Page 17 of Beyond the Grave
Ihadto wait until the following day to impart my new knowledge. Lincoln and the others hadn't returned by midnight when I sank into bed, too tired to concentrate on my book. Seth and Gus emerged from the attic bedrooms late morning, yawning and rubbing red-rimmed eyes, but there was no sign of Lincoln.
"Did you have any success?" I asked them as they joined Cook and me in the kitchen.
"None," Seth said, inspecting the contents of a pot on the range.
"He's disappeared good and proper," Gus said. "Ain't a stick of truth in any of the rumors we been chasin' down all night. Nobody knows where he is."
"Nobody particularly cares, either, except those who claim he owes them money. They're worried they'll never see their debts paid if he's dead." Seth dipped the soup ladle into the pot and lifted it to his pursed lips.
Cook snatched it before his mouth could touch it. "Where be your manners? Get a bowl."
"It was just a little sip!"
Cook clicked his tongue and shook his head. "And you be raised a gen'leman, too."
Seth pouted and fetched himself a bowl from the cupboard.
"Get one for me too," Gus said. "Charlie?"
"I've already had some."
"Did your expedition to The Alhambra produce any results?" Seth asked, holding out the two bowls for Cook.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, but I don't want to repeat myself. I'll wait for Mr. Fitzroy to come down."
"He already been down," Cook said. "He went out while you were cleanin' in the parlor."
"Oh. Well. I'd still like to wait."
I occupied the next little while with dusting. It felt good to be able to perform my duties once again, even though I used the walking stick to get around. Lincoln returned when I'd just completed the library. I saw him ride up the driveway at speed, then a few minutes later, Gus came to collect me.
"Death wants you to wait for him in the parlor," he said in a plummy toff accent.
"You have to stop calling him that. It's neither accurate nor fair."
"I think it bloody well is. Wherever he goes, a dead body is sure to turn up sooner or later."
I sighed and followed him across the entrance hall to the parlor. Lincoln and Seth joined us a few minutes later. Lincoln had removed the leather strip tying his hair back and the locks fell in waves to just below his collar. He ran his hand through it in a self-conscious move that was rare for him.
"Seth tells me you have information about Lady Harcourt's past," he said.
"And a good afternoon to you too." I gave a little curtsy which he couldn't fail to notice mocked his lack of gentlemanly greeting. He did not move a muscle. "I have indeed learned some things from The Alhambra staff. Lady Harcourt met Lord Harcourt in the promenade when she was a dancer at that establishment."
Seth's jaw dropped, and Gus's eyes bulged. Then he tipped his head back and laughed. "Her ladyship were a dancer at The Al? I'd wager she was popular at interval with her big—"
Seth smacked his shoulder and Gus choked on the rest of his sentence. "She's a lady now," Seth said, "and one doesn't blacken a lady's character by discussing her figure, or her past."
"But what if it's true?"
"Even more reason to sweep it under the rug and nail the rug down so tightly that it can never be lifted again. This news goes no further than this room." Seth arched his brows at me. "Charlie?"
"I'm surprised at you, Seth." I was rather put-out, to be honest. Lady Harcourt was no better than me, yet he was prepared to protect her honor. Would he have done so for mine, or was it because she was a proper lady now, through her marriage? "We have to confront her about her past."
"No," Lincoln said. "We let the matter rest here."
I leaned on my walking stick, gripping the mastiff's head tightly in my fist. "You knew, didn't you?"
"Suspected. She always seemed more…worldly than a schoolmaster's daughter ought to be."
