Loving Lily (Fair Cyprians of London 6)

They oohed and they aahed.

Once, they even shrieked, though that was because Mrs Moore’s judicious thud that was the cue for Lily’s bloodcurdling cry acted in concert for a response that was hardly surprising.

Yes, Mr Renquist was apparently trying to communicate from his prison in the afterlife. He was, he indicated, in torment; and only by solving the mystery of what happened to him on Earth would he be freed from the eternal condemnation of trailing the confines of his nether world, unable to find peace.

Only then would Mrs Renquist be granted her rights as a widow rather than a woman in limbo with a missing husband, enabling her to claim his fortune and remarry.

It was a fine show, and one that had bereaved Mrs Renquist, afterwards, exhorting Mrs Moore in tears not to give up until she’d found the truth; declaring that the spirit summoner clearly knew more than she was prepared to divulge about what had happened and, possibly, even, the location of her dear Bernard’s body.

As Lily once again, huddled in the secrecy of the curtain afterwards, she gathered by the lively commotion that her performance had been satisfactory.

But it wasn’t until Grace spoke to her that she learned more of the details.

The girl had slipped away from the crowd and discovered Lily, still veiled and in hiding.

“Ooh ma’am, but they was all enraptured an’ called yer a vision. A spirit caller. They says yer can summon the dead an’ that them’ll be comin’ back next week. Bringin’ their friends too, I ’eard ’em sayin’. Archie reckons ’tis a ‘front-pager’ fer sure!”

Excitement fizzed through Lily. Of course, she hadn’t expected Mr McTavish to attend. But Archie had come, and he would relay her success.

Not that Lily’s only hopes hinged on her success in the spiritualism arena.

Warmth flooded her as she closed her eyes briefly and thought back once again to the intimacy she’d shared with the young newspaper editor.

Mr Montpelier and Mrs Moore weren’t the only two upon whom her survival could depend. The beginnings of something deep and serious had been established with Mr McTavish, and if Lily could only nurture this with care and honesty, something might grow as a result, providing her the salvation she so desperately needed.

Chapter 17

Hamish leaned back in his chair and watched in amusement as his sister and Archie argued over the merits of the photographic offerings Archie had carefully laid out on his desk ten minutes before for his perusal.

“A true spiritualist! This is the one that will have the readers clamouring for more!”

“Wiv respect, Miss McTavish, I b’lieve the young woman’s mystical powers are shown in greater respect when juxtaposed wiv the painted ol’ crone rubbin’ ’er crystal ball opposite ’er,” Archie objected.

He might have been tempted to discount them all if only to light a fuse to Archie’s pique, but the business side of him had to concede there was a strong case for including one of these pictures in the publication. Other serious-minded publications had covered the wealthy industrialist’s disappearance, after all.

“Lor’ but she’s a sight fer sore eyes,” Archie remarked, holding up one of the photographs to the light.

And Hamish silently agreed, though he did add mildly, “Not that you can tell what she looks like in that disguise.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way, Hamish, of course,” said Lucy.

“Know ’er, do yer?” asked Archie, in a burst of egalitarian impertinence. Hamish was only glad their father was not part of the conversation. But then, if he had been, Archie’s place would have been made very clear to him. He would not be part of any editorial decisions made.

The fact was, Archie Benedict was something of a genius with his box camera though Hamish would never tell him so.

Lucy straightened and stuck her nose in the air. “She’s a beautiful widow fallen on hard times.” With a meaningful look at Hamish, she added a trifle defensively, “The fact she’s always in disguise means she can still be accepted into society.”

Despite himself, Hamish smiled. “Yes, she can, Lucy.”

His sister’s mouth dropped open in clear surprise before her eyes lit up. It was obvious Lucy had taken to Mrs Eustace, and that she took a dim view of her brother’s distrustful attitude.

Hamish would have to gently and subtly make it clear that matters had altered slightly somewhat, and no doubt Lucy would be delighted. Their father would not be so easy to convince, but that could be navigated, later.

In the meantime, Hamish would pay another visit to Mrs Eustace to reorient matters between them. They’d parted with sincerity and tenderness and promises to meet again, soon. Tingles of sensation speared him at just the thought of being alone with her. But perhaps it would be safer to meet for tea where hot-headed passion didn’t skew the conversation.

Of course, there were many issues that needed to be dealt with in practical terms; the first one being that if his father got wind of the fact that Hamish was involved with a woman, the resulting inquisition could be uncomfortable for everyone.

And while Hamish had no doubt there were some aspects to Mrs Eustace’s past that would not be acceptable to his father, Hamish was also very co