"Me?" The spirit shimmered. "How can that be when I have no physical form?"
"We don't know," I said. "Do you have any ideas?"
"Perhaps she's a crackpot."
"She's not," I said. "She is a genuine seer."
"How do you know?"
"We know her to be truthful."
Prince Albert grunted. "Very well, I shall take your word for it, Miss Holloway, but the truth is, she must be wrong on this score. I have no reason or desire to harm any one of my family. The very notion is absurd and abhorrent. Your seer must have misinterpreted what she saw."
I repeated his words for the others.
"There." The queen shot her son a speaking glance. "I knew it. The gypsy was wrong or mischief-making."
"Wrong, perhaps," Lincoln said, "but not mischief-making. If she wanted to cause problems, she could have done so before now and in far more dramatic ways."
The Prince of Wales stiffened and his eyes narrowed as he once again searched Lincoln's face. "What do you mean?"
Lincoln calmly rose. He was taller than the prince, his shoulders broader, his frame leaner. Yet the prince didn't shy away. "Do you wish me to elaborate?" Lincoln asked. "Here?"
The prince's jaw worked and he lowered his head. "It would seem we are no better off than when we started. The meaning behind Leisl's vision is still a mystery."
"Your lady mentioned a break-in," Lincoln said. "What happened?"
"Is that important?" the queen asked.
"It may be."
The Prince of Wales strode to the fireplace and rested his elbow on the mantel. "Not exactly a break-in. The palace is a hive of activity at all hours. Servants come and go. No one needs to break windows to get in, they simply need to act as if they ought to be here."
The spirit strode to the window and looked out to the garden. "It never would have happened in my time."
"Was anything taken?" Lincoln asked.
"A portrait of the two of us taken shortly before … " The queen's lower lip quivered. "Before you became ill, my love," she said to the empty space beside her. I didn't have the heart to tell her he was no longer there.
"I remember it," he said, coming to sit beside her again.
"I kept it on the side table in the small music room."
"Was anything else taken?" Lincoln asked.
"Not that we noticed." The Prince of Wales glanced around the rather cluttered room. There were so many things-how would they even know if one little picture went missing?
"My private letters were disturbed," the queen said.
"What?" her son bellowed. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"That is no way to address your queen," the ghost said at the same time his widow said, "Do not speak to me in such a manner, Bertie."
"Apologies," the Prince of Wales said tightly.
"I didn't think it important until now." She dabbed her handkerchief to her nose. "Nothing was taken, you see."
"You mentioned a genuine medium earlier," Lincoln said. "Were you never tempted to commission her to contact your husband?"
"The queen is above that sort of thing," the Prince of Wales said.
"I did make inquiries, as it happens." The queen's short, blunt hands screwed up her handkerchief. "I never told you, Bertie, because I knew you wouldn't approve. In fact, I've consulted no less than five mediums. The first four were all frauds. I knew that almost immediately. The fifth, the one recommended by my friend, was different. First of all, she was reluctant to come here. When I insisted, she obliged, but refused payment. We wandered the palace and gardens for hours, but she sensed no spirits. She explained that she can only communicate with spirits who have not crossed to their afterlife. Spirits who linger here usually have something they need to do before they move on, a score to settle. Since she couldn't see my husband's spirit, she said that meant he had died a contented man and departed this realm."
Two sets of living eyes and a pair of dead ones fixed on me.
"If that's the case," the Prince of Wales said slowly, "how can you speak to my father, Miss Holloway?"
It would seem I had to admit it after all. I glanced at Lincoln, but he offered no guidance. He was leaving the decision to me. "I am not a medium," I told them. "I am something rarer, known as a necromancer. I can summon a spirit no matter where they are."
"Remarkable," both princes murmured.
"The name of this medium?" Lincoln asked the queen.
She tore her stunned gaze away from me. "Why do you need to know it when she wasn't able to see my husband's spirit?"
"I like to know things," he said simply.
She pressed her fingers to her temple and closed her eyes. "I don't recall her name but she's married to the heir of the Preston viscountcy."
"I know the current viscount," the Prince of Wales said. "Beaufort is the family name."
"That's it! Mrs. Emily Beaufort."
"There was some scandal a few years back where the heir married a common girl whose coloring was, shall we say, not typically English."
"I found her to be quite charming," the queen said.
I knew her too. Or, at least, knew of her. She was listed in our archives. While I didn't have a memory as good as Lincoln's, her name had stuck with me because of her link to the Preston viscountcy. There were very few peers of the realm with supernatural abilities.
"Is there anything else we ought to know about the break-in?" Lincoln asked. "Or any other unusual events at the palace that may have a bearing on Leisl's vision?"
"Not that I can think of," the queen said. "Bertie?"
He shook his head, but did not meet her gaze.
"Miss Holloway and I will take our leave." Lincoln nodded at me. "Send His Highness's spirit back, Charlie."
"No!" the queen cried, attempting to push herself out of the sofa only to fail and give up. "No, you mustn't. I'm not ready. We have so much to discuss."
"He can't stay," the Prince of Wales said.
"Why not?"
"Tell her we will be together again one day," Prince Albert's ghost said to me. "Tell her I cannot stay but I'll hear her if she speaks to my spirit when she's alone. That ought to curb her grief somewhat."
I repeated his words then ordered him to return to his afterlife. His mist swirled once around the room then disappeared through the ceiling. The queen's eyes watered and her chin trembled. Her son made no move to comfort her.
"Allow me to escort you out," he said to us.
I bobbed a curtsy at the queen but she simply turned her shoulder to me and poured silent tears into her handkerchief. We left with the Prince of Wales.
A footman stood by the door, his face bland. The prince dismissed him and walked with us back through the palace.
"You held something back," Lincoln said. "What was it?"
The prince regarded him levelly. "You're used to making demands, aren't you? And having them carried out?"
Lincoln's steady gaze faltered. He hadn't expected the prince to get his measure so quickly. "My men prefer to remain in my good graces."
"And Miss Holloway? Does she do as you order?"
Lincoln's shoulders went rigid. "She has a mind that is not easily swayed when it's made up."
I huffed out a laugh then bit my tongue. I'd found myself in the middle of a battle of wills between father and son, and it might be best to be as insignificant as possible to allow them to get on with it.
"Good for you, Miss Holloway," the prince said. "A fellow should always have at least one person who can stand up to him, otherwise he becomes too arrogant."
"Yes, sir," I said, sounding utterly stupid.
"As to your question, Fitzroy." The prince lowered his voice. "You are correct. There is something else, and I didn't want to upset Her Majesty more. Only a few days ago, a man came here and demanded to see her. Her lady in waiting-can't recall which one now-thought it best that she not be troubled so summoned me in the queen's stead. It was obvious to the lady that Her Majesty would be disturbed by the visitor." The prince's pace slowed, and he once again checked behind us. He stopped altogether, and so did we. "You see," the prince said quietly, "the man claimed to be my father."
Chapter 4
"Good lord," I said. "Did you have him arrested?"
The prince shook his head. "I told him to go away and never return. I … I couldn't bring myself to summon the police."
"Why not?" Lincoln asked.
"He looked remarkably like my father. Exactly alike, as it happens, from his whiskers, hair style, the shape of his face. I found myself almost believing his claim. The queen would certainly have believed him, and her lady knew it. That's why she sent for me."
"What about his clothing?" Lincoln asked.
"What of it?"
"Did it look like the clothing he wore in his lifetime?"
"He died so long ago, I can't recall. He had a variety of suits, some formal, others not so much. I would say the imposter wore something unremarkable since I didn't notice his attire. To be honest, I was too busy studying his features."