Page 64 of Grave Expectations
"Gladly," Gus growled.
Marchbank held up his hands in surrender. "I've said my piece. Thank you for listening." He gave me a brief bow and left. Gus followed him out.
I didn't let out my breath until I heard his coach roll away. "Am I being foolish, Seth? Selfish, even?"
"Neither." He sat on the sofa beside me and patted my hand. "Fitzroy needs you, Charlie. I'm convinced of it. Don't listen to Marchbank or anyone else. Do whatyouthink is right."
That was the problem—what if staying turned out to be the wrong thing to do?
"No," Gus said with a scowl that rivaled Lincoln's best. "You're not going anywhere, Charlie, and that's final."
"She be doing the right thing," Cook told him before I could speak. "She's got to show 'em she ain't a burden."
"Thank you, Cook." I smiled at him. He responded by chopping through a carrot and handing a chunk to me. "Gus, I have to do this. Everyone thinks I'm a hindrance. I need to show them I'm an asset, that I can be useful." I nibbled the carrot. "If I don't do this now, it'll just get harder and harder."
"But now's when people are tryin' to kill your kind. I'm just sayin' to wait until the killer is caught."
"And Holloway," Seth chimed in from where he stood leaning against the doorframe. It was the first he'd spoken since I mentioned wanting to go out to search for Mrs. Drinkwater.
"Are you against the idea too?" I asked.
He held up his hands. "Just pointing out the dangers."
"Thank you, I don't need them pointed out. I'm well aware of what can go wrong."
"I don't like it," Gus muttered, sounding resigned. Perhaps he knew that I would do it, with or without his consent. He picked up the other end of the carrot and pointed it at Cook. "You shouldn't encourage her."
Cook gave him a rude hand gesture then snatched the carrot back.
"Let me put it this way," I told them all. "Me leaving Lichfield will achieve two things. One, I can search for Merry Drinkwater."
"Fitzroy's already doing that," Seth said, folding his arms and looking every bit determined to stop me.
"Using different methods to Lincoln. Methods that may be more effective, in this case. And two, I'll draw out those who are trying to kill me. Or reform me, in Holloway's case."
Gus and Seth spoke over one another until I could no longer differentiate between their protests. I let them finish before adding the final detail.
"You will both come with me, and I'll have my imp, too."
Gus stamped his knuckles on the table. "We ain't relying on a cat to save you!"
"It ain't a cat." Cook shook his head. "And it be better at saving her than you."
Gus bristled. "Shut your mouth, Moon Face."
Cook merely snorted and scooped up the slices of carrot in his big hands and plopped them into a pot. "You can do better than that."
Seth pushed off from the doorframe. "What will you do if we say no?"
"Take the imp and go anyway," I said.
"I thought as much." He slapped Gus on the shoulder. "Better get our coats."
Gus threw his hands in the air. "You're as mad as her!" He followed Seth out of the kitchen, arguing with him all the way. "If she dies, I'm tellin' Death it's all your fault."
Doyle entered, wearing white gloves and holding a polishing cloth. "May I get you something, miss?"
"No, thank you." I had a note to write. If Lincoln returned while I was out, I needed to allay his fears. A note might not be enough, but it was better than silence. Hopefully.
