From The Ashes (The Ministry of Curiosities #6)(18)

"He won't punish you." I glared at Cook when he opened his mouth to protest. "Come now, Doyle, I only have Mr. Fitzroy's interests at heart. Does he need to see a doctor?"

Doyle sighed and plopped down on a stool positioned at the table. "I don't know. He hasn't confided in me, but I suspect his feet need tending to. There was a lot of blood."

"Blood!"

"On the carpet in his sitting room. He'd tried to clean it up, but it's a devil to get blood out."

"Amen," Cook muttered.

Doyle's lips parted and a small wheeze escaped.

Cook plucked at his apron. "Not human blood." He turned to me, his back to Doyle, and winked.

"I found bloodied glass too," Doyle went on. "He'd thrown it out, but I saw it hidden amongst the other rubbish. I didn't go specifically looking, mind," he protested, despite no one accusing him of doing so.

"What sort of glass?" Cook asked.

"Again, I wasn't trying to pry into Mr. Fitzroy's business."

"But?"

Doyle sighed. "But it looked to be a tumbler. It smelled of brandy."

"He cut his foot on glass," I said, numbly. That must have been painful. No wonder he was limping. "How did he break a tumbler? And which foot?"

"Both, I'd say, and on the soles, going by the distance between the stains and their shape," he added.

"He walked over broken glass!" But Lincoln could avoid shards easily enough by stepping across furniture instead of the floor to his bedroom to get shoes. Was he drunk? "Did he go mad in my absence?"

Doyle and Cook didn't say anything, and neither met my gaze.

I set aside my teacup and leaned forward. "Tell me," I urged. "Tell me everything."

"There you are!" The powerful voice filled the kitchen as thoroughly as the speaker's tall, solid frame filled the doorway. A handsome woman with thick hair tumbling down over her shoulders stood in the doorway, hands on hips. The hair was the same color as Seth's with only a little gray here and there. "Briggs said I would find you here. What are you talking to the servants for? Come, Charlotte. I need to speak with you." She turned and strode away, not stopping to look back when I didn't follow. Clearly she expected me to catch up.

"Go on, Charlie," Cook said, thrusting his chin in the direction Lady Vickers had gone. "You go and tell her you won't be spoken to like that. You be the lady of the house, not her."

"You're right." I stood and tugged on my sleeves.

It wasn't until I had almost reached the drawing room that I wondered if Cook was over-stating my role. Was I still the lady of the house? Or had I lost that title after my engagement to Lincoln ended?





Chapter 5





From afar, it was difficult to reconcile the woman with the lovely fair tresses as having a grown son. Even dressed in deep mourning black, Lady Vickers was attractive, albeit with a rather forbidding air. Perhaps if she smiled, she would appear softer, more approachable, but the stern set of her brow and stiff shoulders served as a reminder that she considered herself far above me. It wasn't until I drew closer to her, seated on the sofa, that I saw the whiteness of her knuckles and the worry in her eyes.

"Good afternoon, Lady Vickers," I said with a bob of my head. "I'm pleased to finally meet you."

"And I you, Miss Holloway."

"Please, call me Charlie."

"And you must refer to me as madam. Ma'am is acceptable too. Not my lady. You're not a servant."

I sighed and wished I'd stayed in the kitchen. She patted the sofa cushion and I sat beside her, biting back a retort that I wasn't a dog. I didn't want to offend Seth's mother, particularly if we had to muddle along in one another's company. Lichfield Towers was large, but not large enough that we could avoid the other. Just like I wouldn't be able to avoid Lincoln.

"Seth told me all about you." It sounded like a warning, and I expected her to list the numerous reasons why I wasn't fit to be friends with her son. "He admires you." My surprise must have shown on my face because she smiled. I was right; it did soften her appearance. "He tells me you're the only one who can handle Mr. Fitzroy. If it's true, that is quite a feat indeed."

"If it were true, he wouldn't have sent me away."

"He fetched you back, didn't he?"

"Even so, he's not someone who can be handled. Not by anyone."

"No need to be snippy with me, Charlie. It was Seth's observation, not mine."

I sucked air between my teeth and let it out slowly. "How long do you plan on staying at Lichfield, madam?"

"As long as necessary." Her gaze shifted to her hands in her lap. "My friends cannot accommodate me at the moment. I'm sure they will soon, however."

I felt horrible. The poor woman had created a scandal by running off to America with her footman, and now that he'd died and she'd returned to England, she would have found doors closed and the invitations non-existent. The calling cards would indicate otherwise, however. "You're most welcome to stay here as long as you like," I said.

"Mr. Fitzroy has already made that clear to me. I must say, I like it here, despite the house's size."