Possession (3 page)

CHAPTER 2

"Celia,"
I hissed when we returned to the drawing room. "Can you leave us alone for
a few minutes?"

"Certainly
not! That would be entirely inappropriate." She sat in an armchair with a
dramatic puff of skirts and settled herself back as if she were putting down
roots. There would be no moving her.

"It doesn't
matter," Jacob said from where he stood at the fireplace, his back to us. He
clasped his hands behind him and stared into the glowing embers as if he could
see answers there. Answers to what? What the future held for us?

But we had no
future together. Not until...not until I died and joined him.

"I'm
leaving as soon as we finish discussing this business," he added.

"But you
can't!" I went to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He stiffened and shifted
away. My touch might as well have burned him. I let my hand drop to my side. "You
can't go," I said, quieter. "Not yet."

Celia began to
hum out of tune.

Lucy entered and
I snapped my mouth shut. Her interruption was probably for the best as I'd been
about to say something to my sister I would regret later. The maid collected
the tea things, made a few awed comments about our elegant lady guests and
their fashionable clothes then left with the tray, none the wiser about Jacob's
ghostly presence. Just as well. She looked a sturdy girl, but spirit matters
made her nervous. She could not yet bring herself to be alone with me.

I couldn't
really blame her. My talent for seeing the dead was certainly unnatural. I'd
not heard of anyone else with the ability. There were many who claimed they
could, particularly in London where mediums were becoming as popular as the
bearded dog lady for entertainment, but I'd yet to hear of one who wasn't a
charlatan.

"I've been
thinking about an appropriate friend for you to call upon," Jacob said,
"and I've decided Wallace Arbuthnot will do. Mother knows the family a
little. If anyone knows who this Frederick fellow is, it will be him. Arbuthnot
likes to put his nose into everyone's business, but he's a good man. He should
be on holiday from university at this time of year. You'll find him at his parents'
house in Kensington."

"Wallace Arbuthnot.
Right." I wanted to say so much more, but all I said was, "Is that
it?"

Celia cleared
her throat and made a great show of picking up her sewing from the basket
beside her chair. She started humming again. We couldn't fail to notice her,
which was no doubt her intention.

Jacob inclined
his head. "We've said everything there is to say, Em. Anything else at
this point would be unfair to us both."

"No. We
haven't said everything." I lowered my voice and moved closer. I wanted to
run my fingers along his smooth cheek, rub away the tension in his shoulders,
but I kept my hands to myself. Celia might not be able to see him, but she
would know. "I've been thinking about why you want to stay away from
me." He flinched as if I'd pinched him. "You said you were worried
you'd...hurt me." What he'd actually said was kill me, but that was much
too painful to say out loud. "I think you're wrong. In my experience, the
deceased retain the characteristics of their life. A good man in life is a good
man in death. You aren't capable of harming anyone, let alone someone you care
about."

"Don't be
so sure about that."

And then he was
gone. Just like that, right in the middle of our conversation. It was most
infuriating!

"Jacob! Jacob,
come back!" I stamped my foot and clenched my fists. It was childish, but
I didn't care.

"Has he
gone?" Celia said idly, intent on her stitch.

"You know
he is." I stormed out of the drawing room and up to my bedroom. I shut the
door and flopped on the bed, too angry to cry. Angry that Jacob wasn't
listening to his own heart, and angry that I cared so much.

***

Lady Preston's
drawing room was much larger than our own, and much lighter thanks to the grand
arched windows and the golden hues of the walls and furniture. She favored
delicate, spindly chairs and tables, not the heavier modern pieces of most of
our acquaintances. I liked the room very much, but after fifteen minutes
waiting on my own, I'd run out of things to admire. The footman assured me her
ladyship would be with me soon. "Soon" came and went. Countless
minutes later Lady Preston finally hurried in, her fine features drawn tight.

"So sorry
to keep you waiting, Miss Chambers," she said. "Adelaide is on her
way down." Her gaze slid to the door through which she'd just entered and her
frown deepened. "She might be some time yet." She turned a smile on
me, but I wasn't fooled. I knew a polite, forced smile when I saw one. Celia
had perfected it at our séances and I was learning quickly. "Did Jacob give
you the name of a friend?" she asked.

I told her about
Wallace Arbuthnot. "I know his mother," she said. "We'll go to
the house directly." She glanced at the door again. "Once Adelaide
appears."

Adelaide did not
appear. We sat and waited, passing the time with idle chatter. I wanted to ask
so many questions about Jacob's life, but I didn't know if his mother was ready
to speak about him. I didn't want to plunge her back into melancholy.

Finally Adelaide
entered the drawing room, the brown skirt of her plain satin dress bunched in
one hand revealing rather more of her lower leg than was decent. Her other hand
was pressed to her ribcage and her face was distorted in discomfort. Her gaze
settled immediately upon me and she gave me an odd sort of grin, not friendly
but somewhat...lascivious.

"Well,
well. You again, eh?" she said in a gravelly voice. She sounded, and
looked, like she hadn't slept well. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and her hair was
already beginning to slip from beneath the hat. "Come on then, let's get
this over with before these stays kill me."

She stalked out
of the drawing room. Lady Preston and I glanced at each other. My shock was
mirrored in her wide eyes. She muttered an apology then rushed after her
daughter.

A large black
coach pulled by matching grays waited for us outside. A footman held out his
hand to assist Adelaide up the step. She ignored it and climbed in unaided. I
took the offered hand and followed her. Adelaide patted the seat beside her and
I sank into the cushioned leather. Then she did an even odder thing. She
winked.

"Pretty
little pet, ain't you?" Her tongue darted out and licked her bottom lip.

I shifted as far
away as the seat would allow. Clearly she was out of sorts.

"Adelaide,"
Lady Preston snapped, taking the seat opposite us. The footman closed the door
and the coach jerked forward. "Mind what you say in front of Mrs. Arbuthnot.
If you so much as utter a single word out of turn, that busybody will ensure
everyone knows of it by the end of the day."

Adelaide blinked
rapidly and pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Yes, Mother. Sorry,
Mother."

"Really, my
dear, what has got into you? Ever since we left Miss Chambers' house, your
behavior has been very odd."

Since my house?

Adelaide moaned.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I...I have a headache and feel quite...wrong
somehow. I can't quite explain it. Dizziness and...and I find I can't recall
everything."

"Perhaps
you should remain at home," her mother said, softening. She leaned forward
and peered into Adelaide's eyes. "You need to rest. I don't want you to
fall ill."

"No!" Adelaide
shouted. With a quick glance from me to her mother, she blushed and added,
"I want to come. I'm just...not feeling myself yet. I slept poorly."

A sick feeling
twisted my stomach. If Adelaide was not feeling like herself, then who was she
feeling like? The fact this change had come over her after visiting me was
twice as worrying. Thanks to my ability to see the dead, strange things seemed
to be happening more and more of late. Perhaps the shape-shifting demon was
back and had taken over her body, although I wasn't sure if that was possible
while the victim was still alive.

I shuddered. Victims,
demons...it was all so gruesome.

Fortunately she
seemed to have returned to her normal self and she asked me about my recent
séances. I chatted more to ward off awkward silences than anything else. Adelaide
and her mother contributed little to the conversation and although they kept up
polite façades, I suspected neither was really listening.

The coach came
to a halt outside a row of tall, slender, red and cream brick terraces joined
together in a straight row. I followed Lady Preston and Adelaide out of the
coach. This time we all used the assistance of the footman. We were met at the
door by a starched servant and directed to a drawing room with views over the
street and a collection of Oriental artifacts placed around the room.

A matronly woman
swathed in glossy black and leaning heavily on a cane entered. She walked with an
awkward gait on feet much too small for her size. She reminded me of a pig on
trotters, but I pushed the unkind thought aside lest a giggle escape.

When she saw
Lady Preston and Adelaide, her thin eyebrows nearly leapt off her soft, round
face. "Lady Preston, this
is
an unexpected surprise. I doubted my
ears when Jenkins announced you, but here you are. And your pretty daughter
too." Her gray eyes skipped briefly in my direction, but her smile never faltered.
What she thought of me was hidden beneath a politely bland expression. "Sit,
sit." She pointed to the sofa with her walking stick then proceeded to
lower herself into an armchair, slowly at first, then finally plunging into the
sumptuous velvet.

Lady Preston
introduced me and I was relieved to see not a hint of recognition on Mrs. Arbuthnot's
face. It would seem she hadn't joined in the latest fashion of afternoon
séances for ladies like many of her set. She was, however, clearly curious
about my presence. I wasn't introduced as a friend, cousin, ward, or any such
thing, which seemed to fuel her curiosity more. Her puffy-lidded gaze frequently
wandered in my direction despite her carrying on a conversation with Lady
Preston.

The chatter
ended abruptly when Adelaide's irritated sigh drew everyone's attention to her.
"We're not here to gossip," she said in that deep voice that grated
across my nerves. "Is the boy here?"

Mrs. Arbuthnot
made a gargling sound in her throat. "Pardon?"

"Adelaide."
Lady Preston managed to scold her daughter without raising her voice above a
whisper. "She's been out of sorts since yesterday," she said to Mrs. Arbuthnot.

Mrs. Arbuthnot
laughed too loudly for it to be genuine. "She's quite eager to see my Wallace,
is she?" She called for Jenkins. The butler entered and bowed. "Fetch
Wallace if you will. Tell him Miss Adelaide Beaufort has come calling. That
should get him out of bed." She turned her smiling face on Lady Preston. "He
rises rather late since his return from Oxford, I'm afraid. The unfortunate
consequences of late nights at his club."

With a huff,
Adelaide stood and made her way across the room with long, purposeful strides. She
lounged against the white marble mantelpiece and picked up a blue and white
Oriental jar. She weighed it in her hand, lifted the lid, peeked inside, then
replaced it. She moved onto a black statuette and repeated the exercise. We
watched her, silent.

"Nice things
you got here," she said, studying the oil painting above the fireplace. I
was no art expert, but the hunting scene looked very well done, the detail
intricate and colors vibrant. "Bet that's worth a quid or two."

Lady Preston
gave a small gasp of horror. Mrs. Arbuthnot looked equally horrified but
managed a self-conscious laugh. "What a charmingly direct way you have,
Miss Beaufort."

Adelaide grunted
and admired a large round plate decorated with Oriental dragons. My bad feeling
returned with a stinging slap. She was certainly not acting like herself.

I wished Jacob were
near. I suddenly had a flurry of questions to ask him. I considered summoning
him but dismissed the idea. Alarming Mrs. Arbuthnot at this point would be
unproductive. So I silently willed him instead. Of course nothing happened. A
summoning needed to be spoken aloud.

Thankfully the
tension in the drawing room dissolved when a young man burst into the room. It had
to be Wallace Arbuthnot because he looked very much like his mother, except
taller and with a shock of thinning blond hair standing to attention. He
already showed signs that he would be grossly overweight in years to come. I
feared for the buttons on his red silk waistcoat and the collar of his shirt,
both straining to contain the man within.

"Lady
Preston, Miss Beaufort, delightful!" He smiled and bowed to all of us,
including me, and I instantly decided I liked him. He had such a friendly, kind
face, completely without guile.

"It's
lovely to see you again, Mr. Arbuthnot." Lady Preston held out her gloved hand.
He took it and kissed it gently. "May I present Miss Chambers," she
said, indicating me.

He bowed
graciously. "Delighted to meet you, Miss Chambers."