Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(11)

"Good morning, Charlie," she said as she glided down the stairs. Her black hair hung loose around her shoulders, softening her features and making her look far lovelier than any of her fancy arrangements did. She clutched the edges of a lavender over-gown at her bosom. It was more like a feminine version of a smoking jacket than a dress, and a long white chemise was visible where it remained open below her hand.

"Good morning, my lady." I bobbed a curtsy as she'd shown me to do soon after joining the Lichfield household as a maid. "I'm sorry to have woken you."

"I wasn't asleep, although it is rather early. Is everything all right? Lincoln…?"

"He's well, my lady. I saw him last night." I was about to tell her that his knuckles were a little bruised, but decided that she didn't need to know every detail of ministry business. If she did, she could get the answers from Lincoln himself.

She smiled in relief. "I did think it odd that you would be sent if something was wrong."

I arched my brows, but she didn't elaborate.

"You told Millard that you wanted to speak to me about Lincoln," she prompted.

It would seem we were going to have our discussion in the entrance hall. Perhaps I wasn't fit to be invited into the drawing room. So be it. "I wanted to ask you about Mr. Gurry."

Her lips parted and she stared at me. "Gurry?"

"Yes."

"How do you know about him?"

"Seth and Gus."

"Oh. Of course. They were there." She pulled the gown tighter at her throat as if there was a draft. The entrance hall wasn't very warm, but it wasn't cold either and there were no drafts. "And why do you wish to know more about him?"

"They told me Mr. Fitzroy killed him," I said quietly, so that no servants who might be hovering in one of the adjoining rooms could overhear. "Is that true?"

"Yes." She didn't appear to notice my avoidance of her question by asking one of my own.

"But nothing ever came of the murder? Mr. Fitzroy wasn't arrested?"

"Of course not. He's a gentleman, and the matter was an internal ministry one. Lords Marchbank and Gillingham saw that nothing came of it."

It was more than I'd hoped she would say. I decided to press my luck. "How did Mr. Fitzroy know him?"

She adjusted her over-gown again, this time letting the edges part, revealing her lush bosom through the nightgown laces. "Gurry was one of Lincoln's tutors as a child. He taught international politics and relations, I believe."

"Why did Mr. Fitzroy kill him? It would have been some years later, long after Mr. Gurry stopped tutoring him."

"I don't know, and if you want my advice, Charlie, you won't ask him. I did once and he…made it clear to me that he didn't like that I knew about Gurry's death. He'd be furious with us both if he knew you'd come here seeking answers and I'd told you this much."

It begged the question then, why had she told me anything at all? Getting answers from her had seemed rather too easy; although, to be fair, she knew very little. At least I now knew Mr. Gurry had been Lincoln's tutor.

"Thank you, my lady. I appreciate you speaking to me."

She smiled. "I know things haven't been comfortable between us lately. But I hope you understand that I was quite upset when you didn't take up my offer to work for me."

"I'm sorry I offended you. It wasn't my intention." Considering she'd recanted the offer when Lord Marchbank suggested exile was better for me, I didn't feel all that sorry.

"How is Lincoln?" she asked. "I thought he seemed a little distracted yesterday. Does he get enough exercise, do you think?"

"I suspect so." In addition to training me, he also continued with his own exercise routine in the evenings, according to Seth and Gus.

"Good. I do worry about him there, all alone in that big house. I know he has your company, and Seth's," she added quickly, "but I'm not sure it's enough for a man like Lincoln."

From what I could see, Lincoln didn't require much company at all. He seemed content to spend time alone and work. Then again, I didn't know him as well as Lady Harcourt. Perhaps she was right and he ought to get out into society more and befriend his peers.

"I can't picture him attending a ball or soiree," I said, trying hard not to laugh at the image of Lincoln dancing or making idle conversation with toffs.

"What a grand idea!" She beamed, dazzling me with her perfectly white teeth. "A ball would be just the thing."

"Are you sure?"

"Very. He needs to get out of that macabre old house of an evening. It's stifling. I'll see that he's invited to something."

She would be disappointed when he refused, but I smiled anyway. She seemed pleased with her plan.

"Thank you for stopping by, Charlie. Next time, however, go down to the service stairs. Millard is a stickler for the proper order of things."

I gave her a tight smile. "I wouldn't want to upset your butler."

The front door suddenly burst open and a man sauntered inside. He was a little older than me and clearly a gentleman, going by his tailored suit. His tie was askew, his brown hair disheveled, and he wore no hat. Heavy lids drooped over red-rimmed eyes and his slack mouth firmed into a sneer upon seeing Lady Harcourt.