Evermore Page 8

  We thanked her and left the house through the servants’ entrance. “Success!” George said as we strolled to the carriage.

  I looked back to the house and bit my lip. Something was troubling me, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. Mrs. White had seemed perfectly lovely and had explained her lie about going to her sister. Perhaps it was her twisting fingers, or perhaps it was the fact that she’d not asked me how Lucy fared first.

  I shook off my doubts. We’d got what we came for—an address for Blunt.

  George gave the driver instructions to drive to the northern suburb of Wood Green then settled himself on the seat opposite me. “I wonder how Beaufort fared.”

  I looked out the window at number twelve again. The governess’s room would be on one of the upper floors where the nursery, schoolroom, and children’s rooms were located. There was no sign of him.

  The coach rolled off. I was just about to ask George for his opinion on how best to confront Blunt when Jacob appeared. Indeed, ‘appeared’ may be too strong a word. He faded in and out and then disappeared altogether again.

  “Jacob!” I called. “Jacob, are you there?” Oh God, no. Please come back to me. I pulled the window down and stuck my head out in the hope he’d navigated to somewhere nearby, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t summon him,” George said gently. “He may need to conserve energy.”

  I stared out the window and concentrated on stilling my rapidly beating heart. It didn’t work.

  Just as the carriage turned a corner, Jacob materialized beside me, albeit weakly. “You’re here!” I said and threw my arms around him. It was like embracing a fog—his skin felt moist and no longer solid. My arms didn’t go all the way through him like they would if I wasn’t a medium, but he didn’t feel altogether there.

  “What’s happening?” I asked, pulling away. I cupped his cheek and he turned to kiss my palm. “Jacob, answer me!”

  He shook his head. “Can’t.” His voice was a rasping whisper. “Can’t…stay.” He disappeared completely, only to come back and utter, “Seymour.” And then he was gone.

  “Jacob! Jacob!” I turned to George and he caught both my trembling hands in his. “What if he doesn’t come back? What if he…?” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “What if he’s…?”

  “Don’t think that way, Em. He’ll be fine. He’s strong, remember? Perhaps he only needs to rest awhile.”

  I bit back tears. “We have to stop them. Whoever is doing this…they must be stopped.”

  He nodded. “Perhaps Blunt will provide an answer.”

  I doubted Blunt would simply ‘provide’ us with anything. We might need to use force and I wasn’t sure George was the right man for the job.

  “Do you think we could collect Theo?”

  “Of course.” He pulled the window down, held onto his hat, and called out new directions to the driver. “Let’s hope Hyde is at home,” he said, pulling the window up again.

  “Jacob said ‘Seymour’ just now. Do you think he found a connection to Frederick Seymour in Mrs. White’s room?”

  “An interesting thought.”

  “But what possible connection could there be? She has no family. Perhaps he traveled elsewhere during his absence and found something.” Whatever it was would have to wait until Jacob could visit us again.

  If he were able.

  “Don’t worry, Emily,” George said. “He’ll return soon. The man can’t leave you alone.”

  I appreciated his attempt to bolster my mood and said so. “You’re a good friend, George. The best.”

  “As are you. You’d be an even better friend if you could say some nice things about me to Miss Beaufort.” He looked out the window and waved his hand in dismissal. “Only if the right moment arises, that is. Don’t trouble yourself otherwise.”

  “It would be no trouble, but I have a feeling she already knows what you’re like anyway.” I suddenly wanted to embrace him. Since that would be awkward beyond endurance, I simply sat in silence as we made our way to the Arbuthnots’ house in Kensington.

  ***

  Mr. Blunt kept us waiting in the visitors’ drawing room of the Royal Masonic Institution for Boys for much longer than politeness allowed. We’d given the servant Theo’s name rather than mine or George’s so that he wouldn’t have us thrown out, yet after twenty minutes, I was beginning to think Blunt wasn’t going to appear at all.

  “Perhaps he saw our approach through a window and has decided to avoid us,” George said.

  “Then why not send the footman in to tell us he’s not here?” I asked.

  “Perhaps he’s in the middle of teaching a class,” Theo said.

  We agreed to wait a little longer. Another ten minutes passed. George spent the time pacing the room, his hands behind his back and looking every bit the impatient gentleman. It was lucky the drawing room was generously proportioned so he could stretch his lanky legs properly. It wasn’t at all like the Clerkenwell school where Blunt had previously worked. The furniture was much more solid and modern although there was little of it. Just a sofa, four chairs, a small desk and three round occasional tables. A lovely Oriental rug covered most of the floor, its red tones providing the otherwise masculine room with some feminine color. The enormous white marble fireplace took up a great deal of wall space and would throw out a lot of heat if it were lit.

  “Are you all right, Emily?” Theo asked quietly. “I know there’s much on your mind lately but you seem particularly distracted today.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m worried about this situation in the Waiting Area. If the culprit continues his campaign, all those spirits will be obliterated. It not only affects current spirits but future ones too.”

  “It is bad,” he said gloomily.

  Bad didn’t even begin to explain the enormity of our problem. “I’ve always known there was somewhere to go after I die. Now if Jacob’s killer is allowed to succeed there will be nothing.”

  “The ultimate death,” he muttered, nodding.

  “Precisely. The fate which awaits us is very final indeed.”

  “It’s not a certainty, Emily. Don’t give up.” He took my hand and his big, strong fingers were a comfort. Two weeks ago when we’d first met, his hands had been covered with calluses from his work on his family’s Shropshire farm, but now they were covered in ink stains.

  When we’d collected him from his aunt’s house, I’d been surprised that he was home. I’d expected to be told he was attending lectures, but he’d bounded down the stairs to join us and hustled us back into George’s waiting carriage. When I questioned him about his presence, he said the lecturer was ill and lessons had been canceled for the day.

  “There’s something more though, isn’t there?” He massaged my hand, his thumb tracing circles around each of my knuckles. “I mean, I know you’re worried about the future for all ghosts, but…there’s one in particular, isn’t there? One whom you care about above all others.”

  “I…I don’t know what you mean.”

  His gentle gray gaze met mine. I looked away. “Yes, you do. It’s all right, Emily. I’d rather know than not. You cannot help your feelings for him. By all accounts, he’s an enigmatic fellow. At least, he was in life. Only you can know what he’s like in death.”

  I sat there feeling stupid, my tongue thick in my mouth. I didn’t know what to say. He was right, of course. I had very strong feelings for Jacob. Yet I liked Theo too and didn’t want him thinking I was leading him astray when my heart was engaged elsewhere.

  “Jacob is dead, Theo,” I said levelly. “We have no future together.” It was something Celia reminded me about almost every day in one way or another. She would be proud to hear me say it aloud, particularly to Theo. Yet I felt sick to my stomach.

  “Not until you—” He cleared his throat. “You know what I mean.”

  Not until you die. It was a thought forever at the back of my mind, and not one I was willing to bring closer to the fr
ont. Yet it was always present, dogging every one of my actions and dreams. It was hard to plan for the future without wondering when it would come to an end so I could join Jacob.

  Ice-cold fingers dug through my skin to my bones. For the first time since I’d considered the dark thought of joining Jacob, I wondered what I’d do if the curse succeeded and he became nothing. Would I want to wait a lifetime knowing I wouldn’t meet him again in the Otherworld? Or would I rather be with him sooner and become nothing together?

  “Besides, I have many more things on my plate than the Waiting Area problem.” I tried to sound sunny when all I felt was immeasurable gloom through to my core.

  “Oh? Like your father’s return? That is definitely something cheerful.”

  “And there’s Adelaide’s ball,” I added.

  “Oh yes!” said George from the other side of the room. I hadn’t realized he’d been listening. Perhaps he only had heightened hearing when Adelaide’s name received a mention. “I, for one, cannot wait. You’ll be there, won’t you, Hyde?”

  Theo nodded. “My cousin Wallace and I are both invited. Since he proclaims not to enjoy dancing, I suspect he’ll spend most of the evening standing at the refreshments table.”

  “And gossiping,” George said. “By all accounts, he knows everyone.”

  Everyone, including Frederick Seymour and Jacob Beaufort when they were alive. The reminder put a dampener on our cheery banter and plunged us once more into melancholy.

  Thankfully we were quickly distracted by the door opening and the appearance of Blunt.

  “Bloody hell!” he cried when he saw me. He spun on his heel and would have walked right out again if he hadn’t lost his balance. George caught him and staggered under the weight of the bigger man, almost dropping him.

  “Steady on,” George said, helping the headmaster to stand.

  Blunt pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and leaned heavily on George’s arm. “How did you find out I was here?” he asked, his voice unnaturally thin.

  “The spirit world can see a great many things,” I said.

  “Go away.” The half of his face not covered by his extraordinarily bushy beard and moustache was pale, the skin glistening as if he were in the grip of a fever.

  “Are you ill, Mr. Blunt?” I indicated George should help him to one of the chairs. “You look very unwell.”

  “Just go.” He groaned and lowered his head into his hands. “I’ve done nothing wrong since…since then and I want no trouble.”

  “That’s not why we’re here, Mr. Blunt.”

  Theo and George took up positions on either side of him as he sat, but I doubted they would be needed in any strong-arm capacity. Blunt looked far too ill to run or be any physical threat to me. Indeed, I was quite sure I could land a harder punch than him at that moment. From the way he slumped in the chair, he looked like a shadow of the man we’d first met mere weeks ago.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “Get on with it then.”

  “You might be ill, but there’s no cause for bad language around ladies,” George said.

  “She’s no lady. Go on, state your business, or I’ll call the footmen.” Blunt’s unfocused gaze met mine and I was startled by the web of red lines crisscrossing the whites of his eyes.

  George bent down to Blunt’s level. “Call the footmen and Miss Chambers will unleash a spirit on you.”

  Blunt’s gaze flicked from George to me to Theo. He did not look afraid, and for a man who’d shown considerable terror whenever Jacob visited him in the past, it was rather telling—he must have known I couldn’t summon any spirits from the Waiting Area.

  “Where did you go after leaving the Clerkenwell school?” I asked. “It could not have been here. The footman said you were appointed only a few days ago.”

  “I was in the country. Visiting family. I returned to London last week and applied for the position here when I heard it was vacant. As soon as it was granted, I moved in. It’s a live-in position and I have rooms on the top floor. Satisfied, Miss Chambers?”

  He got up to leave, but Theo put a hand to his chest and Blunt fell back into the chair again, as limp as a doll.

  “Call off your thugs,” he said to me. “I have to go. I have a, uh, very important appointment to keep. Very important.”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  A shudder wracked Blunt and any remaining color in his face drained until he was completely white. “I don’t feel well. Please…let me go…I need to keep my appointment. I’m begging you.”

  “Do you know a youth named Frederick Seymour?”

  He swallowed heavily and ground his fingers into his eye sockets. “Should I?”

  “Do you know anyone by the name of Seymour?”

  Another shake of his head which produced a loud groan. He clutched his hair, almost dragging it out by the roots. “Miss Chambers…” He began to rise but once again, Theo shoved him back.

  “Do you know any gypsies?”

  He pulled a face, although I couldn’t be sure if it was because the thought of meeting a gypsy filled him with horror or he was going to throw up.

  George looked at me and shook his head. I sighed. He was right, we weren’t going to get anywhere by questioning Blunt. If he knew anything about the curse, he wouldn’t freely admit it to us.

  “Thank you for your time, Mr. Blunt, although—”

  Blunt made a great heaving sound and propelled himself out of the chair so fast that he tripped over the rug and landed on his hands and knees by the fireplace. A horribly demonic sound burst from the depths of him before he emptied the contents of his stomach in the grate. The contents of his pockets had emptied all over the rug near his knees.

  George buried his nose and mouth in the crook of his arm.

  “I think we should go,” I said.

  George and I walked quickly to the door. Instead of joining us, Theo bent beside the miserable figure of Blunt. He picked something up and pocketed it. The three of us left the Institution in a hurry.

  “He knows something,” I said once we were inside the carriage. “Did you see how he wasn’t afraid when you threatened him with spiritual violence, George? He knows the ghosts cannot easily come here and we’re rather powerless in that regard.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s connected to whomever is responsible for the curse,” George said. “He may have heard the rumors of your recent difficulty summoning spirits.”

  “Not Blunt, surely. He’s the master of a charity school. It’s unlikely those rumors have reached him yet.” It was something Celia and I were counting on. We had as much business from ordinary folk as we did from the upper regions of society. Indeed, it was the middle classes who tended to take us more seriously, whereas we were mostly seen as frivolous entertainment by the wealthy and privileged. Lady Preston had begun to change that through her circle of friends, but all her good work was unraveling a little more each day.

  George and Theo exchanged glances.

  “Are you two hiding something from me?” I asked.

  “Emily,” said Theo gently, “you must prepare for the worst.”

  “The worst?”

  “Your business may fail completely,” George said.

  “What?”

  “Mother has reported that even more people are talking about you in a, er, somewhat negative light.”

  “My aunt said the same thing.” Theo grimaced. “I’m sorry, Emily, but I think you’ll find you have many more cancelations before the week is out.”

  Bloody hell. “Celia will go into a panic if that happens.”

  “And you?” Theo asked. “It is your livelihood too, after all.”

  “We’ll survive. We must have built up some savings by now.” I heaved a sigh. “By the time it runs out, we should both have found employment elsewhere. Perhaps Mrs. White can tell me how to become a governess.” The prospect of leaving behind my work as a medium lifted my spirits a little. I was tired of being seen as an oddity. All my life, I�
��d been treated differently, partly because of my heritage, but mostly because it was known I could communicate with the dead. It made making new friends difficult. Those who believed me were generally afraid of me, and everyone else just assumed I was mad or a fraud.

  “Good,” George said. “I’m glad you’ll be all right. Aren’t you, Hyde?”

  “Of course, of course.”

  “I do hope Blunt’s illness isn’t contagious,” said George after a moment of silence.

  “I don’t think it is.” Theo pulled a small package out of his pocket and unwrapped the brown paper to reveal a little pile of black powder.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I think I know,” George said, adjusting his glasses and taking a closer look.

  “So do I,” Theo said.

  “What is it?” I asked them. Neither answered. George sat back and Theo shuffled his feet. “Tell me!”

  “It’s opium,” George finally said.

  Theo nodded. “It seems Blunt is addicted to the stuff.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “Opium! Good lord,” I said. “I don’t know much about it, but I do know having an addiction to it can be debilitating.”

  Theo folded the brown paper over the powder and tucked the parcel into his waistcoat pocket. “That explains why Blunt was sick. He must be due his next dose.” He patted his pocket. We now had his next dose.

  “That’s what he must have meant about his appointment,” I said. “Will he be all right? What will happen if he doesn’t take it?”

  Theo shrugged. “Culvert, do you know?”

  George’s nod was grim. “I do unfortunately. There was a fellow in the Society who was addicted to the stuff. He started smoking it to lessen the pain of a back injury obtained from a riding accident. After a few months, it no longer had the same effect and he needed to smoke more of the stuff to get some relief. That’s when his health began to decline. He lost weight, lost his ability to focus, and looked ill all of the time. He ceased caring about everything and everybody, which I think was part of its allure. When he tried to give up, or when he hadn’t smoked it for a period of time, he was very much like Blunt was now. Sick, shaking, terrible nightmares, and that was only on the nights he could sleep. More often, he could not.”