"No reason." He tried to move past me but I blocked his path.
"Seth, if you've compromised her, I'll pull out your guts myself and feed them to the horses."
"Horses don't eat human guts." He nodded past me, down the stairs. I turned to see Alice walking below, a book in hand, her attention on the page. "She wasn't in her rooms."
"No, but you were, weren't you?"
His cheeks blazed red. "I had to return something. Needle and thread."
"Then take it down to her. There's no need to sneak into her room."
"Downstairs was too far away." He didn't deny the sneaking part. "You may like Mrs. Cotchin already, but I don't think Doyle does."
"Don't change the subject." I looked down to the entrance hall where Doyle now crossed the tiled floor to answer the knock at the front door. "Why doesn't he like Mrs. Cotchin? He hardly knows her."
"Professional jealousy." He shrugged. "Either that, or he needs a woman, if you gather my meaning."
"Your meaning is crystal clear, particularly when you add a wink like that. Is it all you can think about?"
"No," he said, sounding distracted. "I can also spare a thought or two for our indomitable leader." He nodded at the door which now stood open, revealing the figure standing there in a long, black cloak, the hood pulled up. "For example, I wonder what he'll say to his mother now that she has come to visit him."
Leisl removed her hood and pitched her gaze directly at me. I felt like I'd been speared by it.
"If you'll wait here," Doyle intoned, "I'll fetch Mr. Fitzroy."
"No." Leisl lifted her crooked finger and pointed at me. "I come to see her."
Chapter 7
Lincoln had Leisl's eyes. I'd noticed their dark pitch the night of the ball, but now, in the light of day, I spotted the intelligence in their depths as she met my gaze.
"Come with me," I said, directing her to the informal parlor on the ground floor. "Doyle, please bring refreshments."
Leisl quickly took in the furnishings before choosing to sit on the sofa. She tucked her skirts close to her legs, as if afraid of taking up too much space. She clasped her brown hands in her lap and sat with her ankles together. The prim pose was utterly English.
I'd met a gypsy seer some months ago, when Lincoln and I visited a Romany camp at Mitcham Common. She'd been a lively presence, whereas Leisl had more reserve.
"I'm glad you came," I said to begin the conversation since she did not. She continued to glance around the room, her gaze settling on each vase or object before flicking to the next. If she were hoping to gain some measure of Lincoln by the way the room was decorated, she wouldn't learn much. Doyle and I had dressed it together without Lincoln's input.
"You are his woman," she said finally.
"Lincoln's? We're not married."
"You will be." She said it so off-handedly that it took me a moment to respond.
"Is that the seer talking or the mother?"
Her knuckles whitened. "I have not been a mother to him."
"No, but I'd wager the connection is still there between you."
"You think this? Why?"
"My mother gave me up soon after I was born, too. I called her spirit when I learned her name and … and a connection existed between us. She hadn't forgotten me."
Leisl leaned forward a little as I told my story. "Your mother … did she choose to give you up or were you taken?"
"She gave me up for my own safety, and to give me a happy future." I didn't tell her that it hadn't quite turned out as well as my birth mother hoped. That part of the story was for another day.
"I was forced to give up my son," Leisl said.
My breath hitched. I hadn't expected her candor so early in the conversation. A thousand questions swirled in my head, but I got none of them out before she spoke again.
"They came for him the day he was born and I never saw him again."
"My God," I murmured. It must be a mother's worst nightmare. "Did they tell you why?"
"No, but I know why. I see them in my visions. I knew they would come for him."
At least it wasn't a surprise, but still. "You must have been upset."
"Yes and no." Her angular features slackened, but only for a moment before they once again firmed. Unlike Lincoln, her face was easy to read, the creases folding or stretching according to the direction of her thoughts. "It was for the best. I saw his destiny and knew I could not keep him. He is special. Royal blood flows with Romany through him, but he is not royal or Romany. He was not mine to keep." Her gaze drilled into me. "And he is not yours, Charlie."
I bristled. "I know that. People don't belong to other people." I sounded defensive, but I didn't know why. Of course Lincoln wasn't mine. He wasn't anybody's, just like I wasn't his. We were both free individuals. And yet … "Is that why you came here? To tell me I can't have him?"
Doyle entered with a tray and set it on the table. I poured as he left and handed a cup to Leisl.
"You do not understand," she said. "You will have him as a wife has a husband."
My face heated and I concentrated on pouring my tea. When I looked up, Leisl smiled back with a wicked gleam in her eye.
"You will have his heart," she went on, "but not his soul."
"Nor do I expect to. Souls belong to us alone. I know that much from speaking to the dead."
She gave a firm nod. "Good. I see you are not a silly English girl."
"You thought I would be?"
She lifted one shoulder and muttered something that sounded like, "Eh."
"Now I know why you came here. To see if I was a suitable woman for your son." I laughed softly. I wondered what Lincoln would say if he knew his mother worried about his choice of a wife just as much as Lady Vickers worried about Seth's.
"A little," she said, smiling. "But also, I want you to tell him that I didn't want to give him away, but I knew it had to be so. Tell him the general would not say where he took him so I could not visit."
"General Eastbrooke?"
She shrugged. "I did not know his name, only that he is general. Did he-Lincoln-live with the general?"
I nodded.
"Was he a good father to him?"
Hell. How to tell a mother that the son she gave up endured a terrible childhood? "The general was often absent, but Lincoln grew up to become a good man despite the loneliness."
"You choose your words carefully," she hedged.
"You're very observant." I set down my teacup. "Leisl, you should be telling Lincoln these things, not me. Let me fetch him."
"He will not listen."
"He will if we make him sit here."
She smiled sadly. "He will hear, but he will not listen. Not with this." She tapped her chest over her heart. "Not to me. But to you, perhaps."
"Perhaps."
She put down her teacup. "Thank you, Charlie. You are good girl. You will be good wife."
"Wait, you can't go yet. I still know nothing about you." I handed back her teacup and picked up my own. "Where are you living?"
"A cottage in Enfield."
"Not in a gypsy camp on one of the commons?"
"No. That life is hard, and the general gave me money. I am comfortable."
She was paid to give up her son! How could financial compensation ever be enough? I wasn't sure how the arrangement sat with me. On the one hand, money couldn't replace what she'd lost, but on the other I was glad she had a home and was not roaming the streets trying to sell rags or flowers like the other Romany folk.
"The general died recently," I said. "I'll make sure Lincoln continues the payments to you. What of your family? Do you have a husband? Other children?"
"I married but he died eight years ago. We had two children, a boy and girl."
"Lincoln has a brother and sister!" I pressed a hand to my rapidly beating heart. What would it take to get him to meet them?
"They know nothing about him, and I do not wish them to know."
"Oh."
"My past with the prince … it is painful." She tapped her chest again and her face fell.
Painful because he'd forced himself on her or painful because she still loved him? "How did you meet him?" I asked gently.
"At a fair." She smiled wistfully. "He was so young, so handsome and charming. I tell him his future."
"You can tell someone's future at will? Did you read the lines on his palm?"
"No. I need to have vision." She held up a gnarled finger. "Do not trust gypsies at the fair, Charlie. They cannot read your palm or your tea leaves. Understand?"
"Thank you for the warning. So did you have a vision about the prince?"
She nodded, smiling again. "I knew that we would be together as soon as he walk into my tent. I saw our child when I touched him. I knew our baby would grow up to be an important man, but a troubled one, too."