I closed my fingers around the leather-bound volume as an idea formed.

“Might I have a small sitting?” I asked. “Something intimate, with the neighbors, perhaps, that I might practice?” It seemed the best way to get Tabitha here and see if Rowena could communicate more useful information to us. I was hardly going to be invited to Whitestone Manor, and Elizabeth was technically still forbidden to visit at all.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Lord Jasper said. “I’ll arrange it.”

It then occurred to me that I was going to have to actually sit for people I hardly knew and somehow control my so-called gifts. Not to mention that the same people had been there to witness my mother’s rather spectacular downfall.

Not so wonderful at all, actually.

That night, just as I was about to blow out my candle and try to sleep, there was a furtive knock at the door.

“Violet,” Elizabeth whispered. “Vi, are you awake?” I opened the door to find Elizabeth in her white dressing gown, grinning at me. Her hair was stuffed haphazardly into a lacy cap. “Mother’s hardly let me out of her sight today, and I’m dying for a good gossip.”

I’d been given the same room I’d had last week, and so we curled up on the settee in the sitting room. I admired her ability to shut off her anger so quickly. I knew mine would have smoldered, but I could tell by the way she looked at me expectantly that she had already put the whole thing from her mind.

“Come on,” she urged. “I want to hear everything that’s happened. Did Xavier call on you?”

I grimaced. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Oh no. What happened?”

“His family is too fine to enter into an alliance with Thornwood’s bastard daughter, no matter how grand his title.”

She sucked in her breath. “I don’t like that word.” She folded her arms. “There’s definitely a bastard in this situation, but it isn’t you.”

I choked out a laugh.

Her arms were still crossed but she smiled. “Never mind him. We have better things to talk about, surely, than that toad.”

I wasn’t even angry at Xavier anymore. I simply didn’t think of him at all. And I had thought to marry him because that’s what poor pretty girls did. Wealthy pretty ones too, come to think of it, but with a little less urgency, I assumed.

“Is everyone still in residence?” I asked.

“Yes, mostly. Though Frederic is set to leave the day after next.” She sighed wistfully. “No progress on that front, I’m afraid. Tragic, isn’t it?”

“And Tabitha?”

“Aside from that letter, I haven’t heard a word from her.”

“Is she all right, do you think?”

“I think so. We’d have heard otherwise, wouldn’t we?”

“I suppose. I went to Highgate.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened dramatically. “Was it terribly frightening?”

“Some.” I thought of the gates slamming shut. Then I thought of Colin, pressed against me. “But not entirely,” I hastened to add before I blushed. She’d never let a blush go unexplained. “Though I did see Mr. Travis.”

She looked confused. “Mr. Travis? Not really?”

“Really.”

“But … why?”

“I wish I knew.” I fiddled with the hem of my nightdress. “Rowena wasn’t there, I think because she was still here protecting Tabitha. But I can’t think of a single reason why Mr. Travis would have been there and chased us out if he wasn’t involved with her murder in some way.”

Elizabeth tilted her head, as if she was thinking very hard.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I’m not … of course!” She slapped her palm on her knee.

“What?”

“I’ve just remembered why Mr. Travis seemed so familiar.” Her eyes widened. “He was at Highgate, the day of Rowena’s burial.”

I went cold all over. “Are you sure? Why didn’t you remember before?”

“I only saw him briefly, hovering near the back of the mourners. It’s been bothering me since he came here.” She swallowed. “Oh, Violet, what can it mean?”

“Nothing good,” I replied grimly. “Is he still here?”

“Yes, I think so. He mostly keeps to himself. We only see him at sittings or at that one ball.”

“We have to keep an eye on him. We need some kind of proof.”

We talked some more but didn’t come up with any solutions. I could only hope the séance would be illuminating. If I didn’t make an utter fool of myself, of course.

After Elizabeth left, I went back to bed, with Mr. Rochester curled up at my feet, snoring. It just figured. I couldn’t hear Rowena speak, which would make everything far simpler, but my little ghost of a dog snored like a train under all that misty fur. I woke up a little later to him growling, the rumble of his body tickling my toes.

“Hush,” I mumbled, opening my bleary eyes.

My grumble turned to a strangled yelp.

Rowena hovered at the edge of my bed, leaning over me so that when I turned over, we were nose to nose. Water dripped onto the quilt. The white lilies in her hair seemed to glow, as did her eyes, manifesting more fully than the rest of her.

Then she opened her mouth and it was like looking into a dark pond. I was so startled that I screeched and went tumbling off the bed and onto the hard floor, landing in a heap—trapped in the sheets with Mr. Rochester barking shrilly. As I fought my way free I blew out a breath, clearing the tangles of hair from my face and pulling my blankets back up in the lingering cold.