He lifted his brows at Lady Harcourt in what I suspected was triumph, but I wasn't entirely sure.
She sighed. "Then that is that. I'll retreat. I must dash anyway, but I'd like a word with Charlie alone before I go."
Fitzroy bowed then left us. Once the door was shut, Lady Harcourt picked up the fire iron and stabbed at the burnt corset. Her vigorous thrusts quickly made her breathless. I could have told her she'd be able to breathe better if she threw her own corset into the fire, but I didn't think the suggestion would be welcomed.
"Do you have your courses?" she asked.
"Pardon?"
"Your monthly woman's courses."
"I…no. It stopped some time ago."
She eyed me up and down. "That can occur with underweight girls. I expect, now that you're eating, it will return. I'll have linens sent to you along with the sewing."
"Thank you, my lady. You're very kind." I meant it. She had thought of difficulties that hadn't even occurred to me. "I know you're worried about how a girl who doesn't like to wear corsets will behave around the men, but I can assure you, I am not interested in…those sorts of activities."
She stabbed at the ruined corset again. "Not yet."
I sighed. "Fitzroy won't allow it under his roof anyway. He'll make sure the men treat me with respect."
Stab, stab, stab.
"And I won't tempt them." I laughed. It sounded ridiculous. "As if I could, anyway."
She stopped and placed the fire iron in the stand. "You underestimate yourself, Charlie. And I think you underestimate men, too." She lifted a finger when I opened my mouth to protest. "Men, not boys. They are not the same. Well, some are, but many are not. Now, tell me something."
"What?" I mumbled, unsure if I'd been chastised or advised.
"How did Fitzroy convince you to stay and help us?"
"He didn't tell you?"
She smiled sweetly and hooked her arm through mine. "I thought I'd ask you."
"Perhaps you ought to ask him." I extricated myself, but not before I felt her fingers tense on my arm.
I headed for the door and opened it. Fitzroy wasn't there, and nor were any of the men. It took me a moment to remember that I was no longer a prisoner. I walked down the stairs with Lady Harcourt. We found Fitzroy in the library, propped against the windowsill, a book in hand.
He looked up as we came in and closed the book. "We need to talk."
I wasn't sure if he spoke to me or Lady Harcourt and whether his announcement meant the other should leave. Lady Harcourt, however, seemed to know. She gave him her hand and he bowed over it.
"I look forward to your report," she said.
"I'll be in touch with the committee soon."
He walked her out, leaving me alone in the library. I picked up the book he'd been reading—
A Guide To The Spirit World
. How curious. I flipped it open and began to read, but didn't get very far before he returned. Outside, Lady Harcourt's carriage rolled away.
"Tea and cake?" he asked. "Cook has been baking."
"I'm not hungry."
"You need to eat."
"Breakfast wasn't that long ago."
He tugged on the bell pull in the corner of the library. The house was so vast that I couldn't hear the corresponding bell ringing in the service area.
He stood by the table while we waited, hands behind his back, and nodded at the book. "You should read that. It might help you understand your necromancy."
Seth entered. "Can I get you anything, Charlie?" His smile made him even more handsome, and not for the first time I wondered why he was working for Fitzroy alongside a ruffian like Gus.
"Tea and cake." Fitzroy's gruff manner wiped Seth's smile from his face.
Once he was gone, Fitzroy indicated I should sit at the table. I did, and a moment later, as though it were an afterthought, he did too.
"Now that you've agreed to help, I want to keep you informed," he said.
"You do? Oh. Thank you. Is there more to what you've already told me?"
"Not much. I've learned that a man has been calling at all the homes of London vicars and asking after girls living in the same house. Daughters, wards, servants…"
"I'm sure that went down well. Did he know my name?"
"I don't think so, but I didn't know it at first, either. Not until I learned about the tragic disappearance of Anselm Holloway's daughter, two days ago."
"And you investigated further," I finished. "How did you learn the piece of information about the vicar? How did V.F.?"
He sat quite still, one palm flat on the polished tabletop. I thought for a moment he would keep that secret to himself, but then he answered. "A woman we'd been watching in Paris wrote to him. Her husband had died in suspicious circumstances here in England, and she'd exiled herself to Paris to avoid the police, and us, asking uncomfortable questions."
"You think she killed her husband?"
"I think she knew the killer and was possibly present for the murder. I also believe the murderer to be the man she wrote to, this V.F. Her husband's body was cut open and the brain used to—"
"Stop!" I pressed a hand to my lurching stomach and drew in a deep breath. "So you watched this woman in Paris and waited for her to send a communication. You must have intercepted the letter."
"I did. She'd written it in code and tried to have an unsuspecting couple deliver it, since the usual postal service would be too slow and unreliable. I intercepted and decoded it. The letter claimed she'd found the girl V.F. was seeking, and that she was living with a London vicar. I don't know how she learned that. I then made sure the missive found its way to V.F's hands."
"Thereby putting the girl—me—in danger."
"You weren't in danger because you weren't living with a London vicar."
"You didn't know that at the time."
"And I would not have allowed V.F. to capture you."
"Forgive me for doubting your competence on this, Mr. Fitzroy, but you are only three men, if you include Gus and Seth, and there are many vicars living in London. You couldn't watch them all."
The fingers on the table splayed wide.
"Tea," Seth announced, as he entered the library with a tray. Behind him, Gus followed, carrying a second tray laden with plates and slices of cake.
They set the trays down and began to pour and pass out plates. There was enough for them too. It would seem they were to join us. The household arrangement was odd, and I still wasn't sure whether the two men were supposed to be servants, assistants, or something else. Not friends. Fitzroy certainly didn't treat them as equals.
"You need a maid," I told Fitzroy.
"Aye," Gus muttered, as he handed me a plate.
"Or dress these two in livery."
Seth had been about to hand me a cup and saucer, but he held it back. "I am
not
wearing livery."
"We're not bloody footmen," Gus added, pulling up a chair. He sank his teeth into his slice of cake, scattering crumbs over his chest.
"Then you definitely need a maid," I said. "And footmen too. Is money a concern?"
"No," Seth said.
I arched a brow at Fitzroy, but he didn't notice. He pushed my plate closer to me. "You should eat."
"I told you, I'm not hungry."
"Eat."
"Better do as he says," Seth warned me. "He likes getting his own way."
Fitzroy shot him a flinty glare that turned Seth's face pale. He cleared his throat and sipped his tea.
I nibbled the cake to appease them. It gave me time to think anyway. It seemed I knew something Fitzroy didn't—what V.F. looked like.
"I saw him at my father's house," I said. "V.F. I assume it was he. Father called him 'doctor.'"
"Doctor?" Gus shook his head as he swept crumbs off his jacket. "If it's the same man we're after, the one who chopped Mrs. Calthorn's husband into pieces, then he don't cure people."
Fitzroy sat forward. "When was this?"
"The day you kidnapped me. I sometimes sit in the garden of my old home." I looked into my teacup, not wanting to see what they thought of my pathetic behavior. "I overheard this doctor ask if there was a girl living there—he even mentioned my name. He must have learned about me having gone missing through neighbors or parishioners."
"Or via publicly available birth records. Either way, he'd done some research before his visit. What did he look like?"
I described the doctor as best as I could. "I would recognize him again if I saw him."
When
I saw him. I had no doubt I would be seeing him again. "I think he gave Father his name, but I didn't catch it."
Seth set down his cup in the saucer with a loud clank, and Gus stopped chewing. "Why didn't you say so?" Seth said. "Sir? Shall we go now?"
"Prepare the coach and horses," Fitzroy said.
Both men ran from the room. Their keenness unnerved me. Neither man had shown much intensity until now. It seemed I'd given them the first true clue for discovering V.F.'s identity they'd had in a long time.
"Can you learn where a man lives from his name?" I asked Fitzroy.
"Yes, particularly if he's a practicing doctor. If he's not, there are still ways." He got up and strode from the room.
I raced after him, almost tripping over my skirts in my haste. I picked them up to keep them away from my boots and caught up to him in the entrance hall as he retrieved his hat and gloves from the hallstand.
"You're going to my father's house," I said.
"Yes."
"And then on to the doctor's, as soon as you can connect his name to an address?"
"It might take some time to find the address."
"You may not need me to lure him out after all."
"Hopefully Holloway will give us the name without coercion, and V.F. will be found easily. If not, you will be required." His thumb and forefinger stroked the brim of his hat, and I suspected he was contemplating saying something else. But then he strode away toward the door, leaving me standing there by the hallstand.
"Mr. Fitzroy," I called. He paused and raised his brows at me. "Can I come with you? To Father's house, I mean."
He lowered his hat and faced me fully. "You wish to speak with him?"
"I…I think so. Yes."
"You don't need to. I'll get the information from him in my own way, if necessary."
I suspected his way meant beating the answer out of him. While I wasn't entirely against the idea, I did want to see my father. And speak to him. It was time, and I had a lot of things to say. "If you intend to scare information out of him, I think you may need me. He won't be too frightened of a mere human, but having the devil's maid in his midst will scare the stuffing out of him. Answers too, I expect."
"Then you'd better fetch your gloves."
***
I recognized the elderly women leaving my father's house with baskets over their arms. They were two of his most devoted parishioners, and a more pious pair never existed. As they passed Fitzroy and me near the front gate, I ducked my head so that I wouldn't be recognized, but I needn't have bothered. They were too intent on their conversation. I caught snippets as they walked away.
"Poor, poor man," one said.
"Will his suffering never end?"
"What has he done to deserve such a life?"
"Excuse me," I called out to them. They stopped and gave me benign smiles. Neither seemed to recognize me. "Has something happened to…Mr. Holloway?"
"The house was burgled last night, poor man," one said.
"While he was asleep upstairs!" the other chimed in with a shake of her head.
"The vicious animal gave him a solid crack on the head too. Poor man."
I bit the inside of my lip. "Is he all right?"
"He has a headache, but he's up and about, thank the good lord. And who are you, dear?" She squinted at me. "You look a little familiar."
"I'm new to the area," I said as I turned away.
One of the women sniffed at my rudeness, then I listened as their footsteps receded. I glanced up at Fitzroy, only to see him already looking down at me.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.
"Now more than ever." I needed to check on Father.
The door opened a mere crack upon our knock. Father's face appeared, not the housekeeper's. I'd expected to be taken into a sitting room, where we'd have to wait before seeing him. The delay would have allowed me to calm my jumpy nerves. I wasn't prepared for his skittish gaze to dart between us. It merely flicked over me, as if I didn't matter, and settled on Fitzroy.
"This is not a good time." He went to shut the door, but Fitzroy forced it open with his shoulder. My father stumbled back and we entered. "Who are you? What do you want?" He picked up a heavy book from the hallstand and held it aloft like a weapon. It was a bible.
He sported a gash on his temple. The red, angry cut crossed his frown lines. He looked much older than I remembered. His hair was grayer, the lines deeper, and his shoulders stooped. He hadn't been a young man when I was born, but he looked much older than his fifty-five years.
"Do you recognize me?" I said.
He looked at me again, and this time he actually
saw
me. And he knew. The mask of horror that descended over his face told me that. His eyes widened, his lips moved without speaking. "You," he choked out. "
You
."
"Me. Your daughter. I've come to—"
"You're no daughter of mine! Get out! Get out of here, devil's spawn!" He threw the bible.
Fitzroy caught it before it hit me. "You had some trouble overnight," he said. "What happened?"
"Wh…what?" Father shuffled backward toward the stairs. His shaking hand reached out for the newel post.
"We won't hurt you," I told him. "We've come to ask you about the man who came looking for me a few days ago. A doctor. But first…are you all right?" I moved toward him, but he tripped over the bottom step in his haste to get away and landed on his rear.
I clasped my hands tightly in front of me, stopping myself from reaching out to help him. This man didn't want me to touch him. It was clear from the twist of his mouth and the fear in his eyes.