The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #1) (12 page)

Lucy beamed at
us both and blushed as bright as a radish. "I was better at it in school. I'm
a bit nervous, see, being my first day and all." She turned to go but I
called her back. She stopped and bit her lower lip, the smile and blushes gone.
"Yes, miss? Something wrong, miss?" Her hands twisted together in
front of her and I was reminded of Maree Finch. Thankfully Lucy wasn't holding
a knife.

"No, no,
the tea is fine. I just wanted to ask you something. I met a girl from the North
London School for Domestic Service today," I said, trying to sound like
this wasn't important and we were having a casual conversation. I didn't want
to unsettle her any more than she already was.

Lucy blinked. "Oh?
Who?"

"Maree
Finch. She's recently gone into service for the Culverts."

"I remember
Maree."

"What was
she like?"

She shrugged. "I
didn't know her too well. She was nice, I s'pose. Quiet. Don't really remember
much more than that. We weren't good friends or nothing."

"She has an
older brother, doesn't she?"

She nodded then
frowned. "What's his name? Lord, I can't remember. Thomas, Timmy...something
like that. He was at the school too for a bit, but got sent away. No good for
service, Mrs. White said. A troublemaker. I saw him at school once, after he
wasn't s'posed to be there no more."

"Oh? What
was he doing?"

"Came to
see Maree."

"Ask her if
Maree was a thief too," Jacob said.

"Maree's a
good girl though, isn't she." I worded it like a statement rather than a question.
I didn't want to give Lucy the idea that we were fishing for information. I
wanted her to open up to us on her own.

"I think
so. Mrs. White never said anything bad about her, just that she was a
bit...what's the word?"

"Violent?"
Jacob offered.

"Unpredictable?"
I said.

"No,
something that means she gets talked into doing stuff easily. Stuff that's not
always good for her to do, if you know what I mean."

"Impressionable,"
I said.

"That's it!
Impreshun-able." She frowned. "She hasn't stole nothing from her
employer, has she?"

Jacob and I
exchanged glances. He nodded and I nodded back. If we wanted answers, we'd have
to at least tell her part of the truth.

"She might
have stolen a book from Mr. Culvert on demonology."

"Demon-what?"

"Demonology.
It's the study of demons and angels."

"Oh,"
she whispered. She glanced at Celia, perhaps because she thought her the normal
one of the two of us.

"Rest
assured
we
have nothing to do with demons," Celia said. "We
only deal with good spirits, happy ones."

Jacob snorted
but I admired Celia's ability to lie so convincingly. She was really very good
at it. There wasn't a hint of a blush on her fair skin.

"Mr.
Culvert would like his book back," I said. "Indeed, it's quite
important that he does get it back. You see..." Oh dear, this was the
point at which I should tell her about the demon on the loose. But her face
looked so innocent with those big hazel eyes and pale, pale skin, that I didn't
want to frighten her anymore than she already was. It was hard enough starting
a new job and moving in with two strangers, I didn't want to be responsible for
her nightmares too.

Celia, however,
seemed to have no such qualms. "You see Mr. Culvert fights demons and the
book is vital to his work."

"Why
doesn't she just tell the girl he's invisible and can move mountains too?"
Jacob said with a shake of his head.

I bit the inside
of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. Jacob, seeing my distress, gave me a
self-satisfied smirk.

"Vital?"
Lucy repeated.

"Yes,"
Celia said. She set down the embroidery in her lap, all seriousness. Perhaps
she even believed her own lie, or part of it. "Unless Mr. Culvert gets the
book back, the people of London could be in grave danger from demons. So you
see, if you know anything that could help us, we'd very much appreciate it if
you would let us know. Your role is terribly important, Lucy. In fact, you
could save London."

Jacob groaned and
rolled his eyes. Since I was used to Celia's fondness for melodrama, I simply
looked on, somewhat stunned because her method seemed to be getting results. Lucy's
forehead crinkled, her brows knitted and her mouth twisted to the side. She was
thinking hard.

"Well, let
me see now," she said. "Maree might have taken the book if her
brother asked her to. I told you I saw him, didn't I, after he was s'posed to
have left school. He sneaked into the room all us girls shared to talk to Maree.
Caused a right stir but no one told Mrs. White. She'd have blamed Maree and it
weren't her fault. She can't control her brother any more than I can control
the clouds."

Celia and I sat
forward. Even Jacob focused all his attention on the girl.

"Do you
know what Maree and her brother spoke about?" I asked.

She shook her
head. "No. They whispered."

"Would she
have confided in anyone afterwards? A friend perhaps?"

"She didn't
have any friends. She was so quiet, see, and a bit...you know." She drew
little circles at her temple with her finger. "Maree kept to herself and
did what she was told mostly. She looked up to Mrs. White I s'pose, we all did.
She's a right good teacher is Mrs. White and she cared 'bout us all too. If Mr.
Blunt tried to skimp on our meals, she was onto him right away. Told him it was
'gainst school reg'lations and she'd report him to the board. The board's the
gentlemen who run the school, see. There's some right toffs on the board, there
is. One's a lord and all."

Her chatter had
veered a little off the topic but Celia and I let her go. I wanted her to just
talk and see what she said in the hope there was something useful among all the
gossip. Unfortunately I'd not detected any so far.

"So you
can't think of anyone else, other than her brother, who Maree might steal a
book for?" Celia asked.

Lucy shook her
head.

"Have you
ever overheard anyone talking about demons at the school?" I asked.

"No! It's a
Christian place, it is. Mr. Blunt sees we always say our prayers before dinner.
The devil, now that's diff'rent. Mr. Blunt's always talkin' 'bout the devil
comin' to get us in our beds if we don't behave. Course it's never the devil but
Mr. Blunt hisself who comes."

"What?"
I blurted out before I could reign in my shock. "Into your beds?"

I expected Celia
to admonish me for my outburst but she simply stared at Lucy open-mouthed. Lucy
had managed to do the impossible and render my sister speechless.

"Bloody
hell," Jacob said, rubbing his chin.

"Oh yes,"
Lucy said, oblivious to the heavy blanket of horror she'd thrown over us. "Mostly
only the pretty girls. Tried it once with me, he did, but I was so scared I
couldn't move and he said he didn't like that so he never bovvered me again."
She said it as if it were an every day part of life, like dressing or eating. Is
that how it was in the workhouses and ragged schools? The children simply
accepted their plight because they didn't know any better?

I felt sick to
my stomach. And then I felt angry. A hot, gut wrenching anger. Lucy was such a
sweet girl, how could anyone take advantage of her like this Mr. Blunt had?

But I didn't
want to show my anger in front of her. She didn't seem too upset by what had
befallen her, so why make her feel degraded? Hadn't she already endured enough?

Fortunately Celia
remained silent although she'd gone very white and still. The only movement she
made came from her throat as she swallowed.

Since Celia
didn't look like she would begin talking any time soon, I dismissed Lucy. "Thank
you for your help. You may go. Oh, and make sure you enjoy a cup of tea
yourself."

Lucy beamed. "Thank
you, Miss Chambers. You're not all that scary really, are you?"

I couldn't help laughing,
despite my heavy heart. Lucy left and as if she'd been wound up, Celia moved
once more. She reached for her teacup. "Such a sweet girl," she said
and sipped, as if she'd not heard a thing Lucy had said about Blunt's late
night visits.

I stared at her
in disbelief. Did she think if she ignored the situation it would go away? Or
was she avoiding the topic for my sake? Sometimes I suspect my sister thinks I
know as little about what happens between couples as I did when I was ten. I
may be a virgin but I wasn't naïve.

Jacob moved away
from the mantelpiece and stood before me. "You shouldn't have heard any of
that," he said, his voice sounding like a roll of thunder, deep and low.

"Good lord,
not you too," I muttered. Did everyone think I was an innocent in need of
protection from the realities of the world?

"Pardon?"
Celia asked, cup poised at her lips. "Is that ghost here again?"

Before I could
answer her, Jacob said, "I'm going to pay the school a visit. Let's see
what Mr. Blunt thinks when the devil appears to him tonight in the shape of one
very angry ghost. With luck he'll turn to God instead of the girl's dormitory
from now on."

His conviction
made me feel marginally better. If anyone could punish Blunt and force him to
change his ways it would be Jacob. I'm not sure I'd like to be on the end of
his anger. Although he seemed to keep his emotions in check most of the time, I
suspect once his temper was unleashed it would be like a terrible
storm—destructive and unpredictable and anyone in it's path had better get out
of the way or suffer the consequences.

CHAPTER 6

I knew someone
was in my room even before I was fully awake. I don't know how I knew—I
couldn't hear any movement or smell any scent and it was too dark to see more
than shadows.

Then one of
those shadows moved. It was man-sized and it was right by my bed. My heart
leapt into my throat and I opened my mouth to scream but a hand clamped over
it.

"It's me,"
came Jacob's voice. "If I take my hand away, will you be quiet?"

"Try it and
find out," I mumbled into his palm.

He removed his
hand, somewhat tentatively. "Sorry I scared you." He sat on the bed
beside me, so close his thigh almost touched mine. I could just make out the
whiteness of his eyes and the shape of his face in the darkness but little
else. My heart, still in my throat, hammered so loudly I was sure he must be
able to hear it.

"I could
have woken the entire household if I'd screamed!" I hissed at him.

"But you
didn't. I was waiting for the moment you registered my presence and opened your
mouth."

"You can
see in the dark?"

"Better
than I could before I died."

I pulled the
bedcovers up to my chin. "What if I'd been indecent?"

"It's all
right, I checked and you weren't."

"Very
amusing."

His low chuckle
rippled through the darkness. "I give you my word as a gentleman that I
won't ravish you."

Could ghosts
ravish? Did his...masculine parts work the same as when he was alive? Now there
was a question that had my curiosity piqued. Instead I said, "You're in
fine form tonight. Is there a reason or are you just happiest when you're
tormenting me?"

"I'm
tormenting
you
?" There was a long silence in which I
think he was staring at me. It was disconcerting knowing he could see me when I
couldn't see him, particularly when my hair probably looked a mess and my eyes must
be puffy.

"Yes,"
I said huffily, "you are. Please light the lamp so I'm no longer at a
disadvantage."

He stood and I
heard his footsteps cross the room followed by the scrape of a striking match. The
single flame threw patterns of light and shadow over his face, highlighting his
beautiful contours. He lit the gas lamp and set it down on the dressing table opposite
the foot of the bed. He remained there, looking at the items on the table's
surface. No, not quite at my things, but at
me,
in the mirror's
reflection. His good humor of earlier seemed to have vanished and he was back
to being brooding and unreadable, but that could have just been the lack of
light cast by the lamp. It wasn't particularly effective in the thick darkness.

"What's
brought this behavior on?" I asked, sitting up. I drew my legs up and
rested my chin on my knees, making sure the covers still hid most of me. "Yesterday
you knocked and turned your back when you entered my room. Tonight you just
appeared with no warning."

"I didn't
knock because I didn't want to wake anyone."

"You woke
me!"

"Anyone
else. I don't think your sister would forgive me if I got her out of bed in the
middle of the night."

"I'm not
sure I'll forgive you either," I said. I do like my sleep. If I get less
than eight hours a night I'm generally not the nicest person the next day. Jacob
would learn that the hard way if he wasn't careful. "So is this the real Jacob
Beaufort I'm seeing now?"