Page 12 of Unseen

“Now, my good sir, where do you require us?”

The photographer gestured with an open palm to the setting that had been placed around Acton. “Here, if you please. The lady of the house seated, and you, sir, standing beside your father.”

“Excellent. Come, Evie.” Azriel pulled me along beside him to take my place in the ornate chair that had been placed beside Acton.

His body smelled overwhelmingly of Lily of the Valley, as though he’d been drenched in it to cover the scent of rotting flesh. The smell had been strong when I entered the room, but now beside him, it was positively pungent. I felt as though I might choke on it. I tried to hide my discomfort and breathe through my mouth, the smell even then filling my mouth like a cloying sweet.

I was tasting my dead husband’s scent. How utterly revolting.

I pulled my mask into place, sitting with a straight back and staring at the camera as the photographer fussed. Mary was ordered to pull my skirts into place and adjust my hairslightly. I had to tilt my chin this way, then that. Finally, he was happy.

“Now, if you would be so kind as to hold perfectly still, until I tell you otherwise. Thank you!” The photographer ducked underneath the black curtain of the camera.

I barely dared breathe as I stared at the camera. The seconds ticked by, drawn out til every one that passed felt like an hour. I counted, sure I miscounted twice, then started again. Acton’s corpse seemed to drift closer and closer, though I knew it was my mind playing tricks. Several times he seemed to breathe, or his finger appeared to wriggle in my peripheral vision.

By the time the photographer re-emerged and announced that his work was done, my legs felt boneless and I wobbled as I lurched from the chair.

Mary rushed forward and took my hands. “Oh dear, madam. This has been too much for you.”

“Take me back to my room.” I almost pleaded, hating the weakness in my voice, but desperate to get out of here, away from the smell of Lily of the Valley and this horrid corpse with his strange, false eyes.

“Call if you need anything.” Azriel’s voice drifted after me, and I clenched my eyes shut. Mary ferried me back to my room, where I downed two glasses of brandy in quick succession.

After that, I mercifully fell into bed, and slept until late the next morning.

4

THE FUNERAL

Rain fell heavily on the roof of the carriage as it made its way to the church. I clutched my hands in my lap, looking out the window as we bounced over cobbles. Azriel sat silently opposite me, the top hat with a thick crepe ribbon around it balanced on his knees.

Thunder growled gently in the distance, heralding yet another Autumn storm, and Azriel shifted in his seat.

“It is a shame your family is unable to attend,” he said finally.

“Indeed. But my father is too ill to travel, and my aunt is in the North, visiting her daughter. She has just welcomed a child.”

“And so the circle of life continues.” He huffed out an almost bitter laugh. “I do wonder what his last moments were like. Did he know the end was coming?”

I swallowed hard, squeezing my hands together so hard they began to go numb. “He was at peace, as he should have been. He had no idea. He simply went to sleep, and did notwake up.”

I raised my eyes to his when he did not respond, and that damned crooked smile was back.

“We can all only dream of such a death, isn’t that right, Evie?”

“Indeed. God willing we are all granted such a peaceful end.” I was glad my voice did not crack, and that my gaze did not waver. I still wanted to slap that smirk from Azriel’s face.

We continued on to the church, the carriage coming to a stop outside the twisted metal gates. Azriel rose first, jumping down from the carriage and putting on his hat, before turning to offer me his hand. I hesitated for only a moment before taking it and allowing him to help me down. The icy wind caught my veil and dragged it across my face, and a sheet of rain was hurled into us. George rushed around the carriage to hold an umbrella over me, and Azriel offered me his arm.

“I am here, Evie,” he said quietly, and once again, it felt like anything but comfort.

A small congregation had gathered to farewell my husband, mostly business associates, all fat and ageing men, as withered and weak as Acton had been. They waited outside the church until Azriel and I approached, their faces mournful as they no doubt considered their own mortality. All these men were wealthy, but they were old. No money in the world could spare them from the inevitable. And for Acton, the wealthiest and most powerful of them all, to die first?

I bit back a smile behind my veil, thankful that it obscured my face enough that no one would see. Who amongst these bloated elites would ever think me, little Evie Caine, was the reason they were all here?

We took our places in the front pew, Azriel sitting far closer to me than I preferred. I stared up at the priest, who spoke words of supposed comfort, of grief and mourning,and of joy at the thought of Acton now safe in the arms of God.

I imagined myself miles away, only for the frigid breeze wafting along the cold stone floor to remind me precisely where I was, and why. Like Acton’s own ghostly hands wrapping around my ankles, threatening to pull me down to hell right alongside him.

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