Page 71 of From the Ashes
"So it's true," Lord Gillingham said. "You brought her back."
Lincoln didn't answer.
"Then what did you send her away for?" General Eastbrooke bellowed. His mutton chop whiskers weren't as neatly trimmed as usual, and the lines on his face seemed more numerous. For once, he was showing his age.
The other committee members appeared more harried than usual too. Lady Harcourt's lovely face was paler and her eyes darted all over me, as if she were inspecting me for any signs of change. I wondered what she saw. Lord Gillingham rubbed the head of his walking stick, over and over. His face was a rather unhealthy shade of red as he spluttered his protest over my presence in the drawing room.
"Shut up, Gilly," Marchbank growled with more vehemence than I'd ever heard from him. Usually the composed one, he looked tired and worried.
It was this that gave me pause, and had me glancing anxiously at Lincoln.
"We wanted her brought back, and now she is," Marchbank went on. "Stop harping."
"I didn't want her back," Gillingham protested. "I simply wanted to know where he'd sent her."
"As did I," Eastbrooke snapped. "As did most of us."
Four voices once again spoke over one another.
"She's back." Lincoln's voice cut through the noise. "She's back for good. That is the end of the matter."
Gillingham shot to his feet. "You do not tell us when the matter is ended!"
"Sit down," Lincoln growled.
He did not. He stepped toward us, but Lady Harcourt caught his arm.
"Please, Gilly," she said in a quiet, simpering voice that didn't sit well on her. "Let's keep this as civil as possible." She didn't look at me, but her brown eyes implored Lincoln.
Doyle wheeled in a drinks table. He poured brandies and handed them out. No one spoke until he left, shutting the door behind him.
"You may be wondering why we didn't come earlier," Lady Harcourt said.
"It crossed my mind," Lincoln said blandly.
"We needed to have a meeting to discuss the situation among ourselves first. It was…heated, and rather exhausting."
"That explains why your tempers are short and your eyes tired," I said, placing my glass on the mantel. I wanted a clear head.
Lady Harcourt's hand touched the corner of her eye as if she were checking for new wrinkles.
"You allowed yourself to get caught by the police," Eastbrooke said. "What were you thinking, man?"
"And what the bloody hell were you doing at Barts, anyway?" Gilly added. "What has the hospital got to do with anything?"
Lincoln shifted his stance. "I can't tell you yet."
"I beg your pardon!"
Eastbrooke stood. He was an imposing figure, but I wasn't afraid. Not with Lincoln beside me. "Careful, Lincoln. Be very careful of overstepping."
"You'll be told when I deem it necessary for you to know," Lincoln said. "No sooner. I am the leader of the ministry and this is my investigation."
Gillingham pointed the middle finger of the hand that held his glass at each of the committee members in turn. "Weare the head of the organization."
"No, you are not."
"And we have the power to dismiss you."
