Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(34)

I set the lid aside and removed the plush black garment from the box. It was a short cloak, trimmed in gray fur, with a curlicue pattern was embellished all around. The royal blue silk lining was the same shade as the ribbon.

"My goodness," I said on a breath. I studied it from all angles, and brushed the soft plush against my cheek. "I…I don't know what to say. Are you giving this to me?"

He folded his arms over his chest. "You don't like it?"

"I do, it's beautiful. Thank you. But…where shall I wear it? It's much too fine for going to the market with Cook. I don't want to ruin it."

"Wear it whenever you want. That's why I bought it—to be worn." He sounded put out but I didn't see how my question could cause offence. The cloak must have cost him a considerable sum, and I didn't want to wear it just anywhere. It was the sort of cloak one should wear strolling around the park with wealthy and titled friends. My friends consisted of the other Lichfield Towers servants, and my old cloak was more than adequate in their company.

"Why did you buy it for me? You already gave me a cloak when the weather turned cool."

"This one will be warmer. I noticed you shivering the other night."

"Oh. Thank you, Lincoln. It's the loveliest thing I've ever owned."

He inclined his head and, with his hands behind his back, marched out of the library. He hadn't even said anything about me calling him Lincoln. I held the cloak against my chest, half expecting him to return and take it from me, to give to someone more deserving, like Lady Harcourt. But he didn't, and I stayed there in the library for some time, stroking my new cloak.

***

I wasn't expecting Lincoln to conduct my training that afternoon. Between rest and work, he had very little spare time. But after sleeping for a mere four hours, he found me helping Cook in the kitchen and ordered me to change and meet him outside, on the lawn at the front of the house.

The day had cleared up nicely but the miserly sun failed to take the chill out of the air. It was perfect weather for the vigorous exercise regime Lincoln put me through for the next two hours. The lack of warmth didn't stop me from sweating by the end of it, but not quite as much as I had two months ago.

There was no sign of his ill humor anymore, or the strangeness that had shrouded our encounter in the library. He was all stiff formality as he ordered me to repeat the various maneuvers, over and over. It was just as it always had been between us. I almost preferred the simmering anger. It was at least an emotion.

We still had quite a bit of our session to go when we had to stop for a visitor. The carriage rumbled up the long drive and it was some time before I realized who it belonged to. Lincoln must have recognized the horses and driver because before the carriage turned so we could see the escutcheon painted on the side, he ordered me into the house.

"Change into your uniform," he said quickly. "And stay in the kitchen."

I intended to do exactly as he asked, and only paused on the steps to see who had arrived unannounced in such grand style. As the carriage swept into a wide arc and pulled to a stop in front of Lincoln, I groaned. The escutcheon was that of a snake wrapped around a sword. Lord Gillingham's crest. I headed up the steps.

"You there! Girl!" Gillingham's barked order set my teeth on edge. I stopped, turned and inclined my head in question. I refused to curtsy to that man.

"What do you want?" Lincoln asked as Gillingham stepped down from the cabin.

The sun picked out the flecks of gray amid the red of his beard. He planted the end of his walking stick on the gravel and regarded first me then Lincoln with those insipid eyes of his. "Lady Harcourt has called a special meeting. It seems I am the first to arrive."

"A meeting? Why wasn't I informed?"

"I am informing you now." He went to walk off, but Lincoln stepped in front of him.

"What is the meeting about?"

"Ministry business." He stepped around Lincoln and pointed at me with the end of his cane. "Why is she dressed like that?"

"That's none of your affair."

"I'm training," I told him. Lincoln glanced over his shoulder at me. His face was positively rigid with fury. "Mr. Fitzroy is teaching me to fight and protect myself in the event of an attack."

Gillingham's red-gold eyebrows rose. Then he burst out laughing. "Is that a joke?"

Neither of us answered.

"You are trying to teach this girl to fight? Good lord, Fitzroy, you're softer in the head than I thought. Do you suppose that dressing her in boys' clothes will give her the strength, speed and aptitude of one? That's absurd."

"Nobody is concerned with what you think, Gillingham," Lincoln said. "Keep your opinions to yourself or leave."

I didn't trust Gillingham's smile. It was all lips and no teeth. "You'll find out soon enough what I and the others think at the meeting. You've been allowed free reign for too long, Fitzroy, and it's gone to your head. That time has come to an end. You cannot be allowed to make foolish decisions when the lives of so many depend upon you."

I had no idea what he was talking about, and if Lincoln did, he gave nothing away. He didn't even answer Gillingham; he simply turned and strode up to me. "Come inside," he said in a low voice.

"Wait a moment," Gillingham called. "Girl, come and collect my hat and scarf." He pointed into the cabin where the hat and scarf sat on the seat.