Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(4)

"Told you the cake would ruin her appetite," Gus said, heading toward the scullery.

I helped with the washing up, then tried to play cards but couldn't concentrate. I lost my share of the dried broad beans we were wagering with and removed myself to the library to wait for Lincoln. From there, I could see the drive and front lawn. The moon glowed faintly behind a bank of clouds and haze, providing little light to see by. I didn't bother with candles or lamps; I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate on a book. I wasn't sure why I felt anxious. Lincoln was more than capable of taking care of himself. Perhaps it was simply because Lichfield had been so quiet and calm of late that a part of me hadn't expected it to last.

Despite my worry, I must have fallen asleep. I awoke to the sensation of something brushing my cheek. When I opened my eyes, Lincoln crouched in front of me.

"You're awake." He stood and placed his hands behind his back. Someone had lit candles and the light flickered across his cheeks only to be swallowed by his eyes. They seemed blacker than ever.

"What time is it?" I smothered a yawn and uncurled my feet from beneath me.

"Early hours of the morning. You should be in bed."

"So should you. Did you see anything at the cemetery?"

"The robbers didn't return, and it was too dark to look for clues."

"You mean you can't see in the dark? And here I thought you were capable of anything." When he didn't respond, I mumbled an apology. It would seem he didn't like my teasing and I needed to remember that my position at Lichfield was a precarious one. The committee members had wanted me removed from the country altogether. Only Lincoln had wanted me to stay and only then because he thought the nation was safer where he could keep a close eye on me. He could change his mind and have me sent away at any moment. No one would gainsay him.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked, rising. "You must be hungry."

He dismissed my offer with a wave of his hand. I bobbed an awkward curtsy—something I didn't usually do but felt I ought to every now and again—and was about to walk away when his hand on my arm stopped me.

"Charlie." He let me go and resumed his military stance. "I want to apologize for my joke earlier."

"You made a joke? Was I present at the time?"

His jaw hardened. "About locking you up again."

"That was a joke?"

"I can see now that it might not have been taken as such, considering the circumstances under which you were first brought here."

"I see. Thank you. I appreciate you seeking me out to say so."

Without another word, he strode past me and disappeared in the direction of the service area. I sighed and extinguished one of the candles. I grabbed the other to light my way upstairs. I thought about going to him in the kitchen, but since I wasn't sure what to say, perhaps it was best to avoid him. Every conversation we had of late just widened the gap between us. I wished I'd never let him see how much I desired him.

***

I waited for the rain to stop before heading to the cemetery. It was Saturday, my morning off, and I wanted to visit my adopted mother's grave.

"You haven't been there in two months," Lincoln said when I informed him. He liked to know when I was heading out, and I had no objection to telling him. I had no secrets, and he was simply worried, after what had happened with Frankenstein.

"Then it's high time I go." I fastened the glove at my wrist and pulled on the other. "I do think of her as my mother still, and she did care for me."

He rested his hand on the doorknob then after a brief hesitation, he opened it for me. "Of course."

I half expected him to announce he was coming with me, but he didn't. He seemed to believe that my calling upon my mother was entirely innocent and had nothing to do with looking for clues as to the grave robbers' identities. I was able to fool him easily when I put my mind to it.

The damp air curled the ends of my hair before I'd even reached the estate's gates. My hair had grown a little but it was still short at the back, skimming my collar. I wished it would grow faster.

I quickened my pace and reached the cemetery's grand stone entrance a few minutes later. I headed for my mother's grave and spent a few moments thinking of her as I stared down at her headstone. She might not be my birth mother, but she'd loved me—and I her—when she was alive. She'd been the first spirit I'd raised, and her death had sparked my banishment by the man I'd thought was my father, Anselm Holloway. Yet I couldn't be angry with him—or her. I would never have ended up at Lichfield Towers if my necromancy hadn't been reviled and feared by Holloway. Lichfield was where I belonged. I knew that to my core.

I muttered an apology to Mama about seeking out my real mother, even though I knew I had no reason to feel guilty. I'd made little headway, anyway. None of the orphanages I'd visited so far had records of an adoption by a couple named Holloway. But there were still more orphanages to visit, and I'd not given up hopes of finding something. All I had to go on was my mother's first name—Ellen—and that she was a necromancer like me.

I removed one of my gloves, kissed my fingertips and touched the headstone. With a sigh, I turned away and went in search of the robbed grave. It was easy to find, as a pile of soil marked the empty hole. I half expected to see Lincoln there, having anticipated my real motive for going to the cemetery, but there was no one about.