Page 31

“There is no need for that,” Miranda told him.

“You may stay if you choose, so long as you do not spoil things. There is naught in my plan that requires anything more than simple belief and so long as you do not interfere with that, I will be content. Just do not be surprised by what you might hear, milord.”

“I will not obstruct you,” he said, inexplicably hurt by the distance in that ‘milord.’

“I expect no more,” she declared with an incline of her head, before she went to sit beside the weeping woman.

“Lady Pelton, I have been mulling over your situation. My mother would not wholly approve of what I am about to offer, for I am an unwed spinster. To walk among the spirits, one really ought to be well attached to this earth by ties of a spouse or children. But due to your circumstances, I think that your husband may be reached with a degree of safety. The magical influences are strong since it would be your fiftieth year together, after all.”

“Would you call upon Pelton for me, my dear?” Lady Pelton asked, raising her rheumy eyes hopefully.

“I will do what I can,” Miranda said, with enough evasion so that she was not lying outright.

“Take this then,” the old woman said reaching back to unfasten her necklace.

“No, Lady Pelton,” Miranda said firmly. “I ask nothing from you other than your solemn promise. If you speak to your husband tonight, then you must content yourself with what you hear. Never attempt to raise him from eternal rest again.”

“Very well,” Lady Pelton said. “As long as I say what needs to be said.”

“Excellent,” Miranda agreed. “Now we must hurry and gather round the table, for all must be done in the heart of the night before the cock’s crow. Place the necklace in the center as our talisman, Lady Pelton, since that item obviously holds sentiment for both you and your late lord.”

Lady Pelton obeyed, laying the diamonds to gleam at the center of the table.

“All of the candles must be doused,” Miranda instructed, “except for the branch in the middle.

“Light, Miss Wilton? Bold of you. Most charlatans demand absolute darkness,” Lord Brand said, his tone at its most sarcastic.

“Then perhaps I am unlike most charlatans, Lord Brand,” Miranda said, keeping herself calm, thinking that she should have tossed him on his ear when he gave the opportunity.

Yet, when she met his eyes, she saw something curiously conspiratorial in those brown depths.

Could he be trying to give her credence by casting doubt?

An uncooperative, skeptical Lord Brand would certainly be more credible than a quiet consenting one; and illusions performed under scrutiny were less subject to doubt than those done under cover of darkness.

Whatever his intent, his remark had served to dispose the audience in her favor.

“Shall we join hands?” Miranda asked. She felt Lady Pelton’s thin fingers slip trustingly into her palm and on the other side, Lord Brand’s broad hand enveloped Miranda’s own, a gentle, reassuring pressure confirming her suspicions. Though he might not help outright, he would not hinder.

“Tell me your first name, Lady Pelton and then your husband’s,” Miranda urged.

“Louisa and Augustus, Miss Wilton,” she supplied.

“Think Louisa, think upon your Augustus,” Miranda urged. “Remember the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand; feel it in your thoughts.”

Lady Pelton closed her eyes, and a sweet smile lit her face. “I see him before me, Miss Wilton.”

“Keep that image in your mind and we shall call him.” Miranda’s voice fell to a deep sing-song. “Augustus, for the sake of the love that you bore Louisa, come to us. Fifty years ago tonight, remember the joy of your youth and come to us.”

Lady Pelton sighed softly and joined in the refrain, “come to us.”

“Recollect the vigor of health, the burdens of sickness, come to us.”

“Come to us,” Lady Enderby intoned.

“For all that you shared in sorrow, come to us.”

“Come to us,” Mrs. Bittward chanted.

“For the love that you cherished, come to us.”

“Come to us!” Everyone but Lord Brand demanded.

Adam watched with detached fascination as the participants became caught up in the rhythm that Miranda had established.

Even fragmented, the familiar words of the marriage ceremony tapped all the force of each individual’s memory.

The beat that she set was like the pulsing of a heart, causing the phrases to build into a powerful invocation binding them all to one purpose.

Then he heard the voice coming from the center of the table.

“Nettie’s th’ name, sent t’guide yer I was,” the voice declared.

Adam observed Miranda, but her lips were not moving.

Her expression was rapt, but there was a twinkling challenge in her eyes as they caught his glance.

He had met a few magicians who had possessed the amazing ability of casting the voice, but none who could do so without any obvious signs of motion.

There was naught but a slight ripple of her throat to indicate that Miranda was providing the female version of Uncle Ned with her ghostly imitation.

Even if he were out to trip her up, it would be difficult to prove that there was fakery afoot.

“Got a Lidy name o’ Loulou wiv’ yer?” Nettie asked.

“Obviously, a misguided spirit guide,” Ropwell commented.

“Hush, Ropwell! Or leave,” Lady Pelton demanded, then turned to address the branch of candles. “I am Loulou,” she said, her lip trembling. “But there was only one person on earth who called me by that name.”

“Yer furry Pelt’s sends ‘is love, ‘ee do,” Nettie said.

Lady Pelton’s hand squeezed Miranda’s tightly. “‘tis Pelton,” she whispered excitedly. “That was what I called him. No matter how often he shaved he was always bewhiskered by luncheon.”

Miranda nodded. “Nettie, can Lord Pelton speak to us?”

“Dunno, ‘ee kin try, but t’ain’t easy when yer been gone long as ‘ee ‘as and ain’t used ter blabbin’. Says ‘ee weren’t much of a speaker when ‘ee were in the quick. New dead’s what I am, so is easy fer me. But ‘ee kin ‘ear yer, ‘ears every bleedin’ word yer might say, beggin’ yer pardon, Miss.”

“Say what you need to, Lady Pelton,” Miranda told her.

“Pelt, I love you,” Lady Pelton called tremulously into the heart of the light. “I miss you so dreadfully and every morning when I see your pillow empty, I regret waking.”

Suddenly, the room grew chill and though there was no draft from the closed doorway, the flames flickered wildly. The candle-lit glitter reflecting upon the diamonds seemed to intensify, fragmenting into shattered shafts of light.

“I . . . w. . w . . wait . . .” The disjointed words seemed to come from within the flame, “for . . . you . . . L. . .lou . . . l. . .lou . . .”

How in the devil was she managing this? Adam wondered.

Miranda sat wide-eyed, as if she too, was startled by this turn of events.

Lady Pelton rose slowly from her seat, her eyes soft and dreamy.

Her stooped shoulders straightened perceptively as if a heavy burden had suddenly been lifted, and for a moment it seemed that the weight of years fell from her.

Her tiny hand lifted to touch her cheek.

“Thank you, Pelt,” she whispered softly. “As long as I know that you will be there waiting, I can endure.”

Then, as abruptly as it had come, the cold feeling was gone and the flames ceased their dance. Miranda slumped back in her seat, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her hold on Adam’s hand slackened.

“I have never seen the like.” Lady Westwood was the first to break the silence. “And many a séance, I have been to. You are to be congratulated Miss Wilton. When will you be able to contact Manfred for me?”

“I will give you five hundred pounds, Miss Wilton,” Lord Ropwell leaned over the table eagerly. “Five hundred pounds if you can convince Felicity to tell me where she hid those jewels.”

“Remarkable!” Mrs. Bittward declared. “A most amazing experience. It was like being caught within a block of ice, was it not Lady Enderby?”

“Like the middle of winter,” Lady Enderby agreed. “Do you not think so, Lady Pelton?”

The elderly woman shook her head. “I was warm, for the first time since Pelton died, the chill was chased from my bones. And I felt as if . . . as if he leaned over and . . . and . . . kissed me on the cheek as he was often wont to do.” A smile lit her wizened face.

“Thank you, Miss Wilton, you have given me the hope I need. Miss Wilton!” Lady Pelton touched the young woman’s shoulder in alarm. “Oh my dear girl! She is frozen.”

But Miranda did not respond. She stared straight ahead, as if seeing some distant vision. Adam lifted up her limp hand and came to the rapid realization that this was not part of her performance. It was like holding an ice sculpture. “Miss Wilton,” he called.

“What if she has loosed her tether to this world, Lord Brand?” Lady Pelton cried. “I have been so selfish. I should never have asked her to attempt so dangerous a feat.”

“Miranda,” Adam called, chafing her cheeks between his hands. She was barely breathing. Although he did not subscribe to her creed, he had seen the tremendous power of credulity. What if she truly believed herself to be wandering in those far-away fields . . . “Miranda!”

. . .

Miranda found herself out on the nearly empty street that fronted Lady Pelton’s home.

Thorpe rose from his seat within the coach and clawed the window, yowling, but Lady Enderby’s coachman ignored the agitated cat.

Miranda reached for the handle only to find that her fingers went right through it. She was Incorporeal.

“Why do you follow me to the Veil, d. . .d . .daughter of Merlin?” The hulking man who addressed her wore a peruke and was garbed in the style of the previous century. “Are you not aware of the d-d-danger? Go back to your body while you may.”

He turned and began to walk. Just ahead, a glimmer of light split the darkness.

As the lambent shimmer became a bright splendor, Miranda felt a compulsion to follow him, a longing unlike any she had ever known.

There was not much time. “Lord Pelton, please, can you tell me if I will ever have Merlin’s Gift?

” she asked. “You see beyond the Veil. Can you tell me if I will ever be a witch?”

Lord Pelton faced her once more. “You are no witch, foolish g-girl,” he chided, his tone stern but gentle. “But you have received the most valuable g-g-gifts. You j-j-just are not aware of them.”

The radiance grew larger, moving to embrace Lord Pelton’s shade.

As the pain of his answer engulfed her, Miranda took another step forward, knowing that just a few more footfalls would mean the end of disappointment, the end of sorrow.

Ahead, she could see a legion of shadows and somehow she knew that her father waited among them.

“Miranda!”

She heard her name echoing behind her.

“Miranda!”

Adam was calling her.

Lord Pelton looked over his shoulder and smiled. “It is not yet your time,” he said, vanishing into the luminous splendor before him as Miranda felt herself slipping into darkness.