The Revenant (9 page)

Chapter 10

W
HEN
M
ISS
C
RENSHAW SAW
L
UCY’S BODY
twisted under that enormous two-seat desk, she seemed to regain her wits and immediately began barking out orders like an army captain.

“Miss Taylor, you must fetch Dr. Stewart. Nurse Gott should prepare a bed in the infirmary—Miss Adair will alert her. Miss McClure, you fetch Jimmy to get this desk off the girl’s leg. We’ll need his help in setting the room to rights.”

When we stared at her numbly, she softened ever so slightly.

“I need you all to stay calm and focused. Now please do as I directed.”

I shook myself and followed the other two through the doorway, intent on finding Jimmy in the kitchen. But when we stepped into the corridor, he was already standing there.

Miss Taylor squeaked in surprise. “Jimmy! You frightened us.”

“Sorry, miss,” he said quietly. “Thought I heard something.”

“There’s been another accident,” I said quickly. “We need your help in the chapel.”

Jimmy nodded and stepped aside to allow Olivia and Miss Taylor to pass. I gestured for him to go ahead of me into the chapel, noting how his shoulders sagged with reluctance as he stepped through the doorway.

His dark face sweated profusely as he worked. He seemed painfully aware of Miss Crenshaw and me staring at him, for he took care not to touch Lucy as he strained to lift the heavy desk. He was visibly relieved to step away afterward. The girl regained consciousness with a gasp, tears streaming down her face and teeth chattering in the deep chill of the room.

Miss Crenshaw knelt beside her and tenderly dabbed at the tears with a handkerchief she’d drawn from her sleeve. She spoke in a low, soothing tone. “Can you speak?” When Lucy nodded, she continued. “We need to know what happened, child, before the doctor gets here. How did you come to be in the chapel?”

Lucy gulped and swallowed several times before finally uttering words. “You won’t believe me.”

“At this point, I’m willing to believe almost anything,” said Miss Crenshaw with a tight smile.

Lucy spoke haltingly, her teeth chattering as she forced the words through them. “I heard a whisper … a voice calling my name … and I followed it here. But I stood alone in the room. The air turned cold … so very cold. Then the door slammed shut and everything fell from the walls. And then … the windows flew open on their own.” She blinked away newly forming tears. “I swear that’s what happened, Miss Crenshaw! I didn’t open them myself.”

Miss Crenshaw stroked her arm and made shushing noises. Once Lucy quieted, she prompted her to continue. “What happened then?”

“Water poured through the windows. Murky, rank water.” She turned her head to the side. “I still smell it in my hair! The water rushed with such force it knocked over the desks. It filled the room and soaked the hem of my gown.” Her lip trembled as her voice grew more ragged. “One of the desks fell over and pinned me to the floor. I thought I was going to die, to drown in that cold water just as Ella did!”

“But, Lucy,” I said, “your hair and dress are dry. There is no water here!”

“I’m not lying,” whispered the girl. “But why would Ella hurt me?” She closed her eyes and cried silently.

It took a while for Jimmy to right the overturned furniture. While he worked, I picked up the damaged picture frames and tumbled books before moving to the windows to shut them. The air outside was pleasant. In the distance I could see two separate lantern lights bobbing toward us—Miss Taylor and Dr. Stewart approached the building.

I turned to Miss Crenshaw. “What are we to tell the doctor?”

The principal’s face drooped with fatigue. “I’ve no idea. I suppose we could say we have another case of sleepwalking, though I’m not sure how to explain the overturned desk.”

She clamped her mouth shut as we heard the front door open, a sound followed by the clatter of footsteps in the corridor.

When the doctor entered, his face was grim. He nodded at the principal before kneeling next to Lucy. I could hardly bear to see Lucy’s face contorting with pain as he examined her. A sudden nausea beset me, and I had to breathe deeply in order to keep my supper from ending up on the floor.

Finally, after binding the leg with a splint provided by Jimmy, the doctor stood. “Her leg is broken—a compound fracture, I’m afraid. But I can find no other injuries.” He rubbed his forehead and stifled a yawn. He turned back to the principal, his face drawn with confusion and fatigue. “How did the desk fall on her?”

“We simply don’t know, Dr. Stewart,” said Miss Crenshaw, her voice mild.

“More sleepwalking?” His lips curved in a faint smile. “I’m starting to wonder what you feed these girls that makes them so active in their sleep, Miss Crenshaw.”

The principal bowed her head.

As Jimmy and the doctor carried Lucy out of the room on a makeshift stretcher of quilts, Olivia pulled me aside.

“I never expected Ella’s spirit to turn so violent. I’m afraid these accidents will only grow more terrible if we don’t do something,” she whispered. “It seems to be feeding on the girls’ fear.”

I couldn’t contradict her. I’d just seen something—
felt
something—I’d never thought to encounter, and Papa’s steadfast skepticism had deserted me. “What does it want? Revenge?”

Olivia frowned. “Perhaps nothing so dire. It may be desperate to make contact because it longs for peace or … some sort of release. We won’t know if we don’t ask.”

“We ask? Why don’t
you
ask?”

“As I told you before, I am sensitive. And I have the knowledge and experience. But I can’t do it alone.”

“Olivia,” I moaned, “you know how I feel about all that Spiritualist flummery.”

She held my gaze. “I wish you to help me, but perhaps I should find someone more sympathetic. Someone like Miss Taylor, perhaps?”

I straightened up, my cheeks warming at this preposterous notion. “Miss Taylor is a ninny who’d run squawking to Miss Crenshaw at the mere
mention
of a séance,” I said quickly. “It’d be much safer not to involve her.”

“Willie, are you saying you will help?”

I stared at her for a moment before finally nodding. “Where does one hold a séance? You’re not going to make me sit by her grave, are you?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. My grandmother taught me that spirits linger in the places where they lived and loved, not where their bodies are put to rest. Ella once lived in your room. I think we should hold our séance there in order to be as close as possible to her spirit.”

My stomach twisted.
This is how a teacher loses her position
.

Olivia took my hand and squeezed it tightly. “I know what I’m doing. We shall not be found out.”

“Fine,” I said. “Tell me what to do.”

• • •

During Sunday’s chapel service, the girls stared at the bare walls and whispered to each other. I frowned at them several times, warning them to be silent, and yet couldn’t fault them for needing to shake off some of their gloom. I only wished I could hear what they had to say—it might have helped make some sense of this puzzle.

I visited Lucy in the infirmary afterward. Her face was gray and pinched, framed by the tangle of black hair that splayed onto the pillow. I pulled a chair next to the bed and took her hand as I sat.

“How’s the pain?”

She shrugged. “Nurse Gott gives me a sleeping draught, but then I have nightmares of pain.”

“I won’t keep you from your rest very long. But I must ask you something about last night.”

Lucy turned away. “I told you everything.”

“I want to know
why
it happened.” I lowered my voice. “Can you think of any reason why Ella would want to frighten you in such a way?”

She closed her eyes and lay in silence for a long time. A tear squeezed out of one eye and trickled slowly down her face. “I don’t know. She knew I loved her.”

“Did you have an argument before her accident? Was she angry?”

“We didn’t have an argument.” Her eyes opened—they were still damp, but no more tears threatened to fall.

I leaned closer. “She
was
angry, though, wasn’t she?”

“No!” She wiped her face. “If anyone was angry, it was me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do!”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she growled.

Nurse Gott shuffled in with a tray. Her heavy face sagged into a frown at the sight of me. “Lucy needs her rest, miss. You shouldn’t be upsetting her with questions and such. Why, you’ve made her cry!”

“It’s just the pain, Gotty.” Lucy wiped at her face again and settled into her pillow, her hands clasped over the covers.

“I’ve brought you some broth—it’ll settle your stomach and take your mind off the pain.” She turned to me. “I think it’s best you left now, miss.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, Lucy.”

Clearly, the madness of the previous evening was getting to me. Or perhaps it was lack of sleep unhinging my good sense. How else to explain my thoughts as I left Lucy to the care of Mrs. Gott?

If Lucy won’t tell me, perhaps Ella will
.

Part II
Spirit Communicator

October 1896

Chapter 11

T
WO WEEKS PASSED BEFORE
O
LIVIA AND
I could conduct a midnight tryst with the spirit world. Olivia first insisted upon reviewing her library of Spiritualist material. Then she required several days to consult her journals and reread all the letters from her grandmother. She barely spoke to me as she walked the corridors with a secretive smile on her face. Finally, on a Friday after classes, she informed me she was ready to begin that very evening.

I have to admit my heart sank a little to hear it.

That night, I stood mute as Olivia moved my bedside table next to the chiffonier and lit a candle at its center. Was it fear or excitement that made her hand tremble as she touched the match to the wick? My own heart thudded as I placed my wooden chair next to hers, but I wasn’t afraid of the spirits as much as Miss Crenshaw. I wanted the whole thing to be over as quickly as possible, before we were caught and I was sent away forever.

Olivia blew out her match and nodded at the arrangement. “The curtains are drawn. I’ll place a cloth along the crack below the door so no one will see the candlelight from the corridor.” She looked intently at me. “We must keep our voices very low. Not only will this keep us safe from detection, but the spirits prefer it as well.”

I nodded and took my seat as she sat gracefully upon her own.

“Let us begin.” Olivia’s confidence soothed me, but only a little. “We must place our hands lightly on the table,” she continued. “Relax your body and empty your mind.”

I placed my fingers upon the cool wood. “What’s supposed to happen?”

“If a spirit is present, the table will move.”

“Truly?” I frowned, taking my hands from the table. “How are we supposed to learn anything from a moving table?”

“You must keep your heart and mind open, Willie. Once we know the spirit is present, we may ask it questions. The table’s movement will communicate the answers. We will start simply with yes and no questions, and depending on the spirit’s compliance, we’ll move on to more complex questions.”

“And you’ve seen this work before?”

She stared at her fingers. “My grandmother had some success with it, but I’ve only heard about it rather than actually seen it, for I was too young to attend the sessions.” She looked up again, her eyes bright. “I’ve read of mediums who coaxed the spirits not only to tilt a table but also to levitate it straight up into the air. D. D. Home was famous for this, and no one ever detected trickery behind the levitations.”

I placed my hands on the table, then lifted them again. “Do you ever wonder if this is a proper thing for a Methodist to do?”

Olivia smiled primly. “The Bible speaks to it in Samuel, chapter twenty-eight: ‘Then said Saul unto his servants, Seek me a woman that hath a familiar spirit, that I may go to her, and inquire of her. And his servants said to him, Behold, there is a woman that hath a familiar spirit at Endor.’ People have long been consulting spirits, so stop your stalling.”

I glared at her as I placed my fingers on the table once more.

“Remember—you must banish all negative thoughts,” said Olivia. “Keep your mind open. Look upon the candle flame, but try not to meditate upon anything in particular.”

We sat very still, each of us staring at the flickering light of the candle. I tried to push those niggling thoughts aside—the unmarked compositions piling up on my desk, what dress I would wear for the party at the Bells’, when I would see Eli Sevenstar again—but instead, the thoughts grew and multiplied like weeds, resisting my efforts to stamp them down.

We sat still and quiet for an eternity. I watched the wax overflow the edges of the candle and trickle slowly, so slowly, down the side into a lumpy pool at the base. My eyelids grew heavy, and my eyes burned and itched, but I could not rub them. I was blinking when the table suddenly jerked.

“Is there a spirit present?” Olivia’s voice was hopeful, almost desperate.

“I think that was me,” I said sheepishly, rubbing my thigh. “I had a spasm in my leg and might have kicked the table.”

Olivia frowned. Then she took a deep breath, and her expression smoothed into pleasantness once more. “Shall we try again?”

This time I didn’t bother trying to push the stray thoughts aside. At least they would keep me awake, and it was better than watching candle wax drip. I’d mentally scheduled all my marking sessions, considered how long it would take to sew a dress from scratch, and rehearsed several conversations with Eli Sevenstar—in which I was both cool and alluring—when a gasp from Olivia brought me back into the moment.

She shivered. “I just felt a tremendous chill.”

At that moment, the tapping started.

Olivia’s head jerked toward the window. “What’s that sound?”

“You heard it?” My scalp prickled. “I can’t find a source for the noise. Do you suppose it’s pipes knocking somewhere in the building?”

“It seems to come from outside the window, almost like a branch tapping against the glass,” Olivia said, her brow crinkling.

“But there are no trees that close to the building.”

Her eyes brightened. “When do you hear the tapping, Willie?”

“Never during the day. It’s always very late—it usually wakes me in the middle of the night. When I walk to the window, the tapping stops.” I glanced at Olivia and saw her face was gravely serious. “But when I try to sleep, it starts again.”

“Do you know what this means? Ella could have been attempting to communicate with you for some time now.”

I gulped, feeling my scalp prickle as I glanced at the window.

Olivia gripped my hand tightly. “Can we try one more time? Open your mind to whatever is making the tapping sound. If it is a spirit, we may be able to converse with it.”

We placed our hands on the table once more. The tapping continued for a moment, then stopped. The tingling in my scalp traveled down the back of my neck and along the length of both arms. When my fingers began to tingle, I looked up to find Olivia’s eyebrows arched. Eyes still closed, she faced the window and whispered.

“Is there a spirit present?”

My fingers tingled so much I was certain the table
wanted
to move. There was an energy flowing around it, or through it. But it remained still.

We waited a long time, arms cramping as we held our fingers to the table. When we finally opened our eyes to look at each other, the tingling stopped. My arms felt heavy and cold. Somehow I knew nothing more would happen that night.

“It’s all right,” said Olivia, as though reading my thoughts. “Sometimes it takes a few sessions for anything to happen.”

“I felt something—I’m sure of it,” I said.

“Let’s give it a few days and see how we feel.” Olivia smiled. “I, for one, consider this a positive development.”

I absently returned her smile, but my eyes flashed to the bed. Eli’s note still lay under the mattress. My heavy limbs turned twitchy, and wild thoughts tumbled through my brain. I turned back to Olivia, searching her face. Did I dare show her? Must I keep
every
secret?

Her eyes narrowed. “What is it, Willie?”

“This tapping … I’ve checked that window many times to find the source. A few weeks ago, I searched the chiffonier, thinking something might be living in there.”

Olivia’s mouth dropped open, and she made to rise from the table.

“No, don’t get up. There’s nothing in there. I can’t find a thing to explain the tapping. But I did find something else.” I rose from the chair to retrieve the note from under my mattress. When I turned, Olivia’s eyes had widened with curiosity. I took my seat again and passed the note across the table.

She stared at the paper a moment before unfolding it. Her brow creased as she read.

“How very interesting,” she said softly.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“What
should
I say?”

“Olivia, it’s a
love poem
from Eli Sevenstar to Ella!”

She pursed her lips. “I assumed the initials stood for Mr. Sevenstar. That’s no surprise. He did court Ella for a while, you know. But he did not write this poem.”

I stared at her. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head, her eyes bright with amusement. “Sevenstar didn’t write this. He may have copied it out, but a lady poet named Emily Dickinson wrote it.”

“What? I’ve never heard of such a person!”

“And
you’re
the English teacher?”

My cheeks prickled with heat. “Shakespeare has always been my specialty,” I said quickly. “Papa didn’t think highly of female poets.”

“How unfortunate,” she murmured. “Oh, don’t look so fierce, Willie! I was only teasing.” She laughed softly. “Dickinson is not well known. My grandmother happened upon the book during her travels and shared it with me a few years ago. Very unusual style, don’t you think?”

“I can’t believe a
lady
wrote it. It’s so … 
suggestive.
”

Olivia was quiet for a moment. “Why did you show this to me?”

I blushed again. I could
never
tell Olivia of my feelings for Eli Sevenstar—not if I wanted to keep my position and her friendship. I took a breath and tried to affect a lighter tone. “Fannie once said Eli was in love with Ella. I assumed it was a fleeting thing, but this poem—even if he did not write it—still conveys a great deal of passion, don’t you think?”

“It’s easy to get caught up in the romances of our students,” Olivia said, her tone soothing. “I well remember Eli courting Ella. They were a handsome pair, and he would have been an excellent match for a poor country girl like her. But Fannie did not like Ella receiving so much attention.”

“So Fannie teased Ella about her penniless full-blood beau, but then got angry when Ella attracted the attention of wealthier boys?”

Olivia sighed. “In the end it didn’t really matter, for Ella always went back to Cale. They simply could not quit loving each other. It was like something out of
Wuthering Heights.
” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Well, I
do
know that book. Are you saying he was her Heathcliff?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“But Heathcliff was such an angry, violent sort of person.” I shivered. “Was Cale like that?”

“I don’t really know. The last time I saw him was during a gathering here at the school for planning graduation. He did seem quite stiff with anger that night, and poor Ella was quiet and pale.” Olivia’s mouth tightened. “A few days later, she was dead and Cale was gone.” Her eyes met mine. “I know what you’re thinking, and I simply can’t believe Cale would hurt her.”

What about Eli?
I knew from Shakespeare that passion had two sides, that a shift in circumstances could turn fervent love into violent hatred. Othello was besotted with Desdemona, but Iago’s manipulations drove him to such heights of jealousy that he murdered her. It was easy enough to draw a parallel to Cale. Having loved Ella since childhood, he must have agonized over the attention she received from other boys. Eli, on the other hand, hadn’t known her as long, so his affection wouldn’t have been deeply felt. He
couldn’t
have suffered the same depth of betrayal as Othello or Cale.

And yet Eli’s note spoke so eloquently, so
passionately
, even if it did borrow words from another.…

“It’s all so puzzling,” I said.

She yawned delicately. “I’m not sure what to say about that note, Willie. I suppose you could ask Mr. Sevenstar about it at the Bell Christmas party.”

“I could never do such a thing! I just wondered … was the tapping noise pushing me to find it?”

Olivia looked thoughtful. “Perhaps.” Then she frowned. “But hasn’t the tapping continued
since
you found it? One would think if the intention was for you to uncover the note, the tapping would stop once you did so.”

“I suppose you’re right. I can’t think straight anymore,” I said, yawning in unison with her.

“Let’s go to bed. We’ll try this again soon.”

Olivia seemed quite composed as she bid me good night, but my racing mind wouldn’t let me sleep. It wasn’t the thought of ghosts that preoccupied me. Rather, it was that damnable note to Ella. On the one hand, I was relieved Eli hadn’t written it. And yet, wasn’t it just as painful to think of him reading a poem and being reminded of her? Jealousy stabbed at my heart as I imagined Eli copying out the suggestive lines—words that surely had made Ella blush as she read them.

I was jealous of a dead girl. Was it possible to sink any lower?