"You were furious with me when you learned I'd summoned Gurry. Why aren't you angry over this?"
"I wasn't furious. You told me yourself that your investigation at the General Registry Office was hastily decided upon and you regretted it. The summoning was more planned, deliberate. I thought you and Julia had concocted it together. I should have considered the possibility that she'd blackmailed you," he bit off. "It seems so obvious now, but at the time… It was a bad error on my part, and I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for. You couldn't have known, and it's not entirely Lady Harcourt's fault. I could have refused, but the truth is that I wanted to know why you killed Gurry too."
"Did she ask you the night before?
I nodded.
"I wondered why she came. It seemed odd that she would collect me."
"She was also worried you would change your mind and not go to the ball."
"Was she?" he ground out. He shook his head. "We won't speak of this anymore, Charlie. It's done now."
"It's not. I wish to clear the air."
"It's cleared."
"It's not! Lincoln, you need to know how awful I felt summoning Gurry's spirit. I felt sick. And then when you interrupted us in a fury…I thought you would murder someone."
He flinched. Perhaps that had been a poor choice of words. "I wasn't angry with
you
, Charlie." He rubbed his temple then dug his fingers into his eyes. "I was disappointed. I probably didn't express it very well."
Here was the crux of it.
This
was what I needed to know, although hearing him speak of his disappointment in me was like a blow to the stomach. "You were disappointed because you thought you could trust me," I finished for him.
His hand dropped to the chair arm and he gave a slight nod.
"Lincoln, you
can
trust me." I leaned forward, hoping that would get my point across better. "I won't betray you again. I promise."
He said nothing, just stared down at his hand.
"Lincoln?" I said in a small voice. "I have to know…can you bring yourself to trust me again?"
"I already do."
My lip wobbled. I bit it hard.
"But trust goes both ways," he went on. "And clearly you don't trust me or you would have told me what Julia had threatened to do."
"I almost did. That's why I waited up for you to return from the ball. But you were in a foul temper and I changed my mind."
The muscles around his eyes tightened in another flinch. "Then I deserved what happened. Don't excuse my behavior," he said when I opened my mouth to protest. "That entire evening is one I'd rather forget. I
was
in a foul temper, and unfortunately you were in the firing line at the wrong time. I'm sorry I said the things I did. It was uncalled for."
"Thank you. I forgive you. So…your family wasn't there?"
"One member was, but he knows nothing about my existence. I'm not worthy of his notice, so consequently, he didn't notice me. I don't know why I expected him to."
I bit back my sympathetic response and instead said, "Even though I didn't tell you in advance about Lady Harcourt's request, I want you to know that I do trust you, Lincoln."
His gaze lifted to mine. "Do you? I've betrayed you just as badly in the past."
"That incident was months ago," I said, waving my hand. "I'd already forgotten it." He was referring to the time he'd let me go then set a brute onto me to scare me into staying at Lichfield. It was sometimes difficult to reconcile that incident and the man who'd instigated it with the Lincoln Fitzroy sitting before me.
"No, you haven't," he said quietly. "You still have nightmares about it."
He knew that? "Not only about that man," I assured him. "The nightmares have lessened now, anyway." I shrugged and folded my arms across my chest.
"I was desperate then, Charlie. I didn't know how else to get you to stay. Another man would have known, but not me."
Desperate? For me to stay? Oh. I swallowed and nodded to let him know that I understood. I was too shaken by his honesty to speak. It meant a lot that he would confide in me like this.
"I want you to trust me," he said. "So I'm going to tell you about Gurry."
My eyes widened. "You don't have to."
"I want to. I want you to feel safe here, and that means allaying any fears about me you might still have."
I was about to tell him that I didn't have any fears, but I didn't want him to change his mind and not confide in me so I remained quiet.
"I was eleven when he came to tutor me. We didn't get along particularly well, but that wasn't unusual. My tutors were there to teach me in any way they saw fit."
How could any child learn anything while being beaten? Or fearing a beating?
"When I was twelve, things changed in the general's household. The housekeeper's nephew came to live with us. His parents had died, and he had no one else. He was two years younger than me, but we became friends, of sorts. I'd never had a friend before, never been around other children, so I wasn't easy to get along with. But we did, after a while. The problem was, I was busy with my studies and had little time for him."
"What about after lessons?"
"I studied every day from six in the morning until eight at night for day classes, then the night lessons would begin on those evenings I had them."
"Night classes? What could you possibly learn at night?"
"How to find my way around London in the dark. How to get in through a locked window without waking anyone. How to move about the clubs and dens without being noticed. Among other things."
That was quite an unusual education. I wished I'd had those sorts of lessons. Living on the streets might have been easier at first if I had. "The less I saw of Tim, the harder he tried to get my attention. He was bored and lonely in that house with nothing to do but a few chores. So he would amuse himself by tapping on the windows until my tutors came looking for him, then he'd run off. Or he would place tacks on their chairs, or break their pens and inkwells. He was mischievous, but he did it to get me to laugh."
"He never got caught?"
"Frequently. The tutors would beat him, but never severely. The housekeeper wouldn't let them."
"Did the general know what they were doing to him? And to you?"
He nodded. "It was in the reports they gave him upon his infrequent returns to the city. They'd detail what I'd learned, how well I was doing, how much they needed to discipline me
et cetera
."
"And he didn't try to stop them beating you? Or Tim?"
"The general believes in strong discipline. The more wayward the boy, the harder the beatings should be."
I covered my mouth. "Oh, Lincoln."
He flinched and I bit my lip. It wasn't pity he wanted, it was understanding.
"That's why he liked Gurry so much. His beatings were the hardest. Several months after Tim came to live with us, he took his fun too far. He'd made himself a slingshot and hid outside the window. We'd planned for me to open it during my lesson with Gurry and Tim would fire things at him. I followed through on the plan, and Tim shot a series of small objects at Gurry. Gurry batted some away, but Tim was fast and the rapid fire overwhelmed Gurry. He accidentally swallowed one of the pellets and almost choked. When he recovered, he went looking for Tim. It took all afternoon to find him and catch him, but when he did, he beat him with a cane. Tim was defiant, and refused to apologize. He told Gurry that the object he'd swallowed was a ball of dried horse dung. Gurry was a stickler for hygiene and had a fear of germs. He almost had an apoplexy when Tim told him that. It set him off even more. He beat Tim harder and harder, on his back, his shoulders, and around his head. Gurry went into a frenzy. I tried to pull him off but couldn't. The housekeeper started screaming, but he seemed not to hear her. He kept hitting Tim, even after he collapsed. He was bleeding from the nose and ears, but still Gurry didn't stop. It seemed to go on forever. Finally, he calmed down, but only when Tim was no longer moving."
"Oh God," I whispered into my hand. "He killed Tim. He beat him to death."
"The housekeeper wrote to the general, and the general dismissed Gurry. I never saw him again until almost a year ago in that lane. It all suddenly came back to me, and I couldn't put aside my anger. I'd let Tim down all those years ago. I hadn't been able to save him, but I finally had a chance to see justice served. So I killed Gurry then and there."
I stared at him, stunned by the story and the image of that poor boy at the mercy of Gurry. And poor Lincoln too, living with the memories for so many years. He'd had one friend in his entire life, and that friend had died because he'd been a distraction to Lincoln's studies. It was a lot to bear.
"You didn't fail Tim," I assured him. "You were only a boy too, when it happened. Don't blame yourself for something only Gurry is responsible for."
He glanced at me, a small crease connecting his brows. "And of my actions in the lane? I was an adult then. I knew what I was doing, and I chose to do it anyway."
I couldn't meet his gaze. While I understood why he'd done it, it still unnerved me to think he could hold onto his revenge for so long then act upon it in a cold, calculating manner. "Was his death swift?"
"Yes."
"Then that's something."
His brows arched.
"I don't blame you, Lincoln. I know the man you are…the man you're trained to be…and I accept that side of you. But it is only one facet of you. There are many others, and together they make up someone I like. Someone I want to get to know better."
I stood to go to him, but he shot to his feet at the same time. He swallowed heavily and placed his hands at his back. He gave me a firm nod, then turned and walked out. Just like that.
I stood there, blinking at the doorway, debating whether to go after him or not. I might have trouble catching him, bandaged up as I was.
"Charlie!" Gus scowled when he saw me standing. "You were supposed to wait until I brought you these." He handed me the crutches. When I continued to stare dumbly at the doorway, he took my hand and placed it on the horizontal bar. "Let me adjust the height for you."
***
I spent most of the day in the library, reading. The men disappeared at different times to nap, then would return to keep me company. The only one who didn't was Lincoln, and I missed his company terribly. I sent Seth up to his rooms to ask him to join us for a game of cards, but he still didn't come down.
"What's he doing?" I asked.
"Pacing."
"Pacing?"
He nodded as he dealt. "Stop worrying about him, Charlie. He knows his own mind."
He did, and that was partly the problem. His mind was always working, always remembering. What was he thinking now? I would have thought telling me about Gurry would be a weight off his shoulders, but it seemed to have made him more agitated. I was contemplating venturing upstairs to see him when he strode into the library dressed in coat and hat. He handed some letters to Gus.
"Deliver these to the committee members tonight. They're messages informing them of what transpired with Captain Jasper. They'll want to know the outcome, even though it wasn't a ministry matter."
"Can I have a game first?" Gus asked.
Lincoln nodded then walked off without another word, and without even glancing at me.
"Where are you going?" I called after him.
"For a walk." The front door opened and closed.
Gus tapped the cards in front of me. "He'll be all right. He won't get himself kidnapped."
Seth rolled his eyes. "You say the stupidest things sometimes."
"That right? I happen to know stupidest ain't a word."
"Neither is ain't." Seth threw down a card. "Stop dandying about and have your turn."
***
General Eastbrooke arrived late the following morning. I was ensconced in the library once more and heard his arrival. Lincoln answered the door. It was the first time I'd seen him all day, and I hadn't heard him come home the night before.
They came into the library and the general greeted me with a thin smile. "You're in one piece," he said. "That's the main thing."
I suspected that was all the sympathy I would get. I expected nothing else from a man who allowed his employees to beat children.
"I was going to send this last night when I received your message." He handed Lincoln a piece of paper. "It's a list of disgraced doctors dismissed from the military in the last ten years. Jasper is there." He pointed to the paper. "Unfortunately, I didn't get this in time for it to be of use."
Lincoln folded it and handed it back.
The general pocketed it. "According to his file, he was dismissed for keeping the dead bodies of some of the soldiers and performing tests on them."
I pulled a face. "He'd given them his serum before their deaths and needed to test its effects afterward to see how it performed."
"That what he told you, eh? Sounds like a madman to me."
"He was."
"Lincoln mentioned Jasper wanted to use you to help him."
I nodded. "Hence the kidnapping."
"Well. Glad you got away. How did you manage it?"
"With an elbow to his temple and a little trickery to scare his man."
His grunt held more than a hint of admiration. "Well done. I expect you'll be recovered in no time. Who'll keep house for you until she does?" he asked Lincoln as he walked out of the library again.
"No one," Lincoln said, following. "I don't need anyone else."
He didn't return after the general left. The others came and went, but not Lincoln. Not until Lady Harcourt arrived to see me at around lunch time. At least, I heard her tell him she'd come to see me, but she spoke a long time with him in the entrance hall. I caught most of their exchange since she did all the talking in a shrill voice.
"I don't know where he's gone, and nor does his brother," she said. They were talking about Andrew Buchanan, her stepson. "He left without a word, and he's taken nothing with him. He's gone, Lincoln, and I'm terribly worried."