Beyond the Grave (26 page)

Lincoln turned his back on her and arched his brows at me. His eyeballs angled toward the parlor, and I understood what he wanted me to do.

"Come and join us for tea," I said with a smile.

"Not me, I'm afraid," Lincoln said. "I have work to do."

I shook my head at him. "Surely, you can spare a few minutes."

"You
must
join us." Julia slipped her arm through his and steered him toward the parlor. "After all, I came here to speak to
you
."

I rolled my eyes as she turned her head away. "Tea, please, Gus," I whispered to him when he appeared.

"With a dash of venom for the lady?" he asked with a wink.

"She has enough of her own."

I walked into the parlor with a smooth, unhurried step that I hoped oozed confidence and decorum. If it did, it unfortunately went unnoticed by Julia. Her entire attention was focused on Lincoln as he stood near the window. I sank onto the chair by the hearth where the fire would hopefully chase the chill from my bones, which Julia's arrival had put there.

"How is Lady Harcourt?" I asked her since neither of them spoke.

"Much weaker, as is expected," Julia said. "She and Donald returned to Emberly yesterday, thank goodness. She hadn't stopped crying since John's death."

"She just lost her brother under quite awful circumstances."

"Charlie, if you wish to be a part of the ministry then you must harden yourself or you will end up the same way as poor Marguerite—witless and the butt of jokes." She held her hand up as I opened my mouth to protest. "Yes, it's cruel, but I am only the messenger, not the instigator. Do not blame me for pointing out how others will react."

Ha! She seemed to be the only one saying and thinking such things. On the other hand, I did not move in the same circles as her and did not hear the gossip. I was never more grateful for that than now.

"And the body of Edgecombe?" Lincoln asked.

Julia chuckled a throaty laugh. "Always the macabre with you, my dear. Your fascination with death continues to astound me." Her gaze flicked to me then away. Was she implying that his attention to me was due to my necromancy? "The body will be sent to the Edgecombe family estate, where a cousin will oversee the funeral and burial arrangements."

"And Mr. Buchanan?" I asked. "Has he learned anything from this experience?"

"Learned? Whatever do you mean?"

"Not to gamble, for one."

"His debts are now paid."

"By you?" Lincoln asked.

She gave a slight nod.

"What's to stop him racking up further debts and coming to you to pay them off again and again?"

"I know you think I've created a rod for my own back, but there was nothing else to be done. I would rather not have his creditors send around their thugs in the middle of the night, terrifying my staff. They've experienced quite enough trauma, thank you. I made my decision and that's final."

"Did you report to the rest of the committee?"

"I have, but since it didn't turn out to be a ministry matter, it was a courtesy only. There is no need for you to write an additional report. My husband's journals and other things will be returned to the attic and filed away once more."

"What of Buchanan's curiosity?"

"I think he no longer has any. Once I assured him that seers cannot foresee the winners of races, he lost interest."

Gus brought in tea and I poured as he silently left again. Julia accepted her cup and we waited for her to announce the reason for her visit. Part of me worried that she had discovered our pending journey to France and had come to put a stop to it. But Lincoln had assured me the committee members would not be told.

"I've come to offer my services," she finally announced, setting down her cup. "I wish to redecorate this room, among others. If you are to have young ladies of good family call upon you—"

"There will be no one calling upon me," Lincoln said.

"Tosh. Of course there will be. We must find you a wife,
poste haste
. I am in earnest now, Lincoln. And not just any wife, but the
right
wife. Someone sweet of nature, who is content with her lot in life, and not at all magical." Her smile was all teeth and no humor, and I had no doubt it was directed at me, along with her comments on the type of wife Lincoln should have. The mythical woman she described was my opposite in every way.

"Someone like Miss Overton?" I asked.

"Precisely. If only you had come to know her better, Lincoln, you would have found her company very…interesting."

"I doubt that," he said.

"Granted, she was a little silly."

I pressed my lips together to suppress my smile.

"But she is lovely, in her way, and very pretty."

I watched Lincoln over the rim of my cup to see if he agreed with this last sentiment, but he had his blank expression in place and gave nothing away.

"Thank you for your offer to redecorate," he said before she could go on. "But it's not necessary. Charlie will be redecorating the entire house."

"Charlie! But…she has no experience in these things. No offence meant, child, but a house like Lichfield requires a good eye to do it justice."

That wasn't offensive
at all
.

"And deep pockets?" Lincoln intoned.

I grinned into my teacup.

"A good eye," she said again stiffly, "and an innate sense of style and sophistication that cannot be learned."

Now I was determined to present the most tastefully redecorated parlor the city had ever seen. The only problem was, I had no idea how to go about it. She was right. I was the least sophisticated woman to be left in charge of such a task for such a grand house. How did one go about finding things to buy? Were there periodicals? Who should I place orders with? And for what?

"Charlie will do the room justice, I'm sure," he said. "Before you go, Julia, I should inform you that I will be absent for up to a week."

She lowered her cup as if it were suddenly too heavy. "Where are you going?"

"It's a private matter."

"Private?" she echoed, as if such a thing was absurd. "But…you have no…" She picked up her cup again and sipped.

"Privacy?" he finished for her. "I do understand that my life and the ministry's are tied together in the tightest of ways, but I think even you would allow me some time to myself."

"Are you going on a holiday?"

"Of sorts."

She blinked at him, perhaps trying to picture Lincoln with his trouser legs rolled up, strolling along a beach. The image was so absurd that I giggled. He arched his brows at me, and I could swear his lips lifted a little at the edges.

"I'll write to the rest of the committee to inform them," he told her.

She continued to stare at him, her tea forgotten. "But…how are we to get in touch with you if there is urgent ministry business?"

"Leave it with my staff. I'll tend to everything when I return. Excuse me, ladies, I have work to do." He set his cup down and left us.

I wasn't surprised when Julia announced that she had to leave too. I walked her to the door and assisted her with her hat. She paused in the middle of her goodbye, her gaze intent on the chatelaine at my hip. She traced the outline of the goddess figure with her fingernail.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" I said.

Her hand whipped back as if the silver stung. With a nod at me, she let herself out. I wasn't sorry to see her go.

"Lincoln," I said, when I found him with Seth in the stables, preparing the horses for a ride, including the small gray mare that he'd bought for my use alone. "Why did you tell her that I was going to redecorate?"

"Because you are. Ride with me."

"I, er, very well, but I need to change. The redecorating… She's right, and I don't really have an eye for it. I wouldn't know where to begin or even where to shop. My mother had pieces of furniture handed down from her mother, and I think the rest were items my father bought when they married." I shrugged. "She never instructed me in decorating rooms, and even if she had, it wouldn't have been on Lichfield's scale."

"You'll manage," he tossed over his shoulder as he tightened a saddle strap.

I sighed. "I don't want to manage, I want to excel. I want to out-decorate the dowager Lady Harcourt." There. I said it. Now I sounded spiteful.

Seth hauled the side saddle down from the beam and carried it past us. "There's quite a simple solution, you know."

"Don't tell me," I said, "you consider yourself a master decorator."

He laughed. "No, but I know who has the best, most sophisticated taste in all the world."

"Really? Can you introduce me?"

He pouted at Lincoln. "No, because you're not allowing me to come to France with you."

"Your friend is in Paris?"

"He is. He lived here for a while then returned home when he grew bored. His name is Monsieur Fernesse, and he produces some of the finest pieces in all of Europe. His furniture and fittings are highly sought after. I'm sure he'll guide you in all things tasteful and sophisticated."

"Write Charlie a letter of introduction before we go," Lincoln said, taking the saddle from Seth.

"Certainly." His cheeks grew rosy. "A word of warning—do not believe everything Fernesse tells you about me."

I grinned. "Oh? Is he prone to exaggeration?"

Seth's cheeks glowed. "That's one way of putting it."

I returned inside and changed into my riding habit. When I emerged from my room, Lincoln was waiting for me in the corridor. Something was wrong. He looked troubled.

"What's is it?" I asked, searching his face for clues.

"We won't be riding today."

"Is Rosie ill?" I hoped there was nothing wrong with my sweet little mare.

He shook his head then he leaned against the wall and scraped his hand through his hair. Was I mistaken, or did his hand shake?

I grasped his forearms. "What is it?"

"One of the straps on your saddle was cut. Not all the way through, but enough that it would have come apart during a ride. If you'd been riding fast, it would have slipped off and…"

"My god. When you say cut, do you mean deliberately?"

He nodded. "It was straight, not frayed, and clearly done by a blade."

I slumped against the wall too. Someone had wanted me to have an accident, perhaps even kill me. I was the only one who used the side saddle. If Lincoln hadn't spotted it… I shuddered.

It was his turn to grasp my forearms. His gaze searched mine. "It was a clumsy attempt, easily spotted. Its success depended upon a number of factors going against us. Whoever did it was either too foolish to have thought it through, too desperate, or in a hurry. It leads me to think it was merely opportunistic." He let me go to drag both hands through his hair and down his face.

"If it was clumsy, then you ought to be calmer."

"I
am
calm!" he growled.

"You don't sound it."

My lip wobbled and he took my face in his hands. "This might be the first of many attempts, Charlie. We must be vigilant."

"You think they'll try again?"

"They will and with more sophisticated methods next time. So I've decided. We're not going to France."

"What! Why?"

"All manner of dangerous things can happen between here and there."

I held onto his wrists near my cheeks and drew his hands away. "All manner of dangerous things can happen here, too! The tampered saddle proves that. Lincoln, nobody knows that I'm going to France with you except Gus, Seth and Cook. I'll be quite safe there. When we return, we can investigate."

He slumped back against the wall. "It's not as simple as that. I may not be able to keep my eye on you like I'd hope. Not on the journey over and back."

"Why not?"

"I…don't travel well by sea."

"You get seasick?" I began to laugh but bit my tongue when he glared at me. "It seems I will have to nurse you on the crossing."

"You won't be anywhere near me. You'll be locked in a cabin, alone, until we dock."

I sighed. "You're going to be a fun traveling companion."

He pushed off from the wall and strode down to his own rooms. Oh dear. I'd offended him. I ran after him and reached his door just as he began to close it. I wedged my body into the gap, stopping him from slamming the door.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I wasn't mocking you. I'm just used to you being so capable all the time. Even when you're asleep you're alert."

He grunted and moved deeper into the room. I followed.

"Seasickness is not a weakness, Lincoln."

"It makes me weak, therefore it's a weakness." He strode to the desk and gathered up some papers.

I sighed. "So it's one single weakness. If you have any others, I'm yet to discover them."

He shuffled the papers then shuffled them again. I almost interrupted, but his shuffling became more and more furious until he finally threw the pages on the desk, sending them skittering across the surface, crashing into the inkstand, and onto the floor.

He spun round. "You are my weakness, Charlie."

I balked; blinked.

"That's not what I meant." He looked to the ceiling. "I'm not very good at…this. I always seem to say the wrong thing."

"Would you like me to return later, when you've calmed down?" I said testily. I did not like him to think of me as his weakness, as something to be coddled and protected lest I bring him down too as I fell.

"No! Christ." He blew out a breath then lifted his gaze to mine. I closed my fists and bit my tongue to stop myself throwing my arms around him and telling him it didn't matter, that he didn't have to say anything. I was not going to make this easy for him. "I wanted to tell you this on the ride, but now will have to do." He blew out another breath. "I've been thinking about what you said, that I must be prepared to risk losing you. I've thought of little else."

My tongue began to hurt so I bit my cheek instead and nodded at him to go on.

"I think you're wrong."

"Pardon?" I blurted out.

He gripped the chair back behind him. "There is risk to your safety no matter if you are with me or not, and with the ministry or not. Edgecombe proved that. He could have shot you or anyone in that room, accidentally or on purpose. And now the saddle…" He cleared his throat. "You and I are not…together…and yet there continues to be risks. So you see, we might as well be together as apart."