Of Fate and Phantoms (Ministry of Curiosities Book 7)

by C. J. Archer

  "That's a good theory," Alice said, "but his carefree lifestyle is not new and the prince consort has been dead a long time. Why threaten him now?"

  "Perhaps the queen's ill and the ghost of her late husband knows it. Perhaps he sees the urgency now."

  "I think the theory has merit," I said, "but if the spirit simply wants to scare the Prince of Wales, why is Leisl so concerned?"

  "Perhaps she's overreacting," Seth said.

  Alice bristled. "Because we females tend to?"

  Seth held up his hands, warding her off. "Not at all," he said at the same moment Gus mumbled, "Aye."

  Seth rolled his eyes. "And you wonder why no one wants to marry you."

  "You ain't married neither," Gus shot back.

  "That doesn't mean I haven't had proposals." Seth stood. "I'm going to bed. Alice, Charlie, can I escort you to your rooms?"

  He escorted us along with Lincoln. My bedroom was a little down the corridor from Lincoln's. After Alice and Seth retreated to theirs, he steered me into the recessed doorway and rested his hand on the doorknob, barring my entry.

  "Goodnight," he murmured.

  "Goodnight," I whispered back.

  He took my hand and placed it to his lips. He skimmed my knuckles with a kiss that was not quite a kiss, yet made my skin tighten and my blood thrum. He stepped away, much too soon, and strode toward his door.

  "Oh. Wait," I said. He stopped and I caught up to him. "Lincoln, are you all right? Tonight must have been very trying for you."

  He nodded. "I'm fine."

  He did seem fine, but perhaps he was hiding his true feelings. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes."

  "Very well. Goodnight." I turned away but stopped abruptly. I turned back only to see that he'd not moved.

  He arched a brow.

  "The thing is…" I toyed with the leather ties on his jerkin. "You can't possibly be all right. You saw both your mother and father, not to mention your mother now knows your name and where to find you. Don't you wish to seek her out and talk to her more? Aren't there questions you wish to ask her?"

  "No."

  I searched his face and peered into his eyes to see if he spoke the truth. I saw nothing in them that would indicate he was covering a deep hurt. "I don't understand," I said, more to myself than him. "How could the meeting not have affected you? It affected me and they're not my parents."

  "I dislike my father," he said. "That hasn't changed since the last time I saw him. And I don't know my mother. She's a stranger to me."

  "Yes, but she at least seemed nice. And she is your mother, Lincoln. That must mean something."

  He clasped my hands in his and looked down at them. "Perhaps I lack the sentimental part in my heart that others have."

  "You were sentimental about me. You fetched me from the school."

  "Because I missed you." He kissed my nose and circled his arms around me. "I knew you, Charlie, and I was lonely without you. I needed you and wanted you. I've never known my mother so how could I miss her?"

  I rested my cheek against his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. "That makes sense. And yet it doesn't explain why I'm so curious about her."

  "You have a curious nature. You wonder about everything whereas I simply accept."

  "Sometimes."

  His arms tightened. "Sometimes."

  I closed my eyes and let him hold me in a blanket of warmth until he eventually set me aside. "Go to bed or we'll stand here all night."

  "Goodnight."

  "Try not to lie awake and plot ways of forcing me to speak to Leisl again."

  I sighed. "You know me too well."

  Lincoln and I resumed training in the empty ballroom late the following morning. Dressed in my loose fitting attire, complete with men's trousers, we punched, kicked and wrestled ourselves into a sweat. Or rather, I sweated. Lincoln didn't even breathe heavily, something which Alice commented on when we finished and he left the room. She, Seth and Gus had watched us train, sometimes assisting. Alice stood near the window, fascinated that I could throw quite a solid punch.

  "Does anything exert him?" she asked.

  I laughed. "Sometimes. This, however, is nothing for him. Maddening, isn't it?"

  "If I hadn't seen him weak from the explosion when I arrived here, I would have wondered if he was human at all."

  "You're not the only one who wonders that," Gus said, returning the baton to the sideboard cupboard.

  "That's why we're so surprised to hear that Leisl is his mother," Seth said. "I'm still reeling over the news, in fact. I thought he was made, not born."

  I rolled my eyes. "Don't let him hear you say that."

  "Why not? It's not like he has feelings that could be hurt with a little teasing."

  I was about to protest but he was right. While Lincoln had proven to me that he did have feelings that could be bruised and battered just like mine, a few humorous barbs from a friend wouldn't so much as leave a mark.

  Lady Vickers strode into the room. "Here you all are. Good lord, Charlie, what are you wearing? Are those trousers?"

  I plucked at the lightweight cotton. "Training attire. I rather like wearing them. It allows me to do this." I performed a side kick which would have revealed far too much if I'd been in skirts.

  Lady Vickers pulled a face. "You are a unique girl."

  "Thank you. I think."

  "Go and change then meet me in the parlor. I want to discuss advertising for a housekeeper and maids."

  I sighed. "I suppose it's time. We can't go on as we have. Poor Doyle is run off his feet all day, and Bella, too."

  "A good attitude," Lady Vickers said, nodding. "You might as well join us, Alice."

  "Me?" Alice blinked. "Oh, I don't think so. It's not my place."

  "Do you have anything better to do?"

  "I…I haven't made plans."

  "She was going to take a walk with me," Seth said.

  "It's raining," his mother said.

  "A walk inside the house. Along the corridors, around the ballroom…" He crooked his arm for Alice to take.

  She hesitated then took it with a cautious glance at Lady Vickers. Lady Vickers scowled and marched out of the ballroom. I had a feeling Seth would be getting another lecture from her later. Ever since Alice had arrived and Seth had shown an interest in her, mother and son had been at loggerheads. She did not approve of a poor girl from the merchant classes for her one and only child.

  I changed quickly then headed down to the parlor at the front of the house. Lady Vickers sat reading correspondence by the rain-slicked window. I looked out at the low gray sky and sighed. There would be no quiet walks in the wintry garden with Lincoln today.

  A dark object moved on the drive. I squinted through the window and tried to make out the shape. "I think we have a visitor," I said as the shape became a coach pulled by a matching pair of grays.

  "In this weather?" Lady Vickers lowered her correspondence to her lap. "Well, well, someone must have made quite an impression last night. Where's Seth?"

  I rubbed the window pane to clear the fog. "The poor coachman and footman. They have umbrellas but they're not offering much shelter in this weather."

  "Can you see who it is?"

  "No. They aren't getting out."

  "Can't blame them for that, but how are we supposed to entertain them if they won't come in? Perhaps they are in need of another umbrella. Can you see the escutcheon on the door?"

  "The rain is too heavy. The coachman and footman are wearing red and gold livery. It's very striking. Do you know anyone—"

  "Red and gold!" She shot to her feet and nudged me aside. "Good lord. I don't believe it."

  I frowned at her then at the footman now approaching up the front steps. "Who is it?"

  She turned to me, one hand pressed to her stomach, the other at her throat. "Don't panic, Charlie."

  "I'm not. Who is it?"

  She clasped my shoulders and sucked in a breath that swelled her chest. "Oh Ch
arlie, this is a monumentally important day in your life. Mark it in your diary. This is the day royalty came to Lichfield Towers."

  Chapter 3

  I hurried to the entrance hall where Doyle received the drenched footman.

  "I'll await Mr. Fitzroy's reply," the footman said, handing Doyle a note.

  Doyle went to take it upstairs when Lincoln appeared on the landing. He must have seen the coach arrive too. He accepted the note and read it.

  "Doyle, an umbrella, please." There was no hint on his face as to the contents of the note.

  Doyle handed him an umbrella and Lincoln headed outside, the footman at his heels. We shut the door to keep out the driving rain.

  "Do you think it's the Prince of Wales?" Lady Vickers asked. "Or the queen herself?"

  I paced the entrance hall until Lady Vickers ordered me to be still. How could I be still when Lincoln might have to confront his father again?

  Seth and Gus approached from the direction of the service area at the rear of the house. "Why are you all gathered near the door?" Seth asked.

  His mother clasped his arms, her face alight with excitement. "Someone from the royal household is here!"

  "Blimey," Gus muttered. "Who?"

  The door suddenly opened and Lincoln entered. He handed the thoroughly wet umbrella to Doyle who raced away with it, dripping water onto the tiles.

  "Well?" Lady Vickers asked. "Who was it?"

  "The Prince of Wales," Lincoln said, his gaze connecting with mine.

  "I knew it!" Lady Vickers clapped her hands. "What did he want?"

  "To summon Charlie and me to the palace. He didn't say why, but it must be about Leisl's vision."

  "Me?" I blurted out. "Go to Buckingham Palace? Don't be ridiculous. I can't go there. I'm a nobody."

  "Did you not once say that you're Her Majesty's necromancer?"

  I gave him a withering glare. "That was a joke, Lincoln, and you know it."

  "The fact is, you are her necromancer. Although they've never been aware of our existence, we work for the crown. We've been summoned and we have to go."

  "Can't you go alone?"

  "No. This is a ghostly matter, and you see ghosts."

  I needed to practice my curtsy.

  "When word gets out about this, you'll be the envy of everyone." Lady Vickers lifted my arms and inspected my simple woolen dress. "You must change."

  "Word about our visit is not to leave this house," Lincoln told her. "If we're recognized upon our arrival, then so be it, but gossip about the visit will not be traced to here. Is that clear?"

  Lady Vickers bowed her head, all demure acquiescence. "Of course. Now, Charlie, your dress."

  "I'll wear the blue," I said.

  "Why at the palace?" Seth asked. "Why not here? He did come all this way to speak to you, after all."

  "He came in person because he didn't think an invitation in the hands of footmen would be safe enough," Lincoln said. "He doesn't want the world to know that he's taking Leisl's warning seriously. The meeting is to be at the palace because his mother wishes to attend."

  "The queen!" My stomach churned. "I am to meet the queen?"

  "After lunch."

  "I can't possibly eat! Lady V, can you show me how to do a proper curtsy so that I don't lose my balance?"

  Her eyes brightened. "It will be my pleasure. I've always wanted a daughter to teach the art of curtseying." She strode off to the parlor. "Come, Charlie, we'll begin immediately."

  Seth frowned at me as I passed. "I feel as though I'm being replaced.

  Both Seth and Gus insisted on driving us to Buckingham Palace, so in the end, Lincoln allowed them to sit together on the coachman's seat, but Gus held the reins. They drove us through to the palace courtyard and deposited us at the steps. Two footmen in the distinctive red and gold livery led us inside.

  I tried very hard to act as if I walked the halls of palaces every day, but my wonder must have been clear on my face because Lincoln looked amused. How could he not gawp at such opulence? We were led through room after room filled with golden candelabras, vases and frames, ornately carved furniture, doors, and ceilings, and finely detailed frescoes. The lengths of thick drapes puddled on the floor and soft carpet woven with crowns deadened our footsteps. The blue and pink walls took me by surprise and didn't appeal to my tastes, but they did suit the palace's splendor.

  It would take a lifetime to fill a house this size with so many things. The queen may be old, but not old enough to decorate every inch. This place had evolved over many years, and she was merely its current occupant. Each resident had stamped their presence here in some measure and left behind tangible memories. I had always been somewhat resentful that the royal family lived in such luxury when people starved on the streets, but now I understood why they couldn't simply sell a painting and feed the homeless. In a way, they were not theirs to sell.

  "So much to take in," I said quietly, staring at the painting of a man wearing a tricorn hat. "Look at all the gold."

  "Seen any spirits?" Lincoln asked, his voice low.

  "Not yet."

  The footmen led us through to a series of more sedate rooms, not so richly decorated. A small woman of middle age wearing an elegant charcoal colored gown waited in front of a closed door. "Good afternoon, Miss Holloway, Mr. Fitzroy. I am the Honorable Mrs. Charles Grey, lady in waiting to Her Majesty. I apologize for the double escort, but we had a break-in recently and security has increased."

  "A break-in?" Lincoln asked.

  "A minor nuisance. Nothing was taken." The Honorable Mrs. Charles Grey didn't meet either his gaze or mine. "Now, before you meet Her Majesty, there are some things of which you ought to be aware. When you first greet her, you must address her as Her Majesty, and thereafter as ma'am. A small curtsy is required of you, Miss Holloway, and a bow is sufficient from a gentleman. Do not present your back to her, offer to shake her hand, or touch her in any way. If she stands, you must both stand too. Ready?"

  She opened the door before either of us could respond and announced us. Compared to the public rooms we'd just traversed through, this room was positively cozy in size and decoration. The fireplace was modest, flanked by two vases taller than me, and in the room's center stood a round table that looked too solid to move. A figure swamped in black silk and lace sat on the sofa, her heavy features lifting a little in curiosity before settling into regal aloofness.

  I sank into a curtsy and rose without losing my balance. Lady Vickers would be pleased. Lincoln's bow was more of a nod and I wasn't sure it would pass protocol.

  "Good afternoon, Miss Holloway, Mr. Fitzroy." The queen's voice was as robust as her person. "Take a seat. My son will be here shortly."

  We sat on the chairs at the table. Who else had sat here? The prime minister? Princesses? Best not to think about it. It wouldn't do to giggle nervously in the presence of the queen while discussing the matter of her dead husband.

  The silence stretched as we waited. I felt compelled to fill it, and couldn't rely on Lincoln. "You have a lovely home, ma'am." Ugh. Perhaps I should have stayed quiet.

  "Thank you," the queen said. "You live with Mr. Fitzroy at Lichfield Towers, I believe."

  "I do."

  "As his ward?"

  "Yes." Not really, but our living arrangements would only expose us to speculation and innuendo and I couldn't abide that from a woman whose moral streak was wider than her person, according to Lady V.

  "And what is it you do, Mr. Fitzroy? Or are you a man of leisure?"

  "I am not," he said.

  "He's the least leisurely person I've ever met," I said.

  She pinned me with her deep-set eyes, as shrewd as they were grim. No, not grim, sad. This woman still mourned her husband, so the newspapers claimed. How that must dampen the air here and infect it with her misery. No wonder her eldest son did the exact opposite of his mother and enjoyed himself.

  The Prince of Wales entered at that moment. We rose, and I curtseyed while Lincoln no
dded again. The prince stood by the crackling fire, his hands at his back. If he stood and the queen sat what were Lincoln and I supposed to do? The Honorable Mrs. Charles Grey hadn't given us a clue. Lincoln sat again, so I did too. As if it were a signal, the also prince sat. He had not taken his gaze off Lincoln.

  He knew.

  "My son imparted the events of last evening to me," the queen said. "All of them. Apparently you claim to have knowledge of spiritual matters."

  Lincoln hesitated barely a moment before saying, "Some, ma'am, yes."

  "And you are the son of that gypsy woman."

  "Leisl. I believe so, although I cannot be certain. I'd never met her until last night."

  "Who raised you? Your father?"

  "A man known as General Eastbrooke, a commander in Your Majesty's army, now deceased."

  "He was not your father?"

  "No."

  "Then who is?"

  Lincoln hesitated again. "I cannot be certain." Before the queen could ask him more questions, he turned to the prince. "Are we to understand that you believe Leisl's pronouncement after all?"

  The prince settled back in the chair and stretched his legs under the table in a rather relaxed manner that had his mother pursing her lips. "I've met her before, and I have reason to believe she speaks the truth."

  "What reason?"

  "I beg your pardon," the queen snapped.

  I sank into my chair, wishing I'd taken charge of the conversation and not left it up to Lincoln. He was as subtle as a bull.

  "Private reasons," the prince said. He smiled charmingly. Too charmingly. I didn't quite believe it. "Mr. Fitzroy, I admit to being intrigued by you last night, as much as Leisl's vision. I had asked you how old you are and received no answer, so this morning, I sent my secretary to the General Register Office."

  Good lord! I couldn't believe he'd done such a thing. I couldn't believe he'd admit it. I may have done the same thing a few months ago, but I had good reason. I was living with Lincoln yet he'd been something of a stranger to me. I needed to know more about the person under the same roof as me.