Gene of Isis

by Traci Harding

  I gasped more from knowing than shock. ‘But how?’

  ‘We’ll know more once the doctor has completed his examination.’ The constable motioned me into the sitting room to talk.

  ‘I want to see him,’ I insisted, knowing that doctors were useless when it came to deducing the cause of death; post mortems were seldom in-depth investigations unless foul play was suspected. If Douglas had been murdered then I wanted to know, and by whom, and why. I couldn’t stand to think that someone might have killed him to prevent our union. My eyes turned to Mr Fredrick Hamilton, for he had the most to gain.

  ‘When the doctor is done, Miss Granville,’ he advised me, whereupon I promptly turned and disobeyed, charging into the study.

  The doctor was packing up his things, so I strode toward the desk where Lord Hamilton was slouched, just as in my vision, except for one small detail—the wine glass was gone. I skirted around the desk looking for recent stains and there it was.

  ‘A fresh wine stain.’ I pressed my clean white gloves into it and captured the deep red stain on my fingers. ‘Was my betrothed drinking when he died?’ I held my fingertips up for the men to see. Mr Hamilton turned pale as the constable looked at him.

  ‘Why, there was a…’ He appeared too afraid to say it.

  ‘Yes, man?’ the constable demanded.

  ‘Wine glass…that had spilled all over the desk, so I had the maid clean it up.’ He appeared to me to be afraid, but not guilty.

  ‘You never disturb a crime scene!’ The constable was irate and the rebuke made little, plump Mr Hamilton jump.

  ‘But I assumed he’d had heart failure…you see how he looks.’ Mr Hamilton motioned to the deceased. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the handkerchief in his free hand.

  ‘I second Mr Hamilton’s diagnosis,’ the doctor added. ‘Lord Hereford has died from apoplexy.’

  ‘Apoplexy?’ I queried.

  ‘A stroke, Miss Granville,’ the doctor explained, as if I were ignorant. ‘Lord Hereford was not a young man. Too much exertion or excitement means high blood pressure…his ticker couldn’t cope. There is no mystery here.’

  ‘Boiling foxglove leaves in wine was a preferred poisoning technique in earlier centuries, as it induces fatal heart events in victims,’ I posited, ‘and it leaves no scars on the way down.’

  ‘How do you know that, Miss Granville?’ The constable was genuinely curious.

  ‘I read, Constable Fletcher,’ I replied a little dryly. It was not easy to stand there arguing with these idiots, whilst Lord Hamilton was dead beside me. I could no longer deduce information from Lord Hamilton’s light-body, for it had withdrawn with his spirit at the time of his death.

  ‘Well, if my cousin has died of such a thing, we know who did it,’ Mr Hamilton commented snidely to the doctor.

  ‘I rather think that if I were going to kill your cousin, Mr Hamilton, I would have done it after the wedding. As it is, I stand to inherit nothing from my betrothed, or my father.’ I could see the statement put me in the clear so far as the constable was concerned, but it also made me realise that I was destitute.

  I walked around the desk and placed my hands on Lord Hamilton’s shoulders, hoping to pick up some impression from his remains, but I felt nothing. He had gone to his beloved wife, Clarissa. Perhaps this was how fate would have it whether Lord Hereford’s death proved to be murder or not. Maybe Clarissa was not prepared to share Douglas with another woman? Still, as I had been left the Hamiltons’ combined knowledge in one huge volume, I had achieved my aims, in a way.

  ‘May I have a moment?’ I requested, a little of my sadness slipping into my voice.

  ‘I apologise, Miss Granville,’ the constable said as the doctor and Mr Hamilton made for the door, thankful for the opportunity to withdraw, ‘but if a crime is suspected of being committed here, I can hardly leave you alone at the crime scene.’

  ‘I only wish to pray quietly for a moment,’ I explained.

  ‘I’ll be quiet,’ the constable assured me, taking a seat.

  Just because the viscount’s spirit had left his body, it didn’t mean his spirit had departed the premises. I turned back toward Lord Hamilton and, closing my eyes, I quietly opened myself to his presence. What happened here, Douglas? Do my perceptions deceive me? Could you have died from natural causes?

  The lighting in the room changed; it was evening now and candles burned brightly in the room. I felt Douglas very close, but before I had spotted him, my attention was diverted to the door of the study as two gentlemen entered.

  ‘Miss Granville is meant for Mr Devere, Hereford,’ said one of the stately-looking fellows, dispensing with formality to get straight to the point. ‘There is nothing to debate here tonight.’

  I looked back to the desk to find my betrothed alive, but his expression gave me the impression that he was not happy to see his callers. ‘She does not wish to marry Mr Devere,’ Hamilton replied, not sounding surprised by their visit or the nature of it.

  ‘You owe us your allegiance, Hereford, and we have never needed it before today,’ retorted the fellow, who had not taken a seat, but stood holding his coat and hat in his hands. Obviously, he did not plan on staying long.

  ‘This is nothing personal, Hereford,’ said the other gentleman who was younger than the first. ‘We didn’t spend all these centuries creating Miss Granville so that you could abscond with her.’

  Creating me? Was I hearing this correctly?

  ‘You don’t have any claim on her,’ Hamilton advised them, sounding most amused by their delusions, ‘and good luck holding such a woman when she doesn’t want to be held.’

  ‘She will marry Devere. It has been foreseen,’ said the larger, more threatening fellow, who was already putting his hat on to take his leave. ‘One way or another, Hereford, it will eventuate.’

  Who are these men, Douglas? Who are they working for? Mr Devere? I couldn’t believe the man would hire killers! Besides, these two had the look of men more highly placed in society than Mr Devere was himself. And from the intimate tone of the conversation, I concluded that Lord Hamilton knew these fellows well. Why the hell was everyone so interested in who I married? My secret craft; had word somehow got out about me?

  The vision vanished along with all sense of Douglas. That was all I was going to get out of this place today; I was in no fit state for any more channelling at present anyway. ‘I’m done,’ I told Constable Fletcher, who immediately sprang from his seat to prevent me from departing.

  ‘I’ll need to question you further, Miss Granville.’

  ‘Not now.’ I flatly rejected the idea. My head was swimming, my stomach was full of panic and my heart was aching for the happy marriage it would never know. ‘Perhaps this afternoon?’ I became more amiable in the hope of getting my way. I really needed to be alone and thankfully the constable was understanding, as he nodded in agreement.

  ‘If I might just ask…’ He begged my indulgence. ‘What distracted you from your prayer just now?’

  ‘Pardon?’ I must have been in a trance.

  ‘You looked from the doorway to the desk several times,’ he said, seeming confused that I didn’t recall my actions of only minutes beforehand.

  ‘I was just considering all those who had good cause to kill my betrothed…there were many people who did not want Lord Hereford and myself to wed.’

  ‘So you do believe he was murdered?’

  ‘Most certainly,’ I said plainly. ‘But now that all the evidence has been cleared away, I daresay you won’t have a case for murder, let alone a chance of finding the culprit.’

  The constable’s light-body dulled a little. He thought I was insulting him, and he was angered that he’d not discovered the oversight himself.

  ‘No reflection on your skill, constable. Your profession does not have all the resources it should. However, I am sure it will be concluded that Lord Hereford died of apoplexy, due to the excitement of his forthcoming wedding. That’s nice and neat.’ />
  ‘Such serious cynicism in a woman your age, Miss Granville?’ Thankfully Constable Fletcher could see my point. ‘It almost sounds as if you are issuing me a dare?’

  ‘I know how the law works, so there is little point.’ I felt a great bitterness well up inside my throat, and I knew I was taking my anger out on the wrong person. Hence, I promptly curtseyed and left.

  LESSON 5

  MARRIAGE

  Lord Cavandish had vowed that I would never be destitute so long as he lived, and his family was in accord with him. I was very grateful for their generosity and kindness, but I had no intention of imposing on them for one moment longer than it took me to work out what on earth I was going to do.

  ‘I’m sure Lord Suffolk shan’t disinherit you now.’ Susan had come up to my room to try and cheer me up.

  ‘I don’t want his money if it means I have to hear him say, “I told you so, you s-silly girl!’” I stuttered at the thought of my next meeting with my father. I had hoped there wouldn’t be one.

  My father was actually my prime suspect in regard to the two men that I’d envisioned threatening Lord Hereford. Lord Granville had higher connections than either Mr Devere or Mr Hamilton—the cousin of the deceased viscount.

  ‘Well, word has it that Mr Devere would not be averse to courting you again.’ Susan tested the waters on that count.

  ‘Again?’ I was infuriated. ‘He never courted me in the first instance.’

  ‘I will leave if you are going to get unpleasant.’ Susan let me know that I was dangerously close to insulting her brother-in-law-to-be. ‘He didn’t court you, because you never granted him the opportunity. I can’t understand what you could possibly have against Mr Devere. He is charming, lively, witty and handsome… almost as handsome as my dear Lord Oxford…but you know I am partial to dark-haired men.’ She wafted away on a daydream for a moment.

  I took a deep breath, hoping to avoid insult. ‘It doesn’t matter what I think, as it seems everyone else in the world has already decided that I must marry him! That is what I have against Mr Devere.’

  ‘So it is Mr Devere’s fault that he is so well thought of and thus highly commended to you?’ Susan’s skill at argument and her sound reasoning came to the fore.

  ‘No.’ I hated to concede her point. ‘I just resent not being given a choice in the matter.’

  ‘Is it fair to suggest that you’re not being given a choice when you haven’t even studied the option?’ Susan broke into a smile, knowing she’d snared me. ‘Have you? I think you fear finding him as agreeable as everyone does.’

  ‘I don’t feel very well.’ I sat on the bed and then collapsed onto my back.

  Susan suspected that I was just trying to escape answering her.

  ‘I really do need some rest,’ I appealed, at which she gave me a disappointed look, ‘but I promise I will give Mr Devere more thought.’

  My vow apparently appeased her as I got a kiss. ‘Rest well, my friend. May your pondering lead you ever onward to a brighter future.’ Susan left and I was finally alone.

  I had imagined that I would burst into tears at this point, but I was numbed with shock; fate had triumphed over my will. Why had I not seen this coming? Merely because, in being trained to control and play down my talents they had been stifled. Why had I been given such gifts if I was not meant to use them for whatever purpose necessary? That was not to reflect badly on Lady Charlotte: her training and quiet wisdom had made it possible for me to pursue my full potential without ending up in a mental asylum. She had also made my father a promise, that I would not shame him with my skills, which were now fully under my control—or so I thought.

  Speaking of using gifts to their best purpose, I felt my treasure stone bumping against my palm and I sat up. ‘Albray,’ I called, looking about for the knight, who did not materialise. ‘Albray!’ A flutter of panic beset my stomach. Perhaps I had neglected my pact too long and he had given up on me? ‘Albray?’

  I am here, he advised calmly, as if wondering what on earth was the matter with me.

  ‘The law of three requests,’ I scolded myself as enlightenment dawned. There were nine metaphysical laws and this was one of them—it had been so long since I had been given cause to consider occult laws, they were slow to come to mind. ‘I am sorry. My metaphysical doctrine is a little rusty.’

  Is it any wonder when you dedicate so little time to the study?

  He was having a niggle at the fact that I hadn’t summoned him since our first meeting, nearly a month before. ‘I’m very sorry that I haven’t contacted you before now, but my life has been hectic what with all the courting, proposals, wedding arrangements and now funeral arrangements!’

  I understand, he granted with a bow of his head. It was a shame about Douglas. I liked him. He was a good man.

  ‘What do you know of Douglas Hamilton?’ I was shocked by the condolences.

  All that you do, he said, and I understood that our bond gave him a psychic attachment to me. In fact, I tried to warn you with a vision, but the message didn’t get through until you awoke.

  ‘I see.’ I took a deep breath. Our connection was a bit disconcerting but by the same token it could prove beneficial. ‘What do you think my betrothed died of?’

  I agree with you, he stated with certainty. He was murdered, not by any of the people you suspect, but by someone who indirectly controls the outcomes of all.

  ‘All of the above and none.’ I softly repeated what Lord Hereford had said of the cause of his worry. ‘Not the king!’ I retorted with my only guess.

  No. He smiled, amused by my speculation. Not the king.

  ‘Then who? The church?’ The church certainly didn’t figure greatly in my father’s life, nor in Mr Devere’s as far as I had been able to ascertain.

  Albray shook his head. More widespread, more secret.

  ‘A secret society?’ My father certainly didn’t seem the type, nor any man that I could think of. ‘I don’t think so.’ I tried not to smile at the suggestion. ‘Most secret societies perished during the Inquisitions.’ I thought that perhaps my knight was a little out of touch with modern society.

  Such societies only became secret due to the Inquisitions, he clarified. If what I suspect is true of Lord Hereford’s demise, there is little point in seeking the murderer, as you cannot put a whole society on trial . .. not even if you could find them.

  ‘Even if I did find the culprit and prove it, chances are nothing would be achieved,’ I concluded bitterly, thinking of past experiences. Albray was right; it was useless wasting energy pursuing the case. He knew as well as I did that I was just avoiding having to think about my future. ‘What are your thoughts on Mr Devere?’

  Albray suppressed a chuckle. I am not here to counsel you on affairs of the heart. I’m here to teach you the greater mysteries…and, believe me, marriage is not one of them.

  I was a little irked by his reluctance to advise me, but I took a different approach. ‘You said, last time we met, that you saw a great deal of travel in my future…I am in the process of pondering the best way to bring that travel into being.’

  In that case, you should probably see Mr Devere and hear out his wedding plans.

  ‘Not you too.’ I was hoping for some dark secret to assure me I should not wed Devere.

  Albray just shrugged as if to say—why ask if you already know everything?

  ‘Will he travel with me?’

  Albray smiled at my fickle nature. What do you see?

  My mind was cast back to the night that I had dreamed about travelling with Mr Devere. The intimacy of that dream, and the fact that he’d kept showing up to save me, made it uncomfortable to dwell on. ‘I see that we may travel a similar path, but take separate routes that sometimes meet.’

  My knight shrugged. There you have it.

  ‘But I’ll never be allowed out on my own as a single woman! If I want to travel, I’ll have to wed somebody! I don’t want to face the marriage market. But what if those w
ho killed Douglas will kill any man I intend to marry except Mr Devere?’

  A poor woman could travel alone.

  ‘I am a poor woman, so I won’t have to improvise.’ I made light of the suggestion.

  It would be precarious for most, but you could protect yourself.

  ‘How?’

  How! He was surprised. You have more power in your little finger than I ever had in my whole body for the entire duration of my life!

  I did not know how to take the compliment.

  Don’t you remember Rosen’s tower chamber?

  My vision dulled as I saw an image of a whirling force and then came back to the still calm of my room. ‘I had many angry souls there to aid me that day.’ I resented the fact that he’d brought the incident up.

  In that instance your ability was the weapon and those angry souls wielded you to their own ends. But you can also make the reverse happen, to enhance the powers you already have, he added quickly, as my expression must have reflected how distressing I found the topic.

  ‘I can draw upon the power of otherworldly beings?’ I was making sure I had deduced his meaning correctly.

  You are a channel! The channel goes both ways. You can draw upon the knowledge and talents of all those otherworldly entities which might be disposed toward your service. So far there’s only me, of course, but I’m sure we can widen your acquaintance.

  ‘So what talents do you possess that I could draw upon, for example?’ I had totally forgotten all other problems; this was an intriguing conversation.

  Swordfighting, Albray suggested. I gasped with delight at the notion. Find yourself a sword, he said, to assure me he was quite serious.

  I glanced around—no swords obviously, so I grabbed up my mirror by its handle.

  Hold it out before you.

  I held it out straight, giggling at the very idea of being in a sword fight, when a powerful and pleasing presence passed over me from behind to carry my framework without any aid from me. I lunged forward, sweeping my mirror to and fro, with such force and technique that I could only wonder at my movements.