by C. J. Archer
That was quite an unusual education. I wished I'd had those sorts of lessons. Living on the streets might have been easier at first if I had. "The less I saw of Tim, the harder he tried to get my attention. He was bored and lonely in that house with nothing to do but a few chores. So he would amuse himself by tapping on the windows until my tutors came looking for him, then he'd run off. Or he would place tacks on their chairs, or break their pens and inkwells. He was mischievous, but he did it to get me to laugh."
"He never got caught?"
"Frequently. The tutors would beat him, but never severely. The housekeeper wouldn't let them."
"Did the general know what they were doing to him? And to you?"
He nodded. "It was in the reports they gave him upon his infrequent returns to the city. They'd detail what I'd learned, how well I was doing, how much they needed to discipline me et cetera."
"And he didn't try to stop them beating you? Or Tim?"
"The general believes in strong discipline. The more wayward the boy, the harder the beatings should be."
I covered my mouth. "Oh, Lincoln."
He flinched and I bit my lip. It wasn't pity he wanted, it was understanding.
"That's why he liked Gurry so much. His beatings were the hardest. Several months after Tim came to live with us, he took his fun too far. He'd made himself a slingshot and hid outside the window. We'd planned for me to open it during my lesson with Gurry and Tim would fire things at him. I followed through on the plan, and Tim shot a series of small objects at Gurry. Gurry batted some away, but Tim was fast and the rapid fire overwhelmed Gurry. He accidentally swallowed one of the pellets and almost choked. When he recovered, he went looking for Tim. It took all afternoon to find him and catch him, but when he did, he beat him with a cane. Tim was defiant, and refused to apologize. He told Gurry that the object he'd swallowed was a ball of dried horse dung. Gurry was a stickler for hygiene and had a fear of germs. He almost had an apoplexy when Tim told him that. It set him off even more. He beat Tim harder and harder, on his back, his shoulders, and around his head. Gurry went into a frenzy. I tried to pull him off but couldn't. The housekeeper started screaming, but he seemed not to hear her. He kept hitting Tim, even after he collapsed. He was bleeding from the nose and ears, but still Gurry didn't stop. It seemed to go on forever. Finally, he calmed down, but only when Tim was no longer moving."
"Oh God," I whispered into my hand. "He killed Tim. He beat him to death."
"The housekeeper wrote to the general, and the general dismissed Gurry. I never saw him again until almost a year ago in that lane. It all suddenly came back to me, and I couldn't put aside my anger. I'd let Tim down all those years ago. I hadn't been able to save him, but I finally had a chance to see justice served. So I killed Gurry then and there."
I stared at him, stunned by the story and the image of that poor boy at the mercy of Gurry. And poor Lincoln too, living with the memories for so many years. He'd had one friend in his entire life, and that friend had died because he'd been a distraction to Lincoln's studies. It was a lot to bear.
"You didn't fail Tim," I assured him. "You were only a boy too, when it happened. Don't blame yourself for something only Gurry is responsible for."
He glanced at me, a small crease connecting his brows. "And of my actions in the lane? I was an adult then. I knew what I was doing, and I chose to do it anyway."
I couldn't meet his gaze. While I understood why he'd done it, it still unnerved me to think he could hold onto his revenge for so long then act upon it in a cold, calculating manner. "Was his death swift?"
"Yes."
"Then that's something."
His brows arched.
"I don't blame you, Lincoln. I know the man you are…the man you're trained to be…and I accept that side of you. But it is only one facet of you. There are many others, and together they make up someone I like. Someone I want to get to know better."
I stood to go to him, but he shot to his feet at the same time. He swallowed heavily and placed his hands at his back. He gave me a firm nod, then turned and walked out. Just like that.
I stood there, blinking at the doorway, debating whether to go after him or not. I might have trouble catching him, bandaged up as I was.
"Charlie!" Gus scowled when he saw me standing. "You were supposed to wait until I brought you these." He handed me the crutches. When I continued to stare dumbly at the doorway, he took my hand and placed it on the horizontal bar. "Let me adjust the height for you."
***
I spent most of the day in the library, reading. The men disappeared at different times to nap, then would return to keep me company. The only one who didn't was Lincoln, and I missed his company terribly. I sent Seth up to his rooms to ask him to join us for a game of cards, but he still didn't come down.
"What's he doing?" I asked.
"Pacing."
"Pacing?"
He nodded as he dealt. "Stop worrying about him, Charlie. He knows his own mind."
He did, and that was partly the problem. His mind was always working, always remembering. What was he thinking now? I would have thought telling me about Gurry would be a weight off his shoulders, but it seemed to have made him more agitated. I was contemplating venturing upstairs to see him when he strode into the library dressed in coat and hat. He handed some letters to Gus.
"Deliver these to the committee members tonight. They're messages informing them of what transpired with Captain Jasper. They'll want to know the outcome, even though it wasn't a ministry matter."
"Can I have a game first?" Gus asked.
Lincoln nodded then walked off without another word, and without even glancing at me.
"Where are you going?" I called after him.
"For a walk." The front door opened and closed.
Gus tapped the cards in front of me. "He'll be all right. He won't get himself kidnapped."
Seth rolled his eyes. "You say the stupidest things sometimes."
"That right? I happen to know stupidest ain't a word."
"Neither is ain't." Seth threw down a card. "Stop dandying about and have your turn."
***
General Eastbrooke arrived late the following morning. I was ensconced in the library once more and heard his arrival. Lincoln answered the door. It was the first time I'd seen him all day, and I hadn't heard him come home the night before.
They came into the library and the general greeted me with a thin smile. "You're in one piece," he said. "That's the main thing."
I suspected that was all the sympathy I would get. I expected nothing else from a man who allowed his employees to beat children.
"I was going to send this last night when I received your message." He handed Lincoln a piece of paper. "It's a list of disgraced doctors dismissed from the military in the last ten years. Jasper is there." He pointed to the paper. "Unfortunately, I didn't get this in time for it to be of use."
Lincoln folded it and handed it back.
The general pocketed it. "According to his file, he was dismissed for keeping the dead bodies of some of the soldiers and performing tests on them."
I pulled a face. "He'd given them his serum before their deaths and needed to test its effects afterward to see how it performed."
"That what he told you, eh? Sounds like a madman to me."
"He was."
"Lincoln mentioned Jasper wanted to use you to help him."
I nodded. "Hence the kidnapping."
"Well. Glad you got away. How did you manage it?"
"With an elbow to his temple and a little trickery to scare his man."
His grunt held more than a hint of admiration. "Well done. I expect you'll be recovered in no time. Who'll keep house for you until she does?" he asked Lincoln as he walked out of the library again.
"No one," Lincoln said, following. "I don't need anyone else."
He didn't return after the general left. The others came and went, but not Lincoln. Not until Lady Harcourt a
rrived to see me at around lunch time. At least, I heard her tell him she'd come to see me, but she spoke a long time with him in the entrance hall. I caught most of their exchange since she did all the talking in a shrill voice.
"I don't know where he's gone, and nor does his brother," she said. They were talking about Andrew Buchanan, her stepson. "He left without a word, and he's taken nothing with him. He's gone, Lincoln, and I'm terribly worried."
"He's a grown man. He can fend for himself."
"That's the thing! He can't. He's hopeless. He lurches from one crisis to the next and needs either me or his brother to get him out of them. I'm concerned that he's in over his head."
"Are you?" he drawled. "That's unlike you, Julia, particularly where Andrew is concerned."
I wished I could see her face; it was a long time before she spoke. "I found books on the occult in his rooms. Charms and amulets too."
"You think he's dabbling with forces he doesn't understand?"
"I do." Her voice sounded more like her usual confident one. "I'm going to raise this as a ministry matter since it involves the supernatural."
"We don't know that for sure."
"This is just a courtesy call to you to give you warning," she said.
"I don't need advanced warning."
"Oh, Lincoln, I also came because I had to see you."
I pulled myself out of the chair and used my crutches to get to the door and peer round it. She was leaning against Lincoln, her head on his shoulder. He gingerly patted her back as if worried he'd make it worse if he patted too hard.
"I wanted to tell you how sorry I am," she said. "If I'd known how upset you would be over summoning Gurry, I wouldn't have let her do it."
Let me do it! I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip on the crutches to storm out and challenge her, but Lincoln's hand suddenly came up at his side in a "wait" gesture. He knew I was there, listening.
"Don't trouble yourself, Julia," he said. "The matter is closed. We'll speak no more of it." He grasped her shoulders and pushed her gently away.
She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her gloved finger. "But…I need to know why you killed him. Why not just tell me?"
"Because the people who need to know already know. You do not."
"Lincoln! How can you say that? As your friend, I'm worried about you." When he said nothing, she splayed her hands on his chest. Her eyelids lowered and she tilted her face up to his. "As your lover, I have a—"
"Don't!" He grabbed her wrists before stepping away and letting go.
She blinked back at him, but I was too far to see if her eyes were teary. Her hand fluttered at the black ribbon choker at her throat. "Lincoln?" Her pitiful whisper barely reached me.
"Thank you for stopping by," he said, striding past her to the door.
She straightened her shoulders and her chin rose. I'd begun to feel sorry for her, so I was pleased to see her strength of character return. I did not want to sympathize with Lady Harcourt. "I came to see Charlie too. She's had quite an ordeal, and I want to see if she needs anything. Is she in her rooms?"
I shook my head at him, but he didn't lift his eyes and couldn't have seen. Even so, he told her I was not up to receiving callers. "As you said, she's had an ordeal. She needs rest."
"Very well. Tell her I'm thinking of her."
"I will."
She brushed past him and he shut the door before her carriage rolled away. He came over to me in the library doorway. "Apparently Lady Harcourt is thinking of you."
"You didn't tell her that you know she blackmailed me into summoning Gurry?"
He shook his head. "I can if you like."
"No. There's no need. I don't want things to be even more awkward between her and me."
"She's not your enemy, Charlie. She's…unhappy."
"I know. I don't think of her as an enemy, but I'm not sure we can be friends." I laughed at my own ridiculous statement. I was a maid and she a lady. There was no chance of friendship between us anyway. "Do you think there's any cause to worry about her stepson?"
"Possibly. I'll have to investigate now, anyway. She'll present it to the ministry in such a way that they'll feel compelled to find out where he went."
"It's not like we have anything better to do."
"We?"
I smiled. "Yes, we. Now, do you think luncheon will be far away? I'm starving."
***
We resumed training after lunch. All of us. Seth arranged a series of firearms on the kitchen table and he and Lincoln went through the particulars of each one while Cook and Gus set up targets outside and a chair for me to sit in. I'd only fired off three bullets, missing all of the tins each time, when a man approached from the side of the house. He wore checked trousers and a brown coat over a black waistcoat. He was a middle aged fellow with brown hair and a graying beard. A uniformed policeman trailed after him.
"Is one of you gentlemen Mr. Lincoln Fitzroy?" the man asked.
Lincoln stepped forward. "I am."
The newcomer introduced himself as Detective Inspector Darby. He didn't introduce his spotty faced constable. "Is this Miss Holloway?"
"Yes," I said with a smile. "You have some questions for me about the abduction?"
"I do, miss, but first, I must inform you that the fellow known as Captain Jasper is dead."
I gasped. Oh God. Had I killed him? "How…?"
"Throat was cut while he was in the cell."
Not me, thank God. Still, what an awful outcome.
"Blimey," Gus muttered. "A cove ain't safe anywhere these days."
"Sometimes those holding cells can get quite full," I said. "And when you put a group of criminals together…" I knew from experience how violent the holding cells could get.
"He was alone, miss," the inspector said.
"Then who killed him?"
"We don't know. It happened in the night. Whoever did it got in and out without anyone seeing him." The inspector shook his head. "It's a mystery."
Seth shifted his weight and I glanced up at him. But he wasn't looking at me. He was staring at Lincoln. Lincoln, however, wasn't looking at anyone. His gaze was fixed on a point on the horizon. His expression was unreadable, his body still.
"What of the two men who worked for him?" I asked. "Did you catch them?"
The inspector shook his head. "They disappeared. I had men stationed at places they frequented, but there'd been no sign of them until this morning. They turned up dead in the river."
"Both of them?" At his nod, I swallowed heavily. "Were their throats cut too?"
"They were. We have no reason to think their deaths are linked to your abduction, miss, but if you have any information that can help us, we'd be most grateful."
I shook my head. "No, nothing. I'm sorry."
"Mind if I ask you some questions about that night?"
"Of course."
They stayed for a mere fifteen minutes then went on their way. The inspector's questions were exactly the ones I expected; he didn't seem to think the deaths of Jasper, Jimmy and Pete had anything to do with us.
He was the only one who thought that.
Lincoln remained at my side while the inspector was there, but left to see him off and didn't return. I continued my target practice, but only for a few more minutes. It had been a lark before, but a dark cloud had descended over our little group and changed the mood.
I got up, and Gus offered to help me inside but I wanted to do it myself. Going up the staircase wasn't easy, and I dispensed with the crutches and hobbled the rest of the way to Lincoln's rooms. I knocked. He opened the door and didn't look at all surprised to see me there.
"You should use the crutches."
"May I come in?"
He hesitated and, if I wasn't mistaken, he was biting on the inside of his lip.
"Lincoln?" If he'd noticed that I'd dispensed with calling him Mr. Fitzroy lately, he didn't point it out.
He held out his hand to me. I took it and he directed
me inside to a chair, but I didn't want to sit down. I suspected he would remain standing, and I didn't want to feel at a disadvantage. I leaned on the back of a chair for support and met his gaze. He was watching me.
"You think I did it," he said. "You think I killed them."
There were several things I could have said, but I chose the path that I hoped would encourage him to tell me more. "Why would you?"
"Revenge." His gaze traveled to my bruised cheek. "You know I'm capable of exacting it."
With those few words, he'd put me in the same category as he placed Tim—as a friend worthy of his vengeful form of justice. Despite everything, it was a relief to hear. It meant he truly had forgiven me for my betrayal. I gave him a wobbly smile, but he didn't seem to understand why I was smiling. He frowned.
"I'm mostly unharmed," I told him. "I hardly think what happened to me warrants such drastic revenge." He said nothing, so I went on. "But you were agitated most of yesterday after we spoke, then you went out last night for a long time. Today, you've been distant. I don't think you killed them, but evidence points that way."
"I didn't."
My hand almost slipped off the chair in relief. If nothing else, it proved I'd harbored a kernel of doubt. "I believe you. So where did you go last night?"
"Nowhere. I walked around for a few hours then came back here."
I frowned. "Why were you just walking?"
"To clear my head and think."
"What were you thinking about?"
He drew in a deep breath, then another, and he stepped closer. He lifted a hand to my swollen cheek but didn't touch it. His eyes turned smoky, warm, and his face lowered. "About whether I should do this."
His mouth met mine. There was nothing tentative about the kiss. It was thorough, confident, yet as gentle as a first kiss ought to be. I'd not expected him to have soft lips. They were usually drawn into a hard, firm line, but now they felt like pillows. They were wonderful. He was wonderful. I knew the kiss didn't solve anything between us—if anything, it probably complicated things—but at that moment, I didn't care.
I let go of the chair, buried my hands in his hair, and kissed him back.