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  I couldn’t think of any response that wouldn’t offend her so I continued walking. “I admit that I had assumed Lord Preston wouldn’t care about Adelaide’s wishes.”

  “On some things, perhaps not, but on this matter it seems he does. His wife’s wishes too, of course.”

  That lulled me into a thoughtful silence. Perhaps Lord Preston wasn’t the tyrant I’d originally pegged him to be.

  “Did Lord Fulham’s spirit say anything to you?” Celia asked, stopping at the intersection with busy Sloane Street. “From the look on your face, I’d say he did and that it wasn’t something you liked hearing. He didn’t insult you, did he?”

  “No. He appeared much faded and very weak.”

  “As with Madame Friage yesterday.”

  I’d told Celia my concerns following our last séance, but both of us had dismissed Madame Friage’s faintness at the time. We’d assumed she was about to crossover from the Waiting Area to the Otherworld, but now Lord Fulham had appeared just as faded, and he had said he was not going to cross. That he could not, and nor could the other spirits.

  The steady stream of omnibuses and coaches meant we had to concentrate as we crossed Sloane Street and neither of us spoke until we reached the other side.

  I rounded on Celia as she shook her skirt to dislodge some of the street grime that had dared cling to its hem. “I’m worried,” I said. “Something is wrong in the Waiting Area.”

  “It would appear so.”

  “We must do something. I should summon J—”

  “No! You will not summon him. We can work around this little problem without him.”

  Work around? Little problem? “Celia, what are you talking about? This is a potential disaster, not only for the poor spirits who can’t cross, but for our business too. If word gets out that ghosts aren’t co-operating, then our bookings will dry up. I can’t conduct a séance without ghosts.” If anything would propel Celia into action it would be the mention of our income dwindling.

  “You could pretend the spirits are present.”

  “Celia!” I could no more act my way through an entire séance than I could perform on a stage in front of hundreds of people. The latter had been another of Celia’s wild schemes only the week before, one I’d refused to participate in.

  “It may be the only way.” She clutched my hand and looked at me with an expression that hardened her pretty features and wrinkled her otherwise smooth brow. “Emily, we cannot afford to lose any customers.”

  A carriage rolled up and the window was pushed down by a hand clad in a brown leather glove. Lord Preston’s hand, going by the family’s coat of arms on the carriage door.

  The first voice I heard was not Lord Preston’s, however, but his wife’s. “Please, leave her be, Reginald. There’s no need to create a scene.”

  Celia took my arm. The sharp talons of her fingers pierced through the layers of my clothing. “Is there something we can do for you, my lord?” she asked coolly.

  Lord Preston’s face appeared through the window, his tall hat skimming the top of the frame. He was handsome, for an older man, but his prominent brow made him look angry all the time. Or perhaps being angry all of the time was what had made his brow so pronounced in the first place.

  “Do not think I’ve given up,” he snarled. “Do not think you’ve gotten away with anything, Miss Chambers. You are a fraud. Your tricks are heartless and cruel and I will discredit you.”

  Celia took a step back as if he’d pushed her, but I stood my ground, even as she tried to pull me away from the coach. I would not give into him. I was many things—a fatherless bastard of African descent, a woman of trade, and a magnet for trouble—but I was not a fraud.

  “Is that all, my lord?” I asked with the sweetest voice I could muster through my seething anger. “Because I’m very busy and there’s a ghost over there who wishes to speak to me.” It was a lie, but it made him look in the direction of my nod, which I found perversely amusing.

  “Reginald, please,” came Lady Preston’s pleading voice from within the carriage. “Let’s go. For Adelaide’s sake.”

  I thought I heard sniffing, but I could have been mistaken. The rumbling of dozens of wheels and clip clop of horses’ hooves along Sloane Street was enough to drown out most small sounds.

  “Cease your fraudulent act, Miss Chambers,” Lord Preston said, his voice lowered enough that I could still hear it but probably not his wife and daughter behind him. “For their sakes, if not for your own.” He withdrew into the cabin and pulled up the window with a violent shove. The coach rolled away and joined the traffic.

  I stared after it. My heart kicked violently inside my chest as if it were restarting after having ceased. My hands began to shake and I clasped them tightly together so that Celia didn’t notice.

  “What a rude, horrid man,” she said. “Pay him no mind. His words are just that, words. As long as he doesn’t repeat them at the ball, all will be well, and I do believe he’ll keep his opinions to himself that night.”

  I hoped she was right. He might be prepared to discredit me in front of his family, but he had refrained in public so far. That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t have a few private, quiet words with his friends over dinner. I wouldn’t put anything past Lord Preston when it came to smearing my reputation.

  “It dumbfounds me that a father would say such things to his daughter’s friend,” I said.

  “Not even if he thought he was right?” Celia asked, steering me down the pavement. “Perhaps he thinks he’s protecting her from further hurt. She and her mother have suffered greatly from Jacob’s death, and if he truly believes you are indeed a fraud, he would not want you hurting them further with what he thinks are lies.”

  Sometimes I hated it when she made sense. “Stop making excuses for him, Celia. He’s awful and that’s that.”

  “His manners could certainly do with some improving. Whoever said the upper classes were the most polite got it wrong. In my opinion, they are the most ill-mannered.”

  We walked side by side past shops and distinctive red brick houses until we reached Druids Way. I planted my hand on my hat to stop it being blown off in the sudden breeze that always greeted us in our street. Celia had a ribbon beneath her chin keeping her bonnet securely in place so that she could continue to hold my arm and carry the carpet bag.

  With my head bent into the wind, I didn’t see the spirit until we reached the steps leading up to our front door. He was sitting on the top step, his forehead resting on arms crossed over his knees. I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to. I knew who it was, even though the difference in him was profound.

  “Jacob!”

  He lifted his head and I was struck by the weariness that shadowed his eyes. His shoulders were stooped, as if they carried a load too heavy to bear. “Em.”

  I pulled free of Celia and ran to him. “What’s happened?” I squatted before him and touched his cheek. It was cooler than usual. “You’re so faint.” Despite Madame Friage and Lord Fulham both appearing extremely faded, I hadn’t thought Jacob would suffer the same fate. He was more solid than every other spirit I’d encountered. Whereas they were smudged at the edges, he was as sharp and bold to me as any live person.

  Not anymore. Whatever had befallen them affected Jacob as well. Which meant he was struggling to remain in our realm.

  Jacob closed his hand over mine. It didn’t feel as solid as usual, and that scared me. “I’m growing fainter because I’m dying, Em.”

  “But you’re already dead.”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “Yes, but not like this. This is different. If I continue to fade, I’ll no longer exist as a conscious entity. None of us will.”

  No. It wasn’t possible. There must be some horrible mistake. But Jacob didn’t look like a man in error. He closed his eyes and tipped his head forward onto his knees again.

  Oh God.

  “What’s he saying?” Celia asked.

  My throat tightened, bu
t I managed to speak, albeit softly. “He says he, and all the spirits in the Waiting Area, are going to become nothing.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “This requires a cup of tea,” Celia announced. “Let’s go inside.”

  “I don’t think tea will solve my problem,” Jacob said.

  I didn’t think so either, but it would make Celia feel better and remove us from prying eyes. Our elderly neighbors liked to occupy their day by watching the street through their windows.

  Lucy, our maid, met us in the hallway. I told her Jacob was present and she went very still. Only her eyeballs moved, scanning the vicinity. She could not see him, of course. Only I could, and Cara, my ten year-old aunt who’d moved into the spare bedroom.

  “Where’s Cara?” I asked, hanging up my hat on the coat stand.

  “In the kitchen helping me bake.” Lucy took the bag Celia passed to her. “Shall I fetch her, miss?”

  “No!” Celia and I both said together. I didn’t want Cara to worry or feel that she needed to help us. She’d had a difficult life and it was time she enjoyed the few years of childhood remaining and leave serious matters to her elders. Apparently Celia had the same idea.

  “Can you bring tea into the drawing room, please?” Celia said.

  “Yes, Miss Chambers.” Lucy turned to go but stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot. A man called today.” Her gaze flicked to me, so naturally I asked if the visitor were George.

  “Or Mr. Hyde?” Celia asked. She was referring to Theodore Hyde, a gentleman who’d been calling on me frequently of late.

  My face grew hot and I didn’t dare look at Jacob. He wanted me to encourage Theo’s attentions, despite the intense, unresolved feelings between himself and me. He wanted me to live a full life until we met again in the Otherworld, but I was still unsure of my feelings toward Theo. I liked him very much, but did I love him enough to consider marrying him? Perhaps, in time…

  “Not Mr. Hyde or Mr. Culvert neither,” Lucy said. “It was a stranger.” She bit on her plump bottom lip and her gaze once more settled on me.

  “Did he leave his name?” Celia asked.

  “No, Miss Chambers.”

  “Did he state his business?” I said.

  “No, Miss Emily. He said he’d return another time.”

  “How odd.” We had no more questions and Celia dismissed Lucy. The maid bobbed a curtsy and bustled back to the kitchen.

  “It’s the height of rudeness not to leave a calling card,” Celia muttered as she walked into the drawing room. “The absolute height.” She paused in the doorway and sighed at the threadbare sofa before proceeding to it. We’d almost bought a new one, but she had declared my ball gown more important. An investment in my future, she’d called it. Most of the profits from our séances had been used to pay for the dress.

  “Jacob, please sit,” I urged him when he stood next to the fireplace, his customary position when he came to visit. “Save your energy.”

  He looked like he would refuse, but then he gave a single nod and collapsed into the nearby armchair as if his legs could no longer hold him upright. Celia seemed to relax a little as she always did when she knew precisely where he was in the room. She must have seen the indentation he made in the upholstery.

  I touched his shoulder to reassure myself that he was still solid enough for me to feel him. He was so faint, so unlike himself, that I feared my hand would go straight through him, as it would if I wasn’t a medium. Luckily, I could still feel him, but he was so cold.

  My face must have shown my worry because he said, “I’m all right, Em.”

  I grazed my knuckles along his jaw, down his neck to the collar of his shirt.

  Celia cleared her throat. “Tell us what’s happening up there. Our last two séances have not gone according to plan and Emily said there’s something wrong in the Waiting Area.”

  He edged away from my hand, as if he couldn’t bear my touch.

  “Come sit with me, Emily,” Celia ordered.

  I obeyed, backing away from Jacob without taking my gaze off him. He kept his on me too and there was a longing in their depths that punched through to my heart. I’d missed the way he looked at me—like I was a balm for deep wounds. A shiver of desire rippled across my skin, caressing me like a warm breeze.

  He looked away suddenly and stared into the unlit grate. “The Waiting Area is in chaos.”

  “Chaos?” I echoed. “What do you mean?”

  “Spirits are disappearing and not reappearing and no one knows where they’ve gone. They simply…fade away into nothingness. Few are able to come here at will anymore, and those who can are unable to stay.”

  “We know.” I told him what Madame Friage and Lord Fulham had said.

  “I am the strongest spirit,” he said, “the most…physical for want of a better word.”

  “You always were.”

  “Some would say I was an overachiever in life and continue to be so in death.”

  It sounded silly, but it was no laughing matter, particularly the part about when he was alive. From the information we’d gathered, his murder was linked closely to the type of person he’d been—somewhat self-absorbed and yes, overachieving. His admission cut to the bone and the pain of it was imprinted clear on his face.

  “Everyone is afraid,” he went on. “No one seems to know what to do. So I’ve been sent by the Administrators to ask for your help, Emily.”

  “Oh.” I thought he’d come because he wanted to see me. Or to say goodbye. I gulped back hot tears.

  “What does he want?” Celia’s brisk tone set me on edge even more. She was extremely protective of me and disliked having me exposed to danger. It usually led to a great many lies on my part, something I disliked but found utterly necessary if I were to get anything done. “You must tell me,” she said when I hesitated.

  I told her what Jacob had said. “But what can Emily do?” she said, her tone more subdued than I expected.

  Jacob’s presence flared for a moment then dimmed alarmingly.

  “Jacob!”

  “I’m here,” he said as he returned. He sighed. “Tell your sister…” He shook his head. “I was about to say, tell her not to worry. But I cannot lie to either of you. If past events are any indication, there will be danger involved.”

  “Yes,” I said quietly, “I’m sure there will be.” But there was no way I would tell Celia that in such plain terms.

  “I don’t like it, Em,” he said. “I don’t like asking this of you.”

  “But you have no choice,” I finished for him.

  “There is always a choice.” He lowered his head into his hands and dragged his fingers through his dark hair. “I could have chosen to do nothing while all those spirits in the Waiting Area fade into non-existence.”

  “Including yourself.”

  He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and groaned. “Or I could ask you or Cara for help.” He laughed, low and bitter.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. “You made the right decision.” It would seem he thought as we did—that Cara was too young to bear such a burden on her small shoulders—but I don’t think the decision was made lightly. Jacob had an aversion to putting me in danger too.

  “Then why do I feel so wretched?” He stood suddenly and his presence solidified.

  “Your anger suits you,” I said, trying to lighten the tone of our conversation.

  “I’m not angry,” he muttered, turning away from me to stare into the fireplace.

  “Emily,” Celia said. “Tell me this instant what is being discussed. I will not be ignored.”

  “Celia, ignoring you is an impossibility.”

  She looked down at her skirts and made a show of smoothing them.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, closing my hand over hers. “I didn’t mean to sound so horrid.”

  “I know. Now stop avoiding the topic and tell me what Jacob said. I am on pins and needles.”

  “He said not to worry.” I studiously kept my gaze f
rom wandering to Jacob as he turned to regard me, both brows raised. I could not lie if he challenged me, even if he did so silently. “He wants me to conduct some research in George’s library to find out why the spirits are disappearing. So it looks like George and I will be afflicted with nothing more dangerous than paper cuts.”

  She gave me a small smile of relief. “Excellent. Research in the library. You and George are very good at that.”

  “You, Emily Chambers, are devious.” Jacob shook his head and chuckled. My heart flooded. I wanted to see him laugh more often. I suspected cheerfulness was his natural state, or at least it had been when he was alive, but his death had darkened his soul.

  Being murdered can do that to a person.

  Finding his murderer had been one of the few things to keep me occupied in his absence these last two weeks, but it had been a frustrating endeavor. Lady Preston had informed me just prior to our séance earlier that the only boy named Frederick in Jacob’s year at Oxford to have died was a Frederick Seymour, and that he had indeed killed himself. It merely confirmed what we’d already learned and it left us no closer to discovering the truth behind Jacob’s murder. Jacob remembered his murderer blaming him for Frederick’s death, but how could he be responsible? They may have fought, but Jacob hadn’t killed him. Frederick had got up and run away afterward. And Jacob could hardly be held responsible for the suicide of someone he barely knew.

  Discovering the truth had become as important to me as discovering the identity of my own father. He and his family needed closure, to move on. Once we found his killer, we would find Jacob’s body. Lord and Lady Preston would be able to finally bury their son and see justice served. I suspected it would also allow Jacob’s spirit to crossover and be at peace. It’s what I wanted second most in all the world. Foremost, I wanted to be with him…someday.

  Although it seemed crossing over to the Otherworld was looking increasingly doubtful for all ghosts, not just Jacob.

  “I think you need to tell me more,” I said to him. “So that George and I know what to look for,” I added for Celia’s benefit.

  “And that nice Mr. Hyde too,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy researching alongside you both in the library.