The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #1) (36 page)

Jacob Beaufort
wasn't dangerous.

Mr. Wiggam gave
me a short bow. "Good bye, Miss Chambers."

"Wait!"
I sprang up from the chair. Mrs. Wiggam and Celia watched me, curiosity printed
on their faces, but neither interrupted. "There's a spirit in the Waiting
Area...I want you to give him a message from me if you see him."

"But you're
a medium, you can summon any ghost you wish at any time. You just called my
name and I came."

"You came
when I called because you wanted to. Jacob...probably doesn’t want to."

"Very well.
How will I recognize your ghost? There are many souls up there."

"He's more
solid than others. You can't see through him and—."

"What do
you mean,
more
solid?" He held up his hands, twisting and turning
them as he studied them. "I'm as solid as I ever was when I was alive."
He patted his bulging stomach and laughed.

"Not to me
you're not. But Jacob was."

Mr. Wiggam
dismissed my description of Jacob's presence with a shrug. "What's his
name?"

"Jacob Beaufort.
Tell him I said he was wrong. Then tell him what you just told me."

"Very well.
I'll see what I can do." He bowed again and winked out of existence.

I turned to Mrs.
Wiggam. "He's gone."

Her eyes
narrowed and her gaze flitted around the drawing room. "Is he coming back?"

"No. Celia?"

My sister rose. We
said our farewells to Mrs. Wiggam and she promised to employ our services again
when the house was set to rights.

"That would
be delightful," Celia said with an ingratiating smile. It wasn't until we
were out of the street altogether that she said, "I sincerely hope we
never return there."

I couldn't agree
more.

We walked for a
while without speaking until we turned into Druids Way. We held onto our
bonnets and bent our heads into the breeze.

"You asked
Mr. Wiggam's ghost to tell Jacob something up there." She nodded at the
sky—it was cloudless for once, the constant haze turning it a faded blue—but
neither of us knew where the Waiting Area was actually located. It was as good
a place as any I suppose. "What was it?"

I told her about
taking our good and bad characteristics with us when we die. We'd arrived at the
steps to our house by the time I finished. I looked up, half hoping to see Jacob
lounging against the door as he had been on our first meeting. He wasn't.

Celia did
something entirely unexpected then. She sat on the top step and patted the spot
next to her. "Tell me how he died."

I did, or as
much of it as I knew. I held nothing back. By the end of it I was shaking. Celia
put her arm around me and rocked me gently. After a while, she said, "This
Frederick boy is at the heart of it all."

I nodded. "The
person who killed Jacob is most likely connected to him in some way."

"No, I mean
he's at the heart of Jacob's guilt and for all we know, that guilt is what's
stopping him crossing over. You need to prove to him he's not a bad person. Remind
him Frederick's death was accidental and help lift the guilt from his shoulders."

"How do I
do that when he won't even speak to me?"

She sighed and
squeezed me. "I don't know that part. But I do know you're a clever girl
and that we don't yet have all the answers. Find them and then decide what to
do."

Sometimes my
sister astounds me. She appears so disinterested in deeper matters, matters of
the mind and the heart, and yet she can say something so insightful. I tilted
my head to rest it against her shoulder.

I only wished she knew what to say to make Jacob come back.

THE
END

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***Read
on for an excerpt of
POSSESSION
,
book 2 in the Emily Chambers Spirit Medium trilogy***

POSSESSION

(Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #2)

CHAPTER 1

London: Spring 1880

Someone watched
us. I don't know how I knew. I just did. It wasn't a ghost because I couldn't
sense
spirits, only see them. No, someone real and very much alive was following us
home.

It wasn't the
first time.

"Do you
feel that?" I asked my sister, Celia, as I glanced over my shoulder. An
elderly couple strolled arm in arm on the other side of the road, a middle-aged
woman struggled with a heavy basket up to the front door of a house, and a man
crouched at the feet of a girl to tie up her boot lace, their heads bent
against the breeze. A black hansom rattled past and the horse lifted its tail
and deposited its business on the street, adding to the smells of soot and dung
already clogging the air. All seemed quiet. Nothing was out of place for a
spring afternoon in residential Chelsea.

"Feel
what?" Celia asked, her gaze set firmly on the way ahead.

"Like we're
being spied upon."

She laughed. "Who
would spy on us?" But her laughter died as soon as the words were out. She
stopped and looked at me. "He's not back is he?"

There was no
need to ask who "he" was. She was referring to Jacob Beaufort, eldest
son of Lord and Lady Preston, a ghost, and the man I couldn't stop thinking
about. I'd not seen him since we'd returned a shape-shifting demon to the
Otherworld a week before. The Administrators in the Waiting Area—the place
where spirits reside for as long as they need to before crossing over to the
Otherworld—had assigned him to me when Celia accidentally released the demon
during one of our séances. After the demon's return, Jacob had simply vanished.
No matter how many times I tried to summon him, he did not reappear.

Perhaps he'd
crossed over, but I doubted it. He was a rare ghost. Unlike others, he didn't
know why he couldn't cross. Something was keeping him in the Waiting Area,
something more personal than the temporary demon hunting assignment. It was likely
related to his mysterious murder.

"No, it's
not Jacob." My voice cracked despite my effort to control it.

Her gaze
narrowed. She sighed then circled her arm around my shoulders, squeezing
gently. "It gets easier in time."

How would you
know?
Celia was thirty-three and unwed. She'd had
admirers but never accepted their offers of marriage, despite our mother's
encouragements when she was alive. Celia claimed she didn't love any of those
men enough to marry one. It was a decision that resulted in her now being
firmly on the shelf. I used to think she was foolish risking spinsterhood by
waiting for love. To me, falling in love was like being struck by lightning. You
knew it happened to some people, just nobody you'd met.

Or that's how I
used to think before I met Jacob. Almost from the moment I saw him, I knew I
loved him. What we shared had been magical, wonderful. All the clichés from
every poem I'd ever read didn't come close to describing the feeling I had when
near him. He set my nerves on fire, made my body ache and filled my heart with
so many emotions I thought I'd burst.

When he was
gone, it was like someone had thrust their fist into my chest and wrenched out
my heart. I couldn't imagine the ache ever lessening, let alone disappearing
completely.

As we turned onto
Druids Way, the feeling of being watched vanished. Nevertheless, I remained alert
the rest of the walk home.

Our house was
nestled between identical terrace houses lining the street. Most were in need
of painting or fixing here and there to tidy them up. For some reason, Druids
Way was the forgotten child of Chelsea. The fashionable no longer lived there
and our neighbors were elderly, having moved in before Queen Victoria came to
the throne. The wind tugged at our skirts and ribbons and Celia let go of me to
hold onto her bonnet. Her other hand clutched the carpet bag that carried our
props for the séance we'd just conducted.

We reached our
front door without hats or ribbons blowing away and were met by Lucy. The
maid's eyes danced with excitement and her milky complexion flushed a rosy
pink.

"Miss
Chambers, you've got visitors!" she said, taking our bonnets. "Very
fine they are too. Her ladyship's dress is—"

"Her
ladyship!" Celia and I said together.

Lucy nodded and
hung our bonnets on the hallstand. "I put them in the drawing room and
offered them tea. They insisted on waiting, see, and I couldn't very well say
no since she's a lady and all."

"Who?"
I asked.

"Didn't I
say? Lady Preston and Miss Beaufort, her daughter."

Celia's gasp was
barely audible over the loud thud of my heart. I pressed a hand to my chest and
tried to breathe normally but failed miserably. Lady Preston was Jacob's
mother. Last time I'd seen her she'd hit an assailant over the head with a
candelabra, saving my life and—unbeknown to her—the soul of her son who was
doing battle with the demon. Prior to that she'd not believed me when I said I
could speak to Jacob's ghost. She'd refused to accept his death, and her
husband had put down the events of that evening to trickery and good acting on
my part.

So what was she
doing in our house?

"She's so
fair and pretty," Lucy gushed, clutching our coats to her bosom. "The
daughter I mean, but her ladyship's still pretty for her age too, and
so
elegant."

"Never mind
that," Celia said with a wave of her hand. "Tell me you used the
Wedgewood tea service."

"I did,
Miss Chambers."

"Good
girl." Lucy beamed. "Come, Emily," Celia said to me. "Let's
see what Lady Preston wants." As we started to leave, she caught my arm
and held me back. "Do not, under any circumstances, mention that Jacob
boy. Mothers don't like to hear about the...friendships their sons have with
girls."

I nodded and
refrained from telling her mothers probably didn't like hearing about their
dead sons at all, particularly Lady Preston. Last time Jacob's name came up, I
thought she'd scratch my eyes out for suggesting he wanted her to move on with
her life.

We entered the
drawing room and I knew immediately Lady Preston was perhaps, just perhaps,
coming to terms with Jacob's death. She gave me a tentative smile without an
ounce of hostility in it. Beside her on the sofa, Adelaide Beaufort grinned and
I couldn't help returning it. It was so nice to see Jacob's sister again. She
was a sweet girl of about my own age and had believed me when I said I spoke to
Jacob's ghost. It would seem she'd talked her mother into believing it too.

I introduced
them to Celia then sat on one of the chairs bracketing the hearth. Celia sat on
the other. Lucy must have lit a fire in the grate when our guests arrived as
there hadn't been one when we left. Our séance business was not yet successful
enough for us to end our economizing and keep a fire burning while we were out
in the springtime. Nor had we been able to afford new furniture, much to
Celia's disappointment. I admit it was a little embarrassing having illustrious
guests sitting on our faded sofa, the threadbare carpet at their feet. Thankfully
we'd both worn our better day dresses to the séance.

"It's so
lovely to see you again," Adelaide said. Her bright blue eyes, so like her
brother's, danced merrily, making her look even prettier. She was fairer than
Jacob with honey-colored hair that curled delicately at her temples and ears. Not
at all like my black springy mane that never stayed in place and skin that
never paled no matter how much lemon juice I applied. "I do hope you've been
well."

We exchanged
pleasantries and drank our tea, but it wasn't long before the conversation
turned to their reason for visiting. It was exactly what I thought it would be.

"Miss
Chambers," Lady Preston said, her voice so soft I had to strain to hear
her, "I hoped...that is, I wondered...if..." Her voice faded and
tears sprang to her eyes.

Adelaide took
her mother's hands in her own. "We wondered if you could...summon Jacob's
ghost for us," she finished.