Page 15 of Her Majesty's Necromancer
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.
"Good morning, Mother dear," he drawled.
Mother? This must be one of her stepsons.
"Andrew." Her tone was as crisp as the morning air outside.
"What are you doing down here, dressed like a harlot?" His gaze slid to the deep V of her bosom, visible through the gap of her unfastened over-gown.
Lady Harcourt clutched the edges of the gown closed. "Miss Holloway has called upon me. She was just leaving."
Andrew regarded me with lazy indifference then dismissed me with a sniff. "You're inviting the riff raff in through the front door now, Mother? How amusing."
She didn't bother with a reply, merely stepping around him. She gave me a forced smile. "Thank you for stopping by, Charlie."
I bobbed a curtsy and left. She shut the door, but not before I heard Andrew tell her to "Be a good mother and keep the noise down" while he slept. What a horrid man.
I thought about Lady Harcourt and her stepson on the omnibus to Kentish Town. Or, more specifically, the way they'd treated me. Servants were supposed to be invisible. A maid wasn't worth acknowledging, except when it was to give her an order. Lady Harcourt hadn't introduced me to her stepson, and he'd not addressed me at all. None of that bothered me. I wasn't in the least concerned about what Lady Harcourt or her family thought. But it did cast a light on something that I found more upsetting. Two months ago, I was important to the ministry, a curiosity because of my necromancy and because I'd lived as a boy for so long. Even when I'd revealed myself to be female, I'd been the daughter of a respected vicar. Now I'd sunk to being a maid, and maids were a step below vicars' daughters.
It was no wonder Lincoln treated me differently. Ever since I'd accepted the position of housemaid, he'd avoided me except during our training. It was only natural that he'd want to keep me in my place and not allow me ideas above my station. I'd wanted a friendship with him, at the very least, but it was becoming clear now that he couldn't allow that to happen. The only thing maids were good for, besides cleaning, was keeping their master's bed warm, and Lincoln was too much of a gentleman to offer even that. I wasn't sure if it would be enough for me anyway.
I was trying to wade through the quagmire of my thoughts when the omnibus sailed right past the squat gray building of The Red Lion. I called out for the driver to stop and he pulled the coach to the curb for me and another passenger to alight. I hurried back to the tavern and was surprised to find that it was open. Only two old drinkers hunkered down at each end of the long polished bar like bookends, their gloved fingers grasping tankards as if they were anchors in a storm. Both looked around as I entered and straightened. One even shot me a gap-toothed smile.
"Mornin', miss," he said. "Come join me for drink." He patted the stool beside him.
I hesitated. A mere two months ago, such an offer from a grubby, grizzly fellow would send me scurrying out of the tavern again, but I was a respectable woman now, and this wasn't a greasy lane where thugs ruled. I smiled and sat on the stool. My new companion seemed pleased. The other drinker moved up a stool, closer to me. I smiled at him too.
"What's a girl like you doin' at The Lion?" asked the one beside me, on my right.
