From The Ashes (The Ministry of Curiosities #6)(33)

Lincoln suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Charlie, may I see you in my study for a moment." He didn't wait for me, but strode off.

"Has he given you anything yet?" Cook whispered.

"No, but I don't expect him to. I'd be surprised if he even remembered it was my birthday."

Cook snorted. "You'd best go."

I hurried up the stairs, but slowed down as I passed my door and headed toward his. I suspected he was going to give me a gift, and I didn't know if I wanted to accept anything from him. Not only that, but being alone with Lincoln played havoc with my nerves.

The door was open and he stood waiting for me, the knuckles of one hand resting on the desk. "Happy birthday," he said again.

"Thank you." I swallowed. Should I sit? Remain standing?

Light from the window caught the diamond in my engagement ring, still sitting in its box on his desk. If that was my gift… No, it couldn't be. He hadn't wrapped it. Indeed, there were no parcels on his desk. I blew out a breath.

"I wanted to give you your gift in private." He opened his desk drawer.

I closed my eyes and willed my heart to cease its hammering.

"Charlie?"

I opened my eyes and blinked. He stood holding a document several pages thick. "What's this?" I said, accepting it.

"The deeds to a house in—"

"You're giving me a house!" I shook my head and shoved the document into his chest. "Don't be absurd."

He swallowed heavily and stared down at the papers. "It's in Harringay, not far from here. The area is close enough to the city for commuting yet retains much of its rural nature."

"Are you not listening, Lincoln? I don't want it. It's too much."

"It's not very large."

A bubble of laughter escaped. I threw my hands in the air. "It's a bloody house! Even a stinking rat-infested room in Whitechapel is too much to give your ex-fiancée on her birthday. I won't accept it."

"It's already yours. I paid for it yesterday and had your name put on the deed." He pointed to a spot on the topmost page. My name was clearly written in the space.

I fell back and placed a hand to my throbbing heart. "You're throwing me out of Lichfield again, aren't you?"

His eyes widened. "No!"

"Why else would you give me a house, for God's sake? You want me to leave Lichfield but you don't want to feel guilt for forcing me to live on the streets or for sending me to a school, so you bought me a bloody house to move into."

He stepped toward me. "Charlie—"

I stepped back. "I'm glad you're able to put a price on your guilt, Lincoln. Glad you can buy your way to feeling better about yourself." I picked up my skirts, and spun around.

He caught me before I'd taken a single step. I tried to pull free, but his grip was too strong. "That's not why I bought it for you." His voice shook, but whether from rage or another emotion, I couldn't tell. He turned me to face him, but I refused to look at him and instead focused on his shoulder. "I wanted to give you something special for your birthday. Something that will make a difference to your life."

"Forcing me to leave Lichfield made a rather large difference to my life. What else am I to think when you buy me a house except that you want me to live there, away from my—" I suddenly choked and tears welled again. "Away from my home," I managed to finish on a whisper.

His deep breath rustled my hair. I was very aware that he still held me and that we stood very close. "It's not a house for you to live in, unless you wish to, but a house for you to have. The area is a growing one, and rents will rise. The property is a good size for a couple or small family."

I blinked away my tears, but still could not look at him. He let me go. I shook my head, unable to speak for fear of choking on my emotions again. It was all too much, too confusing. Why was he doing this for me when he'd been so cruel only weeks before? Out of guilt?

Or was it because he knew I would one day be on my own again, gone from Lichfield, and in need of shelter?

I couldn't think through my tumultuous thoughts. I felt like I was floating adrift, unable to steer my boat. I turned and ran from the room. He didn't follow.

I ran outside and across the lawn. The wind nipped at my face and teased my hair from its pins. It whipped my cheeks and stung my eyes. By the time I reached the bare trees in the orchard, I was out of breath, yet my mind was a little clearer. I climbed my favorite apple tree, even though it gave me no shelter, barren as it was. When I reached the topmost limbs, I sat in the fork of two branches and wiped away my tears.

The estate of Lichfield spread before me, draped in what remained of the morning frost. Smoke from four of the chimneys curled up to the insipid blue sky, but otherwise, the house was quiet, dormant. Lincoln hadn't followed me out. I shivered, suddenly cold. This was my home. If Lincoln was telling the truth, and he didn't plan on sending me away again, why give me a house that I wasn't going to live in?

'I wanted to give you something that will make a difference to your life,' he'd said.

I suddenly understood. Aside from a home, which I already had in Lichfield, the one thing I desired most of all was freedom to do as I pleased, to not be a victim of others' whims, even his. As an unmarried woman with no money and no experience working in a trade, I was entirely at his mercy, something that had been driven home to me all too well. By giving me the house, Lincoln was giving me a means to earn money through the rental income, or to keep the capital if I chose to sell it. The house gave me freedom and independence that few women possessed, and even fewer unwed ones.