by C. J. Archer
Jacob nodded and I repeated what he’d said for Theo and George’s benefit.
“Amazing,” George muttered. He pushed his glasses up his nose and squinted at the bookshelves. “Surely one of these has something useful.”
“I doubt it,” Theo said. “If this is a gypsy curse, then we’ll need a gypsy to learn more about it. The ones I’ve met cannot read or write.”
“Why hasn’t the Waiting Area been completely destroyed?” I asked Jacob. “A minute is long enough to utter a curse so one trip should have sufficed, yet our villain has been twice and still the Waiting Area exists.”
“Each utterance of the curse is only enough to do partial damage,” Jacob said. “It doesn’t seem strong enough to destroy it completely.”
“Which begs the question, how many times does it need to be spoken before the Waiting Area disappears entirely?”
“The Administrators don’t know. It could be done on the next visit, or it could take a few more. Certainly not more than a handful.”
We fell into a heavy silence until Theo broke it. “Let me walk you home, Emily. We don’t want your sister to worry.”
“Go,” Jacob said. “He’s right and there is nothing more we can do today.”
I passed near him and brushed his fingers. His hand curled into a fist and he turned away, ignoring me. Ignoring the spark between us.
“If I learn anything else, I’ll come to you immediately,” he said.
If you can.
My stomach rolled and I felt a little faint myself. The thought of not seeing Jacob again for the rest of my life was awful enough, but knowing I would not see him again in the Otherworld after my death made my heart ache. We could not allow the destruction of the Waiting Area to continue.
Jacob blinked off and George walked Theo and me to the entrance hall. His mother breezed through as the footman opened the door. “You’re still here?” she said, although whether she addressed me or Theo I couldn’t tell.
“We were just leaving,” I said, edging around her wide burgundy skirt.
She untied her hat and handed it to the footman hovering at her elbow. “You were quite the topic of discussion today among my friends, Miss Chambers.”
“Oh?”
“Mother, you know that Emily is a medium,” George said. “Do you need to bring up your views now?”
Mrs. Culvert didn’t believe in the paranormal. Or rather, she didn’t care for it. She may have been married to a demonologist and have a son who shared his interests, but she didn’t like discussing anything of that nature. It was social suicide as far as she was concerned, and so she never chatted to me about ghosts. We all preferred it that way.
“Your recent entertainments have become quite the talk among ladies of consequence,” she said, pouting sympathetically at me. “Or rather, the lack of entertainment.”
“Mother,” George ground out. “Don’t.”
“Such a shame. When I first told my friends that we’d become acquainted they were all aflutter, wanting me to host one of your displays.”
“It’s called a séance,” George said.
I could feel Theo’s hand at my back, the gentle pressure reassuring.
“I was never overly keen on the idea, myself,” she went on. “I endured enough hocus pocus when Mr. Culvert was alive. Anyway, it seems it no longer matters because no one wants me to host a séance now. You see, Lady Willoughby was quite disappointed that you could not summon her father’s ghost, and of course we all know how prone to gossip her friends can be. The whole of London has heard about your failure.” She placed a gloved hand on my arm. “Do tell me when you’re able to see spirits again. My friends will be most interested to be first in line and I’m prepared to accommodate them this one time, for your sake. No need to thank me.” She trotted off toward the grand staircase, her heels click-clacking on the tiles.
“I’m sorry, Emily,” George said. “Ignore her. She’s not got the faintest idea what you do and how the spirit world works.”
I sighed. “Not many do.”
“Come, Emily.” Theo crooked his elbow. “Take my arm and we’ll talk of balls and gowns and happier things on the walk.”
Theo did indeed talk of happier things, but I didn’t listen very closely. My head was filled with miserable thoughts.
“I’ve been poor company, and I’m sorry,” I said when he delivered me to my front door.
“No need to apologize.” He pushed back a curl of my hair that had come loose in the Druids Way breeze. “I enjoy being near you even when you say nothing.”
A little flare lit inside me, spreading its warmth. “You’re very sweet.”
“And you are very interesting.” He dipped his head and lifted my chin with his finger. “I cannot stop staring at you,” he murmured.
He was going to kiss me, right there on my doorstep. My body hummed with pleasure and my skin tightened at the prospect. Yet I did not reach up to him. It would be disloyal to Jacob. He was still a very big part of my life, even though he wanted me to be with Theo, and even though I knew Theo would be good for me.
But before I could step back, Theo closed the gap between us. His lips caressed mine, the kiss hesitant and uncertain. God help me, I did not pull away. I wanted it. Wanted to be adored and cherished, wanted to hear his compliments and feel how much he liked me.
He deepened the kiss and his hands caught me round the waist, gently pulling me closer, closer, until our bodies met. His tongue teased mine and one hand gently pressed into my back, holding me to him. My mind reeled with a riot of sensations and emotions that I couldn’t separate or identify. I couldn’t think. Didn’t want to. Theo was here and alive and I needed him, needed this.
“Emily,” he murmured against my lips. “Oh, Emily, I love you.”
I broke the kiss and gasped.
“I…I’m sorry.” He shuffled his feet and looked down at his shoes. “I spoke too freely, you’re not ready. Forgive me?”
Air. I needed air. My chest rose and fell with the effort to breathe. “No. Yes, I forgive you. I mean no, there’s nothing to forgive.” I was such a bumbling idiot.
He chuckled. “I should not have declared myself yet, but…I couldn’t help it. Having you here, in the semi-dark, kissing you…it’s all quite exhilarating.” He breathed deeply and let it out slowly. “I had better go before I turn into a blathering fool and tell you your eyes are prettier than the stars in the sky.”
I laughed. “Oh dear, that is bad.”
He chuckled. “Goodnight, Emily.”
“Goodnight, Theo.”
He didn’t leave immediately, but kissed the back of my hand instead. His lips were as warm and soft as pillows. Then, wordlessly, he bowed and trotted down the stairs. I waved and turned to go inside.
The door opened and Celia’s head popped round. “Did he kiss you?”
“Celia!”
“I couldn’t see from the window. Well? Did he?”
“None of your business.” I pushed past her into the hall. Both Lucy and Cara stood there, watching. Lucy’s cheeks were a bright pink and her eyes twinkled. Cara looked grave. “Have you all been waiting here the whole time?”
“From the moment we spotted you both walking up to the house,” Celia said as Lucy took my hat and coat. “Now, I don’t mind him kissing you, Emily, but perhaps not on the front doorstep next time. You know how nosy the neighbors are, and they’re terribly old fashioned about these sorts of things. Not like me.”
I groaned. Celia would have me wed to Theo in a trice if it were in her power.
“He did kiss you, didn’t he?”
“Celia!”
She sighed. “Emily, I’m not prying. Really.” She waited until Lucy disappeared into the kitchen area at the back of the house then she took both my hands. “As your elder sister, I need to know what that young man’s intentions are. Has he declared himself in any way?”
I withdrew my hands. “Not yet.” I would not tell her he’d declared his lo
ve for me. The memory made me hot all over and a little light-headed. I didn’t know what to think. It was too much to take in, and I wanted to keep it to myself a little longer. Something just for me.
“Very well.” She pressed her fingers to her temple and rubbed. “We must focus now on the ball. If he has not given you an indication of his intentions by that night, you’ll have to make yourself available to the other gentlemen in attendance. Do not dance more than once with Theo. We’ll discuss it more as the evening approaches.”
I turned to Cara and rolled my eyes. She pressed her lips together in an attempt not to smile.
“Don’t you want to hear what we learned about the problem in the Waiting Area?” I asked them.
“Yes,” Cara said, once more the grave little girl of our first encounter. A girl with too much responsibility for such small shoulders.
“Of course, tell us everything,” said Celia. “I’m so distracted this evening. It must be because of your young man.”
“Or because of the man who was here earlier,” Cara said.
“Cara, hush.”
“Who was here earlier?” I asked.
“My brother,” Cara said. “Louis.”
Celia clicked her tongue. “Never mind that now.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the drawing room. “Lucy will have dinner ready soon and I don’t want to alarm her with all this talk of spirits. Tell us what you learned from Mr. Culvert’s books.”
“Not until you’ve told me about Louis’ visit. What did he say? Goodness, Celia, this is monumental! Were you even going to tell me?”
She opened her embroidery basket and removed her latest creation, a cushion cover in Christmas reds and greens. “Of course I was. When the time was right.”
“That time would be now.”
She sat on the sofa beside Cara and I sat in the armchair near the fireplace. A small fire burned in the grate, chasing the spring chill from the room.
“There is nothing to tell.” She looked up. “That reminds me, you deliberately disobeyed me and went to see François Moreau at the market. Emily, I’m so disappointed in you. You constantly lie to me lately.” She stabbed her needle through the cushion cover. “What has gotten into you? It’s that Beaufort ghost, isn’t it?” she said without pausing to let me answer. “Ever since he came into our lives, you’ve been getting into trouble.”
“Don’t blame Jacob. Circumstances beyond his control, beyond everyone’s, have meant I need to do things I wouldn’t usually do.”
“I don’t see how visiting François Moreau has anything to do with Beaufort or other supernatural events.”
“Wait a moment.” I leaned forward, but she did not look up from her stitching. “Did Louis tell you Cara and I went to the market?”
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything either,” Cara chimed in.
“Then how did you know I’d been to see my grandfather?” I asked Celia.
She lifted one shoulder and concentrated on her embroidery.
“You went to see him too, didn’t you? Celia, I don’t know what’s got into you of late,” I mimicked.
She glanced up sharply. “This is not a joke, Emily.”
I sank into the deeply cushioned back of the armchair. “Did you see Louis?” She nodded once and my heart lifted. “Are you going to tell me what he said?”
“There is nothing to tell. We talked very little. He told me he was back in England briefly and would soon return to the colonies. He cannot be away from his business for long. Apparently he has established a greengrocer shop in a place called Melbourne that is doing exceedingly brisk trade. He plans to diversify into other goods next year and perhaps open another shop.”
“And what did he say when you told him about me?”
She pulled the needle through the fabric and I waited as she completed another stitch. I continued to wait and when she didn’t answer, I heaved myself out of the chair. “You didn’t tell him, did you? Celia!”
“It wasn’t an appropriate time.”
“Not appropriate!” My fists, heart, and very insides clenched.
“Calm down.” She laid her embroidery in her lap. “We only spoke for a few minutes. I…I merely wanted to learn how long he was in London for and what the nature of his business is here. I left after I got answers.”
“Why?” I threw my hands up. “Celia, why didn’t you talk longer or invite him to dinner?”
“Seeing him again brings back too many painful memories.” She sniffed and looked down at her embroidery but did not pick it up. “Please, Emily, I don’t wish to speak of him anymore.” She spoke so quietly I could barely hear her.
Cara and I looked at each other. She shrugged. I sighed. “I do want to see him before he leaves,” I said.
“I know.” Celia gave me a watery smile. “And you will. I’ll make sure of it. Just…not yet. Let me get used to the idea of him being here again. I’ll be more prepared next time. Seeing him today was quite a shock.”
It must have been. My sister’s feathers rarely looked so ruffled. “Very well,” I said, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice entirely.
Celia took up her embroidery again and resumed stitching. “Tell us what you learned today.”
I told them about the gypsy curse and how it was delivered to the Waiting Area. At the end, Cara sat perfectly still, her big brown eyes staring at me. She said nothing, but her fear was so palpable I could almost feel it.
“How diabolical!” Celia muttered, her embroidery once more forgotten.
“Indeed,” I said. “To do something so dangerous and so drastic, Jacob’s murderer must be very angry and be adamant that he was the cause of Frederick’s demise.”
“His parent,” Celia said with absolute certainty. “Remember Jacob told you his murderer said ‘my son.’ That would explain the risk and the dogged determination to get revenge.”
“We need to find Frederick Seymour’s parents. Lady Preston’s enquiries met a dead end there, pardon the pun. The Seymours no longer live at the address the university had listed for them and the new occupants didn’t know where they’d gone. Finding them will be key to this, I know it.”
Lucy entered and announced dinner was ready. Celia packed her embroidery away in the basket and headed out of the drawing room. I went to follow her, but Cara caught my sleeve.
“Will Mr. Beaufort be able to do something to stop the curse?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We know so little about it.”
“But will he…will he be all right?”
My throat tightened. I felt like the world was spinning out of control, or that I was the one spinning while the world remained unmoving around me. I grasped her hand and held on, anchoring myself. “I don’t know.”
“Will you?” she whispered. “Be all right, I mean?”
I bent and kissed her forehead. “Of course.”
At the dinner table, conversation stalled. It seemed no one wished to discuss the curse or Louis, so I changed the topic entirely. “What time is the séance tomorrow?” I asked my sister.
“We don’t have a séance tomorrow.” She reached for the bowl of parsnips. “It’s been canceled.”
“Canceled?”
“As has our evening one, and the two for the day after.”
I lowered my fork. “Oh no.”
“All will be well,” she said rather too chirpily to convince me. “Don’t worry. We still have more set up for the rest of the week and into the next two.”
I wish I could be so confident. I suspected this was only the beginning. First Lord Preston’s threat then Mrs. Culvert’s comment about my flagging reputation—I had a feeling it was only a matter of time before more séances were canceled.
I helped Lucy clear away the dishes because I didn’t feel like reading a book and I wasn’t fond of embroidery or sewing. Celia was helping Cara with her reading, and I needed company. I hated being alone of late. It gave me too much time to think and thinking led to an
overwhelming sadness.
We took the plates and bowls into the small scullery off the kitchen and Lucy washed as I dried. It was nice that she didn’t fear me anymore and she chatted incessantly about this and that in her bubbly manner.
“I saw a friend at Leather Lane market today when I went with Miss Chambers to see that mad grocer,” she said. “It was so nice to see her. We used to go to the servants’ school together and she said something to warm my heart. You’ll never believe it, but she saw our lovely Mrs. White last week.”
“Mrs. White!” I stopped drying. “What about her?”
“She’s got herself a position as a governess at a fancy lord’s house. Quite a step up from the school.”
The “school” was the North London School for Domestic Service, a charity-funded organization in the poor parish of Clerkenwell. They taught orphans the skills needed to be servants and helped them find employment at the end of their term. It’s how we’d found Lucy. It kept the most desperate children off the streets and out of the clutches of pickpocket and prostitution gangs.
Unfortunately the previous master of the school, Mr. Blunt, had helped release the shape-shifting demon and had generally been an unpleasant fellow. Jacob had scared him out of London but when the strange paranormal events continued, we’d gone looking for him. However, he’d disappeared entirely, as had Mrs. White, one of the teachers who was much loved by her pupils. We’d wanted to ask her if she knew where we could find Blunt, but I’d grown worried when I heard she’d claimed to be going to her sister’s house. She didn’t have a sister.
“Did your friend say which house she’s working in?” I asked.
“Somewhere in Grosvenor Street.” Lucy swiped a pale wisp of hair off her forehead with the back of her hand. “Why do you want to know?”
“I, uh…”
“You can tell me, miss. I won’t break a confidence.”
“I’m not worried about that, Lucy, I trust you. It’s just that I don’t want to alarm you.”
“Ah.” She handed me a wet plate. “It’s a spirit matter?”
“Yes.” I eyed her closely. “Does that frightens you?”
She lifted one shoulder. “Not like it used to. That Mr. Beaufort’s ghost, he’s been nice and all. He don’t throw things about like I thought he would.”