Page 60 of The Last Necromancer
"I look forward to your report," she said.
"I'll be in touch with the committee soon."
He walked her out, leaving me alone in the library. I picked up the book he'd been reading—A Guide To The Spirit World. How curious. I flipped it open and began to read, but didn't get very far before he returned. Outside, Lady Harcourt's carriage rolled away.
"Tea and cake?" he asked. "Cook has been baking."
"I'm not hungry."
"You need to eat."
"Breakfast wasn't that long ago."
He tugged on the bell pull in the corner of the library. The house was so vast that I couldn't hear the corresponding bell ringing in the service area.
He stood by the table while we waited, hands behind his back, and nodded at the book. "You should read that. It might help you understand your necromancy."
Seth entered. "Can I get you anything, Charlie?" His smile made him even more handsome, and not for the first time I wondered why he was working for Fitzroy alongside a ruffian like Gus.
"Tea and cake." Fitzroy's gruff manner wiped Seth's smile from his face.
Once he was gone, Fitzroy indicated I should sit at the table. I did, and a moment later, as though it were an afterthought, he did too.
"Now that you've agreed to help, I want to keep you informed," he said.
"You do? Oh. Thank you. Is there more to what you've already told me?"
"Not much. I've learned that a man has been calling at all the homes of London vicars and asking after girls living in the same house. Daughters, wards, servants…"
"I'm sure that went down well. Did he know my name?"
"I don't think so, but I didn't know it at first, either. Not until I learned about the tragic disappearance of Anselm Holloway's daughter, two days ago."
"And you investigated further," I finished. "How did you learn the piece of information about the vicar? How did V.F.?"
He sat quite still, one palm flat on the polished tabletop. I thought for a moment he would keep that secret to himself, but then he answered. "A woman we'd been watching in Paris wrote to him. Her husband had died in suspicious circumstances here in England, and she'd exiled herself to Paris to avoid the police, and us, asking uncomfortable questions."
"You think she killed her husband?"
"I think she knew the killer and was possibly present for the murder. I also believe the murderer to be the man she wrote to, this V.F. Her husband's body was cut open and the brain used to—"
"Stop!" I pressed a hand to my lurching stomach and drew in a deep breath. "So you watched this woman in Paris and waited for her to send a communication. You must have intercepted the letter."
"I did. She'd written it in code and tried to have an unsuspecting couple deliver it, since the usual postal service would be too slow and unreliable. I intercepted and decoded it. The letter claimed she'd found the girl V.F. was seeking, and that she was living with a London vicar. I don't know how she learned that. I then made sure the missive found its way to V.F's hands."
"Thereby putting the girl—me—in danger."
"You weren't in danger because you weren't living with a London vicar."
"You didn't know that at the time."
"And I would not have allowed V.F. to capture you."
"Forgive me for doubting your competence on this, Mr. Fitzroy, but you are only three men, if you include Gus and Seth, and there are many vicars living in London. You couldn't watch them all."
The fingers on the table splayed wide.
"Tea," Seth announced, as he entered the library with a tray. Behind him, Gus followed, carrying a second tray laden with plates and slices of cake.
