by C. J. Archer
"I was talking to the footman," I said.
"Why?" Seth asked.
"To learn more about our enemy. He's a shape changer in Swinburn's pack."
"I thought only toffs ran in his pack," Gus said.
"So did I, but it seems there is at least one who isn't a toff. Perhaps the pack contains any shifters who don't reside in the slums."
"What did you learn from him?" Seth asked, reaching for a second piece of cake.
"That there's at least one member of Swinburn's pack who is a good man. He expressed concern for the general public getting caught up in the latest murders." It wasn't quite the truth, but the sentiment was real enough. Jenkin had been genuinely worried about Gawler's body rising and harming people on his way to rescue me. "It gives me hope there are others in the pack who think the same."
Gus also reached for another piece of cake. "It don't seem like you got much out of staying, Charlie. You should have left with Lady Gillingham."
I smiled sweetly. "Yes, I should have. Now, when Lincoln gets back—"
"I am back." He strode through the door, jacket in hand and tie loosened. He'd tied his hair back but it was damp at the hairline.
"You look hot," I said. "Sit down and I'll fetch you a drink of water."
He hesitated and for a moment I thought he'd argue with me, but he dutifully sat. I fetched a cup and filled it from the jug we stored in the larder during hot weather. I took my time, hoping my delay would cause him to forget to ask me what I'd been about to say before he walked in. I had been about to remind the others not to tell Lincoln where I went today, or about the stolen necklace.
It was a foolhardy idea. Lincoln didn't forget anything.
"There," I said cheerfully, handing him the cup.
He took it but simply stared at it and didn't drink. I touched his cheek and he glanced at me.
"Lincoln?" I asked. "What's wrong? You look troubled."
"How can you tell?" Seth muttered.
"Lincoln?" I prompted.
"I've just come from Julia's house," he said, shooting a glance at Seth.
"And?" Seth asked when Lincoln did not go on.
"And she's dead. She killed herself."
Chapter 13
I plopped down on the chair and gawped at Lincoln. He kept his gaze on Seth.
"How?" Cook asked at the same time Gus said, "What happened?"
"According to witnesses, she threw herself into the path of a fast moving omnibus on Oxford Street."
I picked up my teacup but set it down again. Lady Harcourt, dead. I couldn't fathom it. "We only saw her this morning," I murmured. "We argued but she didn't seem any different. Certainly not like someone who would take her own life."
"She was a fighter," Seth agreed. "She pulled herself up from nothing and made herself into the person she always dreamed of being. I can't believe she'd do this. She wouldn't just give up."
"It must have been an accident," I said. "Perhaps someone bumped her in the hustle and bustle. It's a busy street for pedestrians and coaches alike."
"She threw herself," Gus said. "That ain't an accident."
"Or she was pushed." My pronouncement was followed by a deafening silence. "I could summon her spirit to make sure."
"No," Lincoln said. "I, for one, think suicide is the more likely explanation."
Alice and Lady Vickers entered and asked why we looked so glum. We told her, and they both sat heavily.
"We argued with her," Alice muttered. "Do you think…?"
"No," I said, taking her hand. "I've argued with her many times, as have others, and she has always fought back."
"She did greet us in the most waspish manner. You're right. We can't take blame for her state of mind."
"It's more likely to have been building over time," Lady Vickers said, accepting a cup of tea from Cook. "Ever since the newspapers revealed her past at the Alhambra, she's been sliding into social oblivion. The gossips have been relentless, the invitations have dried up, and she's become an outcast wherever she goes. Many have delighted in her downfall. I thought they were vicious toward me, but I've managed to regain some measure of what I lost. She could not and never would."
"Because she wasn't born privileged," Seth said with a shake of his head. "God, I hate them all. And you want me to marry into that, Mother. I won't."
She wisely said nothing.
"Swinburn was her only hope for a secure future," Alice said with a pained look at me. "She believed marriage to him would win back some of the regard she lost."
"And then we told her Swinburn is using her." I groaned and buried my head in my hands. "That he'll use her then discard her when he has what he wants. Perhaps it is my fault."
A chorus of denials followed, but it was Lincoln's quietly insistent voice that cut through them all. "You are not to blame, Charlie." His warm lips caressed my forehead. "Everything that happened to her she has brought on herself. She chose to be cruel to you and others, and now she chose to end her life. She could have trodden a different path many times, but she did not. I won't mourn her. You shouldn't either."
"Nor me," Seth said.
"Good riddance, I say." Lady Vickers shrugged and picked up her teacup. "I don't care if that makes me sound horrid. I won't speak nicely of her simply because she's dead."
"Do you think Swinburn got what he wanted from her and did set her aside?" Alice asked no one in particular. "Do you think that's what drove her to suicide?"
It was entirely possible, even likely, and I pinned my hopes on that being the case. As much as I loathed her, it made my stomach churn to think my words had caused her such despair that she felt the need to end her life.
A pounding on the front door echoed through the house. My heart tripped.
Alice gasped. "The army!"
"Stay here," Seth said as he, Lincoln and Gus rushed out of the kitchen.
Alice and I followed, neither of us prepared to take orders until we knew what we were up against. We raced through the passageway and emerged into the entrance hall as Lincoln opened the door.
Andrew Buchanan stumbled inside, his fist raised to strike the door again. All three men could have caught him but none did. He stumbled to the floor and lay sprawled on the tiles, moaning.
Seth nudged Buchanan in the ribs with his boot. "Get up."
Buchanan rolled over onto his back and winced. His eyes were swollen and his nose red. His sweaty hair stuck to his forehead and he reeked of gin.
"Fuck you, Vickers, you cock sucking— Ow!"
Gus leveled his boot over Buchanan's face. "There are ladies present. Talk like that again and I'll smash that pretty nose of yours."
"Slum scum." Buchanan chortled. "That rhymes."
"What do you want?" Lincoln snapped.
Buchanan put his hand up but no one went to his aid so he rocked and rolled himself into a sitting position. He swayed and belched. "I want a drink."
"You've had enough." Lincoln put out his hand and after staring at it for several heartbeats, Buchanan took it. Lincoln hauled him up and only let go when Buchanan appeared steady on his feet.
"Julia's dead." Buchanan's voice sounded raw, scratchy. His face crumpled but a deep breath helped him regain composure.
"We know," Seth said. "We also know how it happened."
"Do you? Do you really?" Buchanan sneered. "Then perhaps you can enlighten me, Vickers, because I don't know anything."
"She…fell and an omnibus struck her."
"She didn't fall, she deliberately stepped into its path." Buchanan sniffed then wiped the back of his ungloved hand across his nose. It came away covered in snot. "She killed herself and I want to know why."
"We don't have the answer," I said. "We're as much in the dark as you are."
"Oh, I doubt that, little miss sweetness."
"Don't," Lincoln warned.
"And you! You're the worst." He shoved Lincoln's shoulders with both hands. Lincoln didn't budge, but he didn't raise a hand to ward him off eit
her. "What did she see in you? Charlotte, answer me that? Help me understand. What do women see in him?"
"Don't punish yourself like this," Alice said more gently than he deserved. "She's gone. There's no point going over well-traveled roads now."
Buchanan wagged a finger in Seth's general direction. "If she pined for you, I could understand. You're so god damned beautiful that I'm half in love with you." He patted Seth's cheek and gave him a slick smile.
Seth smacked his hand away. "If anyone needs me, I'll be around."
"Don't run away, dear Vickers. I'm just getting to the good part. The part where I blame you all for Julia's death."
Seth stopped and glanced over his shoulder, not at Buchanan, but at me.
"Not you." Buchanan touched Alice's face in the same way he'd touched Seth's. "I don't blame you, you divine creature."
Seth grabbed him by the jacket lapels and punched him in the face. Then he held out his hand to Alice. She took it and they left together without a backward glance.
Lincoln held the door open wide. "Get out."
Buchanan didn't look like he was going anywhere soon. He writhed on the floor, clutching his nose and pulling his knees up to his chest. "I'm bleeding!"
Gus shook his head. "If I have to clean blood off that floor, I'll punch you too." He strode off toward the service area.
Buchanan pulled out a woman's lace handkerchief from his jacket pocket, setting off another bout of sobbing. "They let me keep this."
"Who did?" Lincoln asked.
"The mortuary people. I had to identify her body. It was horrible." He sobbed and more tears and bloodied snot oozed from his orifices. "My beautiful Julia…ruined. I refuse to remember her as that bloody mess laid out on a cold table. She'll be forever lovely to me." He curled up into a ball and cried.
I sighed. "What shall we do with him?"
"The hack is still here," Lincoln said, signaling for the driver to wait. "Get up, Buchanan."
"Not until you admit you killed Julia." Buchanan swiped the handkerchief across his nose, smearing blood up his cheek. "She wouldn't have taken her life if you hadn't expelled her from the committee."
"She betrayed the committee," Lincoln said flatly. "She deserved expulsion."
Buchanan lurched onto all fours then pulled himself to his feet. "You could have treated her with kindness, considering your history together! But kindness isn't in your repertoire, is it? Only coldness and cruelty."
I stood in front of him, hands bunched into fists at my sides. "How dare you accuse Lincoln of cruelty toward her? You informed the newspapers of her past. You threatened to reveal your secret liaisons. You provoked her and manipulated her—"
"I loved her!" More tears streamed down his cheeks, and blood and snot bubbled from his nose. "No one else loved her but me. I only ever had her best interests at heart."
"You had your interests at heart. You couldn't accept her rejection so you tried to force her back into your arms by making her unhappy and desperate. How loving of you."
He folded in on himself and sobbed. I'd never seen a grown man cry so hard, and for a moment, I was fascinated by it and a little heart sick. Then I blinked and shrugged it off.
"Go home, Andrew," I said more gently. "Help your brother with the funeral arrangements. She would have wanted that."
Lincoln tried to walk him out the door but Buchanan's legs wouldn't cooperate so he tossed him over his shoulder instead.
Buchanan twisted to see me as Lincoln carried him down the front steps. "Summon her for me, Charlotte," he wailed. "Call her spirit so I may speak to her one last time."
"No."
His sobs could be heard even as the coach drove away.
Lincoln laid a hand on the back of my neck as I shut the front door. "I feel a little sorry for him," I said. "He did love her in his strange way."
"He doesn't deserve your sympathy." His fingers skimmed my neck at my hairline. "Where's your necklace?"
"My room," I said without missing a beat. "It doesn't go with this outfit so I took it off." I needed to stop talking or he'd detect my lie. Perhaps he did already.
"You should wear it always until the threat from the army is over."
I headed up the stairs to my room and shoved the guilt from my heart. I didn't regret lying to him. He had enough to worry about, and adding me to the list would only end up with him forbidding me to leave the house. I didn't want to argue with him this close to the wedding.
* * *
The following morning, twenty-four hours before I walked down the aisle, my nerves finally set in. It began with the delivery of my gown. The dressmaker brought it herself and insisted I try it on one last time now that the final adjustments had been made. It was too tight.
Lady Vickers went into a flap that brought the rest of the household to my door in a panic. Seth barged in without knocking, catching me half out of the gown.
"Charlie—! Er, my apologies." He backed out of the door, knocking into Lincoln.
"Get out! Get out!" Lady Vickers screeched. "The groom can't see the bride in her dress before the wedding!" She shut the door on them and collapsed against it. "That was close."
"Come and sit down," I scolded her. "You're making everyone nervous."
"That's because I am nervous." She did not sit but paced the room, vigorously fanning herself. "There's so much to do. And with no servants…" She stopped pacing and placed her hand to her chest. "I cannot breathe."
Alice helped her to sit at my dressing table then rubbed her back. "Count to three then take a deep breath."
Lady Vickers did as advised. She coughed through the breath. "I need a glass of sherry."
"It's far too early for sherry," Alice said with a laugh.
"Wine then."
Alice smiled at me and gave a little shrug.
The dressmaker sat on the bed with the gown so I went to work on Lady Vickers. I took her hand in both of mine and leveled my gaze with hers. "Everything will be all right. We'll finish setting the dining table soon then give the drawing room a quick dust. Cook has altered the menu to include simpler dishes that can be prepared ahead. He'll decorate the cake this afternoon. There's nothing more to do. There. Better now?"
"No. Yes." She sighed. "We haven't had time for that talk yet, Charlie."
I tried very hard to contain my smile. "The talk can wait."
"Wait! Wait for when? The moment he carries you into his bed?" She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. "I've failed in my duties as your…" A wave of her hand encompassed the unconventional nature of our relationship.
I caught Alice pressing her lips together very hard out of the corner of my eye. I leaned toward Lady Vickers and whispered in her ear so the dressmaker couldn't hear. "I know what goes on between a husband and wife in bed."
She did not reel back in shock like I thought she would. "Seeing the whores do it is not the same as a loving couple," she whispered back.
She had a point. "Lincoln can teach me."
She flapped her fan in front of her reddening face again. "Yes. Well. There is that. But still, if you have a moment today, I'd like to have a quiet conversation."
"I'll be sure to find the time."
The dressmaker was a fast worker and when I tried on the gown again, it fitted perfectly.
With that settled, we made our way to the dining room. Seth brought in a delivery of roses and assisted his mother to arrange them in the vases down the center of the table. Gus joined us and asked for Lady Vickers' assistance in the kitchen.
"Of course," she said, handing the rest of the flowers to Seth.
"Wait," he said. "Why is she needed in the kitchen?"
"Don't know." Gus wiped his flour-covered hands down the front of his apron.
"Do not drop any of that flour in here," Alice scolded him.
He put up his hands in surrender. "Cook wants her," he told Seth.
Seth grunted. "He does, does he?"
"Don't make a scene," his mother said
cheerfully.
"Why not?" He pointed a pale pink rose at her. "Once upon a time, you wouldn't set a toe in the kitchen, and now you can't stay out of it.
"I am merely assisting Cook at this busy time."
"I can assist him. What does he want done?" he asked Gus.
"Don't be petty," his mother said. "He asked for me so I will go. Come along, Gus."
Seth darted in front of her, blocking her path. I set down the cutlery I'd been laying out and exchanged a worried glance with Alice.
"Enough, Mother," Seth growled. "Stop this at once."
"Stop what?"
"Whatever it is you're doing with Cook. It can't go on."
"Seth, dear, Cook and I are friends, that's all."
He snorted. "Friends. That's what you used to say about the footman. Then you ran off and married him."
I thought she'd grow angry with him but her features softened. "It's true that George was not unlike Cook. Companionable, competent, honest and highly amusing. Do you recall the old rumors about the queen and her servant, Mr. Brown? It's like that between Cook and me."
"You are not the queen!"
"Weren't they lovers?" Gus asked.
Seth shot him a murderous glare. "Don't you dare marry Cook, Mother, or I won't be able to look either of you in the eye again." He folded his arms, an immovable wall blocking his mother's exit.
She patted his cheek. "That would be unbearable."
He arched a brow. "So you agree?"
"It's only fair that if I give him up, you must promise to do something for me."
He lowered his arms. "I suspect I'm not going to like this."
"Find yourself a suitable wife, one with a fortune and good breeding, and I will end any liaison I've been having with Cook."
"Ah, yes, because heiresses of noble birth grow on trees."
"There are a number in my circle, but you've refused to consider them."
"That's because I've met them. Vacuous little misses, all of them."
"So?" She lifted one shoulder. "That is my condition. Now, move aside, please. Cook needs me."
He hesitated then sighed and stepped out of her way. She lifted her chin and strode past him. Gus followed, smirking. Seth glanced in Alice's direction, but she was too busy fussing with a napkin to notice, so he left too.