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slightly guilty at having left without sending at least a servant to her. I knelt beside her on the floor and tapped her cheeks with my hand.
    â€œMrs. Leighton,” I said. “You fainted. Please do come round as I have no smelling salts.” I looked around for something that might serve in their stead, but short of flinging cold tea on her, there was nothing to be done. I tapped her cheeks again, this time harder, and her eyelids fluttered.
    â€œWhat—” She looked in dismay at the shattered remains of the teacup, a casualty of her faint, next to her.
    I helped her sit up and move to the settee. “I don’t suppose you have anything stronger than tea to drink in here?”
    â€œNo.” She was staring at the floor.
    There was no viable teacup remaining save the one I had used, and I did not want us to be interrupted at present; she would have to wait for a restorative beverage. “I saw her, too,” I said. “She is not a ghost.”
    â€œShe must be a ghost,” Mrs. Leighton said, her voice shaking and small. “There is no other explanation.”
    â€œI know she looks to you like your mother,” I said. “But I have seen her three times now, and can assure you that she is very much a living person.”
    â€œMy mother?” Mrs. Leighton crinkled her brow. “No, not my mother. My sister.”
    â€œSister?”
    â€œOtherwise she would not have held the necklace.”
    â€œThis necklace?” I asked, holding up for her the object I had removed from the snow. I got no response, as Mrs. Leighton fainted again. I sighed. All this fainting was inconvenient, but one could hardly blame the poor thing. I opened the door to the room and called for my husband. He came without delay, Mr. Leighton and the butler close on his heels. “Have you any smelling salts?”
    The butler went in search of them while Mr. Leighton all but flung me out of the way so that he could reach his wife. She had not fallen off the settee, but he gathered her in his arms nonetheless and spoke to her, trying to rouse her. Fortunately, the butler returned and handed me a small vial, which I waved under Mrs. Leighton’s nose after persuading her spouse to return her to a supine position. She came to at once.
    â€œWhere is the necklace?” she asked. I handed it to her. “I have its twin,” she said, reaching behind her high net collar and pulling out an identical locket. Aunt Clara gave them to us both—Adelaide and me—after Mother…” Her voice trailed off.
    â€œDon’t try to talk, my dear,” Mr. Leighton said. “I shall send for Dr. Holton right away.”
    â€œThat won’t be necessary,” I said. “Your wife has had a perfectly normal reaction to seeing someone she did not expect.”
    â€œMy wife’s sister has been dead for five years, Lady Emily. She ought not be seeing her at all.”
    â€œI saw her as well, and I can assure you the person standing outside was very much alive.”
    â€œThen she cannot have been Adelaide.” Mrs. Leighton’s eyes filled with tears. “Which, of course, I knew all along. She died at thirteen and ghosts don’t age, do they? Yet how could someone else have her necklace?”
    â€œMay I see them both?” I asked. She gave them to me: two identical, gold oval lockets, which, when opened, each revealed a cutting of hair, tied with a thin black ribbon. “Mourning jewelry,” I said. “Your mother’s hair?”
    â€œYes,” Mrs. Leighton said, dissolving into sobs.
    â€œThis is quite enough,” Mr. Leighton said. “I cannot let her get more upset. I am most grateful for your assistance, but must beg you to let us be now. She needs Dr. Holton.”
    Colin and I had to do what he asked, although I must admit with some disappointment that my husband made it perfectly clear he thought this to be an excellent idea. He did,