Page 61 of Grave Expectations
The morning dragged, but at least I wasn't as worried today as I had been the day before. Lincoln was safe, and ultimately that was all that mattered.
The monotony was broken up by a visitor at around eleven. A visitor I neither expected nor wanted.
"Why can't the committee leave me alone?" I muttered to Seth when I spotted the black coach through the parlor window, rumbling up the drive.
"Let's hope he's the only one coming," he said. "Any more could pose a threat."
We exchanged concerned glances. "You'd better fetch Gus."
"Wait until we return to question him."
"Question him?" I echoed.
He stopped in the doorway. "You do want to find out if he helped the Drinkwater widow, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Good. Because so do I."
I watched him stride off, wondering how I was going to get a committee member to admit involvement in my abduction.
Chapter 12
"Good morning, Charlie." Lord Marchbank had never smiled a greeting, and this time was no exception. Even so, his grim tone worried me. He hadn't come to deliver good news.
"Good morning, sir. Has a committee meeting been called?"
"No." Unlike General Eastbrooke and Lord Gillingham, he looked directly at me when he addressed me. Although I appreciated it, it was somewhat unnerving, with his scarred face and abrupt manner. He was a fearsome looking man. Despite the trappings of a gentleman, he wouldn't have looked out of place on a medieval battlefield.
He handed his coat, hat and gloves to Doyle. "I wanted to speak to you without the rest of the committee present. Have you recovered from your ordeal?"
"Yes, thank you."
He gaze flicked to Doyle, Seth and Gus. "May we speak alone, Charlie?"
"Tea, please, Doyle." I did not dismiss Seth and Gus, and nor would I. "I'd like them to remain with me," I said once Doyle had disappeared.
His brows drew together. "You don't trust me?"
"Someone who knows where to find supernaturals is killing them, and I am a supernatural. You have access to the ministry files. So no, sir, I do not trust you completely."
Some of the brashness left his eyes, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. My boldness had taken him by surprise. Perhaps he wasn't used to it. "I hardly think you can draw that conclusion from just two deaths."
"Added to which, someone also helped Mrs. Drinkwater kidnap me. Someone who knew we were looking for a housekeeper but also knew about my necromancy. That limits the pool of suspects considerably."
"I say again, you're accusing me?"
"I'm keeping an open mind."
He grunted. "Good for you." He indicated I should walk ahead of him.
I led the way into the parlor. Marchbank took in the new furniture and decorations with an air of polite indifference. Of all the committee members, he seemed the most removed from his surroundings, as if he weren't a part of them but was merely on the fringes, observing and listening. It was much like that now, as he sat on the armchair furthest from me. It wasn't until much later that I wondered if that were a deliberate choice to ease my mind.
"You've been busy," he said, indicating the new furniture.
"Quite."
Seth and Gus didn't sit. One stood by the door and the other near me, their arms crossed, identical frosty expressions on their faces. Neither took their gaze off Marchbank.
