Page 75 of Beyond the Grave
I gave him a grim smile, and decided that I would act as maid and bring in refreshments. It would give me a legitimate excuse to be among them, and Lincoln couldn't send me away.
As it turned out, I had to act as maid anyway. Seth and Gus remained in the stables to tend to the horses. I suspected they remained outside purposely to avoid our guests.
Cook was already assembling teacups on a tray when I entered the kitchen. "'Bout bloody time," he muttered, shoving the tray at me. "Thought I was going to have to wait on 'em myself." He shooed me away with a flick of his apron and some grumbled words of which I only caught "Gillingham" and "prick."
I hurried along the corridor to the parlor at the front of the house. The general's blustery voice drifted clearly out to me before I reached it.
"…doesn't justify your methods, Lincoln."
"He's a peer of the realm, for God's sake!" Gillingham exploded. "That alone puts him above reproach."
"Not to mention he's Buchanan's brother. He's hardly going to clock him, is he?"
"Your accusation was made doubly humiliating by having your maid overhear it all, Fitzroy. For God's sake, man, what were you thinking?"
Ah, yes, there was the slight against me that I expected. It didn't bother me, since I cared nothing for Gillingham's opinion, and I entered the parlor without any anxiety.
"I wasn't accusing him of anything," Lincoln said, as he took the tray from me with a nod of thanks. "And Charlie had every right to be there. She's assisting me. Tea, General?"
Eastbrooke muttered something incomprehensible that I suspected was a protest about a number of things—Lincoln serving tea, and me being involved in the investigation, chief among them.
"You are being deliberately provocative, Fitzroy," Gillingham said, looking down his nose at me. "Her involvement is unnecessary and inappropriate."
"I think not." Lincoln's bored dismissal disguised an undercurrent of frustration, which I suspected only I noticed. "Involving Charlie is effective. We now know Buchanan is alive."
"Use her necromancy by all means, under supervision, but do not invite her into Lord Harcourt's drawing room!"
Lincoln handed Gillingham a teacup then looked to me. "Tea, Charlie?"
"Yes, thank you." I sat on a chair, well away from the two visitors who were both still standing. The general glanced at the sofa behind him, as if he didn't know what to do, and Gillingham set down his cup on a table.
"Very well," he said on a sniff. "If you insist on remaining here, child, I cannot be responsible for the things you'll overhear."
"I'm sure youcanbe responsible," I countered, "but you choose to say them anyway. Go ahead. I doubt my sensibilities are as delicate as those of other ladies."
"No doubt you will have heard worse in the sewers." He picked up his teacup again and addressed Lincoln. "You're too lenient on her, Fitzroy."
"Agreed," the general said, eyeing me with a frown as he sipped his tea.
"Raising the witch proves she is a danger—"
"That matter has been resolved." Lincoln's voice was as sharp as cut glass. "Estelle Pearson has been sent back."
"I didn't know she was a witch," I told them.
Gillingham didn't look at me. I might as well not have spoken. "By taking her to Harcourt House yesterday, you have exposed Lord and Lady Harcourt to an indignity they should never have had to endure."
"I'm quite sure Marguerite's illegitimate child had nothing to do with Charlie."
I smiled into my teacup, only to jump when Gillingham stamped the end of his walking stick into the floor. "This is not a joke! She is yourmaid, Fitzroy, and a gutter rat at that. Can you not see the harm you do to your reputation, and that of Lichfield—"
"My reputation isnoneof your concern."
The earl recoiled at Lincoln's low, vicious snarl. "General?" Gillingham turned to his friend, his face a patchwork of pink splotches. "Surely you have something to add. Or is it up to me to rein in your man? Again."
But the general was still staring at me over the rim of his teacup, as if he were trying to go unnoticed. Despite my conviction not to let it bother me, I felt my color rise.
"My God," the general murmured. He lowered his cup and turned to Lincoln. "You've developed feelings for the chit."
