Page 45 of Her Majesty's Necromancer
He shook his head. "The addicts like the anonymity he offers." He rose and picked up the box. To Seth and Gus he said, "Tucker and his staff are going to keep a close eye on Thackery, Marshall and Jolly's graves and report any visitors to me. We'll focus on watching Lee's instead."
"I'll go," Seth said, also rising. "Gets me out of scullery duty."
"What if the captain goes to a different opium den next time?" I asked. "If he thinks he's been found out, he'll be wise to change his pattern if he wishes to continue doing whatever it is he's doing."
Lincoln nodded, thoughtful. "We'll ask at other places I know."
"After a rest," I told him. "You must be exhausted."
He didn't answer, but strode out of the kitchen, the box under his arm. "Charlie, come with me."
"You've been summoned," Gus intoned in an imperial voice.
"Let us know what's in the box," Seth said, pushing me in the shoulder to hurry me up.
I wasn't sure if I was going to find out, or simply be given specific duties for the afternoon. I expected to be admonished for not blacking the fireplace in the parlor, but he went to the library instead. It was the one room that was perfectly clean. The more I cleaned in there, the longer I could spend browsing through the books.
He stood at the table and held out the box to me. I paused by the door, half expecting Seth or Gus to creep up behind me to watch, but there were no sounds. The house had fallen silent. Only my heartbeat made a noise as it pounded against my ribs.
"What is it?" I asked.
"The Bunters' shop didn't sell gentlemen's clothing."
"Oh."
"Take it." His curt reply dismissed all excitement. It was probably just a new apron.
I came further into the room and accepted the box. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me until you've seen it. If you don't like it, Mrs. Bunter said I may return it and you can choose another."
I placed the box on the table and carefully undid the bow, not wanting to damage the beautiful length of silk. My heart's hammering picked up speed as I lifted the lid with trembling fingers. I suspected that whatever was inside would be lovely—one didn't wrap up aprons with silk ribbons.
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.
