"You shouldn't come here," he snarled. "You should never come here. Understand?"
She gave a nervous little laugh and apologized to me. "I don't know what's come over my husband. He's not usually like this."
He seemed to always be a domineering turd with me. "Excuse me," I said, rising. "Your wife and I were in the middle of a private discussion. Would you care to wait outside-"
"Don't address me, witch." He stalked across the room and for a moment I thought he'd bring the stick down on me as he'd done the first time we met.
But he did not. He grabbed his wife's arm and pulled her to her feet. She dropped the teacup, spilling the contents on the floor.
She gasped and her face reddened. "Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry."
"It's all right," I said, as her husband dragged her away. "We haven't finished our discussion," I snapped at Gillingham.
He ignored me and forged ahead, his wife in tow, trying to remove her arm from his grip. "Gilly, you're hurting me."
"Good. You seem to need the pain to remember who your husband is."
"That's silly."
"Is it?" He rounded on her. His face had gone white, his lips bloodless. He shook her and she recoiled, putting up her other arm to protect herself. "Is it? Because I told you never to come here."
"But Charlie is nice."
"Do not talk back to me! Have you no shame?" He lifted his hand to strike her.
I ran toward them, but I knew I would not make it on time. Doyle, too, reacted, but he was also too far away.
But Gillingham did not hit his wife. She caught his arm and lifted him up so that his feet dangled above the floor. His eyes widened. His jaw went slack. Then his wife shoved him backward so hard that he slammed into the doorframe. The entire room shook with the impact.
He crumpled in a heap on the ground, unconscious.
Chapter 5
Harriet slumped to the floor at her husband's side. "Gilly! Gilly!"
"Doyle, send for the doctor," I said. The butler rushed out just as Lord Gillingham moaned.
"Gilly? Can you hear me?"
He opened his eyes a mere slit then they widened, almost bulging. "Get away from me!" He tried to scramble backward but the wall was in his way. "Stay back!"
"Gilly? It's just me. Harriet, your wife."
"You are not my wife. You're the devil! A witch!"
"She can't be both," I snapped, more out of relief that he wasn't dead than a need to defend her. "In fact, she's neither."
He blinked stupidly at me. Perhaps the bump on the head had affected him after all. "Harriet, get in the coach." He stamped his walking stick into the floor and struggled to his feet. His wife went to his aid but he hissed at her and she stayed back, nibbling her fingernails.
"The butler has sent for the doctor," I said.
"I'll fetch my own bloody doctor. I'll have none of your witchcraft forced on me."
"If I were a witch, I'd have turned you into a worm when I first met you and fed you to the birds."
Harriet covered her gasp with both hands and gave her husband a nervous glance. He tugged on his cuffs and stretched his neck out of his collar. "Go, Harriet!"
"You seem to be back to your usual self," I said. "More's the pity."
The small lines around Gillingham's lips deepened. If I'd been Charlie the street urchin, he would have thrashed me with his stick again. But he feared Lincoln's wrath more than he valued his pride so I would be safe. Besides, thanks to my training, I knew I could avoid his strikes now.
I helped Harriet into her cloak and whispered in her ear. "You were about to tell me something. What was it?"
She gave her head a half shake. "I can't."
"What are you two conspiring about?" Gillingham bellowed.
"Nothing!" she said, her voice high.
"Your wife was helping me with ministry business," I said. It was time he knew that she had a value beyond that of pretty ornament.
He spluttered words, but they hardly made any sense. Harriet appealed to me. "Don't, Charlie. He doesn't like discussion about my other form."
"Then it's time he got used to it. Your wife has a unique perspective," I told him. "One that may offer clues about a ministry matter that arose out of Leisl's confrontation with the Prince of Wales at the masked ball."
He went still. "You've been investigating the seer's claims?"
"Of course. It would be remiss of us not to. It led us to a meeting at the palace-"
"The palace! Why have I not been informed?"
"I'm informing you now."
"Not soon enough. The committee must be kept informed as these things arise."
"I'll pass your suggestion on to Lincoln. He is the head of the ministry, after all."
He resumed his spluttering.
"The meeting took a turn toward the supernatural and shape shifting, to be more specific," I went on. "We thought your wife might be able to advise us on the matter, considering … "
"She cannot. She knows nothing."
"I'd rather hear that from her lips, not yours."
"I am her husband! She'll do as I say."
"Yet she is the stronger. Perhaps it's you who ought to obey her."
A flicker of fear appeared in his eyes before it vanished. His cheeks pinked, however, and he turned away. It must be odd for a man so used to being in command in his own household to suddenly realize he was weaker than his wife. He still held all the legal and financial power, but she had a bargaining chip in their marriage now that she never had before. I wanted him to know it. I wanted her to know it, too.
She simply stared at me, her gentle eyes round. She'd probably never heard anyone speak to her husband the way I spoke to him, let alone a woman.
"Who else knows about her?" Gillingham asked.
"Lincoln, myself, Gus and Seth."
"Seth too?" Harriet groaned.
"Lord Marchbank and Lady Harcourt don't know," I assured her. I thought it best not to mention Alice. "None of us will tattle. Your secret is safe, but we had to tell Seth and Gus now that there's a threat to the crown."
"What is the threat, precisely?" Gillingham demanded.
"It's too early to say. We must investigate more before-"
"Bah! You know nothing. I'll ask Fitzroy."
"Very well."
"A meeting will be called this afternoon, three o'clock. Be prepared."
"I can't be certain if Lincoln will be here."
"Be sure that he is." He turned and walked off. "Harriet! Come!"
She gave me an apologetic shrug and hurried after him.
"But what were you going to tell me?" I called after her.
She dismissed my question with a wave of her hand and raced down the front steps to the waiting carriage.
I sighed and shut the door behind them. I considered myself a non-violent person, but if ever a man deserved to be thrashed, it was Gillingham.
I spent the next little while interviewing the housekeeper that Lady Vickers had chosen before helping Cook in the newly refurbished kitchen until the others returned in time for a late luncheon.
I didn't need to ask how their morning went. The frustration was written clearly across Seth and Gus's faces. Lincoln's was as impassive as ever.
"We were thwarted at every turn." Seth lowered himself into the armchair in the corner of the kitchen and stretched out his long legs. "No one would answer our questions, not even when we paid them."
"That in itself is telling," I said. "Perhaps they're keeping mum because they're afraid of this fellow."
"Or they know nothing," Lincoln said, peering into the pot on the stove.
"Who did you speak to?"
"Anyone we came across," said Gus, pulling bowls out of the cupboard. "Flower sellers, vagabonds, old women who were too slow to run away from us." He set the bowls on the table. "They're a suspicious lot."
"They probably thought you were the police."
"Dressed like this?" Seth plucked at his thick brown woolen trousers. He'd discarded his coat, jacket and cap in the cloakroom upon his return. The three of them had gone out in clothes befitting laborers, not gentlemen, to blend in. It would seem it wasn't enough.
"It is strange that you didn't get a single piece of useful information," I said to Lincoln. "Interrogation has always been one of your strengths."
"Fitzroy should have questioned them more thoroughly," Seth told me. "He's gone sof-" He cut himself off as Lincoln's gaze turned hard.
Lincoln dipped a wooden spoon into the pot and tasted the soup. Cook would admonish either Seth or Gus if they did that, but he didn't even wince this time. "I find my methods of interrogation somewhat restricted these days," Lincoln said.
Because he had softened somewhat, most likely because of my influence.
"We'll try again tomorrow," he said.
"In a different area?" I asked. "Using a different approach?"
"Perhaps."
"Why don't I come with you? That way-"