he added quietly.

  I reached out to touch his hair, but drew my hand back when Cook burst upon us from the courtyard.

  "Charlie! You came home!" He grinned but it faltered when he saw the state of my feet and cheek. "You had an adventure on your own, eh?"

  "Something like that."

  "You be making a habit of it. A bad habit," he added with a scowl. "Don't do it again."

  I saluted him. "I'll be sure to tell my next kidnappers that you don't approve."

  "Kidnappers!"

  Lincoln helped me down then once I was steady, let me go. "Take her inside," he said. "Cook her whatever she wants." To me he added, "I'll run you a bath when I come in. Your wounds need cleaning and dressing."

  "You don't have to," I said. "I can do it myself."

  He walked the horse to the stables without responding and I allowed Cook to help me into the house. I gave him the brief version of what happened as he stood by the stove stirring something that smelled delicious. He didn't complain once about his bandaged thumb.

  Gus arrived along with Lincoln, and the brawny fellow drew me into a hug that left me gasping for air. I repeated my story for them both, going into more depth about Jasper's motives for the abduction and how he'd found me. While Cook and Gus inserted their own comments, gasps and growls, Lincoln remained silent. He didn't move a muscle as he stood by the door, his arms crossed and his half-closed eyelids veiling his gaze.

  When I'd finished, he suddenly turned.

  "Where are you going?" I called out.

  "Bathroom."

  Cook placed bacon, eggs and soup in front of me all at once. The delicious smells drew my focus away from the door, but not from Lincoln. He'd sounded…odd, like that single word had been torn from his throat.

  "Eat," Cook ordered.

  "All of it?"

  "Every last mouthful."

  By the time I finished, Lincoln had returned. "The bath is ready. Can you walk?"

  "I'll try." I got to my feet, but the cut one stung awfully, and the other had developed blisters from taking most of my weight on the walk home. "It's not too bad," I lied.

  "You can't get all the way up there on your own," Gus protested. He glanced at Lincoln, but Lincoln remained unmoved by the door. With a shake of his head, Gus picked me up. "I'll do it myself," he muttered.

  But Lincoln stepped in front of him and held out his arms. Gus handed me over. I felt like a sack of potatoes until Lincoln cradled me close to his body. I could feel his strong heartbeat through his shirt and waistcoat and smell the scents of horse and leather on his skin. I drew in a deep breath and placed my arms around his neck.

  He carried me up the stairs, his face in profile as he stared straight ahead. He deposited me in the bathroom then left without a word. I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the bath. The warm water stung my feet at first, but I soon got used to it. I lay there without moving for a long time, thinking about what might have happened if I hadn't been able to get away. Would Lincoln have found me? How long would he have searched? If he thought I'd left of my own volition he might have given up after only a cursory attempt.

  The water rippled with my shudder. It didn't bear thinking about. I was home safely, and Jasper would be in jail soon, if he wasn't already.

  I cleaned my feet, ensuring the cuts were free of grit, then climbed out of the tub. I dried off but realized I had no clean clothes with me. I wrapped the towel around my body and opened the door.

  Lincoln looked up from where he was leaning against the wall opposite and a little down from the bathroom. His gaze heated as it settled on my bare shoulders then moved down to my legs.

  "I need clean clothes," I told him as a blush crept up my throat.

  His gaze flicked to mine then he quickly turned, presenting me with his back. But not before I saw something I'd never seen before on his face. He looked confused, like he didn't know what to do or say.

  I hobbled to my room and quickly dressed before making my way outside again. I didn't get far. Lincoln stood in the corridor, the medical bag in hand. Seth, Gus and Cook stood behind him. When he didn't move, Seth and Gus edged around him. They stood on either side of me, looped their arms behind my back, and carried me to the armchair.

  "Sit down," Seth ordered.

  I sat, and Lincoln crouched on the floor in front of me. He gently took my foot in his hands and inspected it.

  "Did the police arrest Jasper?" I asked Seth.

  He nodded and sat on another chair. "He was still in his rooms, dazed from a blow to the head. He sported a rope burn around his throat too, similar to your wrists and ankles. Know anything about that, Charlie?" he asked with a lopsided grin.

  "I may. Was he really that dazed?"

  "He was. Had a bruise here too." He tapped his temple. "That's quite a punch you must have delivered."

  "It was my elbow."

  "Ah. Good girl. Elbows are stronger than fists. Clever thinking."

  "I wasn't really thinking at all. Not then, and not earlier when I managed to hit Pete. It was instinct."

  "Thanks to all that training," Gus said with a decisive nod.

  "It be paying off," Cook added.

  "Yes." I smiled down at Lincoln, but he wasn't looking at me. "I hope we can resume as soon as possible."

  "We can modify training until you're healed," Seth said. "Perhaps some weapons training while you have to stay off your feet."

  "Knife throwing," Cook said. "I can show you how from sitting."

  "Guns too." Gus rubbed his hands togeth
er and blew on the fingers. "I know someone who'll sell me a little muff pistol at a good price."

  Seth smacked Gus's shoulder. "The price doesn't matter." He nodded at Lincoln who was now bandaging my foot.

  "We can set up targets out back." Cook ran his hand over his shiny head. "One point if she hit a biscuit tin and two for a tea tin."

  "If you turn the biscuit tins on their side, they present a narrower target." Seth rubbed his jaw. He hadn't yet shaved, and the pale bristles leant his face a ruggedness it was otherwise missing. "I propose five points for a small tea tin, three points for a biscuit tin on its side and 1 point for when its presented front on."

  "You got something smaller than tea?" Gus asked Cook. "We could make that ten points."

  Cook nodded thoughtfully. "Tobacco tins be small."

  "None of you smoke," I said, laughing.

  That didn't seem to concern them. They continued to discuss the best tins for target practice, and how many points each should be worth. They had quite a system arranged by the time Lincoln finished bandaging my foot.

  "There are a set of crutches in the attic," he said, rising. "Gus, go fetch them."

  Gus obeyed without complaint, and Cook headed out too in search of tins. Seth yawned and sprawled in the chair.

  "You've been up all night," I said. "Go get some rest."

  "So have you," he said. "You should rest."

  "I slept most of the night away. I might have been unconscious, but either way I don't feel tired."

  "Jesus, Charlie. You were unconscious? We should get a real doctor in to look at her," he said to Lincoln.

  "I feel fine," I told them both.

  Lincoln nodded at Seth, and Seth rose. "I'll fetch one now."

  I sighed as he left. "I feel perfectly all right." I wiggled my foot as best as I could. "Thank you. It doesn't hurt nearly so much."

  "Then why did you wince and tense every time I touched it?" Lincoln asked.

  "I didn't think you noticed."

  "I noticed."

  "I suppose you notice everything." I bit my lip, aware of how that sounded. "I…I don't mean your instincts, your gift, I meant—"

  He placed a hand to the side of my face. I was so shocked that I stopped talking. "I know what you meant." His thumb stroked my cheek before he lowered his hand and stood.

  "Lincoln—Mr. Fitzroy—I need to get something off my chest."

  He glanced at the door. Was he looking for an escape route or to see if anyone was nearby? He sat. "Go on."

  I clutched the arms of the chair to anchor myself and sucked in a deep breath. "You had every right to be angry with me—"

  "That matter is over. We won't speak of it anymore."

  "We have to, or things will never be right between us."

  "You're wrong. What's between us…it's not that. I don't want you to trouble yourself over it anymore, Charlie. It's not your fault."

  I clicked my tongue and stretched my fingers then forced them to be still in my lap. "Let me explain. You don't know all of it." I waited and he nodded at me to go on. "A few days ago, after visiting the orphanages on the other side of the river, I stopped at the General Registry Office. I thought there might be a record of my birth, with Frankenstein listed as the father. I doubted it, but decided that since I was near, I might as well try my luck. While I was there, I realized I could also ask them to check for any records of your birth." I looked down at my fingers, twisted into knots in my lap. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "It was a decision made in a moment, and I regretted it immediately. But I couldn't call the fellow back, so I resolved not to ask him for the information when he returned. Unfortunately, he gave it to me before I could stop him."

  "And what did you find out?"

  "Nothing. There were no records under your name."

  "And about yourself?"

  I looked up at him and shrugged. "Also nothing."

  "So it was a wasted effort and you tripped the trigger the ministry has placed on my name there."

  I gawped at him. "What trigger?"

  "The ministry has triggers set up on certain official files, not only within the General Registry Office but in other government offices too. When someone asks to look at them, a particular member of the committee, or myself, is notified. The General Registry Office trigger is set to alert Lady Harcourt. You're fortunate it wasn't Lord Gillingham."

  "I don't feel particularly fortunate."

  "I imagine not."

  As always it was difficult to tell with Lincoln, but he didn't sound angry with me. Perhaps he was too happy to have me back and would never be angry with me again. A girl could hope, couldn't she?

  "At least I now know how she convinced you to go through with it," he said.

  "You were furious with me when you learned I'd summoned Gurry. Why aren't you angry over this?"

  "I wasn't furious. You told me yourself that your investigation at the General Registry Office was hastily decided upon and you regretted it. The summoning was more planned, deliberate. I thought you and Julia had concocted it together. I should have considered the possibility that she'd blackmailed you," he bit off. "It seems so obvious now, but at the time… It was a bad error on my part, and I'm sorry."

  "You have nothing to apologize for. You couldn't have known, and it's not entirely Lady Harcourt's fault. I could have refused, but the truth is that I wanted to know why you killed Gurry too."

  "Did she ask you the night before?

  I nodded.

  "I wondered why she came. It seemed odd that she would collect me."

  "She was also worried you would change your mind and not go to the ball."

  "Was she?" he ground out. He shook his head. "We won't speak of this anymore, Charlie. It's done now."

  "It's not. I wish to clear the air."

  "It's cleared."

  "It's not! Lincoln, you need to know how awful I felt summoning Gurry's spirit. I felt sick. And then when you interrupted us in a fury…I thought you would murder someone."

  He flinched. Perhaps that had been a poor choice of words. "I wasn't angry with you, Charlie." He rubbed his temple then dug his fingers into his eyes. "I was disappointed. I probably didn't express it very well."

  Here was the crux of it. This was what I needed to know, although hearing him speak of his disappointment in me was like a blow to the stomach. "You were disappointed because you thought you could trust me," I finished for him.

  His hand dropped to the chair arm and he gave a slight nod.

  "Lincoln, you can trust me." I leaned forward, hoping that would get my point across better. "I won't betray you again. I promise."

  He said nothing, just stared down at his hand.

  "Lincoln?" I said in a small voice. "I have to know…can you bring yourself to trust me again?"

  "I already do."

  My lip wobbled. I bit it hard.

  "But trust goes both ways," he went on. "And clearly you don't trust me or you would have told me what Julia had threatened to do."

  "I almost did. That's why I waited up for you to return from the ball. But you were in a foul temper and I changed my mind."

  The muscles around his eyes tightened in another flinch. "Then I deserved what happened. Don't excuse my behavior," he said when I opened my mouth to protest. "That entire evening is one I'd rather forget. I was in a foul temper, and unfortunately you were in the firing line at the wrong time. I'm sorry I said the things I did. It was uncalled for."

  "Thank you. I forgive you. So…your family wasn't there?"

  "One member was, but he knows nothing about my existence. I'm not worthy of his notice, so consequently, he didn't notice me. I don't know why I expected him to."

  I bit back my sympathetic response and instead said, "Even though I didn't tell you in advance about Lady Harcourt's request, I want you to know that I do trust you, Lincoln."

  His gaze lifted to mine. "Do you? I've betrayed you just as badly in the past."

  "That incident was months ago," I
said, waving my hand. "I'd already forgotten it." He was referring to the time he'd let me go then set a brute onto me to scare me into staying at Lichfield. It was sometimes difficult to reconcile that incident and the man who'd instigated it with the Lincoln Fitzroy sitting before me.

  "No, you haven't," he said quietly. "You still have nightmares about it."

  He knew that? "Not only about that man," I assured him. "The nightmares have lessened now, anyway." I shrugged and folded my arms across my chest.

  "I was desperate then, Charlie. I didn't know how else to get you to stay. Another man would have known, but not me."

  Desperate? For me to stay? Oh. I swallowed and nodded to let him know that I understood. I was too shaken by his honesty to speak. It meant a lot that he would confide in me like this.

  "I want you to trust me," he said. "So I'm going to tell you about Gurry."

  My eyes widened. "You don't have to."

  "I want to. I want you to feel safe here, and that means allaying any fears about me you might still have."

  I was about to tell him that I didn't have any fears, but I didn't want him to change his mind and not confide in me so I remained quiet.

  "I was eleven when he came to tutor me. We didn't get along particularly well, but that wasn't unusual. My tutors were there to teach me in any way they saw fit."

  How could any child learn anything while being beaten? Or fearing a beating?

  "When I was twelve, things changed in the general's household. The housekeeper's nephew came to live with us. His parents had died, and he had no one else. He was two years younger than me, but we became friends, of sorts. I'd never had a friend before, never been around other children, so I wasn't easy to get along with. But we did, after a while. The problem was, I was busy with my studies and had little time for him."

  "What about after lessons?"

  "I studied every day from six in the morning until eight at night for day classes, then the night lessons would begin on those evenings I had them."

  "Night classes? What could you possibly learn at night?"

  "How to find my way around London in the dark. How to get in through a locked window without waking anyone. How to move about the clubs and dens without being noticed. Among other things."