Page 77 of Beyond the Grave
"I'm glad to hear it."
"But if the four committee members get their way…"
"Pay Gillingham and Eastbrooke no mind. I'm not going to banish you, and they have no power to force me. Not because of…that, anyway."
That? What was "that" precisely?
"You know how things lie between us, don't you?" he asked tentatively. "You understand my…position?"
"You made it very clear to me."
His eyes clouded at my snippy retort. "Then come inside. It's cold out here and your presence is missed."
By him or the others?
We crossed the courtyard together and headed into the house through the rear service doors. Seth and Gus were in the midst of recounting the events from the gypsy camp to Cook who listened with an amused smirk.
"We were lucky we got out of there with our lives," Gus said, shaking his head.
"Youwere lucky." Seth lounged in the corner armchair and propped his booted feet on a stool. "Wewere perfectly fine. Charlie, I saw you whispering with one of the snotty-nosed little brats before we left. What about?"
"He was not a brat, nor was his nose dirty," I said.
Seth waited for an answer with an expectant air. So did Lincoln. He stood by the door, his mild gaze on me, his hands behind his back.
"He acted as interpreter, that's all."
Lincoln continued to watch me. His lips parted and he drew in a small breath as if he were about to say something, but he must have thought better of it and closed his mouth again.
"For free?" Gus asked.
"I paid him with knowledge. I told him how to be a better thief."
"Charlie!" Seth threw his hands in the air and let them fall on the chair arms. "You can't go around doing that."
"He's only a little child. I would rather he escaped the clutches of the constables than wind up separated from his family…and worse."
"Then he should stop thieving altogether!"
I rolled my eyes as Lincoln retreated from the kitchen. I didn't know why I expected him to remain after he'd fetched me. We had nothing more to discuss for now. Our investigation had once more hit a dead end, and we were no closer to finding Buchanan. Perhaps he would come up with a plan of action if we were alone.
The afternoon wore on and I continued to perform the duties expected of me as a maid, since there was no one else to do so. Nor did I particularly mind. I would rather work than sit around and sew something I neither wanted nor needed. As I was helping Cook mix the bread dough at dusk, Seth came up to me with the chatelaine box.
"I forgot," he said. "I fetched this from your room when you first asked me, but I haven't returned it to Death yet. Are you sure you still want me to?"
I shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"
His mouth shifted from side to side. "What is your education in the classics like?"
"The classics? As in old books?"
"Ancient Greek and Roman myths."
"Non-existent. If it wasn't Christian, Anselm Holloway didn't want it in the house. If it wasn't in the house, I didn't learn it."
"That explains it then."
"Explains what?"
