Page 30 of Of Fate and Phantoms
He was also a snake. This pretty woman could have had any man, and yet she'd allowed her father to marry her off to a horrid beast like Gillingham. The nobility would never make sense to me. What was more, she seemed proud of him, or at least of his position.
"You've probably already gathered that I asked you here for a specific reason," I said.
"Something to do with my shape-changing?" she whispered, glancing at the closed door.
I nodded. "A situation has arisen where a fellow impersonated another. He looked exactly like the other man, but it wasn't him. Nor is it a relative. Lincoln doesn't believe in coincidence. He thought that the imposter may have shifted shape, similar to what you can do, but so much more."
"Into another man's likeness, you mean?"
"Yes."
"That's remarkable—and so sinister. The implications are unfathomable. Such a person could change into anyone. The prime minister or even the queen! The country would be unsafe."
It begged the question, why hadn't the fellow changed into the prime minster's shape? He had more power than the dead prince consort. It didn't make sense. "As it happens, this does affect the royal family."
"My goodness." She pressed a hand to her chest. "How awful."
"Do you know anything that could help us?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "Such as?"
"Have you ever shifted into anything other than your…beast form?"
"No. I wish I could. It sounds like more fun to pretend to be another human. A man, for example. Wouldn't you want to walk in a man's shoes just for a day to see how differently they're treated?" Her eyes shone with the possibilities. I suspected this woman had a somewhat wicked streak.
I certainly understood her enthusiasm, since I had walked in the shoes of a boy. Those five years as a thirteen year old in the slums had opened my eyes to the many ways in which males and females were treated differently. Some were significant, like the freedom with which I could walk into a tavern and not have my backside groped, and others were subtle, like the friendly jokes the other gang members shared with Charlie the lad. I told Lady Gillingham none of this, however. If her husband had informed her of my background, she showed no indication. I suspected they shared very little with each other, not just the marital bed.
"Do you know anyone else like yourself?" I asked.
"No one. I'm quite alone." She peered down at her teacup but not before I saw her eyes fill with tears.
I touched her arm. "You are not alone. I'm here if you need to talk to someone. I understand about being different and feeling as if no one can possibly understand."
"Thank you, Charlie." She attempted a smile. "You're very sweet. I wish I could help you."
"Are you sure you can't? Has there been anything unusual happen lately? Anything that could be linked to shifting shape? Or anything odd at all, even if you think it may mean nothing?"
She nibbled on her lower lip and tapped her finger against the teacup. She did not hold the cup by its handle but held the cup itself. The china looked delicate in her big hands. "There may be one thing, but it's not something I've seen, but rather a suggestion on how to find the information you need."
"Go on."
She drew in a breath, but Doyle's shout interrupted her. "My lord! Sir, you can't go in there!"
The door opened and Lord Gillingham burst through. His lips peeled back from his teeth and he thrust his walking stick in the direction of his wife. "Get up, Harriet. You're leaving."
"Gilly!" The cup trembled, rattling in the saucer. "I—I was just having tea with Charlie."
"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 withme. "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."
