Evermore

by C. J. Archer

  Adelaide’s nose wrinkled. “You mean my pending engagement to the Duke of Sandridge’s son?”

  “Bertie?” George cried. He must have realized how loud he’d said it because he muttered an apology. “Congratulations, Miss Beaufort.” Poor George, I’d never seen him look so miserable. His face sagged as much as his shoulders.

  “It’s not settled yet.”

  “It soon will be.” Lady Preston’s frosty glare met her daughter’s. It was the sort of look that silently demanded the recipient keep quiet. I’d been the object of many such glares from Celia, but they rarely had the desired effect. I seem unable to do as I’m told.

  “Does that mean you’ll be a duchess?” I asked eagerly. Imagine that—me friends with the future Duchess of Sandridge!

  George narrowed his eyes at me and I wished I could take it back. Of course being a duchess would not compensate for marrying someone you did not love. I was glad I wasn’t in Adelaide’s position. Children of nobility couldn’t wed whomever they chose. They had to marry other nobility, and failing that, wealth. I, on the other hand, could wed the man I loved.

  Unless he was dead, of course.

  “Yes, but a betrothal between us is yet to be finalized.” Adelaide turned so that she was no longer facing her mother. It was a direct slight and I felt uncomfortable. I had never seen Adelaide and her mother quarrel before. “Until then, there is still a chance of escape.”

  “Adelaide,” her mother scolded.

  “Father and the Duke of Sandridge have not decided upon my worth,” Adelaide went on. “I believe His Grace the duke is holding out for another piece of Father’s property to be added to my dowry. It’s a lucrative tract of land and of course Father doesn’t want to give it up without a fight. Not even for the prospect of being attached to a dukedom.”

  “That’s enough,” Lady Preston snapped.

  “Unfortunately, poor, dear Bertie is rather sickly and there’s always the chance he’ll die before his father, in which case I’ll never be a duchess. What a shame that would be, wouldn’t it, Mother?”

  Lady Preston had gone quite rigid. I expected her to berate her daughter, but she didn’t. Indeed her lips were clamped together tightly, emphasizing the tiny lines around her mouth.

  I took George’s arm and steered him toward the door. “Thank you for the address, Lady Preston.” I tugged George. He didn’t seem to have his wits with him, but he followed me meekly enough, although he continued to look back at Adelaide.

  We got as far as the exit. The dominating figure of Lord Preston blocked the doorway. My entire body groaned at the sight of him.

  “What’s she doing here?” he bellowed over my head.

  Lady Preston sailed up to us. Her anger seemed to have dissolved and she was all solicitude as she smiled at her husband. “She came for—”

  “I told you never to let her in. Did I not make myself clear? She is a disruptive influence on you and Adelaide.”

  “She is not,” Adelaide protested.

  There was a shocked silence, not only from her parents, but from George and I as well. I’d never heard her speak so disrespectfully to them. Indeed, she’d always seemed a little afraid of her father. The pending nuptials must have triggered the dormant rebel within.

  “Emily is kind and has our best interests at heart,” she added.

  “Quiet, girl, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I felt George tense, but he said nothing. I would have tried to leave, but Lord Preston and his wife were in the way. Oh please, please, move. I didn’t want a confrontation. And what if Jacob popped in? He didn’t need anything else to worry about.

  “No, Father,” Adelaide said, “you don’t know what you’re talking about because you refuse to believe what is as plain as that ugly nose on your face.”

  Lord Preston bared his teeth like an animal. “Go. To. Your. Room.”

  “Gladly.” She lifted her chin and walked up to us. “See you at the ball,” she said and kissed me on the cheek. “It promises to be quite a lively event.”

  That was an understatement.

  “There will be no ball if you continue to behave in such a manner,” her father said as he stepped aside to let her pass.

  Lady Preston gasped. “But the invitations have already gone out.”

  Nobody said anything to that. I suspect it was too late to retract the invitations. Canceling the ball would give the gossips the impression all was not well in the Beaufort household, and that certainly wouldn’t do.

  I strode past Lord and Lady Preston and thought I’d gotten away safely, but Lord Preston’s booming voice stopped me. George stopped too and remained close, bless him.

  “I will be watching you at the ball, Miss Chambers,” Lord Preston said. “If you so much as whisper about spirits or nonsense of that nature, you will be evicted. Understand?”

  “I say!” George said.

  “Reginald, please. She is our guest.”

  Lord Preston puffed out his thick chest. “That doesn’t give her the right to come here and use her devious practices on you.”

  “She is not a fraud,” George said. “I can vouch for—”

  “Be quiet. The only reason I tolerate you is because you’re of gentle stock and haven’t tried to take money in exchange for whatever it is you do. But be aware that I know all about that so-called Society to which you belong, and I will shut it down if a single member so much as utters anything of a paranormal nature in my hearing. Understand?”

  “Perfectly.” George didn’t move and for a horrifying moment I thought he might march up to Lord Preston and punch him. The earl was built as solidly as a house. A physical confrontation would not end well for George.

  I dragged him with me onto the landing and down the stairs. The footman saw us out and into the waiting carriage. It took me a moment to catch my breath and regain my wits, by which time we were already moving.

  George sat opposite me, visibly seething. “That man! Abominable! To speak in such a rude manner to his own wife and daughter!”

  And to you and me, I almost added. But I did not want to add fuel to his ire. He was fiery enough. “Have you and Adelaide really been writing to each other in secret?” I asked.

  He blinked and his temper seemed to dampen. “I wasn’t aware it was in secret until today.” He sighed. “I’m afraid I got her into trouble. Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

  “I have no doubt she will.”

  “But what of her parents? I didn’t think Lord Preston would like my writing to his daughter, but I had hoped Lady Preston wouldn’t mind. I didn’t know Miss Beaufort was set to wed Bertie.” He pulled a face. “Nothing against the fellow, but he’s not an ideal match for her. Not a winter goes by that he doesn’t take to his bed for weeks. To think of such a vibrant, lovely creature as Miss Beaufort being shackled to a weak character.” He shook his head sadly. “It’s more than a shame. It’s…” He shrugged, as if there were no words to explain how terrible such a future would be.

  “I’m surprised her mother wishes her to marry him at all, if that’s the case.”

  “Lord Preston is the head of that household, in every sense of the word. I suspect he has given them no say in the matter and his wife must accept the marriage as much as their daughter.”

  “He does seem like the sort to disregard everyone’s opinions except his own.”

  “Poor Miss Beaufort.” He sighed. “She didn’t deserve such treatment when she only spoke the truth.”

  “True. His nose is rather ugly.”

  That coaxed a laugh from him.

  ***

  We traveled to Camden Town and the address Lady Preston had given me. It was a modest house, rather like my own, in a middle-class suburb and the occupants were polite but unhelpful. They didn’t know where the Seymours had moved to. They had not dealt with them so could not even give me a description or a first name. It was as we suspected, but it was frustrating nevertheless.

  “Now
what?” George asked when we were back inside the carriage.

  “Now we visit Mrs. White.”

  “You’ve found her?”

  “My maid said she’s governess to a family on Grosvenor Street.”

  “You think she’ll be able to help us find Blunt?”

  “We can only try.”

  “We don’t even know if Blunt had anything to do with Mortlock’s possession, or this latest curse. We can only link him to the shape-shifting demon. Are we drawing too long a bow, Emily?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, but I have no other ideas.”

  “Nor me. Very well, let’s try her. Which house on Grosvenor Street?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Jacob could find out. He could look into each one and report back when he’s found her.”

  “I don’t want to summon him. I’m afraid he’s too weak in his current state and being here may weaken him further.”

  “Who are you calling weak?”

  “Jacob!” I clasped his hand without thinking. He felt cool and damp, like a mist, yet still solid. He did not look solid, however. He flickered alarmingly. “He’s here,” I said rather stupidly. Of course George must know.

  “I’ll search the houses for her,” Jacob said.

  “No, you shouldn’t.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” George asked, ignoring my frown.

  “Tell Culvert not to worry about me. You too, Em. I want to help where I can. I need to help. Time is running out, as you can see.”

  I tried to hold back the tears suddenly pooling. Crying would achieve nothing. “Very well. Let’s go and find Mrs. White.”

  CHAPTER 6

  George and I waited in the coach as Jacob searched the houses of Grosvenor Street. Mayfair was an exclusive area, although not quite as fashionable as it used to be at the beginning of the century. Where most of the younger generation had moved to new homes in Belgravia, the older, more aristocratic set had remained in their imperial mansions where they could reign supreme over leafy Grosvenor Square and surrounds.

  It did not take Jacob long before he reappeared beside me in the carriage. He shimmered for a few moments before finally staying put. He looked worn out.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  He pressed his thumb and finger into his eyes and nodded. “I found her.”

  I repeated this for George’s benefit. “Which house?” he asked.

  “Number twelve,” Jacob said. “She’s in the schoolroom with two girls of about Cara’s age.”

  I repeated this to George. “Let’s go.” I climbed out of the coach before George, which he didn’t like. It went against his gentlemanly nature—he couldn’t hold my hand and help me down the steps if he was behind me.

  “I’ll search Mrs. White’s room,” Jacob said when we reached the door of number twelve.

  “Do it discreetly,” I said.

  “Have you never known me not to be discreet?”

  “Frequently.”

  He gave a feeble chuckle and blinked off.

  “I’m worried about him,” I said to George as we waited for our knock to be answered. “He is not very strong. Not like he used to be.”

  George tucked my arm into his. “We’ll resolve this soon. Don’t worry. I have an inkling that we’re right and Blunt is involved somehow. I’m certain Mrs. White will know where to find him.”

  I didn’t have nearly as much confidence, but I set my doubts aside when the butler opened the door. We asked to see the governess, and after his initial blink of surprise, he took us down to the service area in the basement and showed us to a parlor little bigger than a cupboard. Being a governess, Mrs. White was not treated like a family member, but nor was she as low as the servants. Considering George’s status, I’d suggested we inquire at the front door, but it seemed not even gentlemen were allowed to speak to the governess in the formal drawing room. It was the basement for us.

  In a way, meeting her in the servants’ parlor was better, more intimate. We didn’t have to wait long before she entered. She paused in the doorway and shock flickered through her gaze before she turned a sweet smile on us. “Miss Chambers, isn’t it? And Mr. Culvert? This is unexpected. To what do I owe the honor of your company?”

  “We’re sorry to disturb you here at your new place of work, Mrs. White,” George said, rising so she could take his seat. There were only two. “But we’ve had the devil of a time trying to find you, and we’re very glad we finally did.”

  “You’ve been looking for me?” She bustled into the parlor, business-like. She was a plump, short woman, yet she moved with purpose and efficiency. She sat and George stood at my side. “Does it have something to do with that awful night? I recall it very vividly.”

  “Not quite,” I said. I recalled that night too. We’d killed one villain, sent the demon back to the Otherworld, and banished Blunt from London. Jacob had haunted him until he was out of his wits with fear. No one at the school was sorry he’d departed in the middle of the night without a farewell, particularly the girls he used to visit in the dormitory when he thought everyone asleep.

  “We returned to the school recently with the hope of speaking to you,” I said. “Unfortunately you’d already left.”

  “I needed a change of scene.” Mrs. White’s fingers twisted in her lap, as if she were constantly tying and untying them. “It was a sudden decision.”

  “You didn’t think to give anyone a forwarding address?” George asked, a little too bluntly in my opinion.

  Mrs. White lifted her head. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I wanted to distance myself from that place. The memories of that night…” She shook her head and did not go on.

  George fished out a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. She thanked him and dabbed at her eyes.

  “You were very brave, Mrs. White,” he said gently, his earlier curtness gone. “Very brave indeed. Not everyone who is confronted with the worst of the supernatural cope as well as you did that night.”

  I wasn’t so convinced she was entirely telling the truth, not after the lie I knew she’d already told. “How is your sister, Mrs. White? That is where you went immediately upon leaving the school, isn’t it?”

  She sniffed and pressed George’s handkerchief to her nose. “I don’t have a sister,” she said. “That’s what I told the servants, so they wouldn’t worry about me. A single woman with no family to care for her is a somewhat pathetic figure and I didn’t want anyone’s pity.”

  I could not fault her on that. I felt terrible for doubting her honesty. “Yes, of course,” I muttered and gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m so glad you’re set up nicely here. This is a lovely house. Are the family kind?”

  “Very. Thank you for your concern, Miss Chambers. Now, you said you needed to ask me something. Please don’t think I’m rushing your visit, but I do need to return to the girls. They’re quite the little troublemakers when they’re left alone too long.”

  “Of course,” George said. “We hoped you could tell us where to find Mr. Blunt.”

  “Blunt? But I thought you were pleased to be rid of him. Indeed, we all were.” She closed her eyes and shuddered. Her reaction made me wonder if she’d had unwelcome visits from him in the night too.

  “Oh, we were,” I said. “The man was horrible in every sense of the word.”

  “Which is actually why we need to find him,” George said. At Mrs. White’s frown, he added, “Something else is happening and we wonder if he might be involved.”

  “What do you mean ‘something else’?” When George didn’t answer, she said, “You can tell me. I know what happened that night at the school, remember. You can trust me not to succumb to hysterics.”

  “We know you wouldn’t,” I said. Yet I didn’t want to tell her everything. She had not proved to me that she was entirely comfortable discussing the supernatural. So I gave her the shortened version. “There is a problem in the Otherworld that is stopp
ing ghosts from crossing over. Does that make sense to you?”

  “In a way.” Her frown deepened. “You think Mr. Blunt is doing something to cause this problem?”

  “It’s merely a thought since he was involved in the demon’s release. We think the two events may be connected.”

  “Of course. As a matter of fact, I do know where he is now.”

  “Excellent.”

  “He’s gone to another school here in London.”

  “London! But we told him to leave the city altogether.”

  “He did,” she said. “Very briefly. He found me upon his return only a week ago. He wanted an account of that last night at the school. I think he thought he was a little mad, and needed to be reassured of what he’d seen.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  She shrugged. “I told him I saw flying objects too. I mentioned the ghost and your involvement as a medium…all of it. He seemed a little afraid at first, but then I think he was happy to hear a witness account that matched his own.”

  “He probably decided that seeing ghosts was preferable to being mad,” I said.

  “So where is he now?” George asked.

  “He’s been appointed head master of the Royal Masonic Institution for Boys. It’s a charity school funded by the Freemasons to educate the sons of their poorer members.”

  Sons only. Thank goodness. Blunt couldn’t be trusted around girls.

  “It’s located in Wood Green on Lordship Lane.” Her hand-twisting became more rapid. “Please don’t mention that I told you where to find him.”

  “Of course,” George said, soothing. “We wouldn’t think of putting you in such an awkward position.”

  Her smile was one of relief.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You’ve been very helpful and it was good to see you. Lucy sends her regards. She was quite pleased to discover your whereabouts.”

  “Lucy? Oh, your maid. Yes, of course. How is she?”

  “As cheerful as ever. She has even come to accept my work, in her own way.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. She was a good girl.”