Page 62 of Beyond the Grave
He folded the paper and set it on the seat beside him. "I don't regret bringing you. I told you last night, we work well together. I don't want to lose that." He turned to the window. "I do regret not insisting Seth or Gus come. Having others around might have kept us from…indulging."
"Perhaps." I wasn't so sure. I think we would have stolen a few moments away from the others toindulge, as he'd put it. Some things were inevitable, like time ticking forward or the ebb and flow of the tide. There was no way to stop them. "Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. Despite our unfortunate exchange last night, I've enjoyed being in the countryside."
He picked up the newspaper. "I noticed."
My face heated. Thank goodness he wasn't looking at me. I opened my book but couldn't concentrate on the words. "You must think me foolish," I mumbled. "It's just grass and trees, after all."
He unfolded the paper and began to read again. I'd thought the conversation over, until he said, "It's not just grass and trees. Not anymore."
I puzzled over what he meant for the rest of the journey home.
Cook madea special celebratory cake for our return, decorated with little cream swirls piped onto the top through a calico bag. "House was quiet without you, Charlie," he said, finishing the final swirl with a flourish.
I set out four plates, cups and saucers on the kitchen table, and another on a tray for Lincoln. He'd gone straight to his rooms upon our return, and I doubted we'd see him for the rest of the day. "That's sweet of you to say so," I told him. "This cake looks far too lovely to eat."
"Speak for yourself," Gus said, holding out a plate for the first slice.
Cook placed it on another plate then handed the plate to me. "Ladies first."
Gus rolled his eyes and waited for the second slice. "Seth, you take afternoon tea up for Death. I've been mucking out stables all morning."
"And I've been in here helping Cook." Seth poured cups of tea then returned the teapot to the tray. "I want to hear all about Emberly Park when I get back."
He was saved from footman's duties by the entrance of Lincoln, carrying a letter. He looked refreshed after our journey, his hair loose, his tie, coat and waistcoat discarded. I found it difficult to meet his gaze. So much had happened between us since we left Lichfield, and I wasn't yet certain how to proceed.
"I'll join you all," he said, handing me the letter. "Charlie, this concerns you."
"You're receiving letters about me?"
He hitched his trousers at the knee and sat opposite. "It's from an orphanage in France."
"France?" I scanned the letter and passed it back to him. "It's in French. What does it say? And why are you receiving letters from French orphanages?"
"I wrote to several charitable organizations there and asked for names and addresses of orphanages, poor houses and lying-in hospitals for unfortunate women. I then wrote to each of those, inquiring about a woman known as Ellen who gave birth to a daughter eighteen years ago and gave her up for adoption to an English couple. I included as many details about Holloway as I knew."
I stared at him. He'd done that? For me? Or for himself? "When did you begin your inquiries?"
"Two months ago."
When I first came to live at Lichfield. So perhaps not for me, but to find my mother on the ministry's behalf. Still, he was telling me now when he could have kept the information to himself.
I wasn't the only one stunned into silence by Lincoln's admission. The other three had stopped what they were doing to stare at him.
"France," Seth said with a slow nod. "That's why the Calthorn woman found the information to give to Frankenstein. He took advantage of her self-imposed exile to Paris and asked her to do exactly what you did—make inquiries at orphanages and the like."
Lincoln accepted the slice of cake from Cook. "It seems likely he already knew to look in France, perhaps because Ellen was French. The response in this letter also explains why Frankenstein didn't know precisely where to look for you in London." He pointed to a line on the letter that I couldn't understand. "The matron explains here that the baby she suspects is the one I'm interested in was adopted by a vicar based in London. There was a fire some years ago and all records were lost, but she remembered you."
"Why?" I gripped my teacup harder in both hands. I felt like my eyes were huge as I stared at him, holding my breath as I awaited his answer. "They must see hundreds of babies."
"The matron states that Ellen Mercier was unlike the other mothers who are forced to give up their children. She spoke well, with an educated accent, and her clothes were well made and of good quality, although they were old and worn. Matron suspects Ellen was from a good family but had fallen on hard times, perhaps as a result of her pregnancy."
"She did not marry Frankenstein," I whispered.
"No. As an unwed mother, doors would have been closed to her."
"Perhaps even the door to her father's home."
He nodded as he watched me. After a moment, he turned the letter over and pointed to the small, neat writing near the top. "She describes Ellen Mercier's appearance here. 'Small in stature and figure, with features to match except for her large eyes that one couldn't fail to notice.' Like you."
