by C. J. Archer
I turned away and tried not to look too closely at any more jars. “There doesn’t appear to be many things large enough to store a body the size of Jacob’s,” I said. We quickly and methodically checked under the tables, in the bigger boxes and crates, but there was nothing even resembling a human body. There was only the cupboard left. It was larger than Lord Preston, rectangular and wooden with two doors side by side. Strange markings were carved into them, but I was too far away to make them out.
George fumbled with the keys, their jangle loud in the thick silence. We all watched. Waited. George struggled with the lock and passed the lamp to Adelaide so he could use two hands. The click of it unlocking was the signal for everyone to hold their breaths.
George opened the doors. Adelaide held the lamp up high and covered her mouth.
I rushed to them in disbelief. Perhaps if I got closer, it would all make sense. But it did not. My heart plunged to the floor, and I crumpled along with it.
“No!” I cried. “No!”
The cupboard was empty.
CHAPTER 14
“He must be here somewhere.” Lady Preston stepped into the cupboard and knocked on the walls. Each knock grew louder until she was pounding so hard I thought the wood would crack. “Where is he?” She swung round and fixed me with a wild glare. “You said he’d be here! You told me my son was alive! Where is he?”
I looked around the storeroom, but we’d checked everywhere. There were no more rooms, no more boxes or cupboards, nothing. “I don’t know.” My legs were too weak to hold me, so I remained on the ground, dirtying my beautiful ball gown. I didn’t care. Celia held me, but I hardly noticed her and I did not feel comforted in the least. “He told me it was here. Price lied.”
“Come, my dear,” said Lord Preston to his wife. “Let’s go home.”
I bent over and pressed my forehead to the cold wooden floor and cried until I ran out of tears. My body was wrung out, all the moisture squeezed from me. I had nothing left.
“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 ‘appe
ned. 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.”
“You were only sixteen,” Louis said gently.
“Emily is only seventeen and look what she’s had to contend with.” She sighed. “Mama bore all the scandal with a smile on her face, and loved you like her own. She was a better mother than I could have been. I w
asn’t ready, certainly not in those early years.”
“I never felt unloved,” I said. After meeting that boy Dan, and Cara of course, I knew how lucky I was to have people who loved me. My family might be unconventional, but I never lacked anything. In a way I had two mothers, and now I had a father too.
“No wonder you were upset with Louis for not writing,” I said.
“As she ought to be,” he said. “If I’d known…”
“It must have been a shock when he returned suddenly.” I was just beginning to realize how much of a shock. She’d thought he’d died or given up and found another woman in the colonies, but to find out he was alive and still in love with her must have been quite a tumultuous experience.
“I told you I loved your mother,” Louis said. “That wasn’t a lie. I loved her—Celia—but I became ashamed of my circumstances. I wanted to do better for her. I wanted to be better. A prisoner with no money to his name in a far off land is not a good prospect. I couldn’t ask her to wait for me.”
“I wouldn’t have cared,” she said.
“Perhaps. Either way, your mother wouldn’t have let you come to me if she’d known how far I’d fallen. And I have my pride too. It’s not just men like Lord Preston who want the best for their loved ones, it’s us ordinary folk too.”
“What you or Lord Preston thinks is best, is not always what is best,” Celia said, huffily.
“So what now?” I asked. “Are you going back to Melbourne?”
“Soon,” he said. “I can’t stay here, Emily. I’m sorry. I know you won’t come with me. Your life is here with Jacob. I wouldn’t take you away now. But your mother…I hope she will return with me. And Cara too.”
My mother. It sounded so strange. To think, yesterday I had a sister and no mother, and today I had no sister but a mother. Whatever would I discover next? “Do I have to call you Mama?” I asked her.
