My Plain Jane (The Lady Janies #2)(65)

Charlotte felt a frown coming on. “So, you collect the ghosts and then hold them here indefinitely. That cannot be correct, can it?”

Mr. Blackwood shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not that simple.”

“So, you’re not ‘relocating’ them, per se. You’re ‘collecting’ them.”

“We’re doing a service to the people whom the ghosts are bothering.”

“But ghosts are people, too.” Charlotte’s frown had arrived in force now. “Perhaps Jane’s concern was warranted. It’s not right to imprison people, dead or alive.”

“There’s no other way,” Mr. Blackwood said, while at the same time, the duke replied, “There is another way.”

“What?” Mr. Blackwood looked confused.

“There’s a room I haven’t shown you,” the duke said. “Come.”

He led them only a short distance to yet another locked door. The duke took out a set of keys and unlocked it. Inside was a large chamber set with a series of candelabras and red velvet drapes. There was something that resembled an altar in the center of the room, and a strange, tingly feeling that immediately set Charlotte’s nerves jittering.

“This is what we used to call the Move-On Room,” said the duke. “Years ago, when the Society was at its peak, we would bring the collected ghost here, speak some words from the Book of the Dead, and compel said ghost to go over to the other world, the one beyond this one. Then the ghost was at peace. And our job was complete.”

“So why do you not bring them here now?” Charlotte wanted to know.

The duke was smiling again, which struck her as strange. “The ceremony requires a Beacon. Only a Beacon can read the book. Only a Beacon can help the wayward soul to move on.”

“A Beacon,” Mr. Blackwood murmured. “Why did I never know this?”

“There hasn’t been a Beacon in the Society since I took you under my wing,” Wellington explained. “So there was no need for you to know about it. But as there’s the possibility of obtaining a Beacon now—”

“What’s this about a book?” Charlotte asked. “What kind of book is a book of the dead? Is it Egyptian? Can I see this book?”

“You see now how important it is to procure Miss Eyre,” continued the duke to Mr. Blackwood as if Charlotte hadn’t spoken. “If she is indeed a Beacon, she could set all these poor, unfortunate souls free.”

Mr. Blackwood was nodding. “If we explained this to her, surely she’d see reason. She’s fond of ghosts. She’d want to help them. She’d come.”

“No, she still won’t leave Thornfield,” Charlotte said matter-of-factly.

“But . . .”

And here it was. She would have to tell them.

“Jane won’t leave Thornfield because—” Charlotte took a breath. “Because she’s in love.”

“In love?” Wellington, Bran, and Mr. Blackwood all said together.

“With whom?” Mr. Blackwood asked.

Charlotte bit her lip. “With Mr. Rochester.”

“Mr. Rochester?” Mr. Blackwood said incredulously. “But he’s . . .”

“Older. So much older. I know. But the heart wants what it wants.” She should not be discussing Jane’s relationship with Rochester. It was improper. Scandalous, even. But it was the reason why Jane would never leave Thornfield. They needed to know.

“And you believe Miss Eyre’s affection is reciprocated by Mr. Rochester?” the duke questioned.

“He has said some things to her, very nice things, that would make it seem so.”

“Interesting.” The duke was smiling yet again. It was a chilling sort of smile, which made the small hairs on the back of Charlotte’s neck stand up. All at once she perceived that the duke was not exactly as he seemed. “Well, perhaps we could make use of that,” he said almost to himself.

“What do you mean, make use of it?” asked Mr. Blackwood.

“I am acquainted with Mr. Rochester, as it happens,” said the duke. “I did him a large favor some time ago, and he owes me a debt. Perhaps I can prevail upon him to influence Miss Eyre. Yes. What a fortunate turn of events. I’ll send a message to Rochester at once.”

Charlotte lifted her glasses to see Mr. Blackwood’s face. He was pale. His mouth tight. She waited for him to tell Wellington about the letter and his suspicions that Rochester had murdered his father. But he did not say anything.

“Now, if you don’t have anything else for me today, there is much to be done,” the duke said.

“I wish to speak with you,” said Mr. Blackwood urgently. “Alone.”

“All right. Come back to my office. There’s a job that requires your attention as well.” The duke nodded curtly at Bran and Charlotte. “I must bid you farewell.”

“But . . .” Bran gulped in a breath. “What about . . . what about my sister, sir, and her desire to join the Society?”

The duke waved him off. “Oh, well, plenty of people wish to join the Society, don’t they? Have her prove to me that she can offer us something that no one else can, and perhaps I will consider it. Good day.” The duke began to walk briskly back to the main corridor, but then paused. “Oh. You are still in possession of an artifact, are you not? The one containing the headmaster. Mr. Brocklehurst, I believe his name was. We should add that to the Collection Room before we return to the surface.”