Evermore (7 page)

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."

"Only angry ghosts do that." And there were
many of those. Spirits could cross from the Waiting Area into the
Otherworld whenever they wanted, but some chose to stay and haunt
the place of their death because they had something they wanted to
resolve first. That's why I was frequently called to haunted
homes—to rid it of an unhappy spirit who took their unhappiness out
on their bereaved family. Or in some cases, the not so
bereaved.

At least, that's how it used to work. With
the curse causing chaos, it seemed no ghosts could cross, nor could
they stay here.

"Does Mrs. White have a ghost problem?" Lucy
asked.

"She might be able to help me with a
supernatural situation," I said. "I won't know until I've spoken to
her. Do you know which house on Grosvenor Street?"

"Sorry, miss, my friend didn't say."

"That's all right, I'll find her. Now, let's
speak of happier things."

"Like the ball?"

I smiled. "Like the ball."

***

I awoke some time during the night with the
peculiar sense of being watched. But I wasn't afraid.

"Jacob," I whispered into the darkness.

His shadowy figure emerged from the corner of
my bedroom. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here," he said. "It's very
bad manners."

"I'm not sure social conventions still apply
after death."

"They should. I like to think they do in my
case, although...around you...my thoughts are far from
gentlemanly."

My heart skidded to a halt. I knew what he
meant and it filled me with warm pleasure from head to toe.

I sat up and put out my hand. Ghosts could
see better than when they were alive. I was acutely aware that I
wore nothing but my nightgown and my hair must look a fright. "Why
are you here?" I asked. "Is something wrong?"

He took my hand. He was so very cold and I
felt him shiver. "I simply wanted to see you, Em. Do I need another
reason?"

"You don't but...but lately you've been
avoiding me."

"You know why." His voice was dark and thick,
clogged with heavy emotion.

"Do I?"

"Theo is a good man," he said. "I like him
more and more. I'm not going to get in the way."

It's what I wanted too of
course. So why did I feel so empty all of a sudden? "He is a good
man, as you say." He must have seen me kiss Theo, otherwise why
bring it up at all? I wondered if he knew how much I'd enjoyed it,
but how much I'd wished
Jacob
had been the one kissing me.

"You have a real chance of a happy life with
him, Em. A full, long life."

"Don't," I choked out.

"No, listen to me." He caught my face in his
hands but quickly let go and stepped away from the bed. "Don't
throw this opportunity away. You like him. You enjoy his company, I
know you do."

"That doesn't mean I want to marry him."

"Not yet perhaps, but one day." His voice
drifted off to a tired whisper. "I must go. Sleep well."

He left and my bedroom seemed darker with the
loss of him. I lay down and must have fallen asleep because the
next thing I knew Cara was at my bedside, shaking me. "Emily, come
quickly! Louis is here."

CHAPTER 5

"Louis!" I sat up with a start. "So
early?"

"It's late," Cara said. "You overslept."

I glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It
was ten o'clock. I sprang out of bed and threw off my
nightgown.

"He arrived unannounced and won't leave."
Cara's eyes shone and I suspected she was quite thrilled by this
piece of news. "Celia is very cross. She keeps asking him to leave,
but he refuses and says she has to hear him out first. Come quick,
Emily, or you'll miss him."

Celia would be furious, but I didn't care. It
was time I met my father. Time he was made aware of my existence.
Celia would have to come to terms with it.

"Help me dress," I said.

Miraculously, I was ready in five minutes,
although my hair was not. There was no time to arrange it. "Come,
Cara," I said. "Hold my hand."

Despite the reassurance her presence gave me,
I had to pause at the top of the stairs to catch my breath and
settle my nerves. Cara squeezed my hand. In my fluster, I'd
forgotten that Louis probably didn’t know about her either, and she
must be wondering what reaction he'd have when he found out. It
would be an uncertain time for her too.