On the mantle, a photograph in a tarnished frame showed a stern man, two children, and a woman with a hauntingly blank stare.

A gentle breeze was blowing outside, and the open window caused the wind to rustle her curtains.

Three weeks had passed since consumption had claimed Catherine, her only sibling and closest companion. Their parents had departed years earlier, leaving the sisters to rely solely upon each other. Now, at twenty-six, Adelaide was utterly alone in their modest townhouse in Bloomsbury.

Six months after Rupert’s death, Josephine still felt unsettled. She needed to know if perhaps he was waiting on the other side with a message for her or their children.