Charlotte grabbed after Valentina too late, distracted by her own continued efforts to release her sword. She wasn’t sure if the damned thing would work against a spirit horse, but she knew it would make her feel better to have the steel bare in her hands.
She watched in helpless astonishment as Valentine unexpectedly unpinned her hat, her hair spilling wild down her narrow back, darted up beside the big steed, and dropped her hat up onto its withers.
As gradually as the hoofbeats had started, they ended abruptly and the horse rather suddenly changed into a well-dressed woman, clutching at Valentina’s hat like it was a lifeline.
“I remember!” she cried like a bell over the shrieks and cries of alarm. The room stilled, and they were the focus of all the attention in the theatre.
Lady Jamison—because it clearly was she—stalked to the cowering Lord Jamison. She took one hand from the hat to point at her widower. “You pushed me in front of that horse, you gibbonous fribble! You murdered me and paid off the witnesses!”
“Ghosts have no memories!” Lord Jamison protested. “Your word cannot be accepted in court!” He looked for support from the Supernatural Authorities, who had stopped chanting at the appearance of the lady and were looking at each other in confusion.
“Actually, my lord, the supernatural act of thirty says…”
“Dispatch her! Send her away!” he shouted in panic. “Banish her at once!”
“If she has coherency, we have to give her license to speak,” another of the guards said, spreading his fingers. “And her words are given the same weight as any witness.”
“You never did understand the law,” Lady Jamison scoffed. “Nor morality.” She turned to the nearest guard. “Take down my testament, quickly, fool.”
The guard dug into his robe and swiftly found a graphite pencil rod and small bound book. He took copious notes as the lady dictated a laundry list of complaints, starting with shocking indiscretions, winding through a series of shady dealings with the Underground, and ending with her public murder and the subsequent coverup.
“How is it that you remember so clearly?” the guard asked, scribbling frantically. “Most non-corporeal entities lose their memories.”
Charlotte was watching Valentina when the question was asked, and saw her wince. Her hat. Her hat anchored memories. In spectacularly ill timing, the ribbon binding Charlotte's sword gave way at that moment and she nearly cut the hand of a nearby onlooker off drawing it out. It would release when someone nearby needed her protection, but the danger was past...wasn’t it?
“Is it relevant?” Charlotte asked at once, stepping forward so that no one would notice Valentina’s expression. She should never be permitted to play games of bluff; her emotions were far too clear on her face. “Clearly the man is guilty of grave offenses. Perhaps Lady Jamison’s clarity of mind stems from her keen desire for justice.”
“Justice is served,” Lady Jamison said with great satisfaction, and she vanished, leaving behind only her hat and a swirl of speculation.
One of the guards was looking hard at Valentina, who was gazing down at her hands with her shoulders slumped. “Why did you put your hat upon the spirit?” he quizzed, stooping to pick it up.
“Have you never heard of hat the horse?” Charlotte retorted, sheathing her sword again and trying to make it look like she’d had control of the situation the entire time. “It is a child’s game. I was honestly tempted to try it myself.”
If the guard knew better, he didn’t persist, but he did pause and mutter momentarily over the hat, turning it in his hands.
“Is it evidence?” his comrade asked.
“There is no magic in it,” he said, shaking his head, and he extended it to Valentina, who took it with trembling hands. Was he lying to protect her, or had Lady Jamison’s transformation drained it of power? Charlotte was dying to ask but bit her tongue.
Lord Jamison chose that moment to try to escape, but he had no better luck with that than he’d had fleeing the horse. The Supernatural Authorities swiftly captured him and marched him to turn over to an Inspector for murder and treason charges. He gave one entreaty in Valentina’s direction—or perhaps in Charlotte’s—but Charlotte turned her nose up and took Valentina by the elbow. “I feel a need for fresh air after this ordeal,” she declared to their hushed audience. “Come, Letty, let’s calm our nerves with a turn on one of the higher decks.”
Valentina looked at her skeptically, but let Charlotte draw her away. The whispering crowd parted before them.