Page 20 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"Clearly." He nodded at his widow. "Can she hear me?"
"They can't see, hear or sense you. Only me. Sir, I must ask for some sign that you are indeed who you claim to be. For your loved ones."
"I understand." I don't know what the prince died of, but he sported no obvious wounds that I could see. He rose and swirled before settling once more on the sofa. "I used to call her my sweet petal because she was a rose in a thorny garden. Parliament," he clarified. "It was a name for her ears only."
"The spirit tells me that he called you sweet petal, ma'am," I said. "Does that—"
The queen caught a single loud sob in her handkerchief. "Dear heart." She reached for him and for a moment I thought she could see his shape because she stroked his cheek. But as the prince moved, her hand passed through him. "I miss you terribly, my love. It's unbearable without you by my side."
Both the Prince of Wales and the spirit glanced at me and then Lincoln. I understood their concern. It was awkward enough hearing the words of an unhappy widow to her dead husband, but hearing them from the monarch's lips made me feel like I'd committed treason. She looked vulnerable, sitting on the sofa in her widow's weeds, her eyes full.
"Tell her…" The prince consort looked to the corner of the ceiling where I'd first seen him. "Tell her that my soul aches for her." He nodded at me when I hesitated.
I repeated his words. The queen's sob filled the room.
"She has grown rather fat," he said. "Do not tell her that," he hastily added.
"It has been some years since your death," I told him.
"Twenty-eight years," his son said.
"Twenty-eight long years," the queen added, her voice warbling.
"That long?" Prince Albert's spirit stood and circled his son. "He looks older than me when I died. A fine looking fellow, though. Tell him that."
I repeated his words for the Prince of Wales who seemed momentarily taken aback by the praise. "Er, thank you."
"There is so much I must tell you," the queen said, pushing herself forward on the sofa. Gone was the regal bearing, the haughty tilt of her chin. She looked like any other elderly widow meeting a long lost loved one again. "Where to start? We have…" She counted on her fingers then shook her head. "I'm not entirely sure how many grandchildren. More than thirty. But our dearest Alice and Leo have both passed on. Oh! But you must know that! How are they?"
"Er…" The ghost looked to me.
"They're happy," I said for him. I didn't know if he communicated with other deceased persons, but I did know that it was important to the queen to think of them meeting their father in a better place. "Sir, we've summoned you here for a specific reason."
"Not yet," the queen said. "I'm not ready. There's more news I must impart."
Her son laid a hand on her shoulder. "Very little of it will be for Miss Holloway's and Mr. Fitzroy's ears."
Her lips pinched, as if she suddenly remembered who she was and that we were nobodies. "You're right, Bertie. Go on, Miss Holloway. Let's get to the bottom of this mystery."
"A seer known as Leisl approached the Prince of Wales last night," I began. "She claimed to have had a vision where you endangered his life."
"Me?" The spirit shimmered. "How can that be when I have no physical form?"
"We don't know," I said. "Do you have any ideas?"
"Perhaps she's a crackpot."
"She's not," I said. "She is a genuine seer."
"How do you know?"
"We know her to be truthful."
Prince Albert grunted. "Very well, I shall take your word for it, Miss Holloway, but the truth is, she must be wrong on this score. I have no reason or desire to harm any one of my family. The very notion is absurd and abhorrent. Your seer must have misinterpreted what she saw."
I repeated his words for the others.
"There." The queen shot her son a speaking glance. "I knew it. The gypsy was wrong or mischief-making."
