When the Walls Fell (16 page)

They were ushered into a large foyer where several servants helped them with their hats and coats. The butler then led them to a huge set of double doors.

“Your names, sir?”

“Sir Simon Cross and Miss Elizabeth West.”

Simon was completely at ease, but she felt a little like Julia Roberts out on a date with Richard Gere. She tried not to fidget and swallowed a nervous laugh. Simon held out his arm and whispered reassurances in her ear.

“Right. Courage, Camille.” She picked up her train and took his arm when she realized that she’d completely forgotten to ask him about his sudden title. “Sir Simon?”

He shrugged. “Just a minor baronetcy.”

Amazing. She wasn’t even sure what a baronetcy was, but she was pretty sure there was nothing minor about it. How could he be so nonchalant about it all? “And I suppose you have a castle too.”

“No.”

“Good.”

“There is a family estate, but—”

The butler opened one of the doors and stood back. “Sir Simon Cross and Miss Elizabeth West.”

They entered the large, lavish parlor. The entire room was paneled in a rich, deep mahogany and candled chandeliers gave off a warm yellow glow. A string quartet played something classical from their spot on the far side of the room. Victor Graham, looking smart and very at home in his tuxedo, excused himself from a small group of his other guests and greeted them. Elizabeth introduced Simon, stumbling over his title.

About a dozen guests dressed to the nines, tens and elevens, enjoyed cocktails and chatted. All of them greeted her with what seemed to be genuine smiles and compliments. Simon was quickly pulled away to explain what it was like to be a baronet. She’d love to hear that herself. She was herded into a circle of ladies talking about the upcoming opera. Simon had tried to introduce her to opera. She’d fallen asleep in their box. She was more
Pal Joey
than
Puccini
.

She smiled, nodded and small talked with the ladies at the party. But no matter how hard she tried, she still felt like a stranger in a very strange land until she heard a friendly voice.

“Peanut?”

Chapter Fifteen

“T
eddy!” Elizabeth blurted out a bit too loudly. She was so relieved to see a familiar face; she’d let a little too much Texas out. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I didn’t realize you were close to the Grahams.”

Teddy tucked his little brown sack of peanuts into his jacket pocket and brushed a straggler off his lapel. “I’m not.”

“But you were at the other party and this looks pretty exclusive.”

“Oh, it is!” he said with a bright smile. “I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t rich though.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh. Teddy’s unfiltered honesty was so refreshing. “Graham hitting you up for an investment?”

Teddy nodded. “But you’re here because you’re wonderful.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He ducked his head. “I would.”

“Would what?” Simon said appearing at their side.

Like a rabbit seeing a hunter, Teddy fidgeted in place for a second and then tried to make a quick escape. Elizabeth grabbed his arm. “Teddy, I’d like you to meet, Simon—Sir Simon Cross. Simon, this is Teddy Fiske.”

Simon stuck out his hand. “Fiske.”

Without looking up, Teddy’s head bobbed and shook Simon’s hand with one quick pump. “Hi.”

“Teddy’s the one I was telling you about. He has a photographic memory.”

“Eidetic,” Teddy said. “From the Greek
eidos
, something seen. It’s not technically photographic.”

She’d warned Simon about Teddy’s eccentricity, but Teddy was something that had to experience firsthand to be fully understood. She prayed Simon did.

“I stand corrected,” Simon said politely.

Teddy frowned. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I’m rude and I don’t mean to be. You look beautiful.”

Elizabeth laughed. “That’s all right, Teddy. Some of my favorite people do that,” she said as she glanced up at Simon. “And thank you.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Victor Graham said as he joined them by the fireplace. “You gentlemen don’t mind if I steal my tomato girl?”

Both men nodded, but clearly neither was happy with the prospect of being left with the other. As she was pulled away, Elizabeth gave Simon a pleading look with emphasis on Teddy, who looked like a child left on the school steps for his first day of kindergarten.

Simon arched an eyebrow, but turned back to Fiske. “So, I understand you worked with Tesla.”

***

The dinner itself was served in a large formal dining room. There was a big, not quite Citizen Kane big, fireplace where the flames from the fire cast eerie shadows on the opposite wall. An ornate crystal chandelier with dozens of cream-colored candles hovered over the beautifully laid table. A tapestry of a traditional English hunt covered the wall behind the head of the table and a large mirror the opposite. Simon was seated across the table from her, which made conversation nearly impossible. Thank heaven Teddy was sitting next to her.

The table setting was ridiculously complex. Elizabeth could feel the sweat forming in her palms. The most formal dinner she’d attended was at Mexican Pete’s daughter’s
quinceanera
. And that was ten years ago and in a VWF hall. Of course, Simon had taken her to some very nice restaurants, but it was always just the two of them. If she used her fish fork to eat her salad, only Simon knew. She glanced down at the place setting in front of her. Four forks, three spoons, two knives and a disaster waiting happen.

She was careful to watch the other guests before she made any moves. In the end, it wasn’t difficult to follow along, but pacing herself was. Eight courses was five or six too many.

And then there was the booze—cocktails beforehand, sherry with the first courses, then several glasses of wine or champagne and finally port or Madeira. Luckily, she’d barely sipped each glass. For all the repressed trappings of Victorian society, they partied hardy.

Somewhere between the soup and the fish, Victor Graham had offered a toast to his rescuer. The group drank to her health and laughed as Graham recounted their adventure. Unfortunately, Elizabeth’s x-gene of invisibility still hadn’t manifested itself and so all she could do was smile and suffer gracefully.

Graham was much as he had been at the Cliff House—amiable, talkative and entertaining. Mary Graham, on the other hand, sat quietly at the other end of the table doing more rearranging of her food than eating it. Even in the yellow glow of the candles and lamplight, she looked pale. She smiled politely and made small talk with the couple seated at her end of the table, but she was a far cry from the convivial host her husband was.

Over three hours later, when the last course had been cleared, the men retired to a smoking room for cigars and brandy and the ladies to the salon for a demitasse or a cordial. After all that food, all Elizabeth wanted was some Alka-Seltzer and a six or seven hour nap.

Mary Graham remained pinched in the face and waved off any offers of drink. She joined in the conversations and was actually quite bright. Elizabeth expected the talk to be all frippery and fashion, but the ladies surprised her. They talked about politics, philosophy and art and even listened in earnest to Elizabeth when she had something to offer. It was nearly midnight when Victor Graham opened the doors to the ladies’ salon and announced that the night’s entertainment was about to begin. The room was instantly abuzz with anticipation.

Elizabeth found Simon in the hall. “It’s a marathon, isn’t it?”

“And too much for some,” he said gesturing to the smoking room where Teddy was fast asleep in an overstuffed leather chair. “We lost him about an hour ago.”

He looked adorable as he hugged a pillow to his chest. “Poor Teddy.”

“We’ll make sure he gets home after the…entertainment. God help us.”

The party, which had shed a few members and was down to eight, was escorted into yet another salon. All the occasional chairs and tables had been pushed against the walls or removed and were replaced by a large oval table. It was draped with a heavy red velvet tablecloth and ringed with nine hardback chairs.

At the center of the table amidst a cluster of candles sat a lidless tureen of soup and a basket of bread. The overly sweet scent of incense filled the room and the wisps of smoke disappeared up into the dark of the ceiling.

“Welcome to our séance,” Graham said with a wicked smile. Mary Graham stood at his side and seemed far less enthused at the idea.

A figure stepped out of the shadows. “Please be seated.”

“Petrovka,” Simon whispered in Elizabeth’s ear as he held out her chair.

So this was the mysterious Madame Petrovka. Simon had described her well. She was a far cry from the gypsy fortunetellers and new age mystics she’d seen back home. Madame Petrovka was definitely different.

Madame Petrovka gestured to a small, wiry man who followed her out of the shadows. “My assistant, Mr. Stryker, will join us to make the circle complete.”

Slugworth had nothing on Mr. Stryker. As if he wasn’t scary enough, he had a long scar that ran from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. It made him look a little like a ventriloquist’s dummy. And those turned up the creepy dial to eleven. Elizabeth nudged Simon and gestured questioningly toward Stryker. Simon shrugged in response.

“Now, it is vitally important,” Mrs. Petrovka said slowly, “that everyone here be open to the idea of the Other World. The spirits will not come to us if they sense negative energy. I must ask that if you cannot give yourself completely that you leave the circle now.”

No one moved to leave. Simon even managed to keep a straight face. She knew how he felt about these things. Despite having seen proof that the paranormal was more than fiction, he was still a skeptic. Elizabeth wasn’t exactly Mulder to his Scully, but she knew that the truth lied somewhere between them.

Elizabeth had never been to a real séance before. The closest she’d come was playing Light As a Feather, Stiff As a Board with some other kids at a local motel just outside of El Paso. Chanting and lifting a sixty pound seven year old off the floor with “just their wills” and a few fingers didn’t seem as impressive now as it had then. She had the feeling this séance would probably be a little more involved than that.

“Very good.” Madame Petrovka took her seat at the head of the table with Stryker to her left and Mary Graham to her right. “You are clearing your minds now. Please close your eyes. Breathe deeply. All together, please?”

Everyone took a few deep breaths. The smoke from the incense was so thick Elizabeth could taste it. It was sweet, earthy and floral.

“You are relaxing and opening to the world around you,” Madame Petrovka said. Her voice was breathy and yet, compelling, even commanding. “We want the spirits of the Other World to know that we welcome them. We are open to them and we hope they will join us. Please open your eyes and take the hands of the persons sitting next to you.”

Simon took hold of Elizabeth’s right hand and squeezed it. Victor Graham held her left. Madame Petrovka nodded and Mr. Stryker blew out all but three candles.

“Good, you are still relaxed and open. You must not let go of each other’s hands. The circle must not be broken. We make an offering of food to the spirits to nurture them and we invite them to join us.”

This lady was good. Elizabeth hadn’t felt so good and relaxed in ages. All of the tension from the dinner had faded away and everything seemed wonderful.

“I will now try to summon any spirits that are amongst us. You must not break the circle no matter what may occur. We are all safe and open to the Other World.”