“No. It is the same psychical energy that I saw downstairs in the tunnels where Hollister was killed. After she avenged her murdered daughter, Lady Hollister went about her wifely duties. She saw to it that her husband’s body was quietly removed. She made up the bed and dismissed the servants. And then she hanged herself.”

“And she managed it all without creating a scandal in the family.”

Virginia was in her study, a cup of tea in one hand, a note from a grateful client in the other, when she heard the carriage in the street. She ignored the rattle of wheels and the stamp of shod hooves until she realized that the vehicle had stopped in front of Number Seven. Her pulse kicked up a beat and then immediately settled back into its normal rhythm. Not Owen, she thought. If he came by cab today it would be in a fast, sleek hansom, not a large, private equipage.

She listened to Mrs. Crofton’s quick footsteps in the hall and knew that the housekeeper had also recognized the unmistakable clatter of an expensive vehicle.

The front door opened. There followed a low, indistinguishable murmur of voices. Not a client, Virginia knew. She met those at the Institute. It was one of Gilmore Leybrook’s policies, and she thought that it was a very sound one.

In her early years as a glass-reader she had been obliged to interview clients in her personal lodgings. Some of those who sought out the assistance of a glasslight-talent were more than a bit odd, to say the least. A few of the truly distraught had appeared on her doorstep at midnight, demanding second or even third readings, convinced that she had been wrong the first time. There had been some threats from time to time. All in all, life was vastly more peaceful when clients did not know the address of the reader.

But if the new arrival was not a client and not Owen, Virginia could not imagine who would be calling on her in such a fine carriage.

The door of the study opened abruptly. For all her professional polish and aplomb, Mrs. Crofton’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She raised her chin and assumed a commanding tone of voice that was certain to carry out into the front hall.

“Lady Mansfield to see you, ma’am. Shall I tell her that you are at home?”

“Good grief, no.”

Virginia set down the teacup with more force than she had intended. There was a sharp, jolting crack of china on china. Tea sprayed across her hand and the note she had been reading. Mrs. Crofton frowned.

“Did you burn yourself, ma’am?”

“No, no, the tea has gone cold.” Virginia seized a napkin and dabbed at her hand. “There must be some mistake.”

“With the tea, ma’am? I’ll bring in a fresh pot.”

“I’m not talking about the tea, I meant the identity of my visitor. Are you certain it is Lady Mansfield?”

“Her card, ma’am.” Mrs. Crofton produced the calling card with a triumphant flourish. “I put her in the parlor.”

“Well, get her out of there.” Virginia crumpled the napkin. “Please tell Lady Mansfield that I am not at home.”

Mrs. Crofton got a steely look in her eyes. She moved into the study, closed the door and lowered her voice. “Too late to send her away. I already told her that you would be with her shortly.”

“Now, see here, Mrs. Crofton, I am well aware that you feel you came down in the world when you accepted the post in this household. Nevertheless, I regret to inform you that I am your employer and I give the orders under this roof.”

“Have you lost your senses, ma’am? Lady Mansfield is quality of the most exclusive sort. She moves in very elevated circles. Why, I cannot believe that she has called upon you in person.”

“Neither can I,” Virginia muttered.

“It is extraordinary. Most ladies of her station would have sent around a note summoning you to their homes to give them a psychical consultation.” Mrs. Crofton waved her hands in exasperation. “You would likely have been shown in through the tradesmen’s entrance.”

“You know very well that I never accept commissions if I am expected to use the tradesmen’s door. And for your information, Mrs. Crofton, Lady Mansfield did not bother to send me a note summoning me to an interview because she knew very well that I would have refused.”

Mrs. Crofton was aghast. “Why would you do a thing like that?”

“I really don’t think I need to explain.”

“I must remind you, ma’am, this is precisely the sort of client we’ve been attempting to attract.”

“We?” Virginia repeated, gravely polite.

Mrs. Crofton refused to be intimidated. “I have been giving your career a great deal of thought.”

“I beg your pardon? You have been thinking about my career?”

“If you want to advance yourself in your profession, you must acquire a better class of client. This is a golden opportunity. I will not allow you to pass it by. Our futures depend on it.”

“I am flattered that you have aligned your fortunes with mine, Mrs. Crofton. Does that mean that you have abandoned any hope of moving back up in the world by finding another employer?”

“It’s not as if I’ve got a great deal of choice at the moment, now, do I? Neither do you, I’m afraid. You know as well as I do that if you intend to better yourself, you need a housekeeper like me who knows the ways of the quality.”

“Do you know, Mrs. Crofton, until I met you I had not actually planned to better myself? I thought that I was doing rather nicely as it was.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Crofton said. “You mentioned at breakfast just last week that you wanted to earn money so that you could make some investments to secure a comfortable retirement.”

“Yes, but that is another matter entirely.”

“I’ve got to think of my own retirement as well. As you just pointed out, we are stuck with each other. So I strongly suggest that you go into the parlor and accept Lady Mansfield’s commission for a looking-glass reading.”

Reluctantly Virginia pushed herself to her feet. “It is obvious that you are not going to follow my instructions to show her the door, so I will perform the task myself.”

“Don’t you dare be rude to her,” Mrs. Crofton warned. “Once word gets around that you have performed a reading for Lady Mansfield, other fashionable ladies in her circles will want to commission readings. This is how one builds a quality clientele.”

Virginia crossed the small room toward the door. “I appreciate the advice, Mrs. Crofton. Now, if you’ll be so good as to get out of my way.”

Mrs. Crofton did not move. “One more thing.”

Virginia paused. “Yes?”

Mrs. Crofton lowered her voice a bit more. “Whatever you do, don’t appear too eager or grateful for the commission. Just be reserved and polite. Professional. Tell her that you’ll have to check your calendar before you commit to an appointment. Make her think she’s fortunate to be able to obtain your services.”

“I really don’t know how I managed to conduct my business without your advice before you came to work in this household, Mrs. Crofton. Now will you kindly get out of the way?”

“Right, then.” Mrs. Crofton stepped smartly aside and wrapped her hand around the doorknob. “I can hardly believe our good fortune. I wonder how your name came to Lady Mansfield’s attention. Perhaps it is your recent association with Mr. Sweetwater. And here I’ve been worried about that.”

“I have no idea why Lady Mansfield chose to call on me today, but I can tell you exactly how my name came to her attention. Indeed, she has been aware of me for thirteen years.”

Mrs. Crofton opened the door. “How’s that?”

“My mother was her husband’s mistress until both Lord Mansfield and Mama were killed in a train accident. They were returning from a tryst at Mansfield’s hunting lodge in Scotland.”

Mrs. Crofton blanched. “What on earth?”