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well... you would have my deepest admiration
and regard."
    "But I do not know if I want
to know if I can see ghosts everywhere," she protested.
    "Of course you do!  We are
all searching for answers, and you, my dear, are the closest that any of us
have come.  The ghost led you here.  On this day of all days!  Not a week
before or a week later, but today!  Not twenty-four hours since I employed this
medium.  It must have been for a reason.  This is the only reason I can think
of!  You must come spend the weekend with us.  Say that you will!"
    Clara sat for a moment in
silence.  True, she had only come for answers about the girl in lilac, but
Horace's excitement was contagious.  What if she did have some gift?  What if
this medium could somehow teach her?  What if she did not have to wait until
death to see her Thomas again?
    It was this final thought which
caused her to say, "I will look forward to meeting your daughter-in-law,
Miss Nero, tomorrow, and if we feel a spirit of friendship between us, I shall
indeed look forward to a pleasant weekend in the north country meeting this
medium of yours.  I thank you kindly for your invitation and hospitality."
    Horace raised his fist in the
air in triumph.  "Bully!  It shall be a splendid time for all!"

Chapter
Nine
    C lara sat in her front sitting
room.  The mid-morning light was pale, but pleasant.  Not so dim that it
demanded the gas lights be lit, but not so bright that the room became uncomfortably
warm.  The sound of each passing carriage filled her with both excitement and
dread.  What would this Violet woman be like?  Would they be instant kindred
spirits, or would she cause Clara to regret her impetuous decision?  Clara
played with her wedding band, remembering a time when meeting strangers was
exciting and new.  She wondered how it came to be that she was so fearful of
her life, how much she sought refuge in the safety of her walls.  Strangely, it
was her home that became the most unsafe of all, with midnight visitors of the
other world variety.  And yet, if there was some wisdom, some knowledge one
gleaned on the other side, perhaps the girl was indeed a messenger sent to
Clara with words of great importance.
    A carriage stopped in front of
the house.  Clara willed herself not to run to the window to catch a secret
glimpse.  She heard the front door ring and Willard's steadfast steps calmly
walking down the hall.  She heard the door open.  She adjusted her skirts and
tucked her hair nervously.
    The door to her sitting room
opened and Willard announced the guest.  "Miss Violet Nero."
    In walked the soon to be
daughter-in-law of Horace Oroberg.  She was a wan creature, almost more bird
than human.  Her frame was as delicate as a wren.  Her large eyes were dark and
sunken and her pale skin seemed to almost have a bluish tinge.  Her brown hair
was pulled back and hung in sausage curls.  Though her face held the age of one
close to twenty years, she stood no taller than a twelve year old girl and her
physical development seemed to have ceased at that age, too.
    Clara rose.  She felt a twinge
of instant sympathy for this frail and sickly woman.  Who knew what tragedy
already struck her.  Clara held out both hands in friendship.  "Miss Nero. 
It is a pleasure."
    Violet took Clara's hands in
hers and allowed Clara to lead her to the seating area.  Her voice held the
slightest touch of French, as if she held her vowels like candy upon her tongue.
 "Please, do call me Violet.  My father-in-law tells me we have such a
great deal in common.  I feel that we are to be dear friends."
    Violet sat down, perching
politely upon the chair, as if frightened to take up too much space.  Clara
poured milk and sugar into the cups, then filled them both with tea.  She passed
a saucer to Violet.
    "So, you are engaged to Lord
Oroberg's son?" Clara asked.
    "Indeed.  Maman has been
friends with the family for a great number of years and says that I am so