"I went to see Blunt."
"Ah. The master of the North London School for Domestic Service. Did you haunt him?"
"I did." The smile was back but it lacked the sense of fun of earlier.
"And?"
"And sometimes I like being a ghost. I gave him the full spiritual experience-flying objects, knocking, emptying the bedpan, and my personal favorite, writing a note ordering him to cease his visits to the girl's dormitory.
"Do you think he'll comply?"
"The note told him that if he did not, the hauntings will continue. If his begging for mercy is anything to go by, I think he has seen the error of his ways."
I clapped my hands. "On behalf of all the poor children at the school who'll never know what you did for them, thank you, Jacob. You're a true hero."
His fingers plucked at my quilt. "Don't, Emily."
"Why not? What you did tonight was a wonderful, selfless act. It'll bring about a change in Blunt's behavior, I'm sure of it."
He shook his head. "That may be, but don't call me a hero. It's easy to do what's right when there are no consequences like grave injury, a ruined reputation or death."
The sad edge to his voice pierced my heart. I wanted to see his face but his gaze was downcast so I crept out of the covers to the foot of the bed where he sat. I no longer cared if he saw me in my nightgown. It covered me from neck to toe anyway.
His fingers stilled and he glanced up at me without lifting his head. "Don't come any closer," he said.
I ignored him and sat knee to knee with him. He shifted his leg away. "Why not?" I asked.
"Your sister-."
"Forget about Celia. This isn't about her, or me, this is about what's troubling you."
He shook his head. "Just don't come any closer to me. It...disturbs me."
"What about it disturbs you?"
He stood and paced the room, going from one side to the other in five easy strides. My bedroom wasn't large but nor was it small. He had very long legs. "I didn't just come here to discuss Blunt." The conversation was leaping back and forth like a skittish hare. I had no choice but to try and follow.
"Then what else did you want to talk about?"
"There was a death tonight."
I sat back on my haunches. "Who died?"
He stopped pacing and finally looked at me. "A footman on his night off. He'd had a few drinks at The Lion's Head in Holborn and fell into a drunken sleep in a nearby alley. I don't know his name." He started pacing again. "Bloody hell, I should have found out his name!"