“And then it was only blackness, and I could hear you talking to me—to me, Alva Webster—and I knew it was over. Because whoever that was, it wasn’t me.” She furrowed her brow. “Mostly, at least.”

“I’ll ask you what that means later,” he said. “And don’t think we won’t discuss this at length. But right now, we’re leaving.”

“Aren’t you listening? It was a ghost, Sam. I’m sure of it.”

“It was definitely a ghost,” he said, standing and reaching down to gather her in his arms. He’d heard the clatter of wheels coming down the drive. “Your driver is here.”

“But—don’t you want to run tests? Try to talk to it? Design some new machine?”

“No.” He hoisted her easily, walking back through the open door and kicking it shut behind him. Her carriage came to a halt in front of them.

“I don’t understand you. Aren’t you happy? Excited?”

“Excited?” He paused midstep, frowning down at her. “I’m furious. I’m terrified. And I don’t give a damn about anything except getting you somewhere warm and safe.”

She opened her mouth, shut it, frowned, and tried again. “I can walk, you know.”

“Good for you.”

Her driver climbed down off the box, his expression concerned. “Is everything all right?” He looked from Alva to Sam. “Has something happened?”

“Mrs. Webster collapsed,” Sam said. “Take us to her house, please, and then I’ll trouble you to go for a doctor.”

“I don’t need a doctor,” Alva said as he carefully laid her on the carriage seat and climbed in after her.

“You can walk and you don’t need a doctor,” Sam repeated, the carriage rocking into motion. “I don’t care.”

“I didn’t collapse, either,” she muttered, but in the tone of someone who knew her arguments would not be attended to. “A ghost commandeered my brain. It’s completely different. Now people will think I’m delicate.”

He didn’t answer. A choking, directionless anger had filled the empty chasm the fear had left behind. He knew it was simply a response to the terror of the moment; he could easily explain it. Somehow, though, knowing the explanation did nothing to reduce the emotion. He was furious—furious at the house, furious at the ghost, furious at Alva, for no reason except that she’d put herself in a situation where something bad could happen to her.

Realizing that she too had lapsed into silence, he glanced over at her. It was hard to see her clearly in the dim light of the carriage, but he could make out the pallor of her face and the knotted hands in her lap. Wordlessly he put his arm around her, pulling her into his side and hanging on. She sank against him.

“What did you mean, I didn’t leave?”