Evermore (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium Trilogy #3)(49)

Mrs. Stanley! Finally. "Adelaide, I must apologize, but we have to leave."

"Does this have something to do with Lady Montgomery's governess?"

"Yes."

"And George's—I mean, Mr. Culvert's—absence?"

"Yes."

"Will you be all right? Will he?"

I laid a hand on her arm. She trembled. "Everyone will be fine. Don't worry. Go and enjoy your ball. Dance with all your admirers."

She wrinkled her nose. "I'm supposed to be dancing with Bertie, but I feigned a sore foot. I had better not dance with anyone or my falsehood will be undone." She kissed my cheek. "Goodnight, Emily. Goodnight, Miss Chambers. Good luck and be careful."

Celia and I collected our shawls from the ladies' dressing room and met Mrs. Stanley down in the servants' area out of the way of the busy maids and footmen.

"Bloody toffs," she muttered as she stormed past us.

Celia and I looked at each other.

"They think I am not good enough to be seen by them up there. I am no servant. I do not have to be shoved down here with the scrapers." This last she said loudly as we climbed the outside stairs to the street level.

The liveried footman standing at the bottom of the main steps glared at her then bowed at Celia and I.

"Mrs. Stanley," I said, drawing her away before she could rant at him, "how did you fare? You have the counter curse?"

She grunted. "I got it. Come. It is time to deliver it."

Celia instructed the footman to find George's carriage in the line of coaches waiting to take their masters and mistresses home. Drivers blew into their hands to warm them and huddled in groups chatting with other drivers or footmen. We waited until one of the carriages peeled off and circled Grosvenor Square to come and collect us.

A few moments later, we were rubbing our cold, gloved fingers together and traveling toward Mrs. Stanley's house.

Celia peppered her with questions all the way. Who would be there? What were Mrs. White's qualifications? Did the counter curse have to be delivered in such a diabolical method?

"Does she have to come?" Mrs. Stanley asked, having not answered a single question.

"Of course!" Celia snapped.

"I want her with me," I said. I wanted George and Louis too, but they hadn’t returned. If they'd found the gypsies in time, they would have seen Mrs. Stanley fulfill her promise as we'd hoped and would be on their way back to London. I suddenly wished I'd told Adelaide where we were headed in case they showed up at the ball. Never mind. It would probably all be over before they arrived anyway.

We spent the entire journey going through the words to the counter curse. I spoke them aloud over and over, learning the subtle accents and nuances of the Romany language. It had to be just right, Mrs. Stanley said. By the time we reached Price's house, I had it committed to memory.

"Remember," she said as we alighted, "Mrs. Seymour—Mrs. White—thinks you are delivering the curse, although she thinks you are under the assumption that you will be speaking the words of the counter curse, which of course you will be doing." She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and lifted her gaze to a window on the first floor where light edged the drawn curtain. "It is best if you do not speak to her until after the entire procedure is accomplished. You do not want to accidentally mention that I am working against her. Not to her and not to Mr. Price. It is best if he knows as little as possible. It is safer for him that way. Understand?"

"I won't say a thing," I said.

"Nor will I," Celia said. "But I don't like this."

"Then let's get it over with." I looped my arm through Celia's and followed Mrs. Stanley up the staircase to the small parlor. Leviticus Price sat in his usual seat by the window. His glacial blue eyes met mine and he nodded a greeting. "Nice to see you dressed for the occasion," he said. He did not get up, as a gentleman should, although that could have been because he was still too weak and not from poor manners. He did look exceedingly pale, his skin almost the same color as his drooping moustache and long beard. The only color in his face came from the dark shadows beneath his eyes, like semi-circular bruises. The two deaths he'd already suffered at the hands of Mrs. White had taken their toll. From the look of him, another would certainly kill him permanently.

Mrs. White entered from an adjoining room and stopped short when she saw us. "You're here," she said simply. "Good. We can start right away."

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from telling her what I thought of her. This was the woman who'd killed Jacob, the woman who'd unleashed a demon and forced an evil spirit to possess my friends. She was an obsessed madwoman wrapped up in a homely package.

I hated her.

Celia's arm tightened around mine as if that would stop me from speaking my mind. But she needn't have worried. I would not jeopardize the task at hand. Not for all the anger burning within me, not for the revenge I longed to get on Mrs. White. Not for anything. Jacob's future came first. There would be time for all of that later.

"All will be well, Miss Chambers," Mrs. White said in the kind voice that I'd heard so many times. "Do not be afraid."

"There's been a change of plan," Celia said, letting go of me.