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“I sometimes see others’ memories and, on occasion, images of future events,” Electra explained, despite the skepticism that Delacourt seemed to be telegraphing with the furrow in his brow and his narrow-eyed gaze. “I do not know if my abilities will be of use to find your daughter, sir, but I am eager to try.”

“You did say you would employ any means to find her, Father,” Violet reminded him in a soft tone.

Delacourt nodded. “I did indeed, and I pray you can help us, Miss Poole. What do you need to begin?”

Chapter Four

Electra had gotten used to conducting sittings and invoking her abilities in all types of circumstances, but her preference would always be for quiet, focus, and proximity to those from whom she was attempting to gain insights.

So she asked if they might gather, herself and the Delacourts, at a table. Roger Delacourt agreed and led them to the library filled with gilded-spined volumes that were arranged in perfect order on tall bookshelves against walls papered in a deep hunter green. A round, polished oak table sat in the center of the room.

Gideon approached a chair off to the side, and Electra stood next to him as she removed her gloves and reached into her pocket to touch the moonstone she carried with her to every sitting.

“Is anything amiss?” Gideon whispered.

“No, just preparing myself.” With the Delacourts present, she couldn’t confide that she felt certain Violet Delacourt was hiding truths about her sister or that she found the father to be opaque, as she’s sometimes found others to be. As if something shielded them from her abilities.

But now she would have a chance to see if her abilities might reveal more than either was willing to say aloud.

Before they could begin, someone knocked at the library door.

“Enter,” Roger Delacourt said, and a footman stepped over the threshold, his gaze fixed on the master of the house.

“Mr. Evans is here to speak with you, sir. Shall I ask him to wait or return at another time?”

Delacourt cast a look back at his daughter. “Violet, will you be all right on your own?”

“Yes, Father.”

“If you’re still going when I finish with Evans, I’ll return. Otherwise, I trust that Violet will inform me if Miss Poole’s…skills are able to uncover Iris’s whereabouts.” He gave one nod at Gideon, looked briefly at Electra, and then stepped from the room.

If given the chance, Electra would have asked him not to return, knowing that an interruption would likely cut short any use of her abilities—images usually faded when someone spoke to her or drew her attention back to the present moment.

Violet Delacourt looked almost relieved by her father’s departure.

“Father is delegating most of his daily business endeavors to his assistant, Mr. Evans,” she explained. “He wishes to devote as much time as he can to finding Iris.” She gave Gideon an apologetic look. “He’s considering hiring a private inquiry agent too.”

“That’s not unusual in such cases.” Gideon didn’t seem bothered in the least. “If he does, the gentleman he hires may feel at liberty to contact me. I will share what I’ve learned, lest we duplicate our efforts.”

“Thank you, Inspector. I will let Father know.” Violet gestured to both of them as she finally took a seat at the round table. “Shall we begin?” she asked with eagerness in her tone.

After Electra sat across from her, Violet tipped her head as she watched her.

“In truth, you may suspect that I am the reason you are here, Miss Poole.” She smiled, but this one wasn’t shy or demure. It seemed to reveal pride, if anything. “My father said he would use any means to find Iris and immediately roused everyone he knew at the Home Office. I have no such connections, of course, but I had read about you in the newspaper. I thought for certain you could help.”

“I hope I can.” Electra took a seat at the table.

Miss Delacourt immediately reached down into the pocket of her skirt and lifted something in her closed fist. She gently laid two objects on the tabletop: a small wooden box about four by four inches in dimension and a necklace with an iris flower pendant. Miss Delacourt slid the objects toward her.

“That is Iris’s travel box of watercolors that she carried everywhere, except to work at the museum. I understand she had a separate set of watercolors and brushes there. And this is one of her favorite pendants. I last saw it on her last week.”

“Thank you,” Electra said, then reached for the paintbox first.

“I understand that you can see visions when you touch an object.”

“Sometimes, yes.” Electra didn’t think it wise to tell the young woman that her abilities worked at times and did not at other times, or that visions of the future were rare. “I’d only ask that you remain quiet while I attempt to see what I may.”

“Of course.”