The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #1) (20 page)

"Most are."

"It won't
matter how much evidence you present him with, he'll find a way to discredit
you."

I shrugged. "I'm
used to skeptics. Is that your only concern?"

He shook his
head again and sighed. "You won't find an ally in my mother either. I'm
afraid she won't
want
to believe you."

It took me a few
moments to understand what he was saying. "You mean she still hopes you'll
be found somewhere, alive?"

He nodded. "I
visited them shortly after my death. The Administrators warned me against it and
I should have listened to them. They said it can be traumatic for a spirit to
know how their loved ones reacted to their death. They were right." He
leaned against the brick wall of the chop house and tipped his head back. "It
was awful. Mother was adamant that I must be somewhere, lost or kidnapped with
no way of getting home. Father either believed it too or simply went along with
her because it was easier. They've spent a fortune since my death on investigators
who claim they can find anything and anyone. None have even turned up my body
let alone any answers to explain my fate."

His shoulders
stooped and he sagged against the wall. He was clearly distressed about his
parents, despite the matter-of-fact way he spoke.

It made me more
determined to see them than ever. "That was some time ago," I said. "Perhaps
they've changed since then. Perhaps your mother is ready to move on, if only
she knew the truth."

"I doubt
it." He pushed off from the wall and leveled his gaze with mine. "So
you see that she'll be as skeptical as my father. She'll simply refuse to
believe you."

"I can
still try. You could feed me some information that only you and they could
possibly know."

"They'll
think I told someone at school or—"

"Jacob!"
I balled my fist. I wanted to punch him in the shoulder to knock some sense
into him. "I'm going to try regardless of what you say."

His jaw clenched,
causing the muscle high in his cheek to throb. "Emily, listen to me."
He caught my shoulders and lowered his head to look directly at me. If he was
trying to mesmerize me, it was working—I couldn't look away, couldn't move. I
wanted to fall into the deep blue depths of his eyes and wallow in there
forever. "They'll be resentful of you trying to convince them I'm dead,
and...and I don't want to subject you to that. Do you understand?"

"I
understand." It came out breathy. Could it really be that he was worried
about
me
? "I'm going anyway."

"Emily!"
He let go, pushing me a little as he did so that I rocked back. He strode
towards the street but stopped before he exited the alley. "You're so
stubborn," he said.

"If your
only concern is that I won't be believed then it's not enough to stop me going."
I joined him and we walked along the street together, neither speaking. We were
almost at Druids Way when the rain came.

Jacob took my free
hand—the other still held the bunches of violets—and drew me into the sheltered
doorway of a coffee shop. Everyone on the street either scattered to seek cover
or continued on their way, heads down, umbrellas up. It provided a certain
amount of anonymity for us. Except for the handful of patrons visible through
the coffee shop's bay window, we were alone—and
they
couldn't hear me.

"Wait
inside," he said. "I'll find you an umbrella."

"And do
what?" I tried not to laugh to draw attention to myself. "Bring it
back here? A floating umbrella might cause considerable panic."

He sighed and
peered up at they endless gray sky. "It won't ease for some time, I think.
How about I return to your house and write a note for your sister asking her to
bring you an umbrella at this location." He peered inside the shop window.
"There's a spare table near the fire for you to wait."

I smiled at him.
"You're very kind." It felt nice to be fussed over by such a
handsome, masculine gentleman. I wondered if he'd fussed over any girls like
this when he was alive or if it was a trait he'd picked up after his death. For
me.

He frowned. "I'm
only thinking of your comfort."

The pressing,
desperate desire to kiss him again swelled within me. "Come on, let's run
home." With the hand that held the flowers, I clamped onto my hat to hold
it in place, picked up my skirts with the other hand and ran into the rain.

Jacob joined me.
I'd not thought that he could get wet, but he was as soaked as me within
seconds. It made sense, I suppose. If he could move objects and touch things,
why wouldn't he be able to touch the raindrops too?

His pace slowed
and instead of running he began to skip and turn around, his arms outstretched.
He tilted his face to the sky and closed his eyes and opened his mouth. I
watched him, fascinated by his response to the rain pouring over him, not
caring that I too was getting drenched.

Then he laughed.
He opened his eyes again and caught me round the waist, spinning me around in
his arms, catching me easily as I lost my balance. And all the while he laughed
and laughed. It was magical and I laughed along with him, not caring that a
passerby eyed me warily from beneath his umbrella.

"You're
soaked," Jacob said, touching the curls at my temple.

"So are
you." My gaze strayed to his chest. The wet shirt, almost transparent thanks
to the rain, clung to the contours of his lean muscles. My mouth dried, my
tongue felt thick and useless. I ached to touch his broad shoulders and the
ripple of muscles across his stomach and chest. My fingers twitched at my side.
I licked my lips...

"Even your
eyelashes are wet," he said in a faraway voice.

I looked up. He
was staring at me with that curious intensity that made my insides do odd flips.
I smiled at him tentatively.

He smiled back
then laughed again, his attention no longer on my face but in the direction we
were heading. "I'm sorry," he said. "But we're thoroughly wet
now. Do you still want to run?"

"Walking is
fine," I said.

He was still
smiling when we reached Druids Way. Occasionally he glanced up at the sky but
never at me again.

"You like
the rain?" I asked.

His smile
widened. "I'd forgotten what it was like. It's good to feel it on my skin
after all this time."

"Is it
cold?"

"No. I
don't feel heat or cold. But it does feel wet. And fantastic!" he shouted.
He spun around again, finishing the twirl with a flourish by kicking a puddle.

I giggled all
the way to my house. We climbed the steps to the front door and huddled beneath
the porch. Not that staying dry mattered anymore. I opened my reticule but
didn't search for my key. Jacob would leave as soon as I was inside and I
wanted this moment to last just a little longer.

"Will your
sister be mad at you for being out in this weather?" he asked.

"Probably. But
she's my sister, not my mother and she can scold me all she likes, I don't
care."

He smiled but it
was wistful, perhaps even sad. "She cares about your health, Emily. As I
should have done. Go inside and warm yourself by the fire before you catch your—."
His lips clamped together as if he were stopping the next word from falling out:
death.

I blinked up at
him. "Jacob? Are you all right?"

He shook his
head. "Your eyelashes," he murmured.

"What about
them?"

"They look
even longer when they're wet." He backed up to the steps. "Go inside,
Emily." He turned to leave.

"Jacob. Wait.
I still plan on visiting your parents this afternoon. Come back at two and we
can go together. Or I can meet you there if you prefer."
I
preferred to walk with him. I wanted to spend as much time with him as I could,
even if we spent it in awkward silence—a distinct possibility considering he
was not meeting my gaze again.

"Don't you
have a séance to conduct?"

"Not today."

He stood with
one foot on the highest step, the other one step down, dripping wet. He was
utterly, thoroughly, breathtakingly handsome.

"I won't
come with you," he said. "If that's all right."

"Of course."
My heart sank at the notion of going to visit his parents without him but I
wouldn't beg him to join me. It would be a very difficult situation for him and
it was unfair of me to press him.

"I'll come
back at two and tell you some things that will help make them believe you,
but..." He shook his head and droplets sprayed off his black hair.

"It won't
be enough?" I ventured.

"Probably
not."

He disappeared
and I stood there a moment, hoping he would reappear but not really expecting
him to. Then with a sigh, I retrieved my key from my reticule and opened the
door.

***

Jacob had been
right. Celia was mad at me. Not even the violets softened her. After she
scolded me for being "wet through to the bone" she made me change
into dry clothes then sat me down in front of the fireplace while she heaped
more coal onto it. Lucy brought in a bowl of
steaming
soup and I sipped while my bones thawed and my hair dried.

To distract
Celia, I asked her about her visit to the Wiggams' house. "Is Mr. Wiggam
still there or has he left his wife in peace?"

"He's still
there," she said, dusting off her hands. "And still haunting her."

"In what
way?"

"He throws objects
around the room sometimes, particularly when she has guests, and hides things
so she can't find them. Important things like money or her corsets."

"Corsets! That
is cruel." But rather ingenious. I couldn't imagine a large woman like
Mrs. Wiggam wanting to go out without wearing a corset.

"And he
likes to keep her awake at night by knocking on the wall or thumping the floor."

"Oh dear. I
probably should try and talk to him again."

"I think
that would be a good idea, Em." She lifted a strand of my hair and sighed.
I couldn't blame her for her disappointment. It would take some time to remove all
the tangles and fix it into a half-decent style. "What were you thinking
walking around in the rain like that?"

"I had to
get home somehow."

She dropped my
hair. "You could have hired a carriage."

"We were
only around the corner."

"We?"

"Jacob and
I. He escorted me home."

She grunted. "A
ghost is not a suitable escort."

I sipped soup
off my spoon and said nothing.

"So how was
your visit with Mr. Culvert?" she asked.

"Good. We
went to the Domestic Service school in Clerkenwell."

"Oh? Lucy
said Mr. Blunt came here while we were both out this morning. Did you see him?"

"I did. He
wants you to schedule a séance. He's being haunted." It was perhaps best
not to tell her that Jacob was the culprit. Somehow I didn't think she'd see
the funny side to it. My sister prided herself on her morals and taking money
for a séance where the ghost was a friend of mine probably bordered on
unethical in her book.

"I'll pay
him a call tomorrow, or this afternoon if the weather clears," she said.

"Keep your
eyes and ears open for any suspicious characters." At her raised eyebrows,
I explained what had happened at the school and everything Jacob had learned
afterwards from the boys. She sat on the sofa and listened without interrupting
me.

"Oh dear,"
she muttered when I finished. "Do you think Mr. Blunt knew about the Finch
boy's visits?"

"It's hard
to say."

Lucy entered
with a cup of tea for Celia. "Wait a moment please, Lucy," Celia
said, taking the cup and saucer.

Lucy's gaze
flicked between Celia and me before finally settling on my sister. "Yes,
Miss Chambers? Is everything all right? I've not done wrong, 'ave I?" Her
forehead creased and she looked like she might burst into tears. "I've
been trying so 'ard to do everything right, I 'ave. I'm so sorry if I ain't
done it the way you like but there's so much to remember and—."

"Calm
yourself, Lucy." Celia smiled serenely. "You've done a superb job so
far. We're lucky to have found you, aren't we, Emily?"

"Oh, yes! Very
lucky." I smiled too. Lucy seemed to relax a little.

"We want to
ask you a question about the North London School for Domestic Service."

Lucy brightened.
"Really? That's all? Oh I can answer anything you want to know then."

"I went
there today," I said. "I met Mrs. White and Mr. Blunt."

"She's such
a kind lady is Mrs. White, ain't she. So nice to us girls, she was." The
omission of Blunt from her praise wasn't lost on me.

"Yesterday
you said Tommy Finch visited his sister when she was still a pupil at the
school. You said no one told Mrs. White about it, but I wondered if it's
possible another adult there knew of his presence."