Grave Expectations (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 4) (13 page)

M
erry Drinkwater's
sister lived with her husband in Acton, in a modern red brick house with a small front garden behind an iron picket fence. Seth stepped out of the coach and held his hand out for me, the way a well-bred gentleman would for his sister.

"I still don't see why
I
couldn't be your brother," Gus muttered from the coachman's seat.

"Because someone needs to be the servant," Seth said.

"But why me? Why not you?"

Seth tugged on his cuff and beamed to show off his perfect teeth. "Do I look like a servant to you?"

Gus narrowed his eyes. "After I get a few good punches in, you will."

"See! That's what I mean. Charlie's brother wouldn't threaten violence to get his way."

"You're a pompous prig."

"And you're an idiot." Seth offered me his arm. "Come, sis, before the help gets ideas above his station. And before you're seen by any murderers."

"You shouldn't tease him," I said as he opened the gate for me.

"Do you honestly think he would have done a serviceable job as your brother?"

"Perhaps."

He snorted. "Only if he pretended to be a mute." He struck the door with the knocker.

It was opened by a housemaid.

"Good afternoon," Seth said, turning on his most charming smile.

The maid bobbed a curtsy, dipping her head but not quite hiding her blush. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly women fell under his spell. "Good afternoon, sir."

"My name is Seth Guilford and this is my sister, Charlotte. Is Mrs. Southey at home? We'd like to speak to her about her sister."

"I'll see." She opened the door wider to allow us into the entrance hall then disappeared into an adjoining room. She emerged a moment later. "Mrs. Southey is available to see you now."

She took our coats and hats and led the way into what turned out to be a modest sized parlor with floral wallpaper, sofa and curtains. There were flowers everywhere, as if spring had bloomed early and vigorously all over the furnishings. A younger but plainer version of Mrs. Drinkwater greeted us with an inquisitive raise of her brows.

"You're friends of my sister's?" she asked, once again taking a seat.

"Acquaintances," I said. Seth and I had decided that I would do most of the talking to put her at ease. He would only speak if that wasn't working and his charms were required instead. "In fact, we're looking for her. She doesn't appear to be at home. Do you know where we can find her?"

"I'm afraid not, but do you know, you're the second person to ask that question in two days?"

"Indeed?"

"A fellow came by yesterday. Rather wild looking man, and not at all friendly. I didn't let him in."

Lincoln. "Perhaps he was a policeman who wanted to update Mrs. Drinkwater on the investigation into poor Mr. Drinkwater's death."

"If he was, he ought to have declared himself. Not that it would have mattered. I didn't know where to find Merry, and I still don't. She told me she needed to spend a few days in peace, but wouldn't tell me where." A small crease connected her brows. "I do hope she's all right."

I exchanged a worried glance with Seth.

"What is it?" Mrs. Southey touched the high ruffled collar at her throat. "Is she in danger?" She gasped. "Do you think Reggie's murderer is after her now? My lord, I just thought of something. What if that man who came yesterday is the murderer? I knew he was no good from the moment I set eyes on him. Too dark, too…foreign looking. Those eyes." She affected a shiver.

I clenched my teeth and forced out a sympathetic, "There, there. Don't fret. That's why my brother and I are here, to warn her. You see, my brother is a scientist and friend to Mr. Drinkwater."

"Was," Seth chimed in with a sad smile. "We were colleagues, working in a similar area. We shared our research from time to time. After Drinkwater's death, my rooms were ransacked but nothing was taken."

Mrs. Southey gasped again. "What were they looking for?"

"Research papers. We're both working on something highly sensitive."

"False limbs?"

"I can't confirm or deny that, I'm afraid. I wouldn't want to endanger your life too."

Good lord. If I rolled my eyes any more they'd do complete loops in the sockets.

"It's my belief he was killed for them," Seth went on, "but the killers didn't find what they wanted, so they came looking in my study, only to leave empty handed. I believe they think your sister may have hidden her husband's papers instead—to keep them safe."

"Surely she would have said something to me."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. She might decide that you're safer not knowing."

Her fingers fluttered at her trembling lips. "It explains why she didn't tell me where she was going."

I nodded. This was going rather well. "The police have been informed, of course, but I'm afraid Detective Inspector Tench doesn't agree with our theory. He's unwilling to commit resources to protect her."

Using the detective's name seemed to have the desired effect. Mrs. Southey nodded eagerly along with everything I said. "He did strike me as a rather lazy fellow. Fat people often are."

It was fortunate that she didn't know about my necromancy or my background living on the streets. She seemed to be prejudiced against anyone who wasn't like her.

"We've decided to warn your sister ourselves," Seth told her. "We've known her a long time, and she'll trust us."

She chewed on her lip and blinked at him. He smiled warmly back, but it didn't have the usual effect. She squinted at him. "She never mentioned you to me before. I thought Reggie worked alone."

"He did, usually, but he brought me on board for his latest experiments. If I had
my
papers here, I would gladly prove it you. Unfortunately they're all the way back in my study in Mayfair."

"Mayfair!"

"My home," he added with wide-eyed innocence.

Her back straightened, reminding me of her sister with her erect posture. While not as poised as Merry, Mrs. Southey had a neat, precise way of moving that both sisters possessed. "Where in Mayfair?"

Seth waved his hand. "It's just an old pile of bricks, really, but it's been in the family for years."

I half expected him to drag out the family title of Vickers, but he merely smiled at her again. This time it worked. Mrs. Southey blushed and touched her hair.

"Mrs. Southey, it's imperative you help us find Merry," he said, turning serious. "You can't allow that foreigner to get to her first."

I glared at him but he ignored me.

Mrs. Southey swallowed heavily. "You're right. I didn't trust him from the moment I laid eyes on him. I ought to tell the detective."

"We'll do it, won't we, Charlotte?"

"We're on our way to Kensington now—if you tell us where to find her, that is. We'll hand over everything we know to Tench immediately. It's the right thing to do."

"Oh, I don't know where she is," she said.

"Perhaps not, but you know her better than anyone. There must be someone she trusts enough to visit for a few days."

"She has few close friends left. Reggie wasn't the most sociable man." The pinched lips and sour tone told me what she thought of her brother-in-law more than her words did.

"What about friends from before she married?"

Her cheeks flushed. She looked away. "She hasn't remained in touch with them."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," she snapped.

"Mrs. Southey," Seth said gently. "Your sister's life might be in danger if he finds her before us. You must help us so we can inform the police. They can't protect her if they don't know where she is."

"It's just that…she would be so ashamed if any of her set knew." She bit her lip and glanced at me through lowered lashes. "Particularly someone as lovely as you, Miss Guilford."

Lovely? Me? "We'll keep her secret safe," I assured her. "I'm no gossip."

"Very true," Seth said. "She knows a thing or two about me that she's never told. The soul of discretion is dear Charlotte."

"This is quite a scandal, though." She nibbled her lip again. "But if the murderer finds her…"

"We'll see that he doesn't," Seth said, moving to sit beside her. He tucked her hand between both of his, winning a wide-eyed blink from her. "Trust us, Mrs. Southey. We only have your sister's interests at heart. She won't come to any harm if we find her first."

He was laying it on rather thick, but she seemed to be warming to the idea with every passing moment. She stopped biting her lip and sighed.

"You're right. Well then." She blew out a breath. "There was a particular friend from before she married. A woman by the name of Redding. Miss Letitia Redding."

Redding! I knew that name.

"And where will we find Miss Redding?" Seth asked.

The Alhambra.

"A theater known as The Alhambra." Mrs. Southey touched her hair again and didn't meet our gazes. "My sister used to dance there when she was younger, as did Miss Redding."

And Lady Harcourt.

"
I
t was Lady Harcourt
," I announced to Seth in the coach. "She
must
be the one who helped Mrs. Drinkwater."

"Yes," he said simply. He looked troubled by the prospect, but I was in no mood to offer excuses or alternative theories. I was too angry. How
could
she? I knew she blamed me for keeping Lincoln from her, but I didn't think she hated me enough to have me kidnapped.

"I can't believe I didn't realize earlier," I said. "Mrs. Drinkwater had a certain way of walking, like Lady H. She would
glide
into the room, like a dancer. And her poise…" I shook my head, annoyed I'd not made the connection between the two. "We must hurry."

"Gus is driving as fast as he can. Anyway, there's no cause for alarm."

"Of course there is. Lady Harcourt must be worried that Lincoln will find Merry Drinkwater and she'll tell him about her involvement."

"You think she'll silence Merry? Charlie! She's no murderess."

"Are you very certain of that?"

"Yes!"

I drummed my fingers on the leather seat. "You may be right."

"I know I am. She may not be the kindest soul, but she's not violent. Besides, she has no reason to harm Merry Drinkwater. She knows we won't inform the police. Killing her achieves nothing. Fitzroy will be furious, but her relationship with him is well and truly over, thanks to your engagement. She can't have any hopes of renewing it now."

"I agree with you there. She isn't foolish enough to think having me abducted would make Lincoln love her."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "So what possible motive could Julia have had for helping her?"

"If we don't get an answer from Merry herself, we'll confront Lady H with what we know."

Gus stopped the coach directly outside The Alhambra. Seth got out first and opened the umbrella. The rain wasn't heavy but it provided cover from passersby. I flipped the hood of my coat up as I stepped onto the pavement. Now that we were in the heart of the city once again, it paid to be careful. No one had tried to harm me since leaving Lichfield, but that didn't mean I could let my guard down. I touched the amber pendant nestled against my chest. It was a comfort knowing the imp slept inside, awaiting my command.

We entered through the side door to the promenade, the undercover walkway that surrounded the theater itself. Seth folded up the umbrella and took in the stained carpet, the cobwebs and peeling paintwork.

"It looks so different in the daytime. So…" He shook his head.

"Gaudy? Unseemly?"

"I was going to say out dated, like a faded beauty trying to relive her youth with too much rouge. The low lighting of the evenings hide her age. This place is quite magical when the lamps are lit and the dancers come out, all dressed up in their feathers and finery. At least, it used to be."

"You sound sentimental. I thought you didn't come here much."

"So where do we find this Miss Redding?" he asked, ignoring me.

"Backstage." I led the way along the promenade but stopped at the top of the steps leading to the backstage corridor. I kept my voice low. "Try not to flirt with her."

He grinned. "Are you jealous?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, it's just that I think she's had some disappointment in her life. Unless you plan on a permanent arrangement with her rather than a single night, don't allow her hopes to rise."

"I'll try, but what you often call flirting is my usual charming character. I can't help it if ladies find me interesting when I'm not even trying."

"You said all of that with a serious face, too."

He gave me a blank look.

I headed down the steps into a corridor where Jonathon Golightly, the theater's stage manager, kept his office. I steeled myself for an unpleasant meeting with him and his assistant, Miss Redding. The last time I'd seen him, he'd invited me in, thinking I was related to a potential investor, only to ask me to leave when he learned that I wasn't.

Miss Redding, on the other hand, had been most helpful. A dancer once herself, she'd told me how Lady Harcourt, known then as Miss D.D., had performed at The Al before her marriage to Lord Harcourt. Andrew Buchanan, her stepson, had also been infatuated with her at the time. Money must have been paid to Mr. Golightly, or threats made to keep the connection quiet, but Miss Redding either wasn't part of that financial arrangement or she was jealous of Lady Harcourt's good fortune. She'd imparted her gossip a little too easily, and her waspishness had left a bitter aftertaste.

The triangular connection between Lady Harcourt, Miss Redding and Merry Drinkwater was a curious one. If Miss Redding disliked Lady H but was friends with Merry, shouldn't the relationship between Lady H and Merry also be strained? Why would she help someone she disliked to kidnap me?

Mr. Golightly's office door was closed and the corridor empty. We slipped into the small kitchen and waited, without speaking, for several minutes until finally we heard voices, one male, the other female. Seth raised his brows at me, asking if I recognized them. I nodded.

"Tea," demanded Mr. Golightly. "And one of those little orange cakes."

"There aren't any left," Miss Redding said.

Golightly's mumbled response didn't reach me. A moment later, Miss Redding entered the kitchen. She let out a small squeal of surprise before I placed a finger to my lips to shush her. I listened for footsteps, but Golightly didn't come to investigate.

"You!" Miss Redding's wide eyes inspected me as if she were expecting to find me changed from our last meeting. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Oh?" I said, rather stupidly. I hadn't yet decided how to approach her on the topic of Mrs. Drinkwater. It might be time to tell the truth, or part of it. Hopefully it wouldn't have the opposite effect of silencing her.

"Good afternoon." Seth had been standing by the door so that she'd sailed right past him upon entering.

At the sound of his voice, she spun and gasped loudly. "Who are you?" Her hand came up to her blonde curls and twirled them as a shy little girl would. It was perhaps a habit born from years of being self-conscious about the pockmark scars on her face. Although she'd not shown such shyness with me, Seth was quite a different matter. The man was beautiful, and if one admired beautiful men, it was easy to feel inadequate in his shadow.

It would seem I was immune to his appeal. "This is my dear friend, Seth," I said. "Seth, this is Miss Redding."

She held out her hand to him. He took it and kissed it then smiled up at her. She blushed to the tips of ears. If he was trying not to flirt, he was doing a terrible job.

"Your…friend?" she said to me.

Perhaps I should have introduced him as my brother. "Yes."

"What about your fiancé?"

"How do you know about him?"

"You told me."

Oh. Of course. She meant Andrew Buchanan, not Lincoln. After all my questions about Lord Harcourt's family last time, she'd assumed Buchanan and I were engaged. I'd not corrected her. "Seth is actually a friend of Andrew's," I said, hoping Seth would play along. "Andrew couldn't escort me here today, so Seth offered."

"You didn't require an escort last time."

"Andrew has become more and more jealous of late. Silly fellow."

"Then it's surprising that he wanted
this
fellow to escort you."

Seth shot me a grin from behind her back, but quickly schooled it when she turned to him. "Andrew trusts me implicitly," he said.

"He does," I agreed, "because of your…affliction." I glanced pointedly at his groin.

Miss Redding flushed scarlet and toyed with her curls again. Seth looked like he wanted to strangle me.

"Actually, Seth is the reason we came. He's a friend to Reginald Drinkwater. Or should I say, he was. That's why we're here, because you know the Drinkwaters too."

"Yes, I do," Miss Redding said. "Poor Merry. She misses him terribly."

She spoke about her as if she'd seen her recently. Good. We were on the right path.

"How do you know Mr. Drinkwater?" Miss Redding asked.

Seth told her the same story he'd told Mrs. Southey.

"You don't look like a scientist," she said when he finished.

Seth opened his mouth to speak, but I got in first. "Don't let his pretty appearance fool you. He's actually quite intelligent."

"You're too kind, Charlotte," he said through a hard smile.

"So you see, we're worried about Mrs. Drinkwater," I said. "After Seth told me all about Mr. Drinkwater's tragic death, I promised to look in on his widow. Later, after Seth's rooms were ransacked, he insisted we warn her and so we went to visit again, but she wasn't at home or at her sister's. She's particularly vulnerable right now, and I don't think she's aware that she may be targeted next. I hoped
you
knew where to find her so we could inform her."

"How did you know we were friends?"

"She told me she danced here with you in her youth. You and Miss D.D."

Her mouth twisted to the side as she studied me. Miss Redding was an astute woman, and not as trusting as Mrs. Southey. Convincing her would be a real test of our acting skills. "It's very unlikely she would have told anyone about her past."

She did not deny that Mrs. Drinkwater and Lady Harcourt had danced together. That was something.

I took both her hands in mine and squeezed. "You're right to be skeptical at a time like this. Mrs. Drinkwater must be protected. But I assure you, she did tell me herself. How else would I know about your friendship if she hadn't?"

Her mouth twitched right then left as she thought. "I suppose so. Thank you for stopping by to warn me. I'll pass the message on to her."

"We'd rather do it ourselves," Seth said. "To check on her wellbeing, you see."

"I'm not sure she wishes to see anybody right now."

"She'll see us," I assured her. I squeezed her hands again. "I also want to pass on the regards of Andrew's stepmother."

"Julia Templeton?"

"Lady Harcourt," Seth corrected.

"Why would she send her regards?"

"She's concerned for her friend too, and wishes to offer shelter, if necessary," I said. "We're to pass the message on to Mrs. Drinkwater in person."

Miss Redding snorted. "Is this a joke?"

"Why would it be?"

"Because the high and mighty Lady Harcourt wouldn't even look at either Merry or me if she passed us in the street, let alone speak with us. She certainly wouldn't offer shelter."

"Of course she would," Seth protested, quite sincerely.

I agreed with Miss Redding. Lady Harcourt had been desperate enough to become a dancer to stave off poverty, and she must be desperate now to save her reputation and keep her scandalous background a secret. If her society friends found out, her life in London would be over. She would have to move out of the city to avoid the stigma. The darling of London's social scene wouldn't want that.

"No, sir, she would not offer us a single thing." Miss Redding pulled her hands free of mine and crossed her arms. Her shyness had completely vanished, replaced by the cold steel I'd glimpsed on our first meeting. "Julia Templeton is a manipulative, ruthless cat who'll do anything to hold onto the position she gained through her marriage. Acknowledging those of us who knew her when she danced at The Al would mean admitting to that past. You must understand, a woman like her doesn't even want to remind herself. So I'm afraid I don't believe she ever said such a thing to you and I'm baffled as to why you would mention her at all."

"I can assure you, Lady Harcourt did offer to help Mrs. Drinkwater." Just not offer to shelter her, but to assist in my kidnapping. "There must be a reason," I said, for Seth's benefit.

His face brightened. He stood straighter, taller. "Someone wrote Lady Harcourt a letter, threatening to go to the weeklies with details about her past. Was that you, by any chance?"

"No!" Miss Redding pulled a face. "I would never do such a thing."

"Thank you." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "You've been a marvelous help. Come on, Charlie. It's time to go."

He took my hand and pulled me out of the kitchen, barely giving me enough time to toss out a "Thank you," and "Goodbye, " to the very flushed Miss Redding. She looked quite stunned, but I wasn't sure if that was due to our sudden departure or Seth's kiss.

We raced past Mr. Golightly's office so quickly that he didn't even see us, up the steps and out to the promenade.

"Slow down," I said as I stumbled.

He stopped to allow me to regain my balance. "She
blackmailed
her," he said. "Merry Drinkwater blackmailed Julia into telling her everything about you, and about Lichfield needing a housekeeper
et cetera
."

"I suppose." I shook my head. "But she would have had to know about my necromancy in the first place—and Lady Harcourt's connection to me. How? Who told her?"

"I don't know. We'll ask Merry Drinkwater."

"How can we do that if we can't find her?"

"I think Miss Redding does know where her friend is, but won't say. We'll follow her home at the end of the day. It's likely we'll find Merry there."

He opened the door for me, almost knocking over a woman who was about to enter The Al. She looked up and gasped.

"Mrs. Drinkwater!" I went to grab her hand but she ran off.

Seth ran after her. "Gus! Stop her!"

But Gus must have been half asleep. He tilted his hat back as he sat up from his slumped position on the coachman's seat. "What?" He saw the woman run past and Seth follow. "Blimey!" He too jumped down. "Charlie, watch the horse."

"I'm not sure it requires both of you," I called after them.

But he didn't listen to me. He followed after Seth who'd slowed down when several gentlemen eyed him with suspicion. The horse stood quietly, but I reached for the bridle anyway.

A gloved hand caught mine and something pressed into my back.

"Do as I say. I have a gun." Holloway! Oh God. He wasn't dead then.

Pity. "What do you want?" I kept my voice low, level, so as not to startle him. If I moved suddenly, he might fire.