Grave Expectations (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 4)

by C. J. Archer

  I caught his hand as he walked off and he stopped, brows raised, that mischievous smile still playing on his lips. He'd never looked more handsome. Relaxation suited him. "I do feel fortunate, Lincoln. I am the luckiest girl in the world."

  Chapter 3

  Seth, Gus and Cook were pleased to see us. At least, they were pleased to see me. They embraced me, in turn, with brotherly hugs and broad grins. They merely nodded at Lincoln, or muttered a half-hearted "Welcome back, sir." Despite knowing him for longer, they did not yet feel altogether comfortable with their leader. My fiancé.

  "We are engaged," I blurted out before we'd even reached the front steps of Lichfield Towers. I thrust out my hand to prove it.

  "Blimey," Gus muttered, inspecting the diamond from all angles. "That'd be worth a sum."

  Seth jabbed him in the ribs. "A gentleman never discusses money. It is quite impressive, Charlie, but I think you could have held out for a larger one." We were out of earshot of Lincoln who was assisting the driver to remove our luggage, but Seth leaned closer to me anyway. "He would have given you Everest if you'd asked for it."

  "She ain't that kind of lass," Cook snapped, putting his meaty arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my head. "I be pleased for you, Charlie. But…" He glanced over his shoulder at Lincoln. "Are you sure? He be difficult."

  "I know that as well as anyone, but I love him anyway." I kissed his soft cheek. "Thank you for your concern."

  We all looked to Lincoln. The hackney that had brought us from the station drove off, leaving him glaring at his men, the bags at his feet.

  "I think he wants your assistance," I whispered.

  Gus trotted back down the steps, but the other two walked with me into the house.

  Seth took my cloak and hung it on the coat stand. "One of us ought to pull Fitzroy aside and have that discussion with him."

  "What discussion?" I asked, unpinning my hat.

  "The one where we threaten him if he doesn't treat you well."

  I laughed. "I'd like to see that discussion."

  "Ain't be me," Cook said, folding his arms.

  Seth shot a glance through the open door, where Gus and Lincoln were climbing the steps, cases under each arm and in each hand. "I nominate Gus."

  "For what?" Gus said, edging sideways through the door.

  "Later," Seth muttered through a clenched-teeth smile for Lincoln's benefit. "Congratulations, sir. Charlie is a fine choice for you."

  I slapped my gloves into his chest, forcing him to take them. "I am not a horse, nor am I for sale."

  "Take Charlie's luggage upstairs," Lincoln said coolly. "Cook, prepare tea to be served in the parlor. We're having a meeting."

  "All of us?" Cook asked.

  "All of us."

  I followed Gus up to my rooms and pulled out my new clothes once he'd gone. After freshening up and changing into a smart dark green day dress and a matching fitted jacket with brass epaulettes on the shoulders, I returned to the parlor where the four men in my life waited for me. Three of them smiled at me. Lincoln did not, but his sharp gaze followed me until I sat on the sofa. He had not smiled since leaving France. I'd not seen him at all on the boat as he battled seasickness, but even when we'd touched land, he continued to look a little ill and had been quiet. When I'd asked him on the train back to London what was the matter, he'd simply said he was being vigilant. It took a moment for me to realize he was worried about someone attacking me.

  Lincoln handed me a cup of tea and a slice of cake then sat beside me. "Eat. Drink. It's been a long day."

  "I'm not tired." I drank the tea until the cup was almost empty then set it aside with a satisfied sigh. I'd not had a decent cup of tea since leaving England. The French did food, wine and fashion better than us, but they didn't know how to brew good tea.

  "Does our news surprise you?" I asked, since no one had begun a conversation. I felt rather conspicuous in my new dress with the diamond on my ring finger. It was as if they all saw me differently now, like a grown woman and not the girl who'd first disrupted their lives. Or perhaps that had more to do with how I felt than how they saw me.

  "Yes," Seth said as the other two muttered, "Aye."

  "It does?"

  While Cook's already florid complexion flushed more, the other two averted their gazes. "We didn't think you would, er, formalize your relationship," Seth said.

  Lincoln set his cup down with a loud clank in the saucer. He blinked at each of them in turn, but since they were studying their slices of cake with great interest, none noticed. I resisted the childish urge to utter, "See, it wasn't just me," to him. I simply cleared my throat and smiled into my teacup.

  "Tell us how you liked Paris, Charlie," Gus said, smiling. He had a rather gruesome smile, with his broken teeth and the scar that made one eyelid droop, but it warmed my heart to see it. I'd missed him. Missed them all. "Were it like you expected?"

  "Better. It's a beautiful city. We saw everything there is to see, and ate the most delicious dishes. Except for the snails." I pulled a face. "Your friend Fernesse sends his warmest regards," I said to Seth. "He wants you to visit him."

  "I'm unlikely to travel to Paris in the near future," he mumbled.

  When he didn't continue on, I added, "He's quite well."

  "I'm pleased to hear it." He turned to Lincoln. "You'll be wanting a report, sir?"

  "Did something happen in our absence?" Lincoln asked.

  "Nothing out of the ordinary. We've had no callers, not even committee members."

  "I informed them all that I would be away until further notice."

  "Will you send word tonight that we're back?" I asked.

  "I prefer to wait until the morning."

  "I prefer you never tell them, but I suppose it must be done." I stroked my thumb over the gold band of my engagement ring. "They will be surprised."

  "They'll be bloody shocked," Gus said. "It ain't goin' to be a fun meetin', that one."

  I gave Lincoln a grim smile. "Thank you for waiting until tomorrow. I'm not sure I can face them after such a long day."

  "You don't have to face them," he said. "Leave them to me."

  "It involves both of us. We'll do it together." I held up my hand when he protested. "Together, Lincoln, and that's final."

  I wasn't aware of how forceful I'd sounded until I saw Gus's eyes widen in alarm, and Seth's worried gaze shift to Lincoln.

  Lincoln, however, didn't bat an eyelid. "I'll summon them to a meeting tomorrow afternoon. That gives me the morning to speak with Holloway."

  "Holloway!" Gus frowned. "He's in prison. What you want to speak to him for?"

  "They need Holloway's permission to marry, dolt." Seth rolled his eyes.

  "But he ain't her real father. Can't the courts place her under your guardianship, sir?"

  "They may, but the process will take time." Lincoln seemed disinclined to elaborate, so I explained to them that Holloway was my father in the eyes of English law because he'd pretended I was born to his wife in France all those years ago. "We have a letter from the matron at the orphanage stating that he isn't my real father. If we need to go to court, we have that in our favor as well as his conviction. The courts move slowly, however. If we can get Holloway's permission now, we won't have to wait." I closed my hand over Lincoln's. "We don't want to wait."

  Cook cleared his throat. "I hate to say it, but who'll be doin' maid's work now?"

  Gus groaned. "I ain't cleanin' out the fireplaces no more. Soot gets into everything. Last time I was wipin' it out of the creases of my eyelids for days."

  "Soft," Seth muttered.

  "We'll place advertisements in the morning, one for an experienced housekeeper and another for a butler," Lincoln said. "Once those positions are filled, they will hire other staff as required."

  "You're not worried about them learning ministry secrets?" Seth asked.

  "All ministry documents will be locked away. Any meetings will be held with the door closed. No one wil
l mention the ministry, our work, or supernaturals except in private."

  Gus and Cook exchanged glances. I understood their concern. No matter how careful we were, a nosy maid could discover secrets if she wanted to.

  "I will make it clear to the staff that there will be consequences if they are not discreet," Lincoln went on.

  "Try not to use your threatening voice," I told him.

  "My threatening voice?"

  "Or that look."

  "What look?"

  "The one you use when you're trying to scare people into doing your bidding. I know now that it's just a look, and doesn't mean anything, but newcomers won't. We don't want to frighten the poor maids away before they even start."

  Seth bit his lip but it didn't stop his smile. Fortunately Lincoln was too busy staring at me to notice. "I will not use my threatening voice or look." He said it without moving his jaw which made me think he hadn't understood what I meant at all.

  "Seth, will you help me word an advertisement later?" I asked. "You must know how these things are done."

  "My mother was in charge of the staff," he said. "But I'll do my best. In fact, I know an experienced butler in need of employment. He was our butler for almost two decades, until Mother fired him."

  "Before or after she ran off with the second footman?" Gus asked with such an innocent expression that I had to smother my giggle.

  Seth stabbed Gus with a pointed glare. "She fired him for drinking his way through my father's cellar. It was after Doyle left that everything fell to pieces. I had no idea how much he kept the other staff in order until the second footman moved into Mother's bedchamber the same day Doyle departed. By the time the new butler arrived, the damage had been done."

  "Perhaps that's the real reason your mother fired Doyle," I said. "And not because of the drinking."

  "Undoubtedly. Shortly after that, we lost everything to pay my father's gambling debts, and Mother left the country altogether in defiance." He flattened his tie and stretched his neck out of his collar. "Speaking of my mother, I received a letter from her."

  "Is this relevant?" Lincoln asked.

  "I'm interested," I said.

  "The second footman died," Seth went on. "Mother is returning to England on a permanent basis."

  "Oh? Her re-entry into society will be…interesting."

  Gus snickered.

  "That's not why I'm bringing it up." Seth cleared his throat. "She has requested to stay at Lichfield until she can secure herself a more permanent residence."

  "Of course," I said at the same time that Lincoln growled a protest. "She's welcome to stay as long as she needs."

  "Thank you, Charlie. Her stay will be brief, I'm sure."

  "She doesn't have any money or possibility of an income," Lincoln said in the boldest fashion. "How will she secure herself a house?"

  "She receives an annuity from her father's estate and still has friends in London. She'll persuade one of them to take her on as a companion. You'll find she's very good at getting her way," he muttered into his cup.

  "Hire your butler tomorrow," Lincoln said. "As to your mother, she can stay here as long as she doesn't get in the way."

  "Thank you."

  "When do you expect her?" I asked.

  "In two weeks."

  "Speaking of mothers," Gus said to me. "Did you find out more about yours?"

  "A little. The matron told me what she remembered, but it wasn't much." I relayed what the matron had said, and it wasn't until Lincoln's fingers closed over mine that I realized how forlorn I sounded.

  "You didn't raise her spirit?" Gus asked.

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "I'm reluctant, after what happened with Estelle Pearson. My mother was a necromancer, so she may know the same spell to overrule my control. We can't risk that happening again."

  "She won't do that to her own daughter," Gus said.

  I shrugged. "That's not something we can know beforehand."

  "Summon her," Lincoln said quickly. "Speak to her spirit but don't allow her to leave Lichfield and enter a body."

  "I'm not sure," I hedged. "What if her powers can be used in spirit form?"

  "She's your mother, Charlie," Gus said. "She won't cause you problems like the Pearson woman did."

  "Mothers don't always put their children's interest above their own," Seth grumbled into his chest.

  "Summon her," Lincoln said again with a nod.

  I blinked at him. "Now?"

  "Whenever you're ready."

  "I…I suppose I'm ready now." I looked at each of them and met only encouraging nods. It would seem my mind had been made up for me. If they all thought it was safe, then perhaps I was worrying over nothing. I blew out a deep breath, but my nerves still felt tighter than bow strings. "Ellen Marie Mercier, I call your spirit to me. Ellen Marie Mercier, please return to the world of the living to—"

  The mist rushed toward me from the corner of the ceiling and rolled to an abrupt stop near the table where I'd set down my cup and plate. With what felt like an excruciatingly slow pace, the white cloud formed into the shape of a face.

  A face remarkably similar to mine, yet hollow in the cheeks and eyes from illness.

  I gripped Lincoln's hand hard as the ghost said something in French. "Do you speak English?" I whispered. "Mother."

  Her slender brows drew together. Two ghostly arms stretched forward, as if to embrace me, but went right through. "My little girl?" she said in a musical English accent.

  I nodded. It was all I could manage with my full eyes and tight throat.

  She bit her wobbling lip, and I noticed that I was doing the exact same thing. It made me smile. "My name is Charlotte. My friends call me Charlie."

  She glanced at the others in the room before her gaze settled on my hand linked with Lincoln's. Her small frowned deepened. "And your family?"

  "I have no family," I told her. "They're…gone." It seemed easier to let her think they were dead. Easier and kinder. She had, after all, been desperate for me to be given to a good family. It would be cruel to disturb her afterlife with the truth.

  "Have you been happy, my daughter?"

  I nodded and smiled. "Yes. I am happy."

  She didn't seem to notice my use of the present tense, but Lincoln did. His thumb drew little circles on my knuckle.

  My mother approached and knelt in front of me, the way one does to speak to a small child. "I have waited for you to call me and now you are grown. How old are you, Charlotte?"

  "Almost nineteen. I only learned about you after visiting St. Madeleine's in Paris this week."

  Shock rippled through the mist, distorting her features before they came together again. "Why?"

  "The couple that took me from the orphanage as a baby didn't tell me anything about my past. I have only recently learned that they were not my real parents."

  Her fingers brushed my throat, but I felt nothing. "The necklace?"

  "Matron gave it to me a week ago. It's in safekeeping."

  "But you must wear it!"

  I glanced at Lincoln. His fingers squeezed mine, but he didn't ask me to repeat my mother's words. "Why must I wear it?" I said for his benefit.

  "To protect you from him. From your father."

  "Victor Frankenstein is dead. He can no longer harm me."

  Her hand clasped her throat. There were no ghostly tears in her eyes, no trembling fingers. "Good," she spat. "I hope he is in hell."

  I wanted to ask her about their relationship, but it felt too awkward and personal, particularly with the others in the room. "He tried to use my necromancy to reanimate his creatures," I told her. "He was unsuccessful."

  "Thank God. That man…he tried to use me too. He tricked me. I'm glad you are not sorry he is dead."

  "I'm not."

  "Even so, you must wear the necklace. The pet will keep you safe."

  "Pet?"

  She waved a hand in a typical French gesture. "I do not know the correct English
word."

  "Lincoln translated it as imp, a sort of mischievous creature."

  "That is as good a word as any." Her gaze shifted to our linked hands again then slid back to me. "Where is the necklace?"

  "Lincoln has it."

  "Why?"

  "We were unsure of its power. We were going to research it, but since you're here, is there anything you can tell us?" Perhaps I should have asked my mother more personal questions, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. Somehow it seemed easier to speak about the necklace.

  "It holds an imp that is released when you speak three words while wearing it." She frowned. "I paid a French witch to make it, and the words are French. You must have the accent just so. Try for me please: Je libère toi."

  "Je libère toi."

  "Good. Now put on the necklace today, now, and remember those words. The pet will help you when you call it, but you must not call it unless necessary. It likes mischief, and may run away if there is no present danger."

  "How can an uncontrollable, mischievous creature save me?"

  "I don't know. I did not create it. Be assured, it will save you. But if you call it without reason, it will go in search of excitement."

  "How do I get it back into the amber?"

  "It tires quickly. After it saves your life, it will want to go back to sleep in the amber. At such times, it is easy to control. At others it is not so easy. You must catch it and order it back."

  "It sounds unpredictable."

  "Magic often is."

  "Do you know many supernaturals? Witches," I added when her brow creased in confusion.

  She shook her head. "So few remain, and most do not wish to be found."

  "Was your family magical?"

  "My mother was a necromancer, but she died when I was very small. My father remarried to a devout woman. She detested me, feared me. Do not go to them. They will not treat you as a granddaughter ought to be treated."

  I knew enough about devout people to know the horrible truth in her words. "I won't seek them out," I assured her.

  "I am sorry, dear Charlotte, but you are all alone now that your adopted parents died, yes?"

  "Not at all. Lincoln and I are recently engaged."

  Her wispy form shimmered, as if she were cold. "I see." She studied him carefully, drifting around his head twice, before settling once more in front of me. "He looks strong."