whoever murdered Mrs. Delmont did so in order to obtain a certain diary. But as you know, I have spent a great deal of time lately at the headquarters of the Society for Psychical Investigations, and it is no secret there that Mrs. Delmont did have one very jealous rival, a medium named Irene Toller."
"You did say that there is a considerable amount of professional jealousy among mediums," Milly remarked.
Emma stirred her tea. "We can only hope that the police will arrest the villain quickly and put an end to the matter."
But what if the police did not find the killer? Caroline thought. Would they eventually turn up on her doorstep just as Adam Grove had? And what of the mysterious Mr. Grove himself? If he did not locate the diary, would he re-turn to plague her with more questions and not-so-veiled accusations? Would he eventually decide to give the police the list of sitters at Delmont's last séance?
She knew better than most that men from his world could not be trusted.
Emma looked grim. "If only you had not taken a notion to use a medium as a character in your next novel, Caroline. You would never have gone to Wintersett House to study psychical research and we would never have at-tended Elizabeth Delmont's last séance"
But she had made those choices, Caroline thought glumly. And now she and her aunts faced the possibility of being dragged through the muck of another dreadful scandal, one that could well destroy her new career upon which they all depended financially.
She could not just sit here, waiting for disaster to crash down upon them like an avalanche. She must take action. There was too much at stake.
FIVE
She dreamed the old nightmare again that night.
She clutched her heavy skirts and ran for her life along the rutted dirt path. Behind her the terrible thud-thud-thud of her pursuer's footsteps drew closer. Her heart pounded. She was tiring, sucking oxygen into her lungs in great, rasping gasps.
Fear and panic had provided an unnatural surge of energy at the start of the ordeal, but the weight of her gown had become a terrifying burden, slowing her desperate rush. The parasol attached to the pretty chatelaine that Milly and Emma had given her for her birthday bounced against her side, threatening her balance.
She did not know how much longer she could go on but she knew that if she stopped, she would die.
"You have to go away," her pursuer said, speaking in that eerie, unnaturally reasonable manner. "Don't you see? He will come back to me if you go away."
She did not turn her head to look back over her shoulder. She could not take the risk. If she stumbled or fell she was lost.
There was no point looking back, in any event. She knew all she needed to know. Her pursuer gripped a large, gleaming carving knife and was bent on murder.
"You have to go away. "
Thud-thud-thud. The footsteps drew closer. The woman who was chasing her was not weighted down with a cumbersome dress. The would-be killer wore only a light linen nightgown and a pair of sturdy shoes.
"He will come back to me if you go away."
The woolen skirts of her gown felt like leaden weights in her hands. She was losing ground... .
Caroline awoke in a cold sweat, the way she always did after the dream. It was no doubt the affair of the murdered medium that had inspired the return of her nightmare, she thought.
She had endured the dream off and on for three years now. Sometimes she would be free of it for a fortnight or even a month; just long enough to begin to hope that she had seen the last of it. Then it would come back without warning, shattering her slumber. Sometimes it would stick around for several nights in a row before disappearing again.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her robe and slippers. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. She knew the pattern all too well. There was only one thing to be done—the same thing she did every other night when the dream and the frightening memories
"You did say that there is a considerable amount of professional jealousy among mediums," Milly remarked.
Emma stirred her tea. "We can only hope that the police will arrest the villain quickly and put an end to the matter."
But what if the police did not find the killer? Caroline thought. Would they eventually turn up on her doorstep just as Adam Grove had? And what of the mysterious Mr. Grove himself? If he did not locate the diary, would he re-turn to plague her with more questions and not-so-veiled accusations? Would he eventually decide to give the police the list of sitters at Delmont's last séance?
She knew better than most that men from his world could not be trusted.
Emma looked grim. "If only you had not taken a notion to use a medium as a character in your next novel, Caroline. You would never have gone to Wintersett House to study psychical research and we would never have at-tended Elizabeth Delmont's last séance"
But she had made those choices, Caroline thought glumly. And now she and her aunts faced the possibility of being dragged through the muck of another dreadful scandal, one that could well destroy her new career upon which they all depended financially.
She could not just sit here, waiting for disaster to crash down upon them like an avalanche. She must take action. There was too much at stake.
FIVE
She dreamed the old nightmare again that night.
She clutched her heavy skirts and ran for her life along the rutted dirt path. Behind her the terrible thud-thud-thud of her pursuer's footsteps drew closer. Her heart pounded. She was tiring, sucking oxygen into her lungs in great, rasping gasps.
Fear and panic had provided an unnatural surge of energy at the start of the ordeal, but the weight of her gown had become a terrifying burden, slowing her desperate rush. The parasol attached to the pretty chatelaine that Milly and Emma had given her for her birthday bounced against her side, threatening her balance.
She did not know how much longer she could go on but she knew that if she stopped, she would die.
"You have to go away," her pursuer said, speaking in that eerie, unnaturally reasonable manner. "Don't you see? He will come back to me if you go away."
She did not turn her head to look back over her shoulder. She could not take the risk. If she stumbled or fell she was lost.
There was no point looking back, in any event. She knew all she needed to know. Her pursuer gripped a large, gleaming carving knife and was bent on murder.
"You have to go away. "
Thud-thud-thud. The footsteps drew closer. The woman who was chasing her was not weighted down with a cumbersome dress. The would-be killer wore only a light linen nightgown and a pair of sturdy shoes.
"He will come back to me if you go away."
The woolen skirts of her gown felt like leaden weights in her hands. She was losing ground... .
Caroline awoke in a cold sweat, the way she always did after the dream. It was no doubt the affair of the murdered medium that had inspired the return of her nightmare, she thought.
She had endured the dream off and on for three years now. Sometimes she would be free of it for a fortnight or even a month; just long enough to begin to hope that she had seen the last of it. Then it would come back without warning, shattering her slumber. Sometimes it would stick around for several nights in a row before disappearing again.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her robe and slippers. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. She knew the pattern all too well. There was only one thing to be done—the same thing she did every other night when the dream and the frightening memories
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