Beyond the Grave (17 page)

"I doubt I'll find another there."

The coach slowed to a stop. It dipped as Seth jumped down. He opened the door and held out his hand for me, but I didn't take it straight away. I angled myself so that my body blocked the doorway then quickly kissed Lincoln on the cheek.

"The best gifts come from the heart," I told him, "not a jeweler's shop or the dressmaker's. Thank you for writing the letters and offering to take me to Paris. It's very sweet of you."

I had the very great satisfaction of seeing him stunned. His eyes had never been so wide, nor his jaw as slack. I stepped out of the coach, with a smile for Seth, and waited on the pavement. It was a long time before Lincoln emerged, his bland expression once more in place.

Millard, the butler, opened the door to us and almost stumbled backward in aghast at seeing me alongside Lincoln. The last time I'd called at Harcourt House, he had pointed out that maids should enter through the service entrance.

He recovered enough to bow and step aside. "Mr. Fitzroy, sir. How good to see you again."

"And you." Lincoln presented me as if I were a debutante and Millard the queen. "You remember Miss Holloway."

"Of course." The bow he gave me was considerably shallower than the one he gave Lincoln.

"Is his lordship at home for callers?"

"Not at present. Lady Harcourt and the dowager Lady Harcourt are both here, however."

"Please inform them I'd like to speak with them both."

"Of course, sir. If you will wait in the drawing room."

Despite being smaller, the drawing room was even more spectacular than the one at Emberly House with its soft green velvet curtains, and crimson and gold carpet. Where Emberly's walls were covered with paintings of cows and countryside, this drawing room was more elegantly decorated with pictures of women and children. I assumed they were family members, but it was odd that there wasn't a single man in any of the paintings. Each one was framed in heavy gold, as were the three mirrors, and gold leaf decorated the mantelpiece, ceiling and much of the furniture. The dowager's tastes ran to less clutter than her daughter-in-law's, making the room appear large and airy. I liked the room considerably more for it.

Lady Harcourt—Julia—sailed in, a surprised smile on her face. It turned hard when she spotted me. It would seem Millard hadn't thought me important enough to announce. "Lincoln, Charlie, how lovely to see you." She greeted Lincoln with a kiss on his cheek. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"We need to speak with Lord and Lady Harcourt," he said.

Her gaze shifted to me then back again. "What about?"

"We learned some things at Emberly Park that need clarification."

"We?" she echoed, once more eyeing me. "Lincoln, what is going on? Why is Charlie here?"

Marguerite took that moment to enter. Unlike her mother-in-law, she didn't so much glide into the room, but rather she padded with heavy feet and swaying hips. She greeted Lincoln cordially but frowned through his introduction of me as if she couldn't quite place me.

"Tea, m'lady?" Millard asked.

Julia lifted her brow at Lincoln, but he shook his head. "No, thank you, Millard," she said. "You may go. Please close the door."

He bowed himself out and shut the double doors.

"Madam," Lincoln began, but stopped when Marguerite lifted her hand.

She hadn't taken her eyes off me since sitting down. Now she sat forward and pointed at me. "That's your housemaid."

"Miss Holloway is my assistant."

"She looks very much like your maid."

Julia arched her brow at him, but he paid her no mind. I suddenly wished the sofa would swallow me up. I didn't know why I had thought this would be a good idea. Of course both ladies would find it abhorrent that I sat in their drawing room, let alone pried into their private matters. Lincoln should never have included me on this excursion.

Then again, it was precisely what I'd wanted him to do. I'd wanted to be his partner in investigations, to be more than a maid within the ministry. It wasn't fair that I thought him wrong now for doing exactly as I requested. Nor should I feel awkward in the presence of these ladies. I might be beneath them in situation, but I was Julia's equal in birth and at least Marguerite's equal in intelligence. I wouldn't want to be in either woman's position now.

"Miss Holloway and I returned from Emberly Park this morning."

Lincoln's declaration was met with a gasp from Marguerite. Her hand fluttered to her chest and she looked to the closed doors. Wishing her husband was present, perhaps? "Why did you go there when you knew we were here?"

"To find out if your brother-in-law visited the house or not."

"My husband told you he did not. Was his word not good enough?"

"No."

Marguerite's lips pinched. "This is outrageous!"

"Lincoln didn't mean it like that, Marguerite." Julia gave Lincoln a withering glare.

He ignored them both. "It seems that Buchanan did go to Emberly that day, after all." I eyed him carefully, but if I'd not known he was stretching the truth to test her, I wouldn't have guessed. "He was seen in the grounds."

"He was not!" She flattened her hands over her lap, stretching her fingers. "He couldn't have been, since he wasn't there."

"Mr. Edgecombe saw him from his window."

"John! B-but you cannot believe everything he tells you. H-he's…not quite right in the head. Ever since the accident…" She put out a hand to her mother-in-law.

After a long moment, Julia took it. "He was in a riding accident, a year or so ago," she said. "He changed after that. He drinks heavily, for one thing. Are you sure he wasn't mistaken?"

"He must be," Marguerite blurted. She shot another longing glance at the door.

"It's difficult to say," Lincoln said.

"Did the servants see him?" Julia asked.

"No, but they were lying."

"How do you know?"

Lincoln's gaze slid to her. She pressed her lips together.

Marguerite looked as if she would burst into tears at any moment. She continued to glance at the door, but I began to wonder if it was because it was her only escape route and not because she hoped her husband would walk in and rescue her.

"Mr. Edgecombe told me that Mr. Buchanan fought with a man in the family graveyard on the rise," I said. "Near the mausoleum."

Marguerite's face drained of color. Her hands shook. Julia frowned. "Is it necessary to bring up old wounds?"

"We believe the baby is integral to this investigation," Lincoln told her.

She scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. How can that be?"

"Marguerite, may we speak with you alone?"

Julia's back straightened. "Are you throwing me out of my own drawing room?"

Lincoln's glare at Marguerite didn't waver. I wanted to warn him to scale back his sternness, for the sake of her nerves, but I couldn't catch his attention.

"Perhaps you could fetch tea for Lady Harcourt," I said to Julia. "She might need it."

Julia went rigid. "I do not
fetch
anything, Charlie. That is what Millard is for."

"My apologies," I mumbled as my face heated. "I just thought she might like some privacy."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, she might as well stay now." Marguerite dabbed at her eyes with her pinky finger. "Everyone else seems to know, even the maid. Hector was full-term," she told Julia. "He lived only a day then died in my arms."

Julia patted her hand. "Oh, my dear. I am sorry. But it happened over five years ago."

"Can I not still mourn him?" Marguerite spat. "It may not be the done thing in your circles, Julia, but he was my
son
." Despite her dabbing, a tear escaped. Lincoln handed her his handkerchief.

"That isn't what I meant," Julia said quietly. "Of course you still mourn him." She appealed to Lincoln.

"Marguerite, I'm sorry to have to ask you this," he said. "It's a delicate matter regarding the baby's father."

Julia retracted her hand as if it had been slapped away. She stared at Marguerite, who'd gone very still. Even her tears had stopped.

"Is it Andrew Buchanan?"

"How do you know?" Marguerite whispered.

"The fight at the mausoleum, his interest in Estelle Pearson, some gossip…we joined the pieces together."

"No." Julia shook her head over and over. "Surely not.
Andrew
?"

Marguerite nodded.

"But he…he…" Julia slumped back on the sofa as if she'd been pushed, unconcerned that she was crushing her bustle. "He never breathed a word."

"You think he tells you everything?" Marguerite bit off. "He doesn't, you know."

"How long had Buchanan known?" Lincoln asked.

"I told him when I first discovered my state," Marguerite said. "But he…he refused to do anything about it."

"That sounds like Andrew," Julia said on a sigh.

"It was not his fault." Marguerite fired back. "Indeed, it was yours!"

"Mine?"

"His father gave Andrew's inheritance to you." Marguerite growled like a dog protecting her cubs. "Andrew had no money, no house, nothing. Of course he couldn't support a wife or family. It is grossly unfair!"

"He could have found work. He went to university, for goodness' sake. He's not an imbecile."

"It may be very well for schoolmasters' daughters to tread the boards at The Alhambra, but not for barons' sons!"

Julia's face flamed, her eyes flashed. "You foolish girl. If you think Andrew refused to marry you because he had no money, then I am sorry to inform you of your mistake. There was a stipulation in my husband's will that if Andrew marries, he receives a generous annuity from the estate."

Marguerite's mouth flopped open.

"Andrew knew that. So did Donald." Julia sat upright again and rose. "I've had quite enough grubbiness for one day. I no longer wish to be a part of this conversation."

"Stay," Lincoln said quietly. "You are the one who brought this to my attention and asked me to investigate. You'll remain to hear all the details."

She hesitated then sat again. I wasn't sure I would have been so acquiescent if Lincoln had spoken to me the way he spoke to her. It seemed most unlike her to put up with it. Perhaps she really did want to hear more grubby details, and her attempted storming out was for show only.

"Marguerite," Lincoln said, "did your husband know the baby wasn't his?"

"Yes, but not until after the birth." All the fire she'd displayed in her defense of Buchanan had gone out of her and she was once more a pale, forlorn figure. "It was obvious that Hector was full-term, and I admitted everything. He was angry, at first, but then he realized we hadn't even begun courting when Andrew and I…when it happened. Our marriage was a hasty one, you see, at my request. We'd known one another for some time, of course, and he had asked to court me but I'd always refused. When I acquiesced, we married almost immediately."

It aligned with what Estelle Pearson had told us so it must be the truth. However I wondered if Marguerite really knew her husband's thoughts on the matter. How many men would be so understanding upon discovering their younger brother had fathered their wife's child? And did he know that his wife still held a torch for Andrew?

"I think this throws water over your theory that Andrew was at Emberly recently," Julia said. "If he has known about the baby for years, why stir up old wounds now?"

I looked to Lincoln as a small frown connected his brows. "Unless his visit had nothing to do with the baby, after all," I said.

"You must be mistaken," Marguerite said with an unladylike sniff. "Andrew wasn't there, fighting with anyone on my baby's grave. Either it was someone else or John got confused. It happens, from time to time."

The double doors suddenly burst open and Lord Harcourt strode in, looking like thunder. "Fitzroy," he barked.

Lincoln stood and met him in between the two sofas. He held his arms casually at his side, whereas Harcourt's fists pumped. "I'm glad you're here," Lincoln said. "I have questions for you."

Marguerite rose and took her husband's arm, pinning herself to his side. Her bottom lip was thrust so far forward in a pout that it looked as if a bee had stung it. "Darling, he's been asking questions about Hector again. And…and about Andrew."

"Out!" Harcourt exploded. "Get out!" Then he did a very foolish thing. He stepped up to Lincoln and swung his fist.

L
incoln caught
Harcourt's fist a mere inch from his face. He didn't flinch. "Not in front of the ladies," he said.

Harcourt spluttered a garbled protest and looked as if he would wind up his other fist.

"Donald,
please
," his wife begged. She batted his shoulder with the hand that still clutched Lincoln's handkerchief, her face pale and pinched. "Don't fight him."

"Not here," Julia said, briskly. "I don't want blood on the sofa. Come now, everyone sit down and be friends again. This will not do."

I admired her determination to keep the meeting civilized. I wasn't sure I could have stepped between them like she did. While she shooed Harcourt with one hand, she placed her other on Lincoln's chest. Ah.
Now
I saw why she had stepped between them.

I folded my hands in my lap and kept my head bowed as Lincoln returned to the sofa beside me. I kept my gaze on my linked fingers.

"Explain yourself, Fitzroy," Harcourt snapped. "What is the meaning of your inquisition this time?"

"Your brother was seen fighting with someone at Emberly Park on the evening he disappeared. It was the last time he was seen."

I lifted my head when Harcourt didn't respond. All the bluster leached out of him as we all waited, watching. "Seen?" he asked.

"Only by John," Marguerite told him.

"Fighting with whom?"

"Presumably with you," Lincoln said.

Harcourt's brows rose. "Do you have proof?"

"Of your involvement? No. However, a button engraved with the letter B was found at the mausoleum, as was some blood. Your brother hasn't been sighted since."

Julia's narrowed gaze pinned me. "Is he… That is to say, do you think he has met with…?" She fingered the black choker at her throat.

"We believe he's still alive," I said before she could accidentally divulge my necromancy to the Harcourts.

Her eyes fluttered closed. She breathed deeply. "Thank God."

"Pray that you're right," Marguerite said weakly.

"Harcourt," Lincoln prompted. "It's time you explained what happened."

Lord Harcourt, however, had just registered my presence. "Why is your maid here?"

"She works for me as an assistant now. Everything you wish to say to me can be said in front of her."

"I think not."

Lincoln's small sigh probably couldn't be heard by anyone except me. He was frustrated, and I felt guilty at being the cause of it.

"Donald, please, just tell us what happened," Marguerite whined. "Where is Andrew?"

"I don't know," he said tightly. "And that is the truth. We met around dusk as I was out riding. He'd seen me as he approached the house and hailed me. We talked for a long time. It became heated and we fought. I'm afraid he did hit his head and lost some blood. He was quite groggy for several minutes, but then he got up. I can assure you, he walked away. I told him to call in at Dr. Turcott's house and have the wound seen to."

"He never saw the doctor," Lincoln said. "We don't think he made it back to the village."

Harcourt scrubbed his face. "My God. Where is he?"

"Why didn't you invite him to dine with us?" Marguerite asked. "If you had, none of this would have happened?"

"I did. He refused."

"But why? It's been so long since he's been to Emberly. To have come so far and not dine with his family…I don't understand it."

"My dear, did you not hear me? We fought."

"Yes, but I haven't seen him since your father's funeral." Tears hovered on her eyelids. She dabbed at them again with Lincoln's handkerchief.

Julia's gaze was the first to slip away, then Harcourt's. As the realization slowly came over Marguerite that Andrew was likely avoiding her, her face fell further.

"What did you fight about?" I asked in an attempt to distract attention from her so she could recover. "The baby?"

"Money," Harcourt said.

"Money?" Julia lifted her shoulders. "But I give him a monthly sum to live on."

"It's not enough according to him. Andrew's tastes are expensive, Julia, you know that. No matter how much you give him, it will never be enough, because he'll gamble it all away." To Lincoln and me, he said, "He told me his debts have become too high and that his creditors are requesting payment."

"Oh, Andrew," Marguerite muttered.

"Our fight had nothing to do with the child. That matter was laid to rest years ago, along with Hector."

"So you refused to give him money and he became violent," Lincoln said.

"In a nutshell, yes. Andrew threatened to blackmail me when I first refused. He said he would make it known that I wasn't the baby's father. I think that's why he insisted on speaking to me at little Hector's grave. My brother has always enjoyed theatrics." This was said with a pointed look at Julia.

She pretended not to notice.

"I refused to give in," Harcourt went on. "I reminded him that he could get his hands on his annuity if he married. He said he'd rather gouge his eyes out, and declared that it was my responsibility as the elder brother and current baron to assist him. Once again, I refused. Then he brought up the order you belong to."

"Ministry," Lincoln corrected.

Julia sat forward. "What do you mean?"

Harcourt sighed. "He very recently discovered Father's link to your ministry through the journal he finally got around to reading. He must have been bored one night to open up that old thing and Father's other books. He said it took him several weeks of following up names, places and dates noted in the journal, but he worked out what Father and the others were up to. He told me that if I didn't give him money, he would tell the newspapers about the supernatural gibberish Father was involved in. As I already told you, I refused to give in. I don't care a whit whether Father was mad, or whether the world thinks he was. That's when we fought."

"That's what prompted him to go to Emberly," I said. "He'd only just pieced together the puzzle and decided to use it to his advantage."

Lincoln nodded. "So he left the estate in the dark, on foot, with a bleeding head wound. Not to mention that he was disappointed in your refusal to help."

"Oh, Donald," Marguerite said on a sigh. "Why didn't you go after him and give him some money? He's your brother. He
needs
you."

Harcourt lifted his chin. "He's hopeless."

"Yes, but we must make allowances for him being the younger brother. He was never given the same responsibilities as you, or the same opportunities."

Harcourt snorted. "He was pampered by our mother."

"As was my brother. John is so like Andrew. At least, he was before the accident. And yet you've given John a home and comforts."

Harcourt gave another snort. "You are right there. They are very much alike. I cannot support them both. It's unthinkable. Besides, Julia is supporting Andrew." He flashed a hard, cold smile at her. "Our dear stepmother is more than happy to help her beloved stepson. Aren't you, Julia?"

Marguerite's nervous gazed shifted between them. Julia returned Harcourt's smile, but with more softness. "Of course I'm happy to help," she said smoothly. "Andrew and I are company for one another."

"How pleasant for you both," Harcourt sneered.

"Did Buchanan mention where he was staying that night?" Lincoln asked.

"No, but I do know where he was planning to go next. My brother is such a fool. After I refused to support his gambling habit, he declared that he was going to consult a seer and win some ready for himself."

"A seer?" the rest of us echoed.

"He says he found her name in Father's journal then cross-checked it against some ministry archives you keep in the attic, Julia. I told him the idea was absurd, and that he'd lost his mind, but he was determined to find her and use her so-called foresight to learn the winner of an upcoming boxing match. If it worked, he would use her again to place strategic bets all over the city, culminating in next spring's racing carnivals." He snorted. "I told him he was a fool and he laughed in my face. He said I was the fool and always had been."

Marguerite tucked her feet underneath the sofa and wrung her hands together. She did not meet her husband's gaze, even though he didn't stop looking at her.

"Do you remember the seer's name?" Lincoln asked.

"Leah, Lill, something foreign. Do you think that's where he went?"

"It's possible."

"I don't know if this supernatural business is real or not, nor do I want to know. If I can't see it or touch it, then I want no part of it."

"How fortunate that your father gave me the responsibility of being on the committee then," Julia said with a smile that didn't disguise the sting in her tone.

"You'll get no argument from me, but you might from Andrew. He seemed put out that he wasn't even informed." Harcourt slapped his hands down on the arms of his chair and pushed himself to his feet. "Christ, I need a drink."

Lincoln and I rose as Harcourt poured himself a glass of brandy at the sideboard, but Julia didn't let us leave immediately. Or rather, she didn't let Lincoln leave. She hung onto his arm. "We are all grateful that you're looking into Andrew's disappearance, Lincoln. You've done a marvelous job so far."

"Marvelous," Marguerite echoed as she tugged on the bell pull. "Do continue to keep us informed. We're most anxious to have Andrew return to the family bosom. Aren't we, Donald?"

"Of course," Harcourt muttered, lifting the glass to his lips. "I just wish it required less turning over of old stones."

"The stones have only been turned over in private," Julia assured him. "Mr. Fitzroy is a gentleman and won't reveal anything told to him in confidence."

"And her?" Harcourt pointed his glass at me. I felt like he was poking me in the shoulder in the hopes of picking a fight.

"Miss Holloway can be trusted to keep silent," Lincoln said.

Harcourt's top lip curled. "We all know what gossips the servants can be."

Millard, who'd entered at that moment, stiffened, which was quite a feat since he was already rigid. Julia finally relinquished her grasp on Lincoln's arm and Millard showed us to the front door.

Outside, Seth lounged on the driver's seat while Gus leaned back against coach, one foot resting on the step behind him. He came to attention when we joined him, and opened the door.

"You're supposed to give her your hand, you Philistine," Seth said, from the edge of the driver's seat.

Gus rolled his eyes and I smiled back. "I can manage," I assured him.

He held out his hand anyway. "What's a Philistine?" he whispered as I stepped past him.

"I don't know," I whispered back. "Handsome cove?"

He grinned a somewhat sinister grin thanks to his broken teeth, but the humor dancing in his eyes softened it considerably.

"I'm sorry I wasn't much help in there," I said to Lincoln as the coach rolled away. "I was probably more of a hindrance."

"They'll grow used to you."

I pulled a face. "I hope not, only because I wish never to see the Harcourts again once Buchanan is found. Except the dowager, of course. I can't avoid her."

"I'll shield you from the committee members as much as possible."

"Thank you, but I don't wish to be shielded. If I am to work with you—"

"
For
me."

"If I am, then I must be prepared to face them, from time to time, across cups of tea."

"They will come to accept you. I'll see to it."

I didn't know how. Centuries of tradition and prejudice couldn't be wiped out with a few choice words, even if those words were spoken by someone who was not easily trifled with.

"Do you recall the name of a seer in the journal?" I asked. "Leah, I think Harcourt said."

"Lela. It appeared in the first few pages."

"You have a good memory."

"Yes."

I suppressed a smile. He wasn't shy about his many abilities. "Can a seer really predict which horse will win a race?"

"It doesn't work like that, as far as I am aware."

"Buchanan will be disappointed when he discovers it. So how does it work?"

"Since I am the only seer I know, and my talent is limited, I cannot be entirely sure. I have vague feelings, impressions if you like, and only about people I am close to. You, Seth and Gus, for example. I know when you are about to seek me out, and occasionally the gist of what you are about to say, if not the exact words. I can also predict when you are about to slap me, for instance."

Was he trying to make a joke? Yes, I think so. His eyes danced merrily and his features lifted a little. "That's because it usually comes immediately after you've admitted doing something worthy of a slap. I hardly call that a fine example of your talent."

"Granted, your temper is easy to predict."

I laughed. "What's put you in such a fine mood? I feel positively wretched after spending time with that family. They aren't particularly supportive of one another. There is even an undercurrent of dislike between Lord and Lady Harcourt, although outwardly he seems to dote on her and she depend on him."

"I hadn't noticed."

"For a seer, you're quite blind at times. Don't you think it's odd that you are aware when I am not in the house, yet you don't understand other people at all?"

He shifted on the seat, and I wondered if my observation had made him feel inadequate. He was so used to being competent that this failing might bother him. "As I said, my talent is limited. I couldn't tell you if we were about to have an accident, for example, or who will win a boxing match."

"I wonder if this Lela can."

"We'll find out tomorrow, when we visit her."

"Where will we find her? We should have asked the dowager if we could look through the archives too, like Buchanan did."

"No need. I've made copies of them and stored them in the attic at Lichfield. The records are catalogued by name and cross-referenced to an index of supernatural talents. There are not many seers listed. It won't take long to find Lela."

"Why am I not surprised that you're so organized?"

"We'll check the records together. It's time you became familiar with them. Once you are, you can create a new entry for Estelle Pearson, and update the one about yourself."