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you?”
    â€œNo, he and Colin set off before I had the idea to come here,” I said. “Will you tell me what is troubling you?”
    â€œThere is nothing to speak of,” she said, and struggled to get to her feet. Corsets make the simplest movement difficult. I took her hand and assisted her. “I ought to return home.”
    â€œPlease, talk to me,” I said. “I want to help you.”
    â€œNo one can help me, Lady Emily,” she said. “No one sees the things I do.”
    â€œYou can’t know that, Mrs. Leighton,” I said. “I have seen things—“
    â€œPlease, let me be. You must not force a confidence on me. I cannot bear it.” She did not speak again, not as we made our way out of the abbey, not as I thanked the priest and choristers for their assistance, not as we climbed into the waiting carriage outside. The gentlemen had not returned when we reached the Leightons’ house, and I insisted on coming inside.
    Back in the yellow sitting room, I plied Mrs. Leighton with tea, but still she refused to speak, and I began to see the wisdom in her husband’s bringing in Dr. Holton. The silence between us bore down with the weight Atlas must have felt when shouldering the world. Then, as I sat, unsure of what to do, that chill feeling I now recognized all too well crept into the room, enveloping me. As it intensified, the cup and saucer in Mrs. Leighton’s hand started to rattle. She trembled from head to toe, and her face had gone a ghastly shade of white.
    â€œYou feel it, too?” I asked, standing and going to the window, where I pulled back the curtains with a flourish. There, just as I expected, stood the eerie woman, in front of the park gate, holding the chain and moving it back and forth.
    Mrs. Leighton emitted a hideous shriek and collapsed onto the floor.
    A cursory examination told me she had fainted, but that nothing beyond that ailed her (at least physically), so without further delay, I raced out of the house and across the street, nearly knocking over the butler on my way. He called after me, but I had no time to reply.
    The woman had disappeared again, of course, but this time her footprints remained. Colin’s deduction that the wind had covered them with snow the previous night must have been sound. More important, however, she had dropped something. The gold glinted in the gaslight. I crouched down to retrieve the object, a small oval locket on a thin chain. She had been no ghostly apparition, and the chill that had overcome me must have come from nothing more than my own anxiety and expectations. Thinking about it, I could not be certain that I had felt it before the teacup started to rattle in Mrs. Leighton’s hand.
    â€œEmily?” Colin called to me from across the street, where he and Mr. Leighton had just alighted from a hansom cab. “What is going on?”
    â€œI must return to Mrs. Leighton at once,” I said, running past them both back into the house. They followed, of course, catching me on the stoop as I waited for the butler to respond to my knock. “She is home and safe—I found her in Westminster Abbey—“
    â€œYou were to stay here and wait for her,” Colin said.
    â€œThat is of no consequence at present,” I said. “I saw the woman again, and so did Mrs. Leighton, but now I have proof that she is no ghost.” I held up the dainty necklace. “Will you please explain to Mr. Leighton? I need a moment alone with his wife.”
    The butler, more confused than ever, had opened the door in the midst of my speech. I pushed past him, deciding my husband could handle him better than I. Colin sputtered something, and I heard Mr. Leighton calling after me, but I had every faith that my capable spouse would trust me enough to ensure I had time to speak to Mrs. Leighton in private.
    She had not recovered from her faint when I returned to her, and I felt ever so