Evermore (9 page)

"Bertie?" George cried. He must have realized
how loud he'd said it because he muttered an apology.
"Congratulations, Miss Beaufort." Poor George, I'd never seen him
look so miserable. His face sagged as much as his shoulders.

"It's not settled yet."

"It soon will be." Lady Preston's frosty
glare met her daughter's. It was the sort of look that silently
demanded the recipient keep quiet. I'd been the object of many such
glares from Celia, but they rarely had the desired effect. I seem
unable to do as I'm told.

"Does that mean you'll be a duchess?" I asked
eagerly. Imagine that—me friends with the future Duchess of
Sandridge!

George narrowed his eyes at me and I wished I
could take it back. Of course being a duchess would not compensate
for marrying someone you did not love. I was glad I wasn't in
Adelaide's position. Children of nobility couldn't wed whomever
they chose. They had to marry other nobility, and failing that,
wealth. I, on the other hand, could wed the man I loved.

Unless he was dead, of course.

"Yes, but a betrothal between us is yet to be
finalized." Adelaide turned so that she was no longer facing her
mother. It was a direct slight and I felt uncomfortable. I had
never seen Adelaide and her mother quarrel before. "Until then,
there is still a chance of escape."

"Adelaide," her mother scolded.

"Father and the Duke of Sandridge have not
decided upon my worth," Adelaide went on. "I believe His Grace the
duke is holding out for another piece of Father's property to be
added to my dowry. It's a lucrative tract of land and of course
Father doesn't want to give it up without a fight. Not even for the
prospect of being attached to a dukedom."

"That's enough," Lady Preston snapped.

"Unfortunately, poor, dear Bertie is rather
sickly and there's always the chance he'll die before his father,
in which case I'll never be a duchess. What a shame that would be,
wouldn't it, Mother?"

Lady Preston had gone quite rigid. I expected
her to berate her daughter, but she didn't. Indeed her lips were
clamped together tightly, emphasizing the tiny lines around her
mouth.

I took George's arm and steered him toward
the door. "Thank you for the address, Lady Preston." I tugged
George. He didn't seem to have his wits with him, but he followed
me meekly enough, although he continued to look back at
Adelaide.

We got as far as the exit. The dominating
figure of Lord Preston blocked the doorway. My entire body groaned
at the sight of him.

"What's she doing here?" he bellowed over my
head.

Lady Preston sailed up to us. Her anger
seemed to have dissolved and she was all solicitude as she smiled
at her husband. "She came for—"

"I told you never to let her in. Did I not
make myself clear? She is a disruptive influence on you and
Adelaide."

"She is not," Adelaide protested.

There was a shocked silence, not only from
her parents, but from George and I as well. I'd never heard her
speak so disrespectfully to them. Indeed, she'd always seemed a
little afraid of her father. The pending nuptials must have
triggered the dormant rebel within.

"Emily is kind and has our best interests at
heart," she added.

"Quiet, girl, you don't know what you're
talking about."

I felt George tense, but he
said nothing. I would have tried to leave, but Lord Preston and his
wife were in the way.
Oh please, please,
move.
I didn't want a confrontation. And
what if Jacob popped in? He didn't need anything else to worry
about.

"No, Father," Adelaide
said, "
you
don't
know what you're talking about because you refuse to believe what
is as plain as that ugly nose on your face."

Lord Preston bared his teeth like an animal.
"Go. To. Your. Room."

"Gladly." She lifted her chin and walked up
to us. "See you at the ball," she said and kissed me on the cheek.
"It promises to be quite a lively event."

That was an understatement.

"There will be no ball if you continue to
behave in such a manner," her father said as he stepped aside to
let her pass.

Lady Preston gasped. "But the invitations
have already gone out."

Nobody said anything to that. I suspect it
was too late to retract the invitations. Canceling the ball would
give the gossips the impression all was not well in the Beaufort
household, and that certainly wouldn't do.

I strode past Lord and Lady Preston and
thought I'd gotten away safely, but Lord Preston's booming voice
stopped me. George stopped too and remained close, bless him.

"I will be watching you at the ball, Miss
Chambers," Lord Preston said. "If you so much as whisper about
spirits or nonsense of that nature, you will be evicted.
Understand?"

"I say!" George said.

"Reginald, please. She is our guest."

Lord Preston puffed out his thick chest.
"That doesn't give her the right to come here and use her devious
practices on you."

"She is not a fraud," George said. "I can
vouch for—"

"Be quiet. The only reason I tolerate you is
because you're of gentle stock and haven't tried to take money in
exchange for whatever it is you do. But be aware that I know all
about that so-called Society to which you belong, and I will shut
it down if a single member so much as utters anything of a
paranormal nature in my hearing. Understand?"

"Perfectly." George didn't move and for a
horrifying moment I thought he might march up to Lord Preston and
punch him. The earl was built as solidly as a house. A physical
confrontation would not end well for George.

I dragged him with me onto the landing and
down the stairs. The footman saw us out and into the waiting
carriage. It took me a moment to catch my breath and regain my
wits, by which time we were already moving.

George sat opposite me, visibly seething.
"That man! Abominable! To speak in such a rude manner to his own
wife and daughter!"

And to you and
me
, I almost added. But I did not want to
add fuel to his ire. He was fiery enough. "Have you and Adelaide
really been writing to each other in secret?" I asked.

He blinked and his temper seemed to dampen.
"I wasn't aware it was in secret until today." He sighed. "I'm
afraid I got her into trouble. Do you think she'll forgive me?"

"I have no doubt she will."

"But what of her parents? I didn't think Lord
Preston would like my writing to his daughter, but I had hoped Lady
Preston wouldn't mind. I didn't know Miss Beaufort was set to wed
Bertie." He pulled a face. "Nothing against the fellow, but he's
not an ideal match for her. Not a winter goes by that he doesn't
take to his bed for weeks. To think of such a vibrant, lovely
creature as Miss Beaufort being shackled to a weak character." He
shook his head sadly. "It's more than a shame. It's..." He
shrugged, as if there were no words to explain how terrible such a
future would be.

"I'm surprised her mother wishes her to marry
him at all, if that's the case."

"Lord Preston is the head of that household,
in every sense of the word. I suspect he has given them no say in
the matter and his wife must accept the marriage as much as their
daughter."

"He does seem like the sort to disregard
everyone's opinions except his own."

"Poor Miss Beaufort." He sighed. "She didn't
deserve such treatment when she only spoke the truth."

"True. His nose
is
rather
ugly."

That coaxed a laugh from him.

***

We traveled to Camden Town and the address
Lady Preston had given me. It was a modest house, rather like my
own, in a middle-class suburb and the occupants were polite but
unhelpful. They didn't know where the Seymours had moved to. They
had not dealt with them so could not even give me a description or
a first name. It was as we suspected, but it was frustrating
nevertheless.

"Now what?" George asked when we were back
inside the carriage.

"Now we visit Mrs. White."

"You've found her?"

"My maid said she's governess to a family on
Grosvenor Street."

"You think she'll be able to help us find
Blunt?"

"We can only try."

"We don’t even know if Blunt had anything to
do with Mortlock's possession, or this latest curse. We can only
link him to the shape-shifting demon. Are we drawing too long a
bow, Emily?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, but I have no
other ideas."

"Nor me. Very well, let's try her. Which
house on Grosvenor Street?"

"I don't know."

"Jacob could find out. He could look into
each one and report back when he's found her."

"I don't want to summon him. I'm afraid he's
too weak in his current state and being here may weaken him
further."

"Who are you calling weak?"

"Jacob!" I clasped his hand without thinking.
He felt cool and damp, like a mist, yet still solid. He did not
look solid, however. He flickered alarmingly. "He's here," I said
rather stupidly. Of course George must know.

"I'll search the houses for her," Jacob
said.

"No, you shouldn't."

"Are you sure you're up to this?" George
asked, ignoring my frown.

"Tell Culvert not to worry
about me. You too, Em. I want to help where I can. I
need
to help. Time is
running out, as you can see."

I tried to hold back the tears suddenly
pooling. Crying would achieve nothing. "Very well. Let's go and
find Mrs. White."

CHAPTER 6

George and I waited in the coach as Jacob
searched the houses of Grosvenor Street. Mayfair was an exclusive
area, although not quite as fashionable as it used to be at the
beginning of the century. Where most of the younger generation had
moved to new homes in Belgravia, the older, more aristocratic set
had remained in their imperial mansions where they could reign
supreme over leafy Grosvenor Square and surrounds.

It did not take Jacob long before he
reappeared beside me in the carriage. He shimmered for a few
moments before finally staying put. He looked worn out.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

He pressed his thumb and finger into his eyes
and nodded. "I found her."

I repeated this for George's benefit. "Which
house?" he asked.

"Number twelve," Jacob said. "She's in the
schoolroom with two girls of about Cara's age."

I repeated this to George. "Let's go." I
climbed out of the coach before George, which he didn't like. It
went against his gentlemanly nature—he couldn't hold my hand and
help me down the steps if he was behind me.

"I'll search Mrs. White's room," Jacob said
when we reached the door of number twelve.

"Do it discreetly," I said.

"Have you never known me not to be
discreet?"

"Frequently."

He gave a feeble chuckle and blinked off.

"I'm worried about him," I said to George as
we waited for our knock to be answered. "He is not very strong. Not
like he used to be."

George tucked my arm into his. "We'll resolve
this soon. Don't worry. I have an inkling that we're right and
Blunt is involved somehow. I'm certain Mrs. White will know where
to find him."

I didn’t have nearly as much confidence, but
I set my doubts aside when the butler opened the door. We asked to
see the governess, and after his initial blink of surprise, he took
us down to the service area in the basement and showed us to a
parlor little bigger than a cupboard. Being a governess, Mrs. White
was not treated like a family member, but nor was she as low as the
servants. Considering George's status, I'd suggested we inquire at
the front door, but it seemed not even gentlemen were allowed to
speak to the governess in the formal drawing room. It was the
basement for us.

In a way, meeting her in
the servants' parlor was better, more intimate. We didn’t have to
wait long before she entered. She paused in the doorway and shock
flickered through her gaze before she turned a sweet smile on us.
"Miss Chambers, isn't it? And Mr. Culvert? This
is
unexpected. To what do I owe the
honor of your company?"

"We're sorry to disturb you here at your new
place of work, Mrs. White," George said, rising so she could take
his seat. There were only two. "But we've had the devil of a time
trying to find you, and we're very glad we finally did."

"You've been looking for me?" She bustled
into the parlor, business-like. She was a plump, short woman, yet
she moved with purpose and efficiency. She sat and George stood at
my side. "Does it have something to do with that awful night? I
recall it very vividly."

"Not quite," I said. I recalled that night
too. We'd killed one villain, sent the demon back to the
Otherworld, and banished Blunt from London. Jacob had haunted him
until he was out of his wits with fear. No one at the school was
sorry he'd departed in the middle of the night without a farewell,
particularly the girls he used to visit in the dormitory when he
thought everyone asleep.

"We returned to the school recently with the
hope of speaking to you," I said. "Unfortunately you'd already
left."

"I needed a change of scene." Mrs. White's
fingers twisted in her lap, as if she were constantly tying and
untying them. "It was a sudden decision."

"You didn't think to give anyone a forwarding
address?" George asked, a little too bluntly in my opinion.

Mrs. White lifted her head. Her eyes shone
with unshed tears. "I wanted to distance myself from that place.
The memories of that night..." She shook her head and did not go
on.