Evermore (15 page)

It was a hint of how the rest of my life
would be. Alone. Jacob gone forever, never to return.

I did not like it.

George arrived in the morning to take me back
to Grosvenor Street where he'd left Theo watching the house. He
looked like he hadn't slept in a week, rather than just one night.
His clothes were crumpled, his jaw lined with stubble and his eyes
red-rimmed.

"Oh George," I said on a sigh. "Spending the
night in the coach wasn't quite as much fun as you'd hoped, was
it?"

He removed his glasses and squeezed the
bridge of his nose. "It was a living nightmare. I froze to death,
my left leg went numb, and I cannot turn my head further than..."
He turned to the right and winced. "Further than that. To top it
off, Hyde slept like a baby. He snores, by the way. I think that's
something you should know if you're planning on marrying him."

I tried to stifle a laugh but it escaped as a
snort. "How fortunate that you're a gentleman and not a woodsman or
soldier. You would be quite miserable sleeping out of doors or in a
tent." I leaned across the gap between us and fixed his crooked
necktie. "You cannot even dress yourself."

He stretched his neck out of his collar.
"Thank you. I admit I'm lost without my valet."

"So did anything happen? Did Mrs. White leave
the house?"

"No. I wish she had. The excitement would
have given us something to do. As it was, we were bored out of our
minds. Well, I was. Hyde managed to sleep for hours."

We arrived at Grosvenor Square on the
opposite side to Grosvenor Street so as not to be seen. Dew
glistened on leaves and grass as the sun peeped demurely through
the gaps between the buildings in the east. Carts rattled past,
stopping at each house to make deliveries or for the driver to talk
to the maids sweeping the steps. There were no ladies or gentlemen
out at such an early hour. Only those with work to do had to be up
early, and the owners of the houses surrounding Grosvenor Square
did not need to work.

Our carriage pulled up near
Theo. He leaned against the fence enclosing Grosvenor Square, his
arms and ankles crossed, his gaze intent on number twelve just
visible through the trees. The laconic pose suited his boyish
handsomeness and my stomach did a little dip when he saw me and
smiled. To think, he was courting
me
, a nobody with a very un-English
heritage and strange line of trade.

"Good morning," he said, climbing into the
carriage. He rubbed his gloved hands together and eyed the basket
I'd set beside me. "If that's what I think it is, I'll have to kiss
you, Emily Chambers."

"Steady on," George warned.

"It's Lucy's doing," I said. "Perhaps you
should kiss her."

"I'll kiss Culvert if there's hot tea in
there."

"Lucky George." I lifted the cloth covering
the basket and pulled out a teapot that Lucy had packed firmly into
the corner so it wouldn't move. "There is indeed warm tea. And
bread, cheese, and cold beef."

The two men ate their breakfast as if they'd
never tasted anything so good, while I watched the house. The gap
in the trees gave me the perfect view of the wide colonnaded
façade, including the entrance to the basement service area. If
Mrs. White left the house without her charges, she would exit that
way.

By mid-morning, the sun had burned off the
dew. George slept quietly in the corner, his glasses in his lap. I
told Theo about my evening with my father without taking my gaze
off the mansion.

"I'm glad he accepted your...talent," he
said. "I know how important it is to you."

"It is, and he did, thank goodness. I'm not
sure how I would have reacted if he'd been more like Lord
Preston."

"Your father seems like quite the remarkable
man."

"That's not all." I told him how Louis had
been to jail, saved a man's life, and was now a successful
businessman in Melbourne. "He's made something of himself there.
I'm very pleased for him."

When he didn't answer me, I turned to look at
him. "What is it?"

"I...I was simply wondering if you were
thinking of returning to Melbourne with him."

"No! Of course not. I couldn't leave
London."

He flicked his fingernail with his thumb,
over and over, a nervous habit he seemed to have just acquired.
"Not even if your business fails?"

"It won't fail. It can't. I won't consider
it."

George sat up at that moment and rubbed his
eyes. "Wh...what's happened?" He fumbled for his glasses and put
them on. "Is Mrs. White leaving?" He squinted through the window.
"Good lord, look who it is!"

"Who?" I asked, peering past him.

"Miss Beaufort." He fiddled with his tie,
smoothed down his hair, and clapped his hat on his head. "How do I
look?"

Like he hadn't been home all night. "Very
handsome. Is she alone?"

"Her mother is with her." He opened the door
and greeted them. I climbed out behind him, Theo at my heels.

We exchanged pleasantries and since George
had gone all quiet, it was left to me to explain why we were
loafing in the carriage at Grosvenor Square.

"She's in number twelve, you say?" Lady
Preston said when I'd finished. "That's Lord and Lady Montgomery's
house."

"You know them?"

"Quite well. This Mrs. White...you truly
think she's Mrs. Seymour?"

"Jacob is convinced of it, as am I. I wish
she'd make a move today. This waiting is very hard on our nerves.
Well, it's been harder on Theo and George. They've been here all
night."

"All night!" Adelaide took a step closer to
George and raised her hand as if she would touch the stubble on his
chin, but she did not. Her mother cleared her throat, and
Adelaide's fist returned to her side. She looked down at her
walking boots.

George's face turned red and he made a great
show of watching the mansion. Theo seemed not to be aware of the
conversation at all. He was staring into the distance at a group of
ladies clustered at the corner.

"It's been quite some weeks since I've
visited Lady Montgomery," Lady Preston said. "I think it's time I
paid her a call." She stamped the point of her parasol onto the
road. "I have a sudden interest in governesses. Come, Adelaide."
Lady Preston walked off, using her parasol as a walking stick, not
that she needed a crutch. "Our other call can wait."

Adelaide pulled a face. "I'm supposed to be
seeing Bertie and the Duchess of Sandridge," she whispered to us.
"Talking about governesses will be far more entertaining." She
trotted after her mother, glancing over her shoulder at George
twice.

He sighed. "She looks particularly lovely
today. That jacket is very fetching on her neat figure and I do
like the addition of all those ruffles."

"I had no idea you were an admirer of ladies
fashion," I teased.

"Only the fashion of one particular lady."
His blush deepened.

"Will you two excuse me for the rest of the
day," Theo suddenly said. He sounded distracted, and I don't think
he'd heard any of the conversation. "I seem to have developed a
slight headache, and I have classes to attend today."

"Oh. Yes. Of course," I said. "You mustn't
miss any more lectures. We'll manage without you."

He took my hand and bowed over it. "Good
luck, and be careful. Culvert, I'm relying on you to protect her if
necessary."

"Never fear," George said with a deep breath
that puffed out his chest. "I packed the dueling pistols. They're
under the seat."

Theo clapped him on the shoulder, bowed again
to me, then strolled off. George and I returned to the carriage and
waited.

A while later, Lady Preston and Adelaide
climbed in alongside us. The elder sat down, her blue eyes hard and
flat, her fingers rigid around the stem of her parasol.

It was Adelaide who spoke,
however, her voice rising with excitement. "You will
never
believe what we
learned about Mrs. White."

CHAPTER 9

"Do not leave us in suspense!" I cried. "What
did you learn?"

Adelaide's face was flushed, her eyes shining
as if in a fever. "Mrs. White was a nurse."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I
didn't know the particulars of how the person speaking the curse
was being brought back to life, but I did know it was possible for
someone with the right medical training to do it.

"She was a nurse at St. Thomas's Hospital
before she married. That's one of the main reasons Lady Montgomery
hired her. One of her girls is sickly, you see, and having a
trained nurse in the house eases her mind."

"Good lord." George rubbed his stubbly chin
thoughtfully.

"Her guilt is beyond doubt." The quiet steel
in Lady Preston's voice drew our attention more than a shout would.
The coldness in her eyes made me shiver.

"Agreed," said George. "Come, Emily, let's
confront her."

"No!" Adelaide grabbed his hand and he sat
back on the seat, looking as dazed as if she'd slapped him. "She
has asked for the afternoon off. I think you should wait and follow
her when she leaves."

"You're right." George petted her hand. "A
very clever suggestion."

"Mrs. White is not acting alone," Lady
Preston said. She did not seem to notice that George and Adelaide
were still touching. Her hard gaze locked with mine. "Follow her
and find out who her accomplice is. Stop them before they can do
more harm to my son."

"I will. I promise you, Lady Preston, I will
not let them succeed." If only I felt as confident as I
sounded.

She blinked rapidly and her gaze softened. "I
know you will, Miss Chambers. You've been very good to us, and to
my boy."

Lady Preston and Adelaide alighted from the
coach and bid us farewell. George watched them go until they were
out of sight.

Another hour passed before Mrs. White left
number twelve Grosvenor Street. She walked to Oxford Street then
hailed a passing omnibus that swerved out of the traffic to collect
her. We followed in the carriage, stopping well back every time the
omnibus let passengers off. It traveled through the suburbs at a
fast clip and by the time Mrs. White finally stepped off, it was
obvious she was heading to Leviticus Price's house.

"I'm sorry, George, but it does seem like
he's involved after all."

"Perhaps," he said on a sigh, "but I still
think Blunt is very much involved too." He got out of the carriage
and offered his hand to assist me down the step.

"As do I."

We followed her to Price's house, but turned
our backs when the door opened, so that we would not be seen.

"Now what?" George asked. "Should we knock
first or simply burst in?"

"Unless you want to break down the door, I
suggest we knock."

"Wait a moment." He returned to the carriage
and reappeared a moment later, patting his hip.

"You've got a pistol under your jacket?"

"Of course. Do you want the other?"

"No, thank you. I'll leave the shooting to
you. Let's hope it won't be necessary."

"I couldn't agree more."

We knocked on the front door. It was a long
time before the landlady answered it and from her harried
expression, she didn't look very pleased to have visitors. I
quickly placed my foot inside so that she could not slam the door
in our faces.

"What do you want?" she whispered, thrusting
her prominent chin at us.

"Answers," George said.

"We are busy. Go away." She spoke with an
accent. I'd noticed it before, but this time it seemed more
pronounced, as if she'd been attempting to hide it previously but
decided against the ruse now.

"We know what you're doing," George said.

"I am standing here waiting
for you to leave.
That
is what I am doing."

I'd had enough. We had not come so far to
walk away without answers and I refused to be intimidated. Besides,
if we didn't get answers here and now, we'd be at a dead end.

George seemed to have the same idea. He
pulled out his gun.

The landlady rubbed her hands down her apron
and the nostrils in her sharp nose flared. She stepped back to let
us in.

George insisted on going up first. I followed
close behind, turning often to see what the landlady was doing. I
didn't trust her, but she did not attempt anything untoward. At the
top of the stairs, George pushed open the door to Price's
parlor.

"They have a gun!" the landlady shouted
before we could speak. "I could not stop them."

"Good lord," George murmured, taking in the
scene in the small parlor.

I gasped and clapped a hand over my mouth as
bile burned my throat. Mrs. White stood over the half-naked figure
of Blunt, lying on the sofa, what appeared to be a brass syringe in
her hand. It was poised to plunge into his bare arm.

"What are you doing?" I cried.

"I think I know," said George. He aimed the
pistol at Mrs. White. "Don't move."

"No!" Blunt cried. He tried to sit up but
fell back to the sofa. His face was pasty white and glistened with
sweat. He was in the grip of opium withdrawal again.

"It's not what you think," Mrs. White said.
Her hand trembled and the syringe was in danger of stabbing Blunt
by accident.

"Put it down slowly," I said.

She pulled her hand back but did not let go
of the syringe.

"What's in it? What are you injecting into
him?"

"It's a...medicine," she said through lips
stretched into a grim line. "To cure him."

Price sat on a chair near Blunt's head. His
face was as gray as his long beard and he looked much older than
the last time we'd seen him. The hands resting on the arms of the
chair were paper thin and as wrinkled as dried prunes. He didn't
speak but watched the proceedings with interest.