Evermore (25 page)

"Jacob," I whispered. "Jacob, come to
me."

But he did not. Either he didn't have the
strength, or he was already gone.

God, it hurt.

"Bloody 'ell, what a racket." The child's
voice startled me into sitting up. A boy sat cross-legged on the
floor beneath one of the tables opposite. He wore a cap over
scraggly hair and a patched up coat with sleeves that didn't reach
his wrists. His feet were bare and his face dirty. He was also
dead. "You 'eard me?" he asked, surprised.

I nodded. "I can see spirits. Who're
you?"

"Dan." He crawled out from under the table
and stood. He was perhaps eight or nine, or even older. It was
difficult to tell with children who lived on the street. So many
were under-fed that they were smaller than others their age. And I
was quite sure Dan was a street child. His clothes were rather a
giveaway.

"Who are you talking to?" George asked.

"There's a child here," I said. "A little
boy."

"Who you callin' little?" the boy demanded,
arms crossed over his thin chest.

I apologized. "It's hard to see in this
light. Did you die here?"

"Aye. Got killed, I did."

"Killed? You mean murdered?"

He shrugged. "It were an accident, really.
They didn't mean to do it." Another shrug.

"They?" It all suddenly clicked into place. I
knew who this boy was and who "they" were. My heart kicked inside
my chest as if it had suddenly re-started. "A lady put you to
sleep, didn't she? With a syringe? And there was a man with
her?"

"The street urchin is here?" George came up
beside me and lifted the lamp although he couldn't see Dan no
matter how much light he cast.

"S'ringe? Like this it was." Dan indicated
the size with his hands. "She poked it in me arm and I fell 'sleep.
I were s'posed to say some words, but I couldn't r'member 'em. The
lady said she'd bring me back alive, but nothin' 'appened. I been
waitin' 'ere for 'em. Thought maybe she meant I had to wait awhile
b'fore she'd do it. But they ain't come back."

"They're not going to, Dan," I said gently.
"The man is dead, and so are you."

Behind me, Lord and Lady Preston's footsteps
had halted. They'd stopped to listen. Celia, Adelaide, and Louis
moved closer.

The boy stuck his bottom lip out. "So that's
that then. S'pose I can go now." He looked to the ceiling. "What's
it like up there?"

"Nice," I said. "They'll take care of
you."

"Is there food?"

"There's everything you'll ever need. You'll
never want for anything again." I took his hand and he jumped in
surprise. Then his fingers closed over mine and he shuffled close.
The poor boy trembled. For all his bravado, he was just a child
about to go on a strange journey alone. "Dan, have you been here in
spirit form when the man, Price, has returned?"

"He come once to check on that body."

"Body?" I whispered. "What body?"

"The one under there." He indicated the floor
where he'd been sitting.

"Is it a man? A young man, tall?"

He nodded. "Dark hair, trousers, and a white
shirt. When I first found it, I talked to 'im, but 'e didn't answer
back. Must be dead too."

I put the lamp down and rushed to the table
and pushed. George and Louis joined me then Adelaide and Celia. We
all pushed and the table crashed into the one next to it, knocking
over jars and implements. I got down on my knees and scrabbled at
the edges of the boards, but they didn't budge.

"Here." Lord Preston loomed over me, a chisel
in his hand. He wedged it under one of the boards and cranked it.
The board lifted and I ripped it all the way up as he moved on to
the next one.

We all crowded around, lifting boards,
tossing them aside. Slowly, slowly, inch by inch, Jacob's body was
revealed.

"It's him!" I cried when I saw his face.

"My boy." Lord Preston dropped the chisel.
His wife was on her knees, stroking Jacob's cheeks, her tears
falling into his dirty hair.

I shut out the sounds of
tears and gasps of wonder, and concentrated on the words Mrs.
Stanley had made us all recite. There wasn't even time to pray that
we weren't too late. "
Come back to
us
," I chanted and touched Jacob's hand as
she'd instructed me to do. "
Return to this
your body
." The body twitched as if he
were waking from sleep. My heart raced, but I did not allow myself
to hope. Not yet. "
Draw
breath
." Jacob's chest rose and fell as he
took a deep breath. "
Heart,
beat
."

Adelaide put her ear to his chest. "It
beats!"

"My God," Lord Preston muttered, taking hold
of Jacob's other hand. "My boy."

"
Wake up
," I finished,
"
and live.
"

Jacob's eyes opened. He blinked. The fingers
on the hand I was holding clasped mine. Then he smiled. "Hello,
everyone. Nice to see you again."

His mother sobbed into his shoulder and had
to be gently removed by Adelaide so that Jacob could sit up. He
hugged his mother and sister then finally his father. Lord
Preston's shoulders shook and he held his son for a very long time.
I wanted to let the four of them enjoy their reunion and tried to
step back, but Jacob would not release my hand. His grip
tightened.

I looked around at my sister and father, at
George. There wasn't a dry eye in the room. Even the boy spirit
looked emotional, although he could not cry with either sadness or
happiness anymore. I beckoned him over and he knelt beside me.

"Thank you." I kissed the top of his
head.

He smiled. "I was waitin' for 'im to come
back, that man what killed me." He shrugged. "He's gone, you
say?"

"He is."

He sighed. "No point me stayin' then."

"Is there anything I can do for you here?" I
asked. "Anyone I can talk to who may want to know what happened to
you?"

His mouth twisted in thought. "Tell my
brothers and sisters what 'appened. They might be wonderin'."

"You have brothers and sisters?"

"Not real ones. They're orphans, like me. We
stick togever, we do. Did. They live in Cuttler Lane in the
basement of a burnt out buildin'. Whistle short three times and
they'll come to you." He smiled and doffed his cap. "Thanks,
miss."

"Thank
you
for your help."

I watched him fade away until he was
gone.

"Let's get you home," Lady Preston said to
Jacob.

They helped him to stand and his father
caught him when he faltered. His legs were weak and no doubt stiff
after months of not being used.

"We'll send for Dr. Trentham as soon as we
get home," Lady Preston said, holding Jacob. His father held him
from the other side and between them they walked slowly away. My
hand slipped from his and I folded my arms over my aching chest. I
watched him go, wanting desperately to be with him, speak to him,
hold him.

But I did not. He needed to be with his
family. There would be time for us later.

"Lord Preston," Celia called. "The police
must be notified. Mr. Price is dead, shot. It's unclear who did
it," she said vaguely, "but I think it may have been by his own
hand."

"I'll speak to the police in the morning,"
Lord Preston said.

"After we get our stories straight. I'll not
have my family interrogated."

"I think we'll be able to leave them out
entirely."

She thanked him and we watched them go. Only
Adelaide hung back. She suddenly grabbed George and kissed him
fiercely on the lips. He dropped the lamp and it went out. Thank
goodness her parents were preoccupied and not looking.

Adelaide tore herself away then ran after
them. George watched her go, a silly smile on his face. Louis
picked up the broken lamp and chuckled.

"Young love," he said. "I remember that."

"So do I," Celia said, watching him from
beneath her lashes. "It was so long ago."

"Not to me. It feels like yesterday." Louis
swung the lamp and followed Jacob and his family out. We all
did.

George locked the store room door then the
larger warehouse door behind us. I watched as the drivers and
footmen stared open-mouthed at Jacob. His father opened the coach
door for him, but Jacob didn't climb the steps.

"Em. Emily!" He turned around. "Where is
she?"

"Here." I hung back, but he beckoned me, so I
stepped forward. "How do you feel?"

"Tired. Sore." He grinned. "I've never been
grateful to feel so exhausted before. Feeling it means I'm
alive."

I laughed and began to cry at the same
time.

"Ah, Em. Come here." He leaned a shoulder
against the coach for support and folded me into his arms. His
heart beat strong and a little fast. His breath warmed the top of
my head. He was alive. "Don't cry, sweetheart. My Emily. My
savior." He buried his face in my neck and heaved a shuddering
sigh. His body trembled and I tightened my hold around his waist,
letting my tears soak into his shirt.

"Jacob," his mother whispered. "You're not a
spirit anymore. People can see you. The servants..."

"Come, son," Lord Preston said. "You need to
go home and rest."

"It doesn't matter who sees," Jacob mumbled.
But he allowed his parents to draw him away. Lord Preston threw a
coat around his son's shoulders and helped him into the
carriage.

I was led to the Culvert coach by Celia,
George, and Louis. Numbly, I watched the buildings fly past and
waved farewell to George from my front door when we reached our
house. Inside, it was quiet; Cara and Lucy slept. Celia took me up
to my room and helped me undress.

"I'll fetch you a warm cup of milk," she
said, tucking the bedcovers around me.

***

I didn't see the cup of milk until the next
day when I woke up. It had gone cold on my dressing table. I put a
shawl on over my nightgown and went downstairs. Cara was the first
to greet me. She threw herself into my arms, laughing with abandon
the way a child of her age should. I had never seen her so
happy.

"Celia told me what happened," she said. "So
he's alive? Mr. Beaufort is really alive?"

"He is." I could hardly believe it myself. It
seemed too amazing. For the first time, I realized how Lord Preston
must have felt listening to me spouting about spirits and the
Otherworld. Believing the unbelievable feels a little like
exploring a foreign country without either map or guide.

"Can we visit him now?" Cara asked. "Please,
Emily. I want to meet him properly."

"Of course. Let me get dressed and eat my
breakfast."

"Breakfast is finished. It's past
luncheon."

I'd slept that late? "I'll see what Lucy has
in the kitchen."

I found Celia in the kitchen too. Lucy hugged
me and passed me a bowl of soup. "I'm glad you're awake," my sister
said. "You'll be having a visitor soon."

"Who?"

"Mr. Moreau. Louis."

"I suppose he'll be leaving for the colonies
now."

"Yes. Finish your soup then I'll help you
dress."

Celia hummed as she tightened my corset,
which I thought was rather sadistic. Indeed, I had to order her to
loosen it so I could breathe. She arranged my hair and helped me
into my best green day dress, the one that hugged my hips and
sported a neat bustle at the back.

"Only you could get away with that color,"
she said, admiring her handiwork. "First, let's go downstairs to
see Louis. Then it's off to see Mr. Beaufort for you." She kissed
my cheek and smiled.

For once I didn't mind that she was playing
matchmaker.

Louis waited for us in the drawing room. He
took my hands and made me sit on the sofa. Celia sat on my other
side. I felt like a book squeezed between two bookends.

"Emily, there's something we need to tell
you," he said. "Actually, it's something Celia needs to tell you.
I'm just here for support."

"Oh?" I looked from one to the other. My
sister didn't meet my gaze.

"Celia," Louis prompted, his voice stern.

"I'm not sure how to begin," she mumbled into
her chest.

"Start at the beginning," I said.

"Very well." She blew out a breath and met my
gaze. "I am your mother."

"What!" I spluttered.

"That was not the beginning," Louis
scolded.

I stared at her. Then at
him. Then back at her. "I...I don't...oh. Yes. I do." My chest
constricted. My vision blurred. I couldn't breathe. "You tied my
corset too tight."
And you're my
mother!

She placed her hand to the back of my neck.
"Calm down, Emily, this is no time for hysterics."

"I am not being hysterical. I have just
discovered that my sister is my mother and my mother is my
grandmother. I'm so confused. Are you still my father, Louis?"

He kissed the top of my head. "I am. Your
mother...Celia and I fell in love when she was only sixteen."

"So it
was
love?" I asked. "Between the two
of you?"

"Of course." He looked at her. I switched my
gaze to Celia too and watched her struggle to contain a blush and
fail.

"Yes," she said quietly. "It was. I never
loved another like I loved Louis. He changed my entire world, made
me see things differently, made me feel special. And then he went
away, just as I discovered I was with child."

"Bad timing," Louis said, heavily. "The
worst."

"Mama decided she would bring you up as her
daughter. She didn't want my prospects ruined, or have me suffer
the scandal. Unfortunately she suffered through the whispers and
stares that were meant for me, but she was strong. So much stronger
than me."