As Abigail’s eyes glanced up, a crippling pain shot through Elizabeth’s head as though she had been electrocuted. Her vision went black, and without warning she fell back into the abyss.
“Rachel!” she cried out.
Terrified, her arms flailed for any kind of purchase, but there was nothing. Nothing but darkness. And then . . . A whisper drifted past her ear, calling her name. It was faint, but Elizabeth used every ounce of her concentration to focus on that voice. “Rachel?” she called out. “Is that you?”
Something in the dark flashed by her. It sped by so quickly she couldn’t make out what it was. It zipped past her again, closer this time. Determined to figure out what it was in hopes it could lead her home, Elizabeth listened very closely, and the next time it whizzed by, she reached out and grabbed it.
The thing pulsated light through her clenched fist. It reminded her of a firefly, and she wondered if this was Rachel’s way of leading her back. “I do hope it’s you, Rachel.” She opened her hand with great care. Inside sat a flaming pebble with Rachel’s trinity knot etched in the middle.
Elizabeth smiled to herself as her body floated in nothingness. She clenched her fist around the pebble again and thrust it in front of her—or what she thought was her front. “Take me home.”
At the command, her hand lurched forward and pulled her toward who knew where. Elizabeth had to trust in Rachel and Andrew to bring her mind back to her body.
Up ahead in the inky blackness, she saw the image of a large oak door not unlike the one at the Weldsmore mansion. It opened. A blaze of light blinded her, and she gasped for breath as if all the air had been sucked out of wherever she was. Desperately trying not to panic, she reached her mind out to Rachel. A familiar warmth coursed through her. It was the medium.
And yet, as her mind slipped away from the blackness and through the door, Elizabeth felt a tug on her boot. It was as if something was trying to drag her back. Suddenly frightened, she kicked at it then threw herself forward—
Elizabeth wasn’t even sure she was still breathing until a set of hands placed themselves on her shoulders and shoved her into a chair. She opened her eyes to see sweat dripping down Rachel’s brow and her breathing labored.
“What the hell just happened?” Samuel demanded, his face pale and anxious with worry.
Elizabeth glanced up to see Andrew’s hands on her shoulders. “Thank you.”
Andrew smiled and nodded. “It be nothing, lassie.” But the tiredness and strain in his eyes told her another story.
“I thought we lost you,” Rachel took a sip of water. “You didn’t panic. That be good. But you be doing dangerous things with that girl.”
“I didn’t mean to take control of her. It just happened!” Elizabeth protested.
“What?” Samuel bellowed.
“I saw Abigail. One of the missing children and I . . .” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I accidentally took control of her body.”
The medium glared at her. “Accidentally? You did it on purpose. I be there too. Remember?”
Samuel paced around the room. “Wait a minute. You can do that? You told me that wasn’t possible.”
“I didn’t think it was.” Elizabeth trembled, the shock of the experience settling in.
“Lassie, you rest a bit before you be heading home.” Andrew scooted the chair back to help her. As she stood up, the chair leg caught on an uneven edge of the floorboard. He leaned over to adjust it—and stopped cold. “Your boot.”
“What?” Elizabeth asked. “Is something wrong with it?” She peered down.
“Missy, there be a handprint burnt into the side of it.”
11
Jonathan woke up angry. He knew Samuel and Elizabeth had not told him the whole truth last night about her latest encounter with the medium. He hated even acknowledging the word medium. That such people like this woman existed was contrary to every rational bone in his body, and now Elizabeth was one of them. She was no longer just the daughter of a Great House, the wife of a former Pinkerton detective, and heir to a legacy he hoped would live far beyond him. Elizabeth Weldsmore Hunter was a medium. A psychic with powers she had yet to understand.
And it scared him. Scared him more than anything he had ever dealt with in his entire life.
When Elizabeth had returned late yesterday afternoon, she’d looked more drained and vulnerable than before. Samuel had appeared shaken, something Jonathan had never thought possible. But what alarmed him most was that Elizabeth carried herself as if there was more to this than she was telling her husband. To describe Samuel as observant was an understatement, but he had a blind spot when it came to his wife.
Jonathan needed to keep better tabs on Elizabeth himself. It was his duty as her father, after all. Perhaps he should put a stop to her visits to the medium. But that might put Elizabeth in more danger. He could hire a detective to watch her, but that would mean someone else would know about his daughter’s excursions to the South Side, and that was too risky. Besides, Samuel would most likely catch the tail and confront Jonathan.
And then there was Hal, Thomas, and the Abyssinian contract to deal with. Jonathan sighed. He was stretched too thin. This whole thing was spinning out of his control, and there seemed to be nothing he could do about it without alienating his daughter and son-in-law.
A knock sounded at his bedroom door. Sampson opened it and entered carrying a breakfast tray.
“I’ll eat downstairs, Sampson, like I always do,” Jonathan said, eyeing his house manager. “And why are you bringing it up anyway and not Joshua?”
“My apologies, sir, but Mr. Mekonnen has arrived without an appointment,” Sampson announced.
“What?” Jonathan shoved the covers off and flew out of bed. “Draw a quick bath for me, and I’ll shave myself. Did he say why?”
Sampson lifted an eyebrow at him.
“Never mind.” Jonathan headed toward the bathroom while pulling off his nightshirt. “Where are Hal and Thomas?”
“Mr. Rochester left early this morning to inspect the Tillenghast airships in Charleston, and your brother is still in bed. Sleeping off last night’s entertainment, I presume.” Sampson set down the tray on a small, circular mahogany table with a star pattern inlaid in the center. “And Mr. Hunter and Miss Elizabeth are having breakfast in their room.”
“Humm.” Jonathan frowned as he halted in front of the bathroom door. “Hal didn’t bring home a ‘guest,’ did he?”
“No, sir. After last time, I believe he learned his lesson.”
“Good.” He shoved the memory of the prostitute who’d redecorated Hal’s bedroom by lighting it on fire out of his mind. “I assume Mrs. Owen has offered Mekonnen breakfast?”
“Yes,” Sampson replied. “He politely refused, but after some cajoling and a whiff of her muffins, he ceded to her demands.”
“I should have her negotiate all my contracts. It would make my life a lot easier,” Jonathan yelled from inside the bathroom.
“Yes, sir.”
Jonathan poked his head out the door. “Did you just agree that Mrs. Owen should negotiate all my contracts?”
Sampson smiled and shrugged.
“I thought so.” Jonathan, looking mildly annoyed, motioned for Sampson to leave. Sampson nodded and exited the room.
As Jonathan shaved, he pondered all the possible reasons that the Abyssinian envoy would drop in unannounced. Even with that distraction, he made sure not to cut himself. The last thing he needed to do was look sloppy in front of a client.
***
Mekonnen must have been on his third muffin and a second plate of Mrs. Owen’s poached eggs by the time Jonathan made it down. The envoy gave him a nod in greeting as he shoveled a forkful of egg into his mouth. As Jonathan sat down, one of the underbutlers poured him a cup of coffee then left.
Jonathan and Mekonnen were alone.
A satiated Mekonnen wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin, put it on the table, and grinned. “Why are you not fat, M
r. Weldsmore? Your staff serves most excellent food.”
“It’s called discipline.”
Mekonnen leaned back and laughed. “I like you, Mr. Weldsmore. Oh, and congratulations on the marriage of your daughter. A glorious event, yes?”
Jonathan peered at him. “Of course.”
“Is she happy in her new life with a man of whom you do not approve?” the envoy asked.
“It seems an odd question to ask.”
Mekonnen shook his head. “Not at all. I’m simply gauging how you deal with disappointment.”
Jonathan sat back and chuckled under his breath. “Why are you here? I thought our business was concluded.”
“Whether they like it or not, the world knows American shipbuilders are the best. Perhaps that is why Brest and Glasgow were destroyed. They were simply inferior. Unworthy.”
“Whether or not they were ‘unworthy’ does not justify the death of so many good men,” Jonathan retorted.
“Why would you care about them, Mr. Weldsmore? They are beneath you,” Mekonnen commented.
“Because it’s a waste of manpower and skill.”
The envoy nodded as he sipped his coffee. “True, true.”
“You haven’t answered my question, sir.”
“His Majesty would like to hire a team to come to our country and build ships for us there.”
“What?” Jonathan almost spilled his coffee as he set it down. “When did he say this?”
“It is something we discussed before I left. He gave me permission to arrange for this if I saw your men were worth the expense. And they are. You have exceptional workers.”
“I’m surprised that you’re letting me have the advantage in this negotiation, knowing you are willing to pay pretty much whatever I ask.” Jonathan grinned at him. “I’m not sure His Majesty would be pleased.”
Mekonnen sighed. “I will be blunt. His Majesty is more interested in staying alive than haggling over a trifle such as this.” The envoy leaned forward. “War is coming, Mr. Weldsmore. We both know it. And I, and His Majesty, refuse to allow our country fall to any European nation. Will you help us?”
Jonathan tapped his fingers on the table while he pondered. “Let me think on this, but offhand I’d say this was doable, but only with men who volunteer. Preferably single men with no family ties since they’d be gone for several years.”
“And how much will this benevolence cost?” Mekonnen asked, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
“How much do you have?”
Mekonnen smiled, his white teeth gleaming against his dark skin. “Enough.”
***
Time flew by as Jonathan and Mekonnen hammered out a preliminary deal over the breakfast table. The staff must have been apoplectic since they were unable to clean up before lunch. A loud knock finally startled both of them, and Mekonnen was not pleased when Sampson entered. Jonathan thought the envoy would burst a blood vessel at the interruption.
“Sir, would you like lunch brought in for you and your guest?”
“No, thank you, Sampson. We are done for now.” Jonathan stood up, but Mekonnen waited until Sampson walked over and helped him with his chair.
“Mr. Mekonnen, would you like Mrs. Owen to wrap up a few muffins to take with you?” Sampson asked.
The envoy’s demeanor swung back to utter joy at the suggestion. “Yes, I would.”
“I will see to it.” Sampson hustled out of the room.
“I may want to take your cook back to Abyssinia,” Mekonnen quipped.
“That will never happen.” Jonathan escorted him to the door. “There are some additional factors I need to consider before I have my lawyers draw up a contract. Give me a few days. Are you still staying at the Astoria Hotel?”
The man shook his head. “No. I am at our consulate. You may contact me there.”
An underbutler entered the room to escort Mekonnen to his car. “This way, sir,” he said, handing over a packet that appeared to contain a goodly number of Mrs. Owen’s muffins.
Jonathan had walked over to the table to grab a drink of water when movement caught his eye. Hal was standing at the doorway.
“You’re awake.” Jonathan commented.
“It’s one o’clock. Even I have to get up to eat at some point,” his brother retorted. “And since when do you have foreign shipbuilders over for breakfast?”
“That’s none of your business. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Jonathan headed toward the door.
“Jonathan,” Hal called after him. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it. If it’s one thing I’ve learned about House Tillenghast, if you’re not working with them, then you’d better damn well not be working against them.”
Jonathan looked over his shoulder at Hal. “All of my business dealings benefit House Weldsmore and the Great States of America. Therefore, by extension it benefits every House. And I would never broker a deal where I did not have control over production. Tillenghast knows that.” His allowed his voice to ooze contempt. “Even you’re smart enough to figure that out.”
“You’re splitting hairs, dear brother. And everyone knows you have a weakness.”
Jonathan whirled around and faced off with Hal so quickly his older brother almost lost his balance. “They wouldn’t dare touch Elizabeth,” Jonathan sneered.
Hal gulped and backed off. “Not directly, no. They will come at you in ways you could never imagine.”
“Is that why they sent you to betray me?”
“Me? No. I’d be too obvious. I figure I’m just a distraction. For what, I don’t know.”
“And Thomas?”
Hal shrugged. “I suspect he has his own agenda.”
“Why are you really here, Hal?”
Jonathan watched as his older brother collapsed into a chair next to the table and proceeded to wipe out a used water glass with a napkin and pour himself some orange juice. When three maids entered to clean up, Jonathan motioned for them to leave. They scattered like leaves on a sharp cold wind.
“Which answer do you want? The one where I’m running away from my crazy wife whom I actually love or the one where I’m doing the bidding of my father-in-law?”
Jonathan pulled up a chair facing Hal and sat down. “What does Alfred Tillenghast really want?”
“All I know is what I told you before. He wants you to join him in monopolizing the industry. And now that Brest and Glasgow have been destroyed, I’m sure more shipping yards will follow. Joining him may be inevitable.”
“I haven’t said no yet.”
“You will.” Hal swigged down some orange juice.
“There has to be something more.”
“Of course there is. How would Grandmother handle another House who refused a request like this?”
Jonathan looked grim. “She would destroy them.”
Hal raised the empty glass in salute. “There’s your answer.”
***
Samuel, already dressed for the day, sat on the bed while Elizabeth showered.
The burnt hand mark on her boot had shaken him to his core. Rachel and Andrew attributed it to a psychic echo from a spirit long past, but that answer did not satisfy him. The event had triggered something inside him that he did not understand. All the despair he had been able to push aside after marrying Elizabeth bellowed like a wounded beast. His struggle to contain it threatened not only his marriage but his sanity.
Samuel knew where his melancholy came from and had hoped those days were past, but he was wrong. He did his best to conceal his feelings, but he suspected Andrew and Rachel saw right though him. However, that didn’t matter. Samuel had to master the beast in his heart for Elizabeth’s sake.
It didn’t help that Rachel was upset over Elizabeth having taken control over someone else’s body. She’d castigated his wife for being too willful and disrespectful. The medium even accused Elizabeth of exercising the privilege of her class without considering how her actions affected others. A humbled E
lizabeth had promised never to do it again unless instructed by Rachel. Through all of it, Andrew had remained silent, but a worried look had remained on his face, as if he knew there might be something else. Samuel made a mental note to talk to Andrew alone later.
Samuel was more alarmed that Elizabeth wasn’t bothered by it all. She had found and inhabited one of the missing girls and had beaten back what she now referred to as a spectral assailant. In fact, she’d felt so confident in her abilities she wanted to have another vision right then and there to see if she could find any of the other children. Rachel had refused and instructed Elizabeth to go home and rest. They would meet again in a couple of days. Samuel suspected the medium needed time to digest what had occurred and confer with Andrew.
Samuel glanced up. Still in her robe, Elizabeth stared at him.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He pointed to the breakfast tray on the nightstand. “You’d better eat or there will be hell to pay from Mrs. Owen.”
“Fine.” Elizabeth grabbed a piece of toast, slathered jam all over it, and gobbled it down.
“I guess walking around in other people’s bodies makes you hungry.”
“Stop it.” She scowled at him as she poured herself some tea. “This whole experience is amazing. I bet I can find out where all those people disappeared to. I wonder what else I’m able to do.”
“Not so fast. You have a lot to learn from Rachel. Remember you kind of got lost there for a bit.”
“But Rachel found me and brought me home. What I have to do is leave a trail behind me. Like psychic bread crumbs.”
“Isn’t that what she uses Andrew for?” Samuel asked.
“But what if I could learn to do it without an anchor?” Elizabeth said as she headed toward her closet. “Wouldn’t that be exciting?”
Samuel put his head in his hands and took long, deep breaths. “One thing at a time. One thing at a time,” he muttered to himself.
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