Possession (11 page)

Certainly not
the smile I received from Jacob, the first real one I'd seen on his face for
some time. "This is good, Emily," he said. "When the business
with Mortlock is over, you can begin your search for your father. If he hasn't
returned then I can look for him in New South Wales, if I can go there." Jacob
was not the usual sort of ghost. Most spirits were tied to the location where
they'd died, if they chose to remain in this realm at all—unless they possessed
a living person, that is. Jacob could go anywhere he wanted in spirit form. He
also looked solid to me and as alive as George and Theo, whereas other ghosts
appeared faded, their edges smudged like a charcoal drawing. I didn't think New
South Wales would prove a great challenge for my ghost.

Louis might no
longer be there anyway. The existence of the girl would suggest he'd returned
to England long enough to father her. If she was indeed his daughter too—she might
be from an entirely different branch of our family tree.

Jacob seemed to
sense my reservations. He leaned forward and touched my knee. "Don't be
afraid."

I nodded but
said nothing lest I begin to cry. His determination touched my aching heart.

"So your
father was a grocer's son?" George said. I waited for the snobbish curl of
his lip. It didn't come. "Then to Mr. Graves the grocer's we shall go,
after we deposit Theo and visit Lady Preston."

***

It was only a
short journey from Kensington to Belgravia. According to the stiff butler who
greeted us at the front door, Lady Preston and Adelaide were at home. Unfortunately
so was Lord Preston. He must have heard our voices because he emerged from the
library adjoining the entrance hall with a fierce expression.

"Good day,
my lord," George said, bowing.

Lord Preston
didn't acknowledge him, didn't even look at him. "Get out of my house,
Miss Chambers," he snarled. "Or Polson here will throw you out."

Jacob stalked up
to his father and stood chest to chest with him. They were the same height, but
Lord Preston's build was heavier and his bushy eyebrows and thick-set jaw gave
him a more menacing demeanor. I trembled. I wouldn't put it past him to pick me
up and throw me bodily onto the street himself.

"If I were
alive..." Jacob didn't finish the sentence. He moved away and stood near
the hall table. His finger rubbed the rim of the silver salver in a deceptively
lazy gesture.

I shook my head slightly
and silently willed him not to pick it up. Lord Preston had accused me of using
trickery before when in fact it was Jacob's ghost wielding objects. I didn't
want to go through that ordeal again.

"We'd like
to see Lady Preston," I said.

"Polson,
see Miss Chambers out. Her friend too."

"George
Culvert," George said, extending his hand. Bless him for trying to
maintain a semblance of civility.

Lord Preston
ignored it. "Never heard of you."

George's fingers
curled. He cleared his throat. "Uh, we, er..."

"We've come
to alert you to a danger," I said. Lord Preston was an obstacle we weren't
going to get past, but I was determined to warn him anyway. My conscience
wouldn't allow me to walk away, not from Adelaide and Lady Preston. "Someone
could be trying to harm your family—"

"The only
person doing harm to this family is you, Miss Chambers. Now get out. Polson!"

"Father?"
Adelaide appeared at the top of the sweeping staircase. "What— Oh, Miss
Chambers."

Beside me, I
could hear George gasp. "Introduce me," he whispered.

"Miss
Beaufort, may I present my friend, George Culvert. He knew Jacob at Eton."

"Is no one
here listening to me?" Lord Preston bellowed.

Adelaide
descended the stairs, a vision of loveliness in a cream silk day dress with
black lace at the elbows and a double row of black buttons down the bodice. "Very
pleased to meet you, Mr. Culvert." She smiled at him and offered her hand.

He didn't take
it at first but simply stared at her, open-mouthed. Eventually he remembered
his manners and bowed deeply over her hand.

"I didn't
know Beaufort's sister was so...grown up," George said, beaming at her.

"Bloody
hell," Jacob muttered. "He's spoken two words to her and thinks he's
in love already."

I didn't tell
him that it took me less than that to realize I loved him.

I glanced from
Adelaide to George and smiled. At least George would no longer try to court me now.

"Is Jacob
here?" Adelaide asked, looking around.

"Enough!"
Lord Preston snapped. "Do not encourage this charlatan."

"Father,
Mother and I believe she is a true medium."

Lord Preston
snorted, turned and strode to the door. He opened it himself and stood aside. "Leave."

Jacob lifted the
silver salver but fortunately lowered it before anyone saw.

Adelaide went to
her father and put a hand on his arm. "Please let them stay. Mother may
like to hear what Miss Chambers has to say."

"Your
mother needs rest. Her mind has been weakened by...events. The last thing she
needs is to listen to these people." He opened the door wider.

She turned to me
and sighed.

"It's all
right." I glanced at Lord Preston. His thick brow was drawn and the large
lips formed a severe line beneath his gray moustache. I had only a moment, and
I took it. "I came to warn you to stay indoors if possible. We think
someone is trying to bring harm to your family."

Adelaide gasped.
Lord Preston repeated his order for us to leave. I held up my hands in
surrender and strode past him out the door. When I realized neither George nor Jacob
followed me, I stopped. George had hold of Adelaide's hand in both of his and
was patting it. He said something to her, but I couldn't hear what. He let go
and came after me. Jacob remained behind, glaring daggers at his father. Lord
Preston shut the door.

"I dislike
that man intensely," I said, climbing into George's coach. I sat back in
the seat with a sigh and pressed my fingers into my eyes. Lord Preston was an
exhausting man.

George instructed
the driver to travel to Chelsea's High Street, then he climbed in opposite me
and the footman closed the door. "She is quite lovely," George said. "Beaufort,
do you think your parents would allow me to court her?"

"He's not
here," I said. The coach rolled forward and I looked out at the row of
houses, like pretty, fresh debutantes lined up for inspection. "And if
you'll allow me to answer you, the answer is no. You are now associated with
me, and Lord Preston hates me."

The light in
George's eyes went out. "I dislike that man too."

Jacob joined us
in the coach when we stopped in front of Mr. Graves's fruit and vegetable shop.
I alerted George then asked Jacob if he'd done anything foolish at his parents'
house.

He shook his
head, but I wasn't sure if I believed him. His mood certainly hadn't lifted. I
could feel vibrations of anger coming off him. He said nothing and I didn't
question him further.

Unfortunately Mr.
Graves didn't know anything about the previous owner of his grocery shop except
that he was a "darky," had an accent and his name was
"Fran-swars Something-Foreign." He couldn't tell us where he lived or
anything about a young girl who might be his granddaughter. Mr. Graves had
taken over the shop some fifteen years earlier, well before she'd been born.

We left there in
a cloud of gloom and nobody spoke all the way to my house. The three of us
parted at my door after assigning ourselves tasks. Jacob's task was to find
Mortlock, mine was to ask Celia if there was anything else about Fran-Swars
Something-Foreign she wasn't telling me, and George's task was to go home. If
his slumped shoulders were any indication, he wasn't particularly happy to not
be given a job to do.

That evening,
after tending to my wound without alerting my sister or Lucy, I decided to
accost Celia over dinner. She was less likely to walk away since manners
dictated she remain until we'd both finished eating. "Celia, I have some
more questions about my father's family. They must—"

"Enough,
Emily!" Her knife and fork dropped onto the plate with a loud clank. "No
more questions. I've told you all I know. Truly I have. Do you think I would
withhold something important from you?"

"You
withheld some very important information from me for seventeen years," I
said acidly. "Such as the name of my father."

She tilted her
chin at me. "There are lives at stake now. After what you just told me
about this Mortlock spirit, I would not keep something vital from you if it
related to the girl. It's imperative Mr. Culvert and Mr. Beaufort find her and
stop her, and I am not
that
heartless that I wouldn't help if I could."

"I suppose
not. Sorry, Celia." I didn't correct her and say that I would be helping Jacob
and George. There was no need to add more kindling to an already smoldering fire.

Celia made a
small miffed sound, picked up her knife and fork, and cut into her potato. She
then proceeded to chat about her day. I tuned out when she got to her
conversation with Mrs. Northrop about our neighbor's rusty door hinge.

***

Jacob didn't come
to me the next morning. George, however, did.

"Remember
our friend, Leviticus Price?" he asked with great excitement as he sat in
our drawing room. Celia had gone out. I think she was avoiding me.

"I remember
him." I screwed up my nose. Leviticus Price was a member of The Society
For Supernatural Activity along with George, a group devoted to the discussion
of all things supernatural. He'd helped us pinpoint Blunt and Finch as the
persons behind the shape-shifting demon's escape from the Otherworld. I'd found
him to be extremely disagreeable, and I didn't like him. "Why?"

"I think we
should visit him again."

"You think he
can help?"

"Well."
He crossed his legs and fixed me with an earnest stare. "I started
thinking about your suggestion, that this situation is related to the one we
had with the demon, and the possibility that the culprit is the same. Price is
a board member at the school where Blunt worked. Perhaps he knows where he went,
if indeed he went anywhere. Price is also well respected at the Society and
extremely knowledgeable. He might know of another one such as yourself."

"The
girl," I muttered.

He shrugged. "It's
the only suggestion I have for now. Have you heard from Beaufort?"

"No." I
sighed. "Shall we go?" I wanted to leave before Celia came home. The
less I had to explain to her the better.

I tugged on the
bell pull and Lucy met me at the drawing room door a moment later. "I'm
going to Mr. Culvert's house to study his books." The ease with which I
lied lately was alarming. I told myself I was protecting Celia from worry. I
almost believed it.

Lucy fetched my
coat, gloves and hat, and saw us out. I climbed into George's coach and waited
until we were on our way before I asked him the question on my mind.

"Why did
you come here to fetch me? Did you not want to see Price on your own?"

He chuckled. "I'm
not as cowardly as that, Emily."

My face heated. "I'm
sorry. That's not what I meant. I'm simply unsure why I'm needed."

"I thought
you might like to come along."

"I would,
but I don't think you asked me out of politeness. Visiting Leviticus Price is
not a fun outing."

He grinned. "He
liked you."

"He did
not."

"He did. You
impressed him, not only with your ability to see ghosts, but your manner. You
weren't afraid of him."

"I was."

"But you
didn't show it and that is even more impressive." He cleared his throat
and looked out the window. "Adelaide Beaufort stood up to her father
yesterday. She's another impressive young lady." His cheeks colored and he
pushed his glasses up his nose.

We spent the
journey to Price's house talking about Adelaide. At least, George talked and I
mostly listened. Sometimes I didn't even do that.

Price rented
rooms in a modest brick house situated in the middle of a long street in a new
suburb. There were no trees, no common greens, and only one house had a
cheerful window box of red flowers. The rest could have been unoccupied for all
their blandness.

George knocked
on the front door of Price's house. No one came. He knocked again. Finally the
door opened on Price's landlady, a middle-aged woman with graying hair and
protruding nose, chin and mouth. It was as if her maker had stroked and teased
the bottom half of her face to stretch it. She tied the strings of an apron behind
her back without taking her hard gaze off us.

"He's not
home," she said when George asked to see Price. She spoke with an accent I
couldn't place.

"Oh,"
I said, disappointed. "Are you sure?"