by C. J. Archer
"What was he like?" I asked.
"I didn't know him well." He frowned and resumed slicing his food. "Although I didn't like the way he talked about you, my dear."
"Me?" Adelaide blinked at him. "Did I meet him?"
"He came here once to look at the library."
"I don't recall."
"You wouldn't. He was the sort of man one instantly forgets if one has only met him fleetingly."
"What did he say about Adelaide that you didn't like?" Hannah asked.
"He spoke about her as if she were a prized jewel that I'd been fortunate enough to win in a lottery. A pretty ornament, he called you, my dear. Not a word about your sweet nature or your kind heart. He only saw your face and figure, and your family connections of course."
Adelaide bestowed a soft smile on her husband who was now eating heartily. "Thank you, George."
He pushed his glasses up his nose and regarded her with a frown. "Whatever for?"
She pecked his cheek, still smiling. "Never mind."
"Felix Holloway it must be," I said, helping myself to more potatoes. "I'm convinced of it."
"So what's next?" Jack asked. "Will you tell Faraday?"
"Yes," I said, at the same time Quin said "No."
"There's no point," Quin told me. "How can Faraday help?"
"I wasn't expecting him to help. I just thought he ought to know."
He snatched up his wine glass. "It's not wise to involve him in everything."
"I agree," Jack said. "If he doesn't believe then it's too much of a risk."
"He might come to believe," Hannah said.
"In that case, wait until then. For now, we'll keep this information to ourselves. We'll inform Samuel, Charity, and everyone at Frakingham, of course."
"Emily and Jacob will want to know too," George said. "I'll write to them."
"So what will you do now?" Adelaide asked me.
"I'll summon the ghost of Mr. Holloway. Let's hope he hasn't crossed over yet."
***
George sent all the servants away once we were settled in the drawing room with brandies and tea. He shut the door on the butler and signaled for me to begin.
I cleared my throat. "Mr. Holloway, are you there? Please come to us if you are still in the waiting area." A spirit could choose to come or not when summoned. It was entirely up to them, just as haunting was a matter of choice. I didn't hold out much hope that he would reveal himself, if indeed he hadn't already crossed over. He must know the sort of reception he'd get. Still, I had to try. "Mr. Holloway, we know what you did to Mr. Faraday and we only wish to talk to you about it. No harm will come to you, and you don't have to answer anything you don't wish to. Please," I added when nothing happened. "I'd like to see the real Felix Holloway since I grew to like him."
"That's devious," Hannah muttered with a sly grin.
Quin watched me with an amused gleam in his eyes as he stood by the mantelpiece. It would seem he harbored no jealousy toward this man.
"Would you now?" said the ghost that suddenly materialized in front of me. He was exactly as George described him—short and rotund with a web of tiny red lines across his florid nose and cheeks. What little hair he had was blond and too long, as if he wanted to preserve what was left of it. His eyes were an insipid blue, set close together beneath the smudge of his eyebrows. He must have thought all his good fortunes had come at once when he wound up possessing the handsome and charming Nathaniel.
"Somehow I doubt that you do want to know me better," he went on lazily. "Well?" He did a twirl, albeit an inelegant one that resembled a waddle more than a dance move. "Do you prefer this person to the other one?"
"Good evening, Mr. Holloway." My greeting made everyone sit up and glance around. Adelaide moved closer to her husband on the sofa, and he patted her hand for comfort. "No matter what you think, it is nice to see you again. You were quite an agreeable fellow when you weren't trying to flirt with me or hide something from us. That, sir, is the truth."
He chuckled. "Miss Moreau, are you trying to flirt with me? How the tables have turned. You must want something."
Quin picked up a book from the table and held it out, not far from the spot where the ghost glowed like a dim lamp. "Hold this, Holloway. We need to know where you are."
"The thug is still with you, I see." Holloway took the book. "Suppose you like his handsome face and musculature."
I didn't dare glance at Quin as I lied. "Not in the least. My tastes are a little more refined."
Holloway snorted. "Like Faraday, you mean? I admit that part of the reason I chose him was because of his looks. I've admired his fine form for some time, and the way you ladies swoon whenever he speaks to you."
"I have never swooned, thank you."
"Not even for him?" He nodded at Quin.
"Especially not for him. Tell me, how did you know Nathaniel?"
"I really am a historian, albeit a paranormal one whereas he isn't. I wasn't always interested in the supernatural. I began my career in archaeology with a specialty in the Roman occupation of Britain, but later branched out when I discovered the existence of the supernatural. I liked to keep my hand in with my original subject, however. That's how I met Faraday. We both attended lectures at Cambridge before he went off to seek adventure overseas. Not that he remembers me, I suspect. Few people seem to. It was pure luck that I saw him at the British Museum the day after his return. That's where I died," he said upon my blank look. "I've been haunting the Elgin Marbles room. Remarkable pieces. Have you seen them?"
"Yes." I relayed what he'd told me to the others. "So you selected poor Nathaniel on purpose?"
"Poor Nathaniel?" he mimicked. "The man is blessed with the face of an angel. Don't pity him. When the opportunity to possess someone presented itself, I chose him because I wanted to see what it felt like to walk in his shoes for a while."
"And how did it feel?"
"Rather splendid, actually. It proves that people respond well to a handsome face. Women in particular. Do you know how many threw themselves at me?"
"I couldn't guess. Nor am I int—"
"Twenty-two." He nodded eagerly. "Twenty-two in a matter of a few weeks."
"Mr. Holloway, please, may we stay on track."
"Of course." He rocked back on his heels, clearly pleased with his efforts as a charming bachelor. "I was thrilled that my first choice of vessel worked. Even more pleased when I met you and discovered that you already liked me."
"Not you, Mr. Holloway."
His head jerked back as if I'd slapped him. His heavy jowls shook. "Careful, Miss Moreau. Don't offend me, or I'll disappear and you'll never find the answers to your questions."
The man was a toad, in appearance and manner. I hadn't disliked him when he possessed Nathaniel, but I did now.
"What's he saying?" Quin asked.
"Nothing significant as yet."
Holloway flipped the book open then snapped it shut again. Adelaide jumped. "What is it you want to know?" he asked.
"Who summoned you into Nathaniel's body?"
"I can't tell you that."
I bit back the retort that came to mind. Growing angry wouldn't get answers. "Please, Mr. Holloway, you must tell us."
"Why?"
"Because we can't have a medium going about summoning spirits into living bodies! It's a dangerous thing to do."
"Did I cause anyone harm?"
His retort took the wind out of my sails. "I…I'm not sure."
"I didn't."
"It can be argued that you harmed Nathaniel Faraday. He has to pick up the pieces of his life again after missing several weeks. Can you imagine his confusion?"
He snorted. "He's alive and well, isn't he?"
"And just because you didn't harm anyone, doesn't mean other spirits she summons won't do something horrid." The mysterious third medium had summoned Percy Harrington, and he had caused a great deal of harm to Charity and another girl. "She must be warned in case she isn't aware of
the dangers."
He threw his head back and laughed so hard his belly shook. "Miss Moreau, let me assure you, the medium is experienced and is very aware of the consequences."
"Then why does she do it? Is she mad?"
He shrugged one shoulder.
"Or is she being coerced?"
"Coerced?"
"By Myer," I said, warming to my theory. "He requested the medium to summon you, didn't he? To help him with his research?"
He just smiled. It was maddening.
"Tell me why Myer chose you, Mr. Holloway. And why did you delay telling him the book was in Harborough? You allowed us to get to it first."
The smile broadened. "Miss Moreau, you're getting quite agitated. May I suggest that it's not good for your health to become so upset? Believe me, I ought to know. I became agitated at the museum when I saw they'd attributed my discovery of a Roman coin hoard to another archaeologist."
"I am not agitated," I said, breathing as steadily as possible to calm my thudding pulse. "Just answer my questions, if you please."
Quin came to stand beside me and rested a hand on my shoulder. "Cara?"
Holloway's eyes arrowed in on Quin's hand. His top lip curled and he screwed up his nose. "I ought to warn you about him, but I'm not sure you'll believe me."
I rubbed my temples where a headache bloomed. This conversation wasn't going at all as I'd planned. "That's not why I asked you here."
"But you want to know what I know." His sneer turned to a slick smile. "Don't you?"
Quin's hand was a comfort, yet I didn't dare look at him as I nodded. "Yes," I whispered.
"I asked them after I returned. The administrators." He circled Quin and I. Quin stiffened and kept his gaze on the book. His hand slid from my shoulder, down the back of my arm then let me go entirely.
I bit the inside of my lip. I ought to ask Holloway to stop, but I did not.
"Do you know what he did to get himself sent to Purgatory?"
I shook my head. "I can see that you're champing at the bit to tell me."
His smile broadened. He didn't bestow it on me, however, but on Quin. "You speak of worrying about the medium and the danger caused through the possession, yet there is a far more serious threat standing right beside you. You should be just as worried about your warrior, Miss Moreau. He's done something quite despicable. He murdered someone."
CHAPTER 12
Holloway's accusation didn't have quite the effect on me that he probably wanted. I slowly breathed out my pent-up breath. "I'm sure there was more than one." Quin was, after all, a knight and a crusader.
Holloway turned that menacing smile on me. Quin's fingers pressed into my shoulder. "Killing in war is not murder and will be overlooked by the administrators," Holloway said. "Bringing justice to the deserving will also not cause a spirit to end up in the dark place after he crosses. Murdering an innocent man, however, will bring you to their attention."
"Is that it?" I asked, idly. "Or is there more to your story?"
"It's no story, Miss Moreau. It's completely true. I asked the administrators and they told me why people end up in Purgatory."
"But not him specifically?"
He lifted one shoulder. My question had Quin turning to face me. Did he know we were discussing him?
I cleared my throat. "If there's nothing else—"
"But there is," Holloway said. "I discovered why he needed the book of spells. Or perhaps I should word it differently, seeing as you like to quibble over every point. I asked why a spirit in Purgatory would want the book of spells. I was told that it contained information that would enable him to get out."
"I know that," I snapped.
"Cara," Jack said gently, "could you relay what he's saying, please."
I put up my hand. "Soon."
Holloway shook his head and set the book down on the arm of the chair I'd been sitting on. He then went to stand directly in front of Quin, and puffed out his chest. He studied Quin's face, some distance above his own. "But did you know that he wasn't going to use it to crossover to the afterlife? He was going to use it to live again."
I snorted. "That's absurd."
"Is it?"
"It's not possible."
"How would you know, Miss Moreau? You're no expert."
"Cara," Quin said, "what is he saying?"
I looked at him and I suddenly realized that Holloway spoke the truth. Quin told me he wanted the book so he could move on, to get out of Purgatory. He hadn't said anything about living again. He hadn't lied exactly, but he had withheld the truth from me.
Oh, Quin. Why hadn't you told me?
"I must go," Holloway said. "And so must you. I believe you have your hands full with the escaped spirits."
I tore my gaze away from Quin. If I stared at him any longer, he would begin to suspect that I knew. A line had already formed between his brows. "You know about them?" I said to the ghost.
"Everyone in the waiting area knows. The administrators are quite worried, by the way. They're watching you closely. I suspect that's why there's a backlog of spirits waiting to be classified, myself included." He bowed. "Good evening, Miss Moreau. We won't meet again until your afterlife. As much as we haven't seen eye to eye very often, I don't wish you ill. I hope you have a long and fruitful life." His gaze slid to Quin. "Take my advice and choose Faraday. If he'll have you after finding out about your strange…talent. This one comes with too many burdens for a young, pretty thing like you to carry."
He was gone before I could say goodbye, but I said it anyway, for the benefit of my companions. I sat down again and gratefully slumped into the deep leather cushion with a sigh.
Quin crouched beside me. "Cara? Are you all right?" His voice was a soft purr that had me doubting Holloway's story. There was no way Quin killed someone in cold blood. He had a temper, but it was only ever directed at the deserving. If he'd killed an innocent, it must have been a mistake.
Adelaide refilled my teacup and handed it to me. "Drink this."
I took a long sip. The others waited as I did so. The room had gone very quiet and still as if none of them dared breathe. Once I set the cup down again, the tension broke and the questions flowed.
"What did he say?" Jack asked.
"Did he mention who summoned him?" said George.
Hannah put up her hands for silence. "One at a time. Allow her a moment to gather herself."
"Thank you, Hannah," I said. "Holloway told me very little. We still don't know who the medium is. He refused to say."
"Blast," George muttered. "Well that was bloody pointless."
"Not necessarily." I took another sip of the warm, sweet liquid to fortify my nerves. All I could think about was Quin using the book to get out of Purgatory and live—live!—and me having stopped him by withholding the book.
Oh God. What had I done?
I clutched the china tighter and stared down at the tea until I felt I could face them and go on. I did not look at Quin. He was right beside me, his presence a distraction for all of my senses. It was like he was a magnet, sucking me in, scrambling my brain.
I took another sip. "He told me very little, but I noticed something peculiar as he was speaking. He never referred to the medium's gender. Not once did he say her or she. Is it possible that mediums can be male?"
George shook his head. "Not according to historic sources. They're very clear on the matter."
"How many historic sources are there?" Jack asked.
"Very few."
"That doesn't sound definitive. We should entertain the possibility that mediums can also be male."
"Then wouldn't Louis be a medium?" I asked. "My father and nephews too?"
Nobody had an answer. Quin didn't seem to be listening at all, despite continuing to stare at me. It was unnerving. How could I hide my thoughts from him when his gaze burrowed into me like that?
"I'll consult the texts again," George said with enthusiasm. "I may have missed a reference the first time."
>
"It's getting late," Hannah said. "We should go."
Adelaide rang the bell for the butler. When he arrived, she asked him to have their coach fetched from the mews. We rose and our hosts saw us to the front door themselves. After saying our goodbyes, we climbed into the coach and took off for Claridge’s. It didn't take Jack long before he asked the question I knew he'd been dying to ask for some time.
"Why haven't you told us everything Holloway said to you, Cara?"
"I relayed the necessary part of the conversation," I told him. "The rest was private."
"What could he possibly say that was private?"
"Jack," Hannah warned. She didn't need to say anything else. Her husband let the matter drop, but not before giving Quin, sitting beside me, a meaningful look.
Quin remained ominously silent for the rest of the journey.
***
I'd been waiting for the light knock on my bedroom door for an hour, but when it came, my heart still jumped. "Who is it?"
"You need ask?" came the quiet, deep rumble of Quin's voice.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I adjusted the shawl over my shoulders and opened the door. The sight of him dressed in nothing but shirt and trousers never failed to take my breath away, and this time was no exception. However, where his expression was usually one of assuredness, tonight doubt and worry tugged at his mouth.
I opened the door wider to let him in, but he hesitated. "It's not like we haven't been alone in a room together before," I said.
"There is usually a chaperone." He glanced up and down the hallway then slipped inside and closed the door.
"Sylvia hardly qualified to be called a chaperone, considering she slept like a log."
The corner of his mouth flicked up in a smile before quickly settling again. He had not taken his eyes off me since entering, and I was beginning to be unnerved by the intensity in them.
"This is just like old times," I said, padding across the floor to the bed. I tucked my feet up beneath me, adjusting my nightgown to cover them, and indicated he should sit on the armchair by the fireplace. "I missed these quiet conversations the most when you were gone." I hadn't meant to sound so wistful, nor did I want to reduce myself to tears, but they burned the backs of my eyes nevertheless.
