Ashes To Ashes: A Ministry of Curiosities Novella (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 5) (9 page)

He tried to move but once again, she blocked his way. "And you, Mr. Fitzroy? Will you be home to callers?"

"I don't have any. Those who do visit are used to me rarely being home."

"I think today will be different."

"I doubt it."

She gave him a small smile that seemed to indicate she knew something that he did not. "Did you not notice the sensation your presence caused last night?"

He noticed Julia's attentions, and the gazes of Miss Overton and her mother, but that hardly constituted a sensation. "I think you're mistaken."

"Oh no, Mr. Fitzroy. I am never mistaken when it comes to sensations. And you, sir, are one. Apparently you rarely go to balls or parties, and that makes you a curious figure. An air of mystery is very desirable in a gentleman, particularly a wealthy one. Your unknown lineage will not hold you back when it comes to the ladies, but some of their fathers are more cautious."

He held up his hands. "I'm not on the market."

She made a scoffing noise through her nose. "Nonsense. All unwed gentlemen are on the market. We can use this new intrigue to our advantage."

"We?"

She clicked her tongue. "Must I spell it out to you?"

"Yes."

She sighed. "Honestly, for a clever man, you're very stupid. Let me explain it in simple terms. Now that you have made an appearance in society, the eligible girls have gone wild. This goes doubly for my son, of course, since he's tilted. Ordinarily, two handsome, interesting bachelors would cause a problem. I'm not sure how Marjory Wadsworth did it. She has twin sons, you know."

"And?"

"Don't talk, just listen. Usually, the best candidate will win the best girl, and of course, that would be Seth since he's so agreeable. I am sorry to be blunt, Mr. Fitzroy, but I'm sure it won't shock you to learn that some girls are as afraid of you as they are intrigued by you."

"I'm not shocked."

"But since Seth's reputation is a little…tarnished, your star has risen somewhat, and I would consider you both even in the race. The girls only need to choose between a wealthy gentleman—yourself—or a titled one. That separates the girls into two camps quite neatly—those who need to marry money and those who can afford to fish around for an agreeable titled gentleman. Forget that simpering Miss Overton. I don't know what Julia is thinking. She would be more appropriate for my Seth, although I can think of better. You, on the other hand, would be suited to the Chester girl. Her father's a viscount, no less, and the estate is in ruin. He's desperate to marry her off. She tends to squint, and I suspect she needs glasses, but you shouldn't let that bother you. She's quite spirited and has a strong will, which Seth tells me is your sort—"

"Enough! I do not want a wife."

"But you need one. Besides, you had a fiancée…"

"And now I don't." He must have looked quite fierce because Lady Vickers swayed backward, away from him, and she didn't seem like the sort of woman to intimidate easily. "I am not home to callers today or any other day."

"I see. What about my son?"

"He can marry whomever he wants, but this afternoon, he has work to do for me." He tried to move around her again, but she once more blocked his path. It wouldn't be easy to pick her up and forcibly move her, as he did with Charlie when she stood in his way, but he would try if it became necessary.

"Seth is not your servant," she said stiffly.

"I beg to differ. Excuse me, madam."

She puffed out her chest, as if trying to make herself larger. "He is Lord Vickers, thank you very much."

"You and your son are here under my roof because I allow it. I can throw you out, if I wish."

Her hand fluttered at her chest and tears pooled in her eyes. It was Lincoln, however, who took a step back. Perhaps he'd gone too far. Sometimes he forgot that female sensibilities were more delicate. It occurred to him that Charlie would have picked up her skirts and marched right past him if he'd spoken to her like that. She probably would have left Lichfield then and there to prove a point.

"You're being deliberately difficult," Lady Vickers said quietly. "I don't like it."

He drew in a breath to quell his rising temper. This woman didn't deserve his ire. "I am merely pointing out that this is my house and your son is employed by me. He is not at liberty to do as he pleases." He held up his hand again. "If he wants to be paid, that is."

She pulled a face. "There is no need to rub it in. I am well aware of our reduced circumstances."

"Then kindly see to your visitors yourself. Seth and I will not be home."

"Very well." She thrust out that very determined chin again and Lincoln braced himself. She hadn't given up yet. "But I should warn you that you are not as in command here as you think you are."

"I pay everyone's wages. I am in complete control."

She waved a hand. "Tosh. You may pay them, but that doesn't give you control. When I look at you, all I see is a man running hither and thither, and treating his friends like they're staff."

"They are staff," he growled.

"Seth is not." She stated it as if it were a fact, without malice or pomposity. "He's your friend, and he's trying to help you, but you're making it impossible for him and that other fellow. You're too busy dashing off chasing shadows and trying
not
to look in at yourself."

He stiffened. If he simply used brute strength, he could barrel past her. He doubted that would silence her, however. She'd probably shout her opinion at him until she was hoarse.

Her face softened and her eyes turned gentle. He didn't know her well, but the change in her worried him. He preferred her vitriol to her pity. "You're scared of what you'll see," she said. "That's why you don't want to look."

The blood chugged sluggishly through his veins. His extremities turned cold and he curled his fingers into fists to warm them. "I know what I'll see," he told her. A cold, dead heart. Gus had told him so.

"It doesn't have to be like this. Seth said you changed with her."

"This is how I am and how I must be." His jaw hurt to speak. Everything hurt. "People depend upon me. The country depends on me. I have ministry affairs to see to, and introspection is a waste of time and energy that could be spent working."

Most people would back away from him now, seeing the signs of his temper rising. But not Lady Vickers, damn her. She was like Charlie in that respect. "Introspection is how we become better people, and how we learn from our mistakes," she said.

"I don't make mistakes."

"From what I've seen and heard, you've made a very big one, and you know it.
That's
why you don't like to be introspective. Looking inward will show you that you failed."

"I have not failed."

To his surprise, she lowered her gaze and stepped aside. Not quickly or with shaking hands, but because she had no more to say to him. He stalked past her and tried to dampen his temper, but he hadn't succeeded by the time he slammed his door. He shed his day clothes and put on the ones he used for when he wanted to walk through the slums unnoticed.

By the time he tied the gray cloth around his neck, he'd decided Lady Vickers was a crackpot and meddler. She wasn't worth wasting his time on. He had more important business to tend do. Ministry business.

* * *

S
eth and Lincoln
stopped at the mews behind Gillingham's house to pick up Gus. "Nothing to report," he told Lincoln as he settled on the seat opposite. "He ain't been out yet today. So where we goin'?"

"Flower and Dean Street."

Gus stroked the scar stretching from his cheek to the corner of his eye. "Last time we went to them parts, the brougham almost got stolen."

"We'll leave it at the Pig and Whistle's stables. The ostler knows me. It's not much of a walk from there." Lincoln told him everything Billy the Bolter had reported and then outlined his plan.

"Thank you, sir," Gus said at the end.

"For what?"

"For tellin' me. Time was, you wouldn't have said nothin' about the whole plan, just my part."

Lincoln turned to the window and tried to think back, but it felt like another life, another century. He wasn't that same man anymore. The revelation was like a bolt of lightning, shocking him to his core.

He'd barely recovered by the time they arrived at the Pig and Whistle. He paid the hunchbacked ostler to mind the horses and coach, then headed to Flower and Dean Street with Gus and Seth. This part of Whitechapel was infamous for the violent Ripper murders, and a sense of unease and mistrust flowed from the passersby, hitting his senses with force.

Lincoln felt conspicuous, even though he'd gone to some trouble to blend in with the working class men. Perhaps it was because most of those men were at work in the early afternoon, not wandering around the streets in a pack of three. Lincoln regretted not waiting for darkness, when the men were heading home from their jobs at the factories. He worked better in the dark too.

But he'd been too impatient to wait. If Billy's information proved true, then Lincoln could be close to catching the gunman as well the man who hired him. Waiting would allow the gunman to escape.

"I hate this place," Gus hissed. He hunched into his great coat, but still shivered. "Feels like I'm bein' sized for me boots."

"Not even the poorest will want your stinking footwear." Seth's teasing was half-hearted, as he too kept a wary eye on the hollow-eyed children and their gin-soaked mothers.

They passed a group of thick-set men huddled around a low fire burning in a brazier. One man drank from a bottle while his friends rubbed gloveless hands together and laughed over something. Others stood a little further away, gazing enviously at the fire but not approaching.

"Should we ask them?" Seth said.

"No." Lincoln knew a group of thugs when he saw it. There were easier targets who would be more deserving of a few coins.

Gus tripped over the feet of an elderly man sitting on a doorstep. His head remained resting against the door, his mouth ajar. Lincoln couldn't be certain if he was asleep or dead.

A girl stumbled out of the shadows, a ragged shawl bunched at her chest instead of wrapped around her thin shoulders. Stringy brown hair fell from a cap that had probably once been white but was now gray and torn. Her face was mostly gray too. The only color came from the smudges of red under her sunken eyes and the sores on her lips.

"Please, sirs. I'll do whatever you want for some ready." She let go of the shawl and held out her dirty palm. The shawl fell away to reveal a sleeping baby. The baby stirred with the sudden brush of cold air on soft skin. Unlike the girl, the baby looked healthy.

Both Seth and Gus reached for their pockets but Lincoln stopped them with a raise of his hand. "Do you know where we can find Jack Daley?" he asked her.

A spark of fear momentarily gave her eyes some life. She looked left and right, then backed away. She shook her head.

Lincoln removed a pouch stuffed with coin from his inside coat pocket. "All of this and my coat if you tell me where to find him."

For a moment, he thought her fear would override her desperation, but then she stepped forward. "He lives in the tall brown house on Flower and Dean," she whispered. "Two from the corner. Old Mrs. Fenton is the landlady." She blinked at Lincoln then tentatively held out her hand again.

He gave her the pouch and she quickly tucked it back inside the shawl with the baby. "How old are you?" he asked.

"Thirteen."

Both Seth and Gus muttered under their breath. "The baby's father?" Seth asked.

"Dead. Our mother too."

"You're not the mother?"

"He's me brother." She blinked dry eyes and kissed the top of the baby's head. "I'm all he's got now, and he's all I got."

Lincoln shucked off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. He must remember to ask Doyle to get more made.

"You don't want nothing else, sir?" she asked.

Lincoln shook his head. He should walk away, but for some reason he couldn't. What was wrong with him?

Gus laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. She shrank back. "Do you know how to get to Seven Dials from here?" he asked.

She nodded quickly.

"Find Broker Row and ask for Mary Sullivan. Tell her Gus sent you. She'll take care of you and your brother."

"Thank you, sir." She clutched the baby tighter to her breast and hurried away.

"We can't save them all," Seth said, as they moved off toward Flower and Dean Street.

Lincoln made no comment. He found it easier not to dwell on such things, but it was difficult to dismiss the girl and her baby brother from his mind. Sending Gus to his great aunt's house later to see if the girl arrived safely was a pointless exercise, yet he resolved to do it.

Old Mrs. Fenton's lodging house was a palace compared to the other terraces on Flower and Dean. It was a full story taller and the arched windows gave it a grandeur that not even the peeling paint and grimy stones destroyed. It even had a balcony on the second level. The rest of Flower and Dean was a confused collection of short and tall buildings, some brick, some wood, but few stone. Smoke drifted from the chimney of Mrs. Fenton's house, but not the others.