Possession (16 page)

Why was I
shaking? And crying?

Tears slipped
down my cheeks, seeped under my fingers, and stung the sore skin at my jaw. I couldn't
stop them.

Suddenly he was
sitting beside me, having switched places with my bonnet. He circled his arms
around my shoulders and gently pulled me to his chest. Our thighs touched. My
head tucked neatly under his chin and my nose pressed into his throat. He had
no smell, no pulse, no warmth, but I felt instantly better. Safer. I curled my
fingers into his cool shirt. My other hand still hovered over my jaw.

Not for long. Oh-so
tenderly, he drew it away. "No." His voice was a thready whisper. "No,
no, no, no." He cradled the side of my face. His fingers reached into the
hair curling behind my ear and his thumb traced the outline of what I assumed
was a darkening bruise. I didn't dare look at him, didn't dare breathe lest he
stop touching me. It felt too good, soothing, like cool water on a burn. I
ached for his touch, but it seemed wrong that it had taken a horrible incident
to bring us together.

We stayed like
that until the coach pulled to a stop outside my house. The footman opened the
coach door and helped me down the step to the pavement. Jacob was already on my
front porch, looking very much as he had the first day I met him—arms and
ankles crossed in a lazy stance, one shoulder leaning against the door frame. A
glance at his face gave a very different story. Whatever tenderness he'd felt
as he held me had been wiped away.

I waited until
the coach left before I spoke. "Aren't you going to look for George?"

"Soon."

"What are
you waiting for?"

"For you to
get inside."

Ah. My safety
first. "Jacob..."

"Don't. Emily..."
He half-sighed and half-groaned and lowered his arms. "I'm sorry I wasn't
there for you. I...I'm having trouble being near you." He shook his head,
closed his eyes briefly. "It won't happen again. I'm not going to let
Mortlock hurt you anymore. I promise."

I must have
still been out of sorts because I couldn't think of a response. My tongue felt
thick and my head hurt. All I wanted to do was curl up with him again, be held
by him. I stepped closer and pressed my palm over his dead heart. Tears welled
but I forced them away. No more crying.

I might have
stopped the tears, but I still couldn't think what to say. My heart overflowed
with emotions and turmoil, but the right words escaped me.

The door
suddenly opened and Lucy stood there, smiling. "I thought I saw you
through the window, miss. Why are you just standing there? Come in. Miss
Chambers is in—" She squinted. Gasped. "Oh my! Your face!" She
ushered me inside and shut the door.

Jacob hadn't
followed.

Lucy was too
good a servant to ask me what happened. She silently took my gloves, bonnet,
and coat, but her gaze kept flicking to my jaw and she squeezed her lips
together as if trying to hold in her questions. If I didn't tell her something
soon she might burst.

I peered into
the big mirror hanging on the wall and cringed. A blue-black bruise bloomed from
my jaw to my cheek. There would be no hiding it from anyone, especially my
hawk-eyed sister.

As if I'd
summoned her, she came down the stairs. "You're back," she said. "Did
you achieve much at Mr. Culvert's library?"

I nodded. "A
great deal." I kept the bruised side of my face away from her. Perhaps I
could edge past her and slink away to my room—

"Emily,
what's wrong?"

So much for
slinking. "Nothing!"

She met me at
the base of the stairs. "Why are you looking at me sideways?"

Lucy rearranged
the flowers in the vase on the table beneath the mirror, turning it this way
and that. She was stalling, wanting to hear the exchange between Celia and
myself.

I turned my face
so Celia could see the bruise. Like Lucy, she gasped. "Good lord! What
happened?"

"I accidentally
walked into a door."

Celia gently
touched my chin and inspected the bruise. She said nothing for a long time and
I felt certain she'd seen through my lie. "Lucy, fetch the Holloway's
Ointment."

Lucy hurried
away. Celia let go of me. "Is that ghost here?" she asked.

"Jacob? No.
Why?"

"Because I
have something to say to him."

"What is it?"

She lifted her
skirts and stomped back up the stairs. "This is his fault and I want to
tell him to fix it."

"Celia!"
I raced up the stairs after her. "I walked into a door!"

She paused and
fixed me with a glare so full of anger I took a step back down. "Do
not
lie to me."

I gulped. "What
happened is not Jacob's fault. It's Mortlock's and whoever summoned him out of
the Waiting Area."

She continued on
up. "I've entrusted you into his care and that of George Culvert for the
duration of this task. Any harm that comes to you is entirely their fault for
not protecting you."

"George is
the one who did it," I said, giving in. She stopped again. The anger was
replaced by real concern. "The spirit of Mortlock is now possessing him,"
I said. "I almost sent him back but...he stopped me. It's not Jacob's
fault, Celia."

She humphed. "I'll
cancel this evening's soiree séance at Mrs. Underwood's. You're in no fit state
to be seen by clients."

"No, don't
cancel. It'll be dark and I'll turn my face away from them." I needed to
keep my mind off thoughts of Mortlock, George, and Jacob. Most of all Jacob,
because one question repeated itself over and over.

Why had he been
so tender toward me when he claimed to no longer love me?

***

I woke up late
the next morning. Jacob wasn't waiting for me in my room or in the parlor where
Lucy served breakfast. I thought he might visit to see how I was, or give me an
update on George's whereabouts, but he didn't. I tried not to show my
disappointment to Celia who sat in an armchair near the window and pretended to
be sewing and not watching me.

Neither of us
spoke until Lucy returned, a bright smile lighting up her face. "This just
arrived, Miss Chambers." Excitement bubbled out of her as she handed Celia
a thick cream envelope sealed with red wax. "The address is written in a very
elegant hand." She busied herself plumping cushions as Celia opened it.

"It's an
invitation," Celia said, reading.

"From
whom?" I asked.

She blinked at
me, her lips slightly parted. "I do hope that bruise heals quickly."

I took the
invitation. It was from Lady Preston, requesting our presence at Adelaide's
coming out ball. I stared at Celia. She stared back at me.

Lucy paused in
her vigorous plumping and looked ready to have a fit if we didn't tell her. So
I told her. She gave a small squeal and almost tore the cushion apart in her enthusiasm.
"Oh, Miss Chambers, what shall you wear?"

I didn't know to
which of us she spoke, but it didn't matter. Both Celia and I had nothing fit
to wear to a ball thrown by Lord and Lady Preston. It would be a grand affair. The
most notable people of London would be there, possibly dukes and duchesses, or
even princes!

I sat down. Stood
up. Sat down again. Lucy grinned at me. "We'll need new gowns made,"
I said. "Something elegant and pretty. Modern. Shall we go to the
dressmakers? Today? I wonder how much it'll cost."

"Too much
for the both of us," Celia said on a sigh. "But you, my dear, will
have the finest gown of all the young ladies."

My heart sank. "But
you must too! Surely we can afford two gowns. Two modest ones."

She shook her
head with finality. "There is no point having two modest gowns. You must
have one very elegant one." When I shook my head, she put aside her sewing
and stood in front of me. She clasped my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. "This
is your chance to shine, Emily. You will shine regardless of what you wear, but
you will shine brighter if you have the right gown."

"But you—"

"My time
has past." There was no bitterness in her tone, no regret, only
enthusiasm. Her eyes shone with it. "Yours is just beginning. You can secure
your future at this ball."

I jerked out of
her grip. Why did it have to be about marriage? Why couldn't I have some fun,
enjoy new experiences and meet new people without always evaluating potential husbands?

"I thought
you had me married off to George or Theo already."

She ignored me
and re-read the invitation again. "Miss Beaufort must consider you a
particular friend to have invited you."

I shrugged. The
conversation about marriage and ball gowns was left alone. For now. I was sure
both would rear their heads again in the near future. "I wonder if Lord
Preston knows I am on the guest list," I said.

"Oh, I
nearly forgot!" Lucy delved into her apron pocket and produced another
letter. She handed it to Celia who opened it and read.

"It's also from
Lady Preston," my sister said. "She's invited us both to
luncheon."

Either Lord
Preston was out, or he'd changed his mind about my presence in his household.

***

Lord Preston was
indeed at his club, but Adelaide assured me he would not throw me out when we
arrived for the ball in three weeks time. Which didn't mean they had told him I
was invited. Perhaps Adelaide and Lady Preston didn't plan on telling him until
the final moment when it was too late. That's what I would do.

"I'm so
pleased you can come," Adelaide said.

She and I sat
apart from Celia and Lady Preston in the large, golden drawing room. We'd
finished our light lunch and the footman had served tea to extend our pleasant
afternoon. Celia and Lady Preston seemed to be getting along quite well,
despite the age difference. I put Adelaide's mother's age in her early forties—although
she was so beautiful and slender that I could have been quite wrong—and Celia
was thirty-three.

"I must
thank you for inviting us," I said. "I'm not sure who's more excited,
myself or Celia."

Adelaide
giggled. "You have been so good to us and Mother has really taken to you. As
have I," she added shyly. "I don't get to see many of my friends
lately unless we invite them over. Mother has become very protective, even more
so after your warning. She doesn't let me go anywhere."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's not
your fault. I would rather be forewarned of the danger. Do you think this
business will all be over by the ball?"

Disappointing or
worrying her would just be cruel so I nodded. "I'm sure it will be. Jacob
is looking for George now."

"George? Do
you mean that nice Mr. Culvert? Why is Jacob looking for him?"

Oh dear, I'd
forgotten she knew little of what had happened. I explained to her about
Mortlock's spirit and how it was now inside George. I left out the particulars
of her own involvement and that of the girl, my Aunt Cara. Whether she knew there
was more to the story or not, she gave no indication.

"Poor Mr.
Culvert," she said. Her pretty brow furrowed and she took my hand. "We
must do something for him before...before..."

I nodded. There
was no need to complete the sentence. We both knew what a man like Mortlock was
capable of doing and what emotional scars his actions would leave on a gentle
soul like George. He would be horrified if his hands committed a mortal sin,
even if he had no control over them.

"What
can
we do?" she asked. "What can I do?"

I blew out a
breath. "Not a great deal. It's up to Jacob to find him and when he does
I'm not sure he'll notify me of his whereabouts this time although I am one of
only two people who can send him back." I gingerly touched the bruise on
my jaw.

"The spirit
did that?" Adelaide must have noticed it earlier, but she hadn't asked how
I'd got it. Well-brought-up ladies left such potentially sensitive matters
alone. Now that I had drawn attention to it, she would have felt free to ask.

"It
did."

She shook her
head, slowly, as if trying—and failing—to understand how a man could hit a
woman. The men in her world were so genteel, so proper and chivalrous, that men
like Mortlock must be a bafflement.

"Jacob will
kill him," she suddenly spat. Her eyes turned the same ice-cold blue of
her brother's when he was angry. Her venom surprised me. I didn't think she was
capable of such hatred.

"Mortlock
is already dead," I said, rather stupidly. I knew she'd meant it figuratively
and not literally. "The only way to send his spirit back is to have a
medium do it. There is one other, but she's the one who summoned him here in
the first place. Jacob will come to me when he finds George. He has to." I
said it as much to convince myself as Adelaide. Jacob had few options, and I
was the most likely of them, but that didn't mean he would come to me. Not
after his vow to keep me safe.