Maree's knife was inches from my face. I screamed, or maybe she did, and then I was shoved aside by one of Jacob's big hands. I hit the wall and slid to the floor, landing with a thud on my rear. My hat slid down over my eyes. Jacob removed it and drew me into his arms. He supported my head with one hand and my back with the other and held me against his solid chest. It felt good, safe and...perfect. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, telling myself I wasn't unnerved by the lack of a pulse or warmth in his body.

I was completely unhurt, of course, apart from a sore shoulder where I'd hit the wall, but Jacob cradled me as if I were an injured kitten.

"Emily? Did she cut you?" He brushed my hair off my forehead. All that violent thrusting about had dislodged not only my hat but my hair from its pins. "Emily, answer me!" His lips were so close I would have been able to feel his breath on my cheek if he could breathe.

Or I could have kissed him.

I wanted to kiss him. Wanted to feel the softness of his lips even though I knew they would be cool, tasteless, and it was a most improper thing for a young lady to do. I didn't care. Blood pounded in my veins, rushed into my head, and I could think of nothing but him. It was madness.

I was mad.

He massaged the back of my neck and the cool strength of his fingers shocked me out of my daze. I looked into his eyes but his gaze darted over my face, assessing, and he didn't notice my scrutiny.

"Emily?" My whispered name seemed to hover on his lips for an eternity.

I remembered I hadn't yet answered him. "I'm well," I whispered.

His Adam's apple bobbed furiously and a muscle high in his cheek throbbed. He nodded once, a small movement that I would have missed if I hadn't been watching him so closely. "Good," he said thickly. "Good, good." His eyes suddenly shuttered. Where before they'd been wide and urgent, now they were distant, cold. "Good," he said again, stronger this time.

He let me go, quite unceremoniously, so that I almost fell to the floor a second time. "Jacob, what's wrong?"

The maid who'd let me in the door suddenly appeared. She put her hands to her cheeks and gasped. "Oh lordy, lordy, lordy. Is you all right, miss?" She helped me to my feet. "It was that girl's fault, weren't it? I knew she was trouble, I did. Told Mrs. Crouch the 'ousekeeper to watch out for her. Gone has she?"

"Uh, yes. Thank you." I watched Jacob climb the stairs up to the street outside. "Please don't tell your master about this," I said to the maid. "Just tell him Maree decided to leave his employment."

"What's all the fuss about down there?" came a woman's voice from the back of the service area. "Who's making all that noise?"

"Mrs. Crouch," the maid said to me.

I hurriedly thanked her again, picked up my hat, and left before the housekeeper arrived. Outside, Jacob was waiting at the top of the stairs.

"Are you all right?" I asked him quietly so as not to alarm anyone within earshot.

He stared off into the distance. "I think that's my line." When I didn't answer him, he turned to me. "Well? Are you all right?"

"Is that a genuine question?" I started walking, wanting to put distance between myself and the Culvert house. "It's difficult to tell considering the way you dropped me in there."

We rounded the corner and a policeman in uniform stepped out of the recessed doorway of a coffee house and into my path, startling me. "Everything all right, miss?" He looked over my head, saw no one, and raised his eyebrows. "Who you speaking to then, eh?"

"Is there a law against talking to myself, constable?" I didn't want to deal with him. I was still mad at Jacob although it struck me how selfish my own feelings were on the matter. He'd rescued me and I should be grateful. I was grateful.

The policeman's eyebrows rose further, almost disappearing into his tall helmet. "Er, not that I know of. Good afternoon, miss."

I walked off, Jacob at my side. "I'll take that as meaning you're perfectly well," he said, picking up our conversation.

"A little shaken," I said quietly in case anyone else was lurking in doorways. "But otherwise unscathed. Thanks to you. I owe you my life, Jacob."

His pause weighed heavily between us. I tried to look at him out of the corner of my eye but only saw his profile, staring ahead. "Don't," he finally said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't talk about it. Anyone would have done the same thing."

That may be so, but why did he sound so upset? Not angry, just... I sighed. I couldn't even pinpoint the emotions simmering off him let alone determine their reason. Nor did I think I'd get an answer out of him. His face was closed up tight.

So I started a new thread of conversation, a safer one. "Did you see where Maree went?"

He shook his head. "She was gone by the time I reached the street."

If he'd run after her immediately, he might have seen the direction she took, but he'd stayed with me to see if I was all right. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't be sorry about that.

"Who do you think she stole the book for?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Who knows? Her brother, a friend, or just because she liked the look of it and thought it would fetch a good price. Whoever it was, there's a good chance they were the ones who cursed the amulet, or will know who did. We have to find them."

I nodded. "I'm not sure if our research can help us there though. George and I learned that the demon was well known to gypsies across Europe. They used to summon it then direct it to destroy their enemies, or the horses of their enemies."

"So we can strike gypsies off our list of suspects."

"Why?"

"Gypsies pass down their customs through the generations by word of mouth. They won't need a book to tell them how to summon a shape-shifting demon."

The street grew busier as we drew closer to the Kings Road precinct so we strolled in silence although my mind was in turmoil. I was still a little shaken by the incident with Maree, and even more shaken by the knowledge that someone was directing a demon based on whatever knowledge they could gain from one book.

But there was something even more troubling. No, not troubling as such, but it occupied my thoughts almost to the exclusion of all else. "George told me about your family," I said to Jacob eventually. We were only a block away from my house and I didn't know when we'd have a chance to speak so openly to one another again. I'd expected Jacob to disappear and let me walk home alone but he'd remained by my side the entire time. Was he still worried about the incident with Maree? Did he expect me to faint out of fright at any moment?

He said nothing, so I went on. "Not that George knew much, but he did tell me they're very...distressed about your death because your body was never found, you see, so they can't have peace." I was rambling, the words tumbling out of my mouth without me thinking them through first. I was afraid that if I did think about them, I wouldn't say anything, and I desperately wanted to broach the topic with Jacob. It seemed vital somehow, but to whom, I wasn't sure. Him? Or me? Or his family?

"That isn't your concern, Emily," he said, striding ahead. I had to walk fast to keep up with him. His legs were very long.

"Nevertheless, I am concerned. I'd like your permission to speak to them—."

"No!"

"But I can help them move on. They need to know you're dead, Jacob, or they'll be forever wondering."

"Leave it, Emily. You're not..." He heaved a deep sigh. "This is not your concern."

"But—"

"No!" He stopped and rounded on me so that I almost bumped into him.

I ducked into a nearby alley where we could talk without the stares. I was about to argue but then I saw anxiety behind the fierceness in his eyes.

Why? What about his family worried him so? Or perhaps the real question was, what was it about me meeting them had him so concerned?

What would I learn?

"Very well. I understand." I couldn't meet his eyes as I spoke. I fully intended to visit them, but not today. Today I had a séance to conduct.

I started walking again and he fell into step beside me. "There's one other question I want to ask you."

He groaned. "I had a feeling there would be."

"Did your death come about due to an accident?"

"Not an accident, no."

My stomach knotted. Even though it was the answer I expected it sickened me to hear him confirm my suspicions. "So someone must have...killed you." The word stuck in my throat. It was simply too horrible. "Who?"

"I don't know."

I stopped. He stopped too and shrugged. "I don't," he said.

I believed him. "How did it happen?"

"I'm not entirely sure."

I waited but he didn't say anything else. "Would you like to elaborate?"

"Not right now."

Good lord it was like pulling out a rotten tooth—painful. "I see. So your body is located...?"

"I don't know."

"Right. So you don't know who killed you, or how, or where or even why. Do you think any of those things is the reason why you can go wherever you please and why you look decidedly real?"

His gaze fixed on something over my shoulder and I thought he wouldn't answer me, but then he said, "I think they have something to do with the way in which I died, yes."

"So...do you want to tell me more?"

He looked at me with those blue, blue eyes and darkly forbidding expression that thrilled me yet unnerved me at the same time. "Perhaps another day," he said.

If he thought a few simmering glances would deter me, he had a lot to learn. "Why not now?"

He started walking again. "Because I think you'll take it upon yourself to find out more if I do. Give a dog a bone and it'll look for a second when that's gone."

I squinted at him. "Are you comparing me to a dog?"

"When your hair tumbles over your eyes like that, you do look a little like an Old English sheepdog."

I swept my hair off my forehead and tried to shove it under my hat but without the pins to keep it in place, it simply fell out again. He laughed.

"This isn't funny, Jacob. We're discussing your death."

"Which we haven't got time for at the moment, not with a demon on the loose."

I couldn't argue with him since he was right. Despite the lack of time, however, I would still try, even without his help. He might not want to discover who his murderer was, but he or she had to be punished. Jacob's death could not be swept aside as if it didn't matter. It mattered.

More than I wanted to admit.

"I hope you're not mad about the dog comment," Jacob said as we turned into Druids Way. As usual the wind whipped down the street, making an even bigger mess of my hair. "If it makes you feel any better," he said, "the Old English sheepdog is one of my favorite breeds."

"I hate you," I said and he laughed harder.

We reached home and he disappeared as soon as Celia met me at the door. I stared at the spot where he'd been standing until she pulled me inside.

"Goodness me, Em, look at you!" She clicked her tongue as she removed my hat and groaned when the curls spilled over my face. "We have to be at Mrs. Postlethwaite's house in fifteen minutes." She teased and tugged my hair into shape, rearranged my hat on my head, turned me around and pushed me out the door.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, we arrived at Mrs. Postlethwaite's house. The séance went well. We didn't release any demons and the ghost we summoned—Mrs. Postlethwaite's dead husband—was eager to return to the Waiting Area after his widow had finished asking him if he'd had a clandestine relationship with the next door neighbor. He hadn't, or so he said, and Mrs. Postlethwaite was content with his answer although her spinster sister sitting beside her thought it a lie. She also thought I was a fraud and tried to prove it by inspecting the objects the ghost held up as part of our routine to see if we used hidden wires or magnets. She found none of course, which only soured her temper further.

I managed to avoid her afterwards while tea was being served. Indeed, I managed to avoid all of the guests—an easy thing to do since they left me alone. To be fair, they probably didn't know what to say to me. Some might be scared, others just cautious and I didn't make it easy for them, preferring my own company. Celia was the chatty one, handing out cards to the guests and telling them stories, some true, about the ghosts we'd summoned at other séances. It was all good business, she once told me, and she enjoyed the theatre of it immensely. My sister had missed her calling—she would have been a natural on a Covent Garden stage.

My separation from the group allowed me to think as I sipped my tea. After wondering why there was a rush of widows summoning their late husbands at our séances, I couldn't stop thinking about Mr. Postlethwaite's extra-marital relationship. He'd been quite an attractive man for his age, which I put to be at mid-forties, and he certainly kept an eye on the prettier ladies in the room, my sister included and his wife, unfortunately, not.

I wasn't naïve. I knew married men and women had affairs on occasion, and the idea of my existence coming about because of one wasn't new to me. In fact it was the most obvious explanation. For some time I'd thought Mama must have met someone after her husband's death then nine months later I'd been born. But seeing Mr. Postlethwaite sowed a seed of doubt. Just a small one. He had been precisely the sort of person to have a liaison outside of his marriage—handsome in a preening, peacock-ish way, a roaming eye, and a charming manner.

Mama had been none of those things. She was pretty, I suppose, although it seemed to me she'd always been middle-aged, even when I was little. But she wasn't handsome like some women, or gregarious, and she had certainly never looked at men the way Mr. Postlethwaite looked at ladies.

Could Mama possibly have fallen deeply in love with one man so soon after her beloved husband's death? A man who'd not loved her enough in return when he got her with child?

If not, then...what?

I didn't have any answers by the time we left Widow Postlethwaite's house, nor was there any likelihood of getting any. Mama was possibly the only person who knew my real father's name and I'd not been able to summon her ghost at all since her death. She must have crossed over immediately.

I pushed the problem aside, telling myself it didn't matter, that I was loved by my sister and had been by my mother and that's all that mattered. Anyway, now I had other things to occupy my mind. I had the demon. And I had Jacob.

I was eager to return home and speak to him again. Not for any reason, just because I wanted to. Perhaps I could find out more about his death, but if not it didn't matter. I'd enjoy his company regardless of what we talked about.

"How did your information gathering go this morning?" Celia asked on the way home.

"Well enough." I told her everything we'd learned, including the interview with Maree the maid, mentioning the school but leaving out the part where she tried to stab me. My sister's constitution is incredibly strong but still it wouldn't do to alarm her. She might never let me go out alone again.

"I wonder if Lucy knows her," Celia said.

"Who's Lucy?"

"Our new maid. I collected her this morning from that North London School for Domestic Service. We'll ask her when we get home. Now, enough of that." We turned into our street and I glanced up at our house. No Jacob standing on the doorstep. I sighed. "Tell me about this George Culvert fellow," Celia said. "What was he like? Is he handsome? Was the house very large and does he have older brothers?"

"Older brothers? Why, are you interested in meeting them for yourself, Sis?" I looked at her sideways and had to hold onto my hat as the breeze tried to lift it off my head.

"Of course not," she scoffed. "I simply want to know if an older brother will inherit the house, that's all, or if it all goes to this George."

"This George," I said sharply, "is a nice enough gentleman but he doesn't interest me in the way you're implying." I stalked off ahead and ran up the front steps.

"But—."

"Celia, stop trying to marry me off to every eligible gentleman we meet. I'm seventeen. I want to enjoy my freedom before I settle down with a husband."

"Being married does not necessarily mean you'll lose your freedom."

"Then why haven't you settled down with any of the men who've shown interest in you?" Three gentlemen had courted Celia over the years but despite a great deal of speculation on my part, she'd not married any of them.

She fished in her reticule for the door key. "That's none of your concern," she said, snippy. "Now, come inside and meet Lucy. She seems very sweet."

Lucy did indeed seem sweet. She was a little younger than me, plumper, shorter and fairer. She had an English rose complexion, the sort that's permanently pink and blushes easily. I'd often wished to have just such a complexion but with my tendency to feel embarrassed a lot of the time, it's probably just as well that I don't.

"I hope you'll like it here, Lucy," I said to her.

"Th...thank you, m...miss." She bobbed a careful but wobbly curtsy and stared at me as if I had two heads. If her eyes widened any further they'd pop out of her head.

I turned an accusing eye on Celia, one hand on my hip.

"I thought it best we tell her up front," Celia said, setting down her carpet bag. "Get it out in the open, so to speak, to avoid any nasty surprises later on. Particularly since that ghost of yours seems to be coming and going with ill-mannered frequency."

"I don't think your sister likes me," Jacob said, popping up behind me. Was he watching me and trying to arrive at inopportune moments on purpose?

The thought of him keeping an eye on me sent a shiver down my spine, and not entirely in a bad way.

I ignored him and concentrated on Lucy but the poor thing whimpered beneath my gaze. I certainly wouldn't alert her to Jacob's presence. She might faint and then where would we be? Instead, I gave my sister a glare then turned a smile on the maid.

"He's a nice ghost," I assured her.

"Thank you," he said, "although nice is a rather bland word."

"He won't harm you," I went on, doing my best to ignore him. "And he probably won't be here much longer, only until we sort out..." I bit my lip. Finishing the sentence with "our demon issue" probably wasn't a good way to settle her nerves. "Until we sort out a few things."

The thought of Jacob leaving once we'd returned the demon to the Otherworld filled me with a hollowness I didn't want to explore. I'd only known him a day but he'd somehow managed to fill up my life in a way nothing else had.

It was all I could do not to look around and see if the thought had struck him too.

The girl nodded quickly, her eyes still huge and her cheeks paler. I wasn't sure Celia's tactic to tell Lucy about me being a medium was such a good idea. Having someone stare at me like I was a lunatic in my own house wasn't my idea of comfort. Besides, would knowing mean she'd stay around longer, or just leave earlier? At least she was still here—it was a promising start.

"How is dinner coming along?" Celia asked as Lucy accepted her bonnet and hung it up on the stand. "Good, miss. It'll be ready at six like you said. I set the water boiling for the potatoes and the fish is all ready to go on the gridiron, but I couldn't find it—the gridiron, not the fish—so I'll just use one of the pans instead. Mrs. White our teacher told us to make do with what pots and things are already 'vailable and not worry our mistress 'bout that stuff. She's a smart lady, Mrs. White, but she didn't take no fuss from no one."

It was my turn to stare wide-eyed at her. It seemed our maid was quite the chatterer when she wasn't frightened.

I smiled at Celia. Celia smiled at Lucy. "Can you serve tea in the drawing room, please," she said, "I'm parched after that walk."

Lucy curtseyed again, without wobbling. "As you wish, miss. I'm very good at making tea. Mrs. White always said so. Said I was the best tea-maker in the whole school." She turned to go, stopped, turned back to us, curtseyed again, and only then did she make her way down the hallway to the stairs leading to the kitchen basement.

"Aren't you going to ask her about the Culvert maid?" Celia asked me as we entered the drawing room.

"Exactly what I was going to say," Jacob said, following me.

The room was cool so I stoked the smoldering fire with the irons.

"I'll do that," Jacob offered.

I shook my head. I didn't want to alert Celia to his presence—she already thought him ungentlemanly for his ghostly comings and goings—and I definitely didn't want Lucy to see floating fire irons when she entered with the tea.

"I think Lucy needs a few moments to get used to me before I press her about Maree," I said, poking the coals. "Oh and thank you, Sis, for mentioning the whole spirit medium thing to her. I'm sure she'll be inclined to stay much longer than the other maids now that she knows"

"Sarcasm will make your face sag," she said.

"I'm simply saying I don't think it was a good idea." I returned the iron poker to the stand and sat beside her on the sofa.

"I disagree," Jacob said from his usual place by the mantelpiece.

"We had to try something," Celia said, taking up her embroidery.

I picked up the book I'd begun the day before and left on the round occasional table. "Why does 'something' always have to involve me being on the receiving end of odd or frightened looks?"

"It's better than being on the end of pitying ones."

I lowered my book to see her better. Was she referring to herself and her spinster state? But she kept embroidering as if she hadn't a care in the world and it had merely been an off-hand comment.

"Both are better than not being noticed at all," Jacob muttered.

My lips parted in a silent "Oh" and I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to look at him. What a horrible, selfish fool I was. Jacob's lot was so much worse than anything Celia or I experienced. That would teach me to be so ungrateful.

"I'm sorry," I said. "You're right."

"Your book is upside down," he said.

I shut it and returned it to the table. He was smiling at me and there wasn't a hint of self-pity in his expression. It shouldn't have surprised me. Jacob didn't strike me as the sort to wallow in his disadvantages, even though being dead was a major one.

I was about to relent and tell Celia that Jacob was in the drawing room with us when Lucy entered carrying the tea tray as if it were made of gold and precious jewels. Her slow, careful shuffle didn't stop the cups from clinking against each other. Her tongue darted out as she eyed her destination—the central table in front of the sofa—and lodged in the corner of her mouth like a bookmark. When she finally set the tray down I let out a long breath and heard Celia do the same.

"Could you pour, please," Celia asked.

I wanted to throttle her. The poor girl was nervous enough and now she had to manage the pouring. Despite her shaking hands, Lucy poured the tea and spilled only a little onto the saucers. I reached for my own cup, as did Celia, and thanked her.

Lucy beamed at us both and blushed as bright as a radish. "I was better at it in school. I'm a bit nervous, see, being my first day and all." She turned to go but I called her back. She stopped and bit her lower lip, the smile and blushes gone. "Yes, miss? Something wrong, miss?" Her hands twisted together in front of her and I was reminded of Maree Finch. Thankfully Lucy wasn't holding a knife.

"No, no, the tea is fine. I just wanted to ask you something. I met a girl from the North London School for Domestic Service today," I said, trying to sound like this wasn't important and we were having a casual conversation. I didn't want to unsettle her any more than she already was.

Lucy blinked. "Oh? Who?"

"Maree Finch. She's recently gone into service for the Culverts."

"I remember Maree."

"What was she like?"

She shrugged. "I didn't know her too well. She was nice, I s'pose. Quiet. Don't really remember much more than that. We weren't good friends or nothing."

"She has an older brother, doesn't she?"

She nodded then frowned. "What's his name? Lord, I can't remember. Thomas, Timmy...something like that. He was at the school too for a bit, but got sent away. No good for service, Mrs. White said. A troublemaker. I saw him at school once, after he wasn't s'posed to be there no more."

"Oh? What was he doing?"

"Came to see Maree."

"Ask her if Maree was a thief too," Jacob said.

"Maree's a good girl though, isn't she." I worded it like a statement rather than a question. I didn't want to give Lucy the idea that we were fishing for information. I wanted her to open up to us on her own.

"I think so. Mrs. White never said anything bad about her, just that she was a bit...what's the word?"

"Violent?" Jacob offered.

"Unpredictable?" I said.

"No, something that means she gets talked into doing stuff easily. Stuff that's not always good for her to do, if you know what I mean."

"Impressionable," I said.

"That's it! Impreshun-able." She frowned. "She hasn't stole nothing from her employer, has she?"

Jacob and I exchanged glances. He nodded and I nodded back. If we wanted answers, we'd have to at least tell her part of the truth.

"She might have stolen a book from Mr. Culvert on demonology."

"Demon-what?"

"Demonology. It's the study of demons and angels."

"Oh," she whispered. She glanced at Celia, perhaps because she thought her the normal one of the two of us.

"Rest assured we have nothing to do with demons," Celia said. "We only deal with good spirits, happy ones."

Jacob snorted but I admired Celia's ability to lie so convincingly. She was really very good at it. There wasn't a hint of a blush on her fair skin.

"Mr. Culvert would like his book back," I said. "Indeed, it's quite important that he does get it back. You see..." Oh dear, this was the point at which I should tell her about the demon on the loose. But her face looked so innocent with those big hazel eyes and pale, pale skin, that I didn't want to frighten her anymore than she already was. It was hard enough starting a new job and moving in with two strangers, I didn't want to be responsible for her nightmares too.

Celia, however, seemed to have no such qualms. "You see Mr. Culvert fights demons and the book is vital to his work."

"Why doesn't she just tell the girl he's invisible and can move mountains too?" Jacob said with a shake of his head.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. Jacob, seeing my distress, gave me a self-satisfied smirk.

"Vital?" Lucy repeated.

"Yes," Celia said. She set down the embroidery in her lap, all seriousness. Perhaps she even believed her own lie, or part of it. "Unless Mr. Culvert gets the book back, the people of London could be in grave danger from demons. So you see, if you know anything that could help us, we'd very much appreciate it if you would let us know. Your role is terribly important, Lucy. In fact, you could save London."

Jacob groaned and rolled his eyes. Since I was used to Celia's fondness for melodrama, I simply looked on, somewhat stunned because her method seemed to be getting results. Lucy's forehead crinkled, her brows knitted and her mouth twisted to the side. She was thinking hard.

"Well, let me see now," she said. "Maree might have taken the book if her brother asked her to. I told you I saw him, didn't I, after he was s'posed to have left school. He sneaked into the room all us girls shared to talk to Maree. Caused a right stir but no one told Mrs. White. She'd have blamed Maree and it weren't her fault. She can't control her brother any more than I can control the clouds."

Celia and I sat forward. Even Jacob focused all his attention on the girl.

"Do you know what Maree and her brother spoke about?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. They whispered."

"Would she have confided in anyone afterwards? A friend perhaps?"

"She didn't have any friends. She was so quiet, see, and a bit...you know." She drew little circles at her temple with her finger. "Maree kept to herself and did what she was told mostly. She looked up to Mrs. White I s'pose, we all did. She's a right good teacher is Mrs. White and she cared 'bout us all too. If Mr. Blunt tried to skimp on our meals, she was onto him right away. Told him it was 'gainst school reg'lations and she'd report him to the board. The board's the gentlemen who run the school, see. There's some right toffs on the board, there is. One's a lord and all."

Her chatter had veered a little off the topic but Celia and I let her go. I wanted her to just talk and see what she said in the hope there was something useful among all the gossip. Unfortunately I'd not detected any so far.

"So you can't think of anyone else, other than her brother, who Maree might steal a book for?" Celia asked.

Lucy shook her head.

"Have you ever overheard anyone talking about demons at the school?" I asked.

"No! It's a Christian place, it is. Mr. Blunt sees we always say our prayers before dinner. The devil, now that's diff'rent. Mr. Blunt's always talkin' 'bout the devil comin' to get us in our beds if we don't behave. Course it's never the devil but Mr. Blunt hisself who comes."

"What?" I blurted out before I could reign in my shock. "Into your beds?"

I expected Celia to admonish me for my outburst but she simply stared at Lucy open-mouthed. Lucy had managed to do the impossible and render my sister speechless.

"Bloody hell," Jacob said, rubbing his chin.

"Oh yes," Lucy said, oblivious to the heavy blanket of horror she'd thrown over us. "Mostly only the pretty girls. Tried it once with me, he did, but I was so scared I couldn't move and he said he didn't like that so he never bovvered me again." She said it as if it were an every day part of life, like dressing or eating. Is that how it was in the workhouses and ragged schools? The children simply accepted their plight because they didn't know any better?

I felt sick to my stomach. And then I felt angry. A hot, gut wrenching anger. Lucy was such a sweet girl, how could anyone take advantage of her like this Mr. Blunt had?

But I didn't want to show my anger in front of her. She didn't seem too upset by what had befallen her, so why make her feel degraded? Hadn't she already endured enough?

Fortunately Celia remained silent although she'd gone very white and still. The only movement she made came from her throat as she swallowed.

Since Celia didn't look like she would begin talking any time soon, I dismissed Lucy. "Thank you for your help. You may go. Oh, and make sure you enjoy a cup of tea yourself."

Lucy beamed. "Thank you, Miss Chambers. You're not all that scary really, are you?"

I couldn't help laughing, despite my heavy heart. Lucy left and as if she'd been wound up, Celia moved once more. She reached for her teacup. "Such a sweet girl," she said and sipped, as if she'd not heard a thing Lucy had said about Blunt's late night visits.

I stared at her in disbelief. Did she think if she ignored the situation it would go away? Or was she avoiding the topic for my sake? Sometimes I suspect my sister thinks I know as little about what happens between couples as I did when I was ten. I may be a virgin but I wasn't naïve.

Jacob moved away from the mantelpiece and stood before me. "You shouldn't have heard any of that," he said, his voice sounding like a roll of thunder, deep and low.

"Good lord, not you too," I muttered. Did everyone think I was an innocent in need of protection from the realities of the world?

"Pardon?" Celia asked, cup poised at her lips. "Is that ghost here again?"

Before I could answer her, Jacob said, "I'm going to pay the school a visit. Let's see what Mr. Blunt thinks when the devil appears to him tonight in the shape of one very angry ghost. With luck he'll turn to God instead of the girl's dormitory from now on."

His conviction made me feel marginally better. If anyone could punish Blunt and force him to change his ways it would be Jacob. I'm not sure I'd like to be on the end of his anger. Although he seemed to keep his emotions in check most of the time, I suspect once his temper was unleashed it would be like a terrible storm—destructive and unpredictable and anyone in it's path had better get out of the way or suffer the consequences.