Evermore (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #3)(33)

"What path?"

"The path of..." His gaze darted to Cara, who sat like a little statue, pretending not to hear her elders talking about her. "Of pretending she's normal. I've seen madness. My father is...touched by it. You've met him." His tone was neutral, but a hint of sadness underpinned it.

Celia scoffed. "You're comparing that crazy old Frenchman with these two?"

Louis' gaze caught mine and I was shocked by what I saw there. Genuine, raw sorrow. "Emily too?"

He was not going to be easy to convince. "Celia, wait." I held up my hand. "Let me do this. Louis, we haven't been entirely honest with you because, well, we were afraid of your reaction."

"Don't be," he said. "You can tell me anything, Emily, even if it's...something unfortunate."

"And the same goes for you. You can tell us anything."

"Ah. I see." He folded his arms over his chest. "You wish to bargain with me?" His low chuckle surprised me, coming so soon after the sadness.

"We'll offer explanations, but only if you promise to do the same after we've finished."

"I admire your methods, Emily. I shouldn't, but I do."

"As do I," Jacob said. He clutched my shoulder, but I suspect it was more to steady himself than for affectionate reasons.

"Jacob?" I whispered. "Are you all right?"

"Don't worry." His smile was weak but heartfelt.

"Who are you speaking to?" Louis asked.

Celia huffed out an exasperated breath. "You heard her, Mr. Moreau. We give you no answers until you promise."

He gave a single nod. "Very well. I promise. But you first. So tell me. When did this madness—"

"It's not madness," Celia said. "Emily and Cara can see spirits. Thanks to you, I might add."

"What are you talking about? Or are you mad too?"

Her glare could have cut glass. "Only at you."

"Stop it," I said. "You two are worse than children."

Louis apologized and looked ashamed. My sister did not. "Now, will someone please explain what is going on?" he asked.

"Allow me," Jacob said. He picked up a figurine of an Oriental lady from a nearby table. His movements were slow, as if his limbs were heavy.

Louis leapt out of his chair. "Bloody hell!"

"I really don't think that sort of language is necessary," Celia scolded.

"My, uh, my...sorry. I'm..." He sat back down, slowly, without taking his gaze off the figurine. "What trickery is this?"

"It's not trickery," I said. "It's Jacob Beaufort, son of Lord and Lady Preston. Or rather, his spirit."

"He's dead," Cara said. "Only me and Emily can see him."

"Emily and I," Celia corrected.

"But..." Louis said. "But...I don't understand."

Lucy entered carrying a tray and tea things. She paused when she saw the figurine. "Mr. Beaufort is here?" She set the tray on the table near Celia. "I always feel that I should be offering him tea since he is our guest."

Jacob lowered the figurine onto the table. "Emily...I must go." He pressed his hands to his temples. "But I need to speak to you." He dropped to his knees in front of me. Exhaustion raked at his features, dragging them down, aging him. He pressed his forehead against my knees and sighed deeply. "Emily, I may not...return."

"No!"

"What is it?" Louis asked, half out of the chair again. "What's wrong?"

"He's saying goodbye," Cara said softly. "Mr. Beaufort is sick."

"Isn't he already dead?"

"Jacob," I whispered, shutting them out. "Jacob, we'll stop whoever it is. Trust me. We've made progress, thanks to you. George and Theo are watching Mrs. White and we're sure she'll lead us to the culprit."

He lifted his head to peer up at me. "I know...must go...can't stay."

"Will someone please tell me what is happening?" Louis said.

I touched Jacob's semi-transparent cheek and he leaned into my palm. Then he was gone.

I fought back tears. It's not goodbye, it's not goodbye. If I kept chanting that in my head, perhaps I might believe it.

"Actually, Emily, I agree with Mr. Moreau," Celia said. "You must keep me informed. What is Mr. Beaufort saying?"

"Nothing," I said. "He's gone."

"You believe this is all real, don't you?" Louis said. I thought he was talking to me, but he was looking at Celia.

"She can see spirits," Lucy said, puffing out her considerable chest. She handed Louis a teacup and saucer. "She talks to them all the time. Miss Cara too. But there's no need to be afraid. Most are harmless. I used to be afraid, but not anymore."

"Thank you, Lucy," Celia said. "You may go."

Lucy bobbed a curtsey and left.

My sister picked up her cup. "If you spend long enough with Emily or Cara, you will discover that it's not an illusion."

"But it must be!"

Celia sighed. "Have you ever known me to be prone to flights of fancy? If you say yes, then you don't know me at all, Louis."