Of Fate and Phantoms (Ministry of Curiosities Book 7)

by C. J. Archer

  "Why not?" Lincoln asked.

  "He looked remarkably like my father. Exactly alike, as it happens, from his whiskers, hair style, the shape of his face. I found myself almost believing his claim. The queen would certainly have believed him, and her lady knew it. That's why she sent for me."

  "What about his clothing?" Lincoln asked.

  "What of it?"

  "Did it look like the clothing he wore in his lifetime?"

  "He died so long ago, I can't recall. He had a variety of suits, some formal, others not so much. I would say the imposter wore something unremarkable since I didn't notice his attire. To be honest, I was too busy studying his features."

  "What about his voice?" I asked, recalling the spirit's German accent.

  "Again, his death was almost thirty years ago. The accent was certainly spot-on, with a hint of the Germanic." He frowned in thought. "Now that I think about it, his voice wasn't quite the same. The imposter's was deeper."

  Lincoln set off again. The prince and I fell into step alongside him. "You were right to send him away," Lincoln said. "He is an imposter."

  "I know," the prince said through a set jaw. "I saw my father's body. He is very much dead."

  "Now we know what Leisl meant," I said. "She didn't see the spirit of your father, she saw the man impersonating him."

  "That seems to be the case," the prince said.

  "Could he have fathered another child?" Lincoln asked.

  The prince's step faltered. He stopped again. "I beg your pardon?"

  "That offends you?" Lincoln asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

  "Yes! He was devoted to the queen."

  Lincoln glanced at me. I suspected he was asking me to confirm if that was the impression I got from meeting the prince consort's ghost. "He did seem pleased to see her," I said.

  "I assure you he did not stray from the marital bed," the prince hissed. "He was a good man."

  Lincoln walked off. "Good men sometimes stray. Even good men of royal blood."

  "And some do not."

  "True," Lincoln conceded. "Some have willpower and moral fiber."

  The prince slapped one hand inside the other behind his back and forged ahead. I had to quicken my step to keep up with them both. "Even men with willpower and moral fiber find themselves in need of comforts out of the marital bed," the prince said. "Although my father was not one of them."

  The contest of wills had returned so fiercely that they'd forgotten I was still there. Not that Lincoln would think such a conversation too indelicate for me. He knew I'd heard and seen things that would scandalize even His Royal Highness. I cleared my throat.

  "My humblest apologies, Miss Holloway," the prince said, his face reddening. "I don't know what came over me to say such things in your presence."

  "It's quite all right, sir," I said. "You are not entirely to blame."

  I felt rather than saw Lincoln stiffen. "Do you know where the imposter went after he left here?" he asked.

  "The East End. I had one of the footmen follow him, but he lost him in Whitechapel. My man didn't dare go further."

  Considering his royal livery would have attracted undesirable attention, his reluctance was understandable. One of the footmen now opened the door leading to the courtyard. Gus and Seth straightened and urged the horses forward to collect us.

  "What will you do now?" the prince asked Lincoln.

  "I haven't yet decided." He nodded. "Good day, sir."

  "Be sure to keep me informed at every step. Understand?"

  "Perfectly."

  I bobbed a curtsy. "Good day, your highness. It was a pleasure to be invited to your home and meet your mo— queen."

  He took my hand and assisted me up into the carriage. "Good day, Miss Holloway. It was delightful to have your company. I hope to see you again shortly." He kissed the back of my hand and smiled as he stepped away.

  Lincoln climbed in beside me and the footman closed the door and folded up the step. The coach rolled off and out of the courtyard.

  "You goaded him," I said.

  Lincoln arched a brow. "That's the first thing you have to say?"

  "If these were medieval times, he'd have you executed."

  "I doubt it. Not his own son. Thrown in the Tower to teach me a lesson, perhaps."

  He said it so calmly and casually that it was easy to think that talking about the prince being his father didn't affect him. But I suspected it did. His smile did not reach his eyes. They were broody and grim.

  I switched places to sit next to him, and curled into his side. He shifted his arm and placed it around my shoulders, holding me firmly. I kissed his cheek.

  "I understand why you spoke to him that way," I said. "I do. But…" I sighed. "Give him a chance, Lincoln."

  "To be a father to me? The time for that has long past, even if he wanted it, which I suspect he does not. I don't want or need a father." He kissed the top of my head. "You're everything I need now."

  I tilted my face to peer at him. He squeezed my shoulders and set me aside. That was it, just a friendly squeeze.

  I sat up straight and swallowed my sigh of disappointment. "What do you think about the imposter?"

  "I think we have a problem."

  "You mean the royal family have a problem—and the police. It seems to have nothing to do with us after all. Pity. I wouldn't mind returning to the palace again, or perhaps taking a turn around the garden. They're unlikely to invite us back now, unless the prince decides he'd like to get to know you better."

  "He won't. Gone are the days when the illegitimate offspring of royalty enjoyed favor at court. I would be an embarrassment."

  I covered his hand with mine. "You wouldn't have made a very good nobleman anyway. You hate dinner parties and small talk."

  "And fine clothes. I'd have to wear a tie all the time." He drew my hand to his lips and kissed the back. "By the way, I think you're wrong."

  "About what?"

  "About the matter now being one for the police and not the ministry. I think there may be something supernatural at play. The Prince of Wales mentioned how similar the man was to his father in every way. The queen's lady must have thought so too or she wouldn't have sent for him."

  I shrugged. "An illegitimate son playing a cruel trick. The prince may think his father a good man, but that doesn't mean he was."

  "It's a possibility, but I want to explore more."

  "Explore what? How could someone make themselves look like a dead man yet not be a blood relative?"

  "A body changer."

  I waited for him to go on, but he did not. "Like Lady Gillingham and my two friends from the School for Wayward Girls?" I asked. "But they look like beasts in their other form, not princes."

  "Something similar to them but not the same."

  "Then what?"

  He looked out the window. The high hedges and ornate gates of the manors on the edge of Hampstead Heath passed us by at a swift pace. "We're nearly home. I'll explain everything to you and the others there."

  I clicked my tongue and withdrew my hand from his. "You're a frustrating man."

  He stroked the underside of my jaw with his thumb. "There's no time for more talking."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I need to do this."

  He pulled me closer and kissed me. It was our first proper kiss in over a week and its intensity slammed into me, sending my blood racing. I'd wanted this, ached for it, and it seemed that he'd wanted it too. He held me firmly, not allowing me to move an inch. I didn't want to. Why would I when the kiss made my body sing?

  Why had he not kissed me like this in all these long days? Because he was afraid of being seen? Or afraid of not being able to stop?

  It could be why he left the kiss until now, only a few minutes from Lichfield. I would think about it more when I had the chance. For now, I wanted to wallow in his kiss, his warm arms, his unconditional love, and simply enjoy what time we had left alone.

  The carriage stopped
far sooner than I expected. Had we passed through the Lichfield gates already?

  Lincoln set me aside, putting distance between us, and drew in a ragged breath. Without so much as a glance my way, he opened the door, startling Seth. Seth eyed the fogged windows and broke into a grin.

  Lincoln pushed past him. "Something you want to say?" he growled

  Seth's smile withered. "No!" He bent to lower the step for me.

  Lincoln assisted me from the carriage. Behind him, Seth broke into a grin again and winked at me.

  My face flushed.

  "Meet us in the library as soon as you and Gus are ready," Lincoln told him. He offered me his arm and we walked in together.

  Several minutes later, Seth and Gus joined Lincoln, myself, and Alice in the library. He'd decided to include her but had not explained why. Perhaps he simply thought she ought to know certain things now that she lived with us. Yet he had not asked Lady Vickers to join in.

  Cook brought in tea and fruit cake and sat down. "How be the old girl, Charlie?"

  "Her Majesty seemed sad," I said, pouring the tea. "I'm not sure if summoning her husband's spirit in her presence was a good idea."

  "Does she look like her likeness?" Gus asked. At my frown, he pulled a penny out of his waistcoat pocket.

  "A little older." I handed a cup and biscuit to Alice. "And thicker around the jaw."

  "I cannot fathom meeting the queen," Alice said. "You're so fortunate. It'll be an experience you'll remember forever, and a good story to tell your children."

  "It was an odd experience, overwhelming at first. Once her husband's spirit appeared, she became more…normal. I felt sorry for her."

  "And the future king?"

  "He's just a regular man, really, except he never called the queen Mother or Mama. I wonder if he does in private."

  Lincoln and I recounted the events of the meeting. When we got to the part about the medium, Mrs. Beaufort, Seth said, "I know of Beaufort, but we've never met. They keep to themselves and their own circle. Is she listed in the archives?"

  Lincoln nodded. "I see no reason to speak to her at this point in time."

  "The most interesting part of our meeting occurred after we left the queen," I said. I told them about the imposter and Lincoln's theory of body changers.

  "They exist?" Alice asked, her eyes huge.

  "I heard rumors of one some time ago," Lincoln said. "I never found him, however, and have no proof."

  "Surely it's impossible."

  "Mere months ago, I thought raising the dead was impossible," I said. "And dreams coming to life."

  "Aye," Gus muttered into his teacup.

  Seth went to sip his tea but changed his mind and lowered the cup. "Imagine what a body shifter can do? If they can pretend to be anyone… My god. It would be chaos. Utter chaos."

  "We don't know how easy it is for one to change at will into the likeness of another," Lincoln said. "Such a person must be rare or we'd have one listed in our archives."

  "You said yourself that you've heard rumors," Seth said.

  "Rumors are not proof."

  "This imposter could be a relative of Old Prince Albert," Gus said. "Or a son born on the wrong side of the blanket."

  "We considered that," I told them. "The Prince of Wales insists his father wasn't that sort of man."

  Seth snorted and opened his mouth to comment, but caught sight of Alice watching him. He pressed his lips together and studied his biscuit with keen interest.

  "Let's resolve this issue once and for all," I said. "I'll summon the Prince Consort again. I think everyone except Lincoln should leave the room. He may not be inclined to speak if strangers are present."

  Alice rose and picked up her cup and saucer. "Of course. Come along, everyone."

  Seth and Cook followed her out, but Gus hung back. "I want to meet him," he said. Upon Lincoln's glare, Gus snatched up a biscuit. "I'm going."

  Once he shut the door, I looked to Lincoln. "Do you recall if it's Francis Albert Augustus Charles Emmanuel or Francis Albert Augustus Emmanuel Charles?"

  "The former."

  "I do hope he's not angry at us for calling him twice in one day. Or for asking such a personal question."

  "It's irrelevant if he is. You're in command, Charlie, not him."

  Easy for him to say. He didn't think royalty deserved special treatment. "Francis Albert Augustus Charles Emmanuel of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, I summon your spirit here."

  The mist burst through the ceiling rose like a cloud of steam from an engine and swooped toward me.

  I ducked. "Bloody hell!"

  "That is no way for a lady to speak," the ghost of the Prince Consort said as the mist formed his shape by the fireplace.

  My spine stiffened. "And that is no way for a gentleman to enter a room, even though he may be a ghost."

  His nostrils flared. "You dare to admonish me?"

  "I dare. You may be a prince but I control your spirit here. Do you understand?"

  He sniffed and turned his back to me. He stretched ghostly white fingers toward the burning coal in the grate even though he could feel no cold. Lincoln gave me a nod of approval.

  "Why have you summoned me here?" the prince asked. "And where is here, precisely? I do not recognize this room."

  "Lichfield Towers in Highgate," I said. "It belongs to Mr. Fitzroy."

  The prince glanced at Lincoln, sniffed, and turned back to the fire. "Answer my first question."

  I sucked air between my teeth and prepared for an irate response. "A man approached the palace claiming to be you, sir."

  He clamped his hands together behind his back. "I hope they sent the crackpot away."

  "He looked remarkably like you, as it happens. So like you, in fact, that the Prince of Wales was summoned to speak to him."

  "Bertie would have told the madman to take his leave."

  "He did, however the incident has stayed with him because the man bore such a remarkable resemblance to you. Your son assumed it was a coincidence."

  "It is."

  I fanned my fingers in my lap, stretching the muscles in frustration. "Or could there be another explanation?"

  The prince strode up to me. He would have been imposing in his youth, with his erect posture and the disdainful curl of his lip, but a mere mist didn't make me quake. "What are you implying?"

  I glanced at Lincoln. He nodded at me to go on. "Could that man be your son by a mistress?" I asked.

  The ghost shimmered and broke apart. The mist circled me, swirling and swirling until it became a blur of white. I got quite dizzy trying to follow it.

  "Enough!" I shouted. "Be still and answer me."

  The corner of Lincoln's mouth lifted as the ghost stilled.

  "You command me." The prince's voice softened in wonder.

  "I do," I said huffily. "My question is indelicate and I didn't want to ask it, but I had to. Your family may be in danger from this man. We must find him. If you can tell us anything about him, it would help our search."

  "I can't tell you anything. I don't know of anyone resembling me closely enough to pass as me, nor have I ever had a mistress. There. Satisfied?"

  "Thank you. That will be all. You may return to your afterlife."

  The mist rose in the air. "I hope I will not be disturbed again."

  "I hope that too. Very much so."

  His brows shot up but then his face dissolved away and finally he disappeared altogether.

  "He's gone," I said.

  Lincoln rose and opened the door to let the others back in.

  "We heard you shouting, Charlie," Seth said, frowning in concern. "Is everything all right?"

  "He's a pompous, overbearing man." I drank the rest of my tea then refilled the cup from the pot and drank half of that.

  "Need something stronger?" Cook asked.

  "No, thank you. The prince insists that he's never had a mistress." I locked gazes with Lincoln. "It seems your theory is correct. So now what do we do?"

&nb
sp; "We investigate the possibility of a person changing into the likeness of another human, as opposed to the likeness of a beast," he said. "And we see if we can trace the imposter."

  Everyone began speaking at once, a dozen questions tossed out, until Lincoln lifted a finger for silence.

  "Lady Gillingham may have some knowledge about shifting shape," he said.

  I quickly explained to Alice that Lady Gillingham was like our two friends from school who could change form. She was not shocked or disgusted. Like me, very little perturbed her.

  "Invite her to tea and see what you can learn about her," Lincoln said to me. "I will ask questions in Whitechapel where the palace footman lost the imposter. Seth and Gus will come with me."

  "You think you'll get answers from East Enders?" I scoffed. "They don't like strangers asking questions."

  He simply looked at me with those fathomless black eyes of his.

  "Oh. Right. You've done this before."

  He stood. "It's growing late. We'll go tomorrow."

  Lady Vickers had Doyle running ragged before Lady Gillingham's visit. Between dusting and polishing the furniture, he didn't get time to help Cook prepare. Cook had to make do with the rather inept Bella.

  "She be worse than Seth," he muttered when Bella disappeared into the scullery with an armload of dirty pots. "She don't know sugar from flour."

  "I'll help," Alice said, unbuttoning her sleeve. "Where shall I start?"

  Cook stopped beating the dough to death and gawped at her. "Er, it be all right, Miss Everheart. Bella and me can manage."

  "I like cooking and used to help out all the time back home. Please do call me Alice and not Miss Everheart."

  "I…I can't," he choked out, his cheeks aflame.

  "You call Charlie by her first name."

  "Aye, but she weren't all proper at the start. She be like me."

  "I'm not sure I'm proper now." I patted Cook's shoulder. "Let Alice help. You wouldn't want to serve Lady Gillingham something ordinary, would you?"

  He pounded his fist into the dough. "I ain't never served nothing ordinary ever, Charlie."

  I winked at Alice and left them to it. Doyle raced past me, his face flushed and his breathing heavy. "It won't be for long," I called after him.