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parentage
for so long, ever since I could remember, but now that some light was about to
be shed, I wasn't sure I was ready to hear it.
    He stood and
climbed one of the ladders to the second top rung. He held onto one of the cast
iron lamps attached to the shelf and reached up to remove a black book. "Here,"
he said, climbing down. "This is where I found the information."
    He gave me the
book and sat on one of the heavy armchairs nearby. I read the spine. " Beyond
The Grave: A Scientific and Historical Study of Death and the Spirit. "
    "The book
is only fifty years old," George said, leaning forward and turning the
pages quickly. "It gathers information from many sources over many years. Unfortunately
my father's collection doesn't have any of the original books so I cannot
verify them. We have only this one to draw upon." He stabbed his finger at
a page with the chapter heading "Conduits to the Dead."
    I began to read.
He settled back in his chair and crossed his legs. I could feel his gaze on me,
but I soon forgot about him. The text was riveting. By the time I'd finished,
my head was awhirl. I sat back and stared at the book. Where before my heart
was in my throat, now it seemed to have stopped beating altogether.
    George leaned
forward and touched my arm. "Emily? Are you all right?"
    I nodded and blinked
slowly. "Do you think it's true? That there are women from an African
tribe who can see the dead?"
    "I have no
reason to doubt it. But it's important to remember that these things may have
been distorted over time and what we're reading here is just one author's
opinion of sources we cannot read ourselves. But it seems...logical."
    It did indeed. Being
descended from one of the tribal women explained not only my ability, but my appearance
too. It did not explain why there was a little girl running around who looked
very much like me and was summoning ghosts into the bodies of live people.
    "Miss
Chambers, what a...surprise," came a throaty female voice from the
doorway. Mrs. Culvert, George's mother, smiled a tight smile at us. I didn't
believe it was sincere for a moment. "Greggs told me you were in here with
George. Reading." Her icy gaze slid between us as if trying to determine
if we'd been doing more than just reading.
    I rose and
curtsied. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Culvert."
    Her smile
flattened, her eyes hardened like two colorless diamonds. Clearly she wasn't
sure whether to welcome me or ask me to leave. I was known to Lady Preston and
her daughter, and therefore someone to be cultivated and exploited so that
George could be thrown into Adelaide's circle. On the other hand, if George
spent too much time with me, he might become enamored of a middle-class girl of
dubious parentage instead, and that simply would not do for the ambitious Mrs.
Culvert.
    "Mother, would
you mind ordering luncheon to be served for us in here?" George asked.
"Emily and I have—"
    "Oh, Miss Chambers is staying awhile longer?" There was no doubt she'd
emphasized my name to draw attention to the informal way in which George had
addressed me.
    He bristled. "She
is," he said, quite forcefully. It was almost defiance on his part. Good
for George.
    Her eyes
narrowed to slits. Such a hostile expression would usually see small lines
appear, but Mrs. Culvert's skin remained smooth, as if wrinkles didn't dare reside
on her face. "But George dear," she said, frostily, "don't you
think Miss Chambers would be more comfortable if she were chaperoned? I would
offer to remain myself of course, but there is so much to do. I cannot linger
here all afternoon."
    "The door
has always been open," George said, "and shall continue to be. Unless
Miss Chambers feels uncomfortable...?" He looked to me, brows raised.
    "I am
perfectly comfortable." I was hardly a good enough catch that my
reputation would be sullied by being with George in his library with the door
open. The sort of man I was expected to marry did not move in the Culverts'
circle and would never even