Page 30 of Grave Expectations
"A family member?" Seth asked.
"He has no family."
"A parishioner?"
"The only parishioners who ever visited us at home were a handful of old ladies, and I can't see them as the sort to assist in a prison escape." I began to pace back and forth across the entrance floor tiles. "This is a mystery. Perhaps we should double check the archives for necromancers. You may have missed one."
"I didn't," Lincoln said.
"There must be another. After all, you didn't know about Joan Brumley. Perhaps someone you thought didn't have children in fact did and their descendent has kept their magic a secret. Joan Brumley might have children."
"It's possible." From his tone, I think he meant it was also very unlikely. "If there is another necromancer, the ministry is not aware of her."
"Yes, you're right." I began pacing again. Lincoln watched me with a frown, but it was Gus who intercepted me by stepping in my way.
"It'll be all right, Charlie," he said gently.
"Will it? Because this morning I had only one killer to worry about, now I have two, one of whom may be dead."
"He won't kill you," Seth said. "He's your…wasyour father. I'm sure a part of him still cares for you."
"If he thinks killing me will save me, then he'd rather see me dead."
"We'll find him," Lincoln assured me. "But it may take time with only three of us."
I didn't tell him that we were four. There was no point trying to argue with him when he was entirely correct in keeping me in the house. I hated it, but I saw no other way—for now.
He lightly touched my fingers then drew away to bark orders to his men. It wasn't long before they headed out to investigate, although I wasn't sure how they were going to find Holloway. Without knowing whether they were even looking for a dead body or a live man, it was impossible to know where to begin.
The day wore on, as did the next and the next. By the third day, they'd learned that Holloway wasn't hiding out at his parishioners' homes, nor that of any acquaintances. As Gus had put it, it felt like they were wading through mud into a head wind.
There was a little more news about the murders of Drinkwater and Brumley. First of all, neither had any children recorded against their names, so I was able to complete their ministry files. Lincoln had managed to break into Joan Brumley's house and had brought home a stack of research papers for me to go through. While I learned much about several historical figures, there was no direct mention of her necromancy or any clues as to why she may have died. I could only guess that someone took offence to her suggestion that our national hero, the Duke of Wellington, had been a condescending bully.
Despite my thorough search through her documents, and Lincoln's search through her house, we'd found nothing to point the finger at a particular individual and no connection between the victims. Brumley had died a spinster and lived alone in the house that had once belonged to her parents. She had few friends, only one cousin, and no true enemies. She was considered a harmless crackpot by her fellow historians and was mostly ignored.
Drinkwater had left behind a widow but no children. Mrs. Drinkwater had departed London immediately after her husband's funeral to stay with a sister in Acton. It wasn't clear if that would be a permanent arrangement or if she would return to her own home. I supposed she must, at some point, if only to sort through his belongings. Her hurried departure meant Lincoln was easily able to get inside the house and the upstairs workshop to remove any paperwork.
I sifted through the records of Drinkwater's so-called patients and gave Lincoln their names and addresses. With the help of Seth and Gus, he learned as much as he could about their movements at the time of Drinkwater’s death. After three days they'd not singled out a likely suspect. Indeed, since all patients lacked at least one limb, they were considered highly unlikely to have been able to kill Drinkwater. That didn't rule out their family members taking out their anger on him, however. The man had given those poor people false hope. While I was in no doubt he thought he was doing good, and he hoped to improve their situation, he should never had tried his magical limbs on real subjects until tests proved positive.
The arrival of Seth's butler was a welcome relief from the monotony. He was a distinguished looking fellow with gray flecks through his brown hair and a cleanly shaved face that bore few lines. After speaking with him for half an hour in the parlor, I began to wonder if the lack of lines was due to a lack of expression. Fortunately I was an expert at deciphering the meaning behind a mere lift of an eyebrow, and we got along quite well.
He moved into one of the attic rooms reserved for servants recently vacated by Seth and Gus. They now occupied the larger bedrooms on the second level. I hadn't discussed the change with Lincoln first, but he'd not objected when he found out. In fact, I was almost certain he was satisfied with the new arrangement.
With Doyle settled, and taking smoothly to his new position, I set about reading through the applications for housekeeper, but quickly realized I needed help. Doyle's first job as butler was to go through the references and pick out the applicants who had worked for London's best families. One stood clearly above the rest.
The following afternoon, Mrs. Webb arrived at Lichfield, bringing an air of grimness with her. Dressed in severe black, and with dark hair and smooth, marble-white skin, she reminded me of a photograph of a dead woman I'd once seen. It seemed rather serendipitous that Mrs. Webb would come to work in a place where the mistress was a necromancer.
Despite her macabre appearance, she moved with grace and poise, and spoke well.
"And why did you leave your previous position, Mrs. Webb?" I asked.
"I remarried, miss." Her face fell. "Sadly, he lived only a year after our wedding and recently passed away."
"Oh, I am sorry."
"I find myself in need of employment again. Your advertisement seemed like a gift when I saw it inThe Times. I like the idea of finding my own maids. I can be sure of their character first, you see. A gentle, simple nature is very important in a maid, in my opinion. You don't want a girl with airs, and certainly none too pretty."
"You've had experience employing staff?"
