by C. J. Archer
"Gilly! That's enough. We've been through this. What affects my pack also affects me." She rubbed her belly again. "They're like my family."
Gillingham dragged his hand through his hair and sat back, deflated.
"You really do think Swinburn is to blame for setting Yallop onto us?" Harriet asked Lincoln.
Lincoln told her what he'd learned about Yallop's debt to Swinburn, and their association.
She was nodding by the time he finished. "It must be Swinburn," she agreed. "First he commits the murders near Mr. Gawler's place to make it look as if he did them, then he colludes with that blasted Yallop fellow. What say you, Mr. Gawler?"
"I say he's a low down mangy cur, ma'am. Pardon my language, but I don't know no better words to describe him."
"That's quite all right. I agree. He's a cur. So the question is, what do we do now?"
"Kill him," Gillingham said, winding up again. "Fitzroy, get onto it. Harriet, come. It's time to go." He went to stand, but Harriet put her arm across his chest, barring him from moving. The muscles in his face twitched but he settled back meekly enough. Harriet's mouth softened with her smile.
"We can't just kill him," I said. "It would look too suspicious."
"Why not simply tell Fullbright all about Swinburn?" Harriet said. "Put suspicion onto him by telling Fullbright he's a shape changer and a horrid person."
"If you have any thoughts on how to do that, I am all ears," Lincoln said drily. "Swinburn is too well connected for unfounded accusations to be taken seriously. Particularly accusations voiced by me, since I am already under suspicion thanks to The Star's reports."
"That bloody rag," Gillingham spat. "That journalist should be shot. His editor, too. They stirred up this trouble."
"Isn't there someone you can speak to?" I asked him. "Don't you have influence with other members of parliament?"
He looked away, chin lifted high, and didn't deign to answer.
"You got influence, ma'am," Gawler said to Harriet.
"Not really," she said with a sigh. "With the wives of MPs, perhaps, but that's all."
"What about with Swinburn's pack? Most of 'em like you, on account of you being a kind soul." Did I detect a blush above his whiskers?
"They're not MPs or related to MPs. None have any real power except Swinburn himself. Even Lord Ballantine is only a minor baron."
"I meant to ask them to spy on Swinburn for you."
"You overstate my influence, you dear man. They wouldn't spy on him for me, or for anyone. They're much too loyal."
Lincoln rubbed his jaw in thought. "You could still speak to the members of his pack and—"
"No!" Gillingham shouted. "My wife will not speak to anyone associated with that reprobate."
Harriet jerked around to face her husband. "But Gilly—"
"No! Out of the question. It's far too dangerous."
"Nonsense. I'm quite capable of doing my bit and I intend to do it." She lifted a hand to silence Gillingham's protests.
He huffed twice, stood, and stalked to the window. He stared up at the sky.
"I have a better idea." Harriet's eyes brightened, and she clapped her hands lightly. "Instead of trying to influence them, and hoping they can influence Swinburn, I shall pretend to befriend him. I'll tell him I've had enough of the East End and its slum dwellers, and that I want to run with a more prestigious pack after the baby is born. He has been trying to get me to join them ever since he found out about me. He thinks I belong there, you see, and not with Gawler."
Gillingham groaned. "Do I have any say in this?"
"It's the best way, Gilly. You know that."
"But it's dangerous."
"It's good of you to worry about us." She patted her belly. "But I won't be swayed. I will call on him tonight and then I'll proceed to spy on him when he brings me into the fold. Isn't that a clever plan, Charlie?"
I glanced at Lincoln, but he did not give his thoughts away. He was staring at Harriet. "I…I don't know," I said. "Your husband's right, and it could be dangerous. If Swinburn finds out that you're spying, he'll…do something awful to you."
"Tosh." She waved her hand. "He won't find out. I'm very good at pretending. Aren't I, Gilly? Very good indeed. I'll see him tonight and report back when I have some information. Come Gilly, Mr. Gawler, we've taken up enough of Charlie and Lincoln's time. They seem quite busy." She held out her hand and Gawler took it, rather than her husband. He assisted her to stand then only dropped her hand when Gillingham glared at him.
"You know who I blame for all this?" Gillingham said to no one in particular.
"Swinburn?" I said.
"The Star?" his wife offered.
"Julia and Buchanan," he said.
Harriet shook her head. "I'm not sure Andrew is at fault."
"He is. He can't control Julia. Never could. If he'd been able to keep her, she wouldn't have run off to Swinburn and told him the ministry's secrets."
Harriet giggled then looped her arm through his. "You do say the oddest things, Gilly. Andrew never had a hope of controlling a spirited thing like Julia. He's no match for her. He knows it too."
Gillingham's nostrils flared and he walked with her to the door. Harriet let him go when they reached it, and told her husband to go ahead. "I want to speak to Charlie alone." She took my hand and placed it on her arm.
"Is everything all right?" I asked after the men were out of earshot.
She smiled sweetly. "Everything is perfect. I wanted to ask you how you are, with the wedding so close. Are you sure all is in hand? Lincoln hasn't scared off the servants, has he?"
I laughed. "No. They like him."
She screwed up her nose. "Really?"
"Yes! Thank you for your concern, but it's fine. Lady V has been helping me prepare everything. She's very organized and knows precisely what is required."
"It comes with having done it twice, I suppose. Speaking of the old dear, I must say that her association with you hasn't harmed your reputation a bit."
"I wasn't aware I had a reputation," I said as we descended the stairs.
"Oh yes. You're quite the topic of discussion at all the garden parties this summer. You secured Lincoln, you see, and he created a sensation when he was on the market. All the women were aflutter over him."
"So I heard."
"It seems Lady Vickers's reputation has risen too. She's almost an accepted member of society again. If she plays her cards right she ought to secure a good match for Seth."
"I'm not sure Seth agrees with his mother's idea of a good match."
"He ought to listen to her. Dalliances are all well and good, but there comes a time when a gentleman must marry and marry well. A solid marriage is not all about love, you know. Just because you are fortunate in that regard, doesn't mean everyone is."
I watched her husband walking ahead with Lincoln. Side by side, the physical difference between them was never more pronounced. "No, I suppose not."
She followed my gaze. "Oh, we're happy enough now, but it has taken time and some very big changes. Despite some resistance at first, he's quite content for me to have my way now."
"And you like getting your own way more?"
She winked. "I certainly do."
* * *
Lincoln went out in the afternoon but wouldn't tell me why. He simply gave vague responses to my questions, but since he promised not to confront Swinburn or any of his pack, I didn't worry too much.
I assisted Gus and Seth a little as they checked the guns in the weapon room, then went in search of Lady Vickers and Alice. I found them both in Lady Vickers' bedroom, changing the linen. The room smelled like wood polish.
"Let me help you," I said, taking a corner of the sheet and tucking it under the mattress.
"There's no need," Alice said. "We have it in hand. We make quite the team."
"We do," Lady Vickers said. "Although I am glad this is the last room."
"We ought to dust the drawing room and library at the ve
ry least, in case there are more visitors. And I noticed scuff marks on the entrance tiles. The porch is a little dusty too."
Lady Vickers plopped down on the bed with a groan. Her hair had come loose from its arrangement and strands fell across her shiny face. She swept them aside with the back of her hand. "Housework is for youngsters."
"Mrs. Cotchin isn't young," I said.
"She doesn't do any housework, she merely orders the girls to do it." She rubbed her shoulder and tilted her head to the side, stretching her neck.
"You've done a lot today," Alice said. "Why not lie down for a while."
"And you? You haven't stopped."
Alice massaged Lady Vickers's shoulder and the older woman groaned in relief. "I need to keep busy or I'll go mad," Alice said.
"I thought you'd be assisting Cook, Lady V," I said with a wicked smile.
She didn't notice it, however. "He seems to have everything under control, and kitchen work is even more exhausting than housework. It's so hot in there! I don't know how he does it every day."
"The warmth is inviting in the winter." I'd spent many a morning or evening in the kitchen, warming icy hands by the stove. After living in a derelict tenement or on the streets for several years, coming home to a warm kitchen was like stepping into heaven.
"That feels nice, Alice." Lady Vickers closed her eyes and yawned.
"Why not lie down for a little while," Alice said. "Charlie and I can cope on our own."
"Perhaps I will. Just for ten minutes."
Alice and I left her and headed downstairs to the kitchen to make tea. The crunch of wheels on the gravel diverted us when we reached the base of the staircase, however. It couldn't be Lincoln. He would have driven around to the coach house out the back. This conveyance stopped.
I opened the door just as a middle-aged man alighted from the hackney. He was short with dark hair and a set of bushy eyebrows that almost connected in the middle as he gave me a stern appraisal. Since he was studying me so closely, he did not notice the other passenger emerge and so did not offer assistance. She was even shorter than he, reaching only his shoulder, and quite broad in hip and bosom. A wide brown hat perched on her head, matching the plain gown she wore. Neither hat nor gown sported so much as an inch of lace, embroidery or other embellishment.
"Charlie? Who is it?" Alice asked from behind me. She peered over my shoulder and gasped. "Oh no."
"You know them?" I whispered.
"Yes."
"Who are they?"
"My parents."
Chapter 9
Alice had once told me she looked nothing like her parents, and now that they drew closer, I could see why she thought she might not be their daughter. Alice had a natural grace and elegance that came with her tall, willowy figure. Her parents were both short and their gait as they stomped up the front steps was anything but graceful. Where Alice had fair hair, her father's was dark and her mother's red. Their features were unalike too, and although her mother had blue eyes, they were steely, whereas Alice's were the color of a summer sky. Not even Mrs. Everheart's anger could alter their shade that much. And she was very angry.
"Pack you things, Alice," Mrs. Everheart said as her sharp gaze darted around the entrance hall and up the staircase. "You are coming home with us. You cannot stay in this vile pit any longer. The good lord knows what debauchery you've been exposed to already."
Alice protested, but my voice rose above hers. "I beg your pardon! This is a respectable household and I would thank you not to suggest otherwise." I sucked in a breath to steady my nerves. "My name is Charlie Holloway and I am Alice's friend and mistress of Lichfield Towers. If you'd like to have a calm, rational conversation with Alice then please come with me to the drawing room and we'll have tea."
"We are not staying for tea," Mrs. Everheart bit off. "We are collecting Alice and leaving. Things have gone on too long already."
"Things?" I echoed. "What things?"
Mrs. Everheart looked around the entrance hall again, as if she couldn't bear to look at either Alice or me. "You know what sort of things. Unmarried men and women living together…it's not right in the eyes of God."
Alice bristled. "Mama! That is not fair. And I am not leaving."
"Don't argue, Child—"
"I am not a child! If I'm old enough to marry then I'm old enough to make my own decisions."
Mrs. Everheart's gaze finally locked onto Alice. "You are not old enough to marry without our consent."
"That is not the point, Mama! I don't want to get married yet, and certainly not to Mr. Crossley. He's far too old, for one thing, and as dull as a puddle."
"He is our very good friend!" Mr. Everheart spluttered. "He is sensible, responsible and godly. He's everything one could hope for in a husband."
"Then you marry him," Alice snapped.
"How dare you!"
"Living here has infected your mind." Her mother wrinkled her nose, as if she could smell the so-called debauchery. "The morals we instilled in you are corroding from idleness and lack of purpose. Do you even attend church?"
Alice huffed. "I give up. You won't listen to me, and never have. I'm tired of being treated as if I carry some sort of disease that must be cured. I am your daughter, your only child now, not someone you need to wash your hands of."
Her father thrust out his chin and gave a triumphant smile. "If we were trying to get rid of you, why are we here collecting you?"
"Because you promised Mr. Crossley I would marry him and you were prepared to wait for me to come around to the idea, but grew impatient."
Mr. Everheart's smile slipped but he kept his chin out.
"You're worried that my reputation will be tainted beyond repair because I live with a gypsy, a pugilist and a thug as your last letter pointed out. You want me to be as pure as fresh snow for my marriage. Or, rather, that's what Mr. Crossley wants and he is becoming impatient. Well? Is that how it is?"
"Lower your voice," her mother hissed. "The servants will hear you."
"There are no servants at the moment." As soon as it was out of my mouth, I regretted it. I'd just given them the ammunition they needed.
Mr. and Mrs. Everheart exchanged glances. "Do you mean to say you are unsupervised?" Mrs. Everheart asked.
"Of course not," I said. "Lady Vickers is in residence. She's an upstanding pillar of society."
Mrs. Everheart snorted. "Our inquiry agent says she ran off with her footman."
"They married."
"After living in sin for several months."
"That is neither here nor there," Alice said.
"What my wife is trying to say," Mr. Everheart said, voice tight, "is that without a housekeeper, governess or other respectable woman living here, we must assume the worst."
Alice did not respond. I wondered if, like me, her father's use of "my wife" and not "your mother" had thrown her off balance. It may mean nothing, but considering Alice's doubts surrounding her parentage, the words dropped like stones at our feet. And there was the rabbit's statement about Alice's aunt, the queen, still ringing in my ears.
"The servants are usually here but have been given time off," I said to break the silence.
"Why?" Mr. Everheart asked.
"Er… Well…"
"What Charlie is too polite to tell you," Alice said, her eyes flashing, "is that the servants have been sent away for their own safety. My dreams have become more frequent and took a dangerous turn. You recall my dreams, don't you? The ones that come to life? The reason you sent me to that dreadful school?"
Neither parent met her gaze.
"The fewer people near me at the moment, the better. So you see, if I leave here with you, it's likely you'll wake up to soldiers on your doorstep tonight. Is that what you want? Are you able to defend yourselves against Wonderland's army?"
Mr. Everheart paled. "Army?" he whispered.
Mrs. Everheart clutched the collar at her throat. She stared off into space. "We should never have taken you i
n," she murmured. "We thought we were doing our Christian duty, but…what if it was the devil that led you to us?"
Alice gasped and staggered back. I took her hand in mine and steadied her. "I am…" She gulped and began again. "I am not your child, am I?"
"Why did we do it, Mr. Everheart?" Mrs. Everheart asked her husband. "Why did we take them in?"
"My brother and I…" Alice said again, her voice firmer. "We were adopted, weren't we?" Alice had told me about her little brother and how he'd died young. She'd adored him and his death had affected her deeply.
Mrs. Everheart reached a hand toward her husband. He caught it and patted it vigorously. "I feel faint," she muttered.
"The parlor," I said quickly, leading the way to the closest adjoining room. I directed Mr. and Mrs. Everheart to sit together on the sofa then drew close to Alice. "Are you all right?"
She nodded. "I feel as though I might finally get some answers." She sat on an armchair and addressed the couple sitting opposite. "Who are my real parents?"
Mr. Everheart looked to his wife and said something I couldn't hear.
"Pardon?" Alice pressed.
"We don't know," he said, louder. "You were found sitting on a pew at our church one morning. You were about three years old but could tell us nothing about yourself except that your name was Alice and that you were told you could not go home. We took you in while the authorities tried to locate your parents, but…" He shrugged. "No one came forward and there were no reports of missing children matching your description. The odd thing is, no one saw you arrive in the village. So we simply kept you."
"And did not think to tell me the truth?"
"It was better if you thought we were your real parents."
"Better for whom? Not for me, I assure you." Alice got to her feet and paced the room. "I have long suspected you were not my parents." She stopped abruptly. "What about Myron? Did you adopt him too?"
Mrs. Everheart dabbed the corner of her eye with her handkerchief. "My poor boy."
Mr. Everheart nodded. "He was found in the same way, in the church, but as a baby. He couldn't have been more than a few weeks old."
Alice suddenly plopped back down onto the chair. "Perhaps that was why he was never very strong…he was taken from his mother so young."