Page 100 of Beyond the Grave
"It helps."
"Helps with what?" Edgecombe looked to me, then to Lincoln and on to Julia when she smothered a small gasp. She understood what I was about to do.
"What was his middle name?" Lincoln asked in that ice-cold tone that brooked no argument.
"I think it was Charter, after his mother's side."
"Thank you." I drew in a breath and kept my eye on him. "Norman Charter Cleves, please come to me. I summon the spirit of Norman Charter Cleves."
Edgecombe's frown deepened. "What the devil is going on?"
"That's what I'd like to know," Buchanan said, although his tone held curiosity not censure.
Julia clutched the choker at her throat and scanned the ceiling, as if she could see the spirit of Norman Cleves now hovering above the fireplace. Of course, she could not.
"Are you…?" Lord Harcourt stared at me. "Is she…?" His wife held out a shaking hand and he took it and sat beside her once more. They were the picture of a united couple again, reliant on one another for comfort in times of difficulty. "My god…you are."
"Are what?" his wife asked.
"A spiritualist, I believe."
"She speaks to ghosts?" Marguerite whipped around to face me. "Has she summoned Cleves here?"
"Well, well," Buchanan said, grinning at me. "You're a medium. Did Father bring you back here to question you? Thought I recognized you."
"My name is Charlie," I told the spirit of Norman Cleves as well as answering Buchanan. "I'm a necromancer, not a medium. I work for an organization known as the Ministry of Curiosities."
Cleves would have been a large, impressively-built man in his lifetime. He had the broad shoulders of a navvy, the muscular chest of someone used to carrying heavy loads—like grown men—up and down stairs. I knew this because he was naked from the waist up.
"A necromancer, eh?" the spirit said without taking his eyes off Edgecombe. "Can you turn people into spirits too, just by calling their names?"
"No, only summon the dead. Tell me about your death."
"This is ridiculous," Edgecombe spluttered. "Dawkins, I'm leaving. Julia, I would appreciate the use of your driver and other servants to assist—"
"Stay," Lincoln said quietly. "Listen."
"Listen to whom? There's no one there. Your assistant is a crackpot!"
"Mr. Cleves?" I prompted. "I can bring you justice, if it's deserved."
"Oh, it's deserved, all right. He killed me." He nodded at Edgecombe. "He bloody killed me, after everything I did for him." With a baring of teeth, he swooped at Edgecombe. But Edgecombe sat without moving and the spiritwhooshedthrough without Edgecombe feeling a thing. "We'd been out for a drive in the brougham, just me and him. We were almost back at Emberly when we came across Mr. Buchanan, wandering along the drive, all befuddled and stumbling. As soon as we offered him a ride, he passed out. I said we should call on the doctor, but Mr. Edgecombe had this look in his eyes. A real mean look, it was. Like he hated Mr. Buchanan. Really hated him and wanted to hurt him. He said he would take him to a special hospital. He told me to go to his rooms and get his medicine, the stuff that puts him to sleep at night."
I remembered Dawkins telling me about the strong medicine that made Edgecombe sleep peacefully throughout the night. I looked to Lincoln and gave a slight nod of my head. He blinked in understanding—he must have guessed that Cleves had implicated Edgecombe.
"I returned to the curricle and injected the stuff into Mr. Buchanan, then we set off for London," Cleves went on.
"That's a long way from Emberly Park."
"Aye, miss, it is. If I'd known that's where we were headed, I would have refused to go. We drove all bloody night. By the morning, I was tired and my back hurt. But I did what my master wanted, because he's always been good to me and he paid well."
"What happened when you reached London?"
"London!" several voices echoed at once.
"What's going on?" Edgecombe growled. "What's the silly chit doing?"
Cleves grunted a humorless laugh. "Tables are turned now, aren't they?" To me, he said, "Mr. Edgecombe directed me to a hospital then told me to pretend to be his brother-in-law, Lord Harcourt. We swapped jackets, waistcoats and even boots, then I carried Mr. Buchanan into the hospital."
