Page 14 of Her Majesty's Necromancer
I caught an omnibus to Mayfair, where most of England's nobility lived when in London. The streets were lined with five story townhouses, strung together like pale jewels on a necklace. Their tall windows and smooth façades commanded attention. The view from the top floor of Lady Harcourt's residence must take in much of the city.
I wasn't sure whether to knock at the service entrance below street level or the main front door. In the end, I decided I was calling on the mistress of the house and had every right to use the same door as her other callers. It was answered by a smooth faced butler of indeterminate age. He took in my drab housemaid's attire—minus the apron—and wrinkled his beaky nose.
"Go downstairs. Someone will let you in." He went to close the door, but I stuck my foot through the gap. Unfortunately he didn't notice and the door came down rather hard on it.
"Ow!" I cried. "Bloody hell."
"There'll be none of that language here," he whispered hoarsely. "Be off with you."
"I'm here to see Lady Harcourt and I won't be leaving until I do."
"She's not home."
I sighed. "We both know it's too early for her to be paying calls. Tell her that Miss Charlotte Holloway is here to speak with her about Mr. Fitzroy. She'll agree to see me."
Lincoln's name must have meant something to him. He let me in and indicated I should wait in the entrance hall. While the hall wasn't as grand as that at Lichfield, it was very impressive, with a white marble staircase sweeping up to a balconied second floor where Lady Harcourt appeared a few minutes later. She glanced down at me then dismissed her butler with a small nod.
"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."
