The Medium

But before I could say anything, Mr. Culvert said, "Do you have a supernatural matter to discuss with me?"

I choked on air and tried to cover it with a cough.

"Are you all right, Miss Chambers?" he said, frowning. "Tea is on its way but if there's anything else I can get you?" He took my hand again and patted it.

Jacob scowled at him.

I managed to stop coughing long enough to say, "Thank you, I'm fine."

Jacob, still scowling, approached our host and waved a hand in front of his face. Mr. Culvert didn't blink. "He definitely can't see me," Jacob said. "It must have been a guess-an uncannily good one."

"You're right," I said. "I do have a supernatural question. That's very intuitive of you, Mr. Culvert."

"Not really." He smiled sheepishly and dipped his head. "I happen to be aware of your work as a medium. I've wanted to meet you for some time." A faint blush crept across his cheeks. It was rather charming. Until I caught Jacob watching me out of the corner of my eye. No, he wasn't watching, he was glaring and his eyes had turned the color of a stormy sea. I tried not to look at him. I needed all my wits about me if I was to lie to George Culvert convincingly.

"So you believe I can really talk to spirits?" I said to Mr. Culvert.

"Yes of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Many people do not."

"Many people don't know what I know about the supernatural." He indicated I should sit on the blood-red velvet sofa.

The footman re-entered carrying a tea tray stacked with tea things and a plate of butter biscuits, freshly baked going by their delicious smell. It was early for refreshments, early for making calls for that matter, but Mr. Culvert didn't seem to mind. Indeed, he seemed quite eager to chat. He sat in the chair opposite and leaned forward as the footman poured the tea.

I took my teacup and wondered where Mrs. Culvert was in the vast house. When the footman left I hazarded a glance at Jacob. He stood beside the mantelpiece, its height perfect for resting his elbow, and watched the proceedings with a closed expression. I thought he'd be impatient for me to ask questions but he said nothing, simply waited.

I decided to follow our original plan. "I heard about you through a mutual friend of ours," I said to Mr. Culvert. "Jacob Beaufort. I believe you went to Eton with him."

George Culvert's brows shot up into his snowy blond curls. "You knew him?"

I nodded and sipped my tea in an effort to disguise my lie. I had one of those faces that was easy to read so the better I hid it, the better I could lie. "His sudden death must have shocked everyone at the school."