Whispers Beyond the Veil (10 page)

With that I felt certain it was time to bring the session to a conclusion. I sighed deeply and with a shuddering exhalation sagged back against my chair, releasing their hands. I hoped they understood the message that we were through. I fluttered my eyelids opened and through the flickering candlelight I could see the two of them looking at me.

“Ladies, I do hope you felt your time was well spent.” I looked hopefully from one to the other. “I'm sorry if Gladys was not able to answer your questions.”

“No one has been able to answer that particular question for nearly twenty years.” Orazelia looked tired and older than she had when she entered the room less than an hour before. “It isn't your fault Gladys's murder is still a mystery.”

“Most people would say it isn't a mystery at all.” Lucinda pushed her chair back and slipped one slim hand into a fine lace glove. “Perhaps it would be best to try to contact Father the next time instead.”

“Your father was many things, Lucy, but a truthful man he was not. Besides, after all that has happened he is the last person in this world or the next with whom I would wish to speak.” With that, Orazelia pushed her chair back and gathered up her own pair of gloves. “Ruby, I'll be going now to speak with Honoria.” She swished out of the room and left me alone with her daughter and an uneasy feeling as to what she would report to my aunt.

Lucinda remained seated across from me and plucked idly at her silk bag. “I must apologize for my mother. No matter how I've tried to discourage her, she has been trying to establish contact with Gladys for years. Truth to tell, I can't remember a time when she wasn't obsessed with contacting her.”

“Forgive my curiosity, but why should she care so much about
what happened to Gladys? I wasn't able to tell from the reading—was she a family member?” I wondered if I was breaching some sort of professional rule of ethics but my curiosity had gotten the better of me.

“You don't know who she was?” Lucinda scrunched her eyebrows together and stared at me.

“I do not,” I said in complete earnestness. “How could I? I've only just arrived yesterday and I don't believe I'd ever been in contact with anyone who knew you or your family before then.”

“I apologize.” Lucinda's face smoothed. “I sometimes forget not everyone I meet knows everything about my family and our history.”

“I'd think in a town with as many tourists as this one has, you would be meeting new people all the time.”

“There are plenty of tourists, but the people of our acquaintance are few and far between. After the scandal, Mother has tended to keep to herself, making an exception for a few dear friends like Honoria.”

“I did not mean to pry or to solicit a confidence. I don't wish to invade your privacy.”

“There is no harm in telling you. Besides, it would be nice to tell someone myself for a change instead of having people point and whisper as I go past.” Lucinda lifted her chin and looked me in the eye. “Gladys is the young woman my father is supposed to have been conducting an illicit affair with. Even more unfortunately, all evidence pointed to the notion that he was the one who strangled her.”

I
found Honoria in the ladies' writing room at the back of the hotel, facing the sea. Several strands of dark hair escaped from the pile on top of her head, and even with her back to me I could read fatigue in her posture. I crossed the room, hoping her report from Orazelia was favorable.

“Am I interrupting?” I asked as she turned to the sound of my footfalls.

“No. As soon as Orazelia left I began writing up an advertisement. Now that you will be our medium, I plan to include your name in the notices I place in the papers.” Honoria motioned to the seat near her. I felt my knees weaken and was grateful for an invitation to sit.

“You wish to mention my real name in the advertisements?” I was accustomed to seeing myself advertised on handbills and signs of all sorts but never using my real name. Father and I had created a long list of stage names, some of which I had grown quite fond of but never had we used our own. Doing so felt as much like breaking a taboo as would wearing trousers or lopping off my hair.

“I understand your hesitation but we are building a reputation of integrity here at the Belden. Using a name not your own only serves to create the impression you have something to hide.”

“I wouldn't want to give anyone reason to suppose I was behaving fraudulently,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even.

“We must be perceived to be blameless and forthcoming in every way if this venture is to succeed. Our reputation will be our greatest asset, my dear.” Honoria tapped the end of her pen against the ink bottle. “I should be surprised if you have reason to fear any accusations of fraud after the report I received from Orazelia. She was positively enraptured by your abilities.”

“I'm delighted to hear she felt her session a success.” I paused, wondering if I should ask about Gladys. “I was unsure if the spirit that contacted us was one who would have brought distress rather than comfort.”

“You've been talking to Lucy,” Honoria said. I nodded. “Orazelia is distressed at not knowing for sure whether or not her husband was involved in Gladys Willard's murder.”

“I understood from Lucinda that for years there has been a shadow looming over the family reputation.”

“A shadow.” Honoria leaned back in her chair and turned her body fully to face me. “It's more of a tornado that won't stop whipping through their lives. If you can help provide Orazelia with answers, I would be very grateful.”

“I should have thought Orazelia would want to contact her husband rather than his alleged victim,” I said. “Wouldn't that be the more typical path to take for such information?”

“It would if Orazelia could bring herself to speak to the man.” Honoria clucked her tongue. “After all, he humiliated her and left her and her children the objects of ridicule and scorn.”

“Under those circumstances, I can understand her disinclination to involve herself with him but if she truly seeks the information, I should have thought she would welcome answers from any source, no matter how undesirable.”

“If you are going to continue to conduct readings for Orazelia, as she has asked that you should, I suppose it would be best to acquaint you with what is known of her sad history. You might find her behaviors easier to understand if you have a framework for them.”

“I shouldn't like you to think I was asking you to betray a confidence.”

Honoria snorted, most indelicately. “The only thing that could be considered still in confidence about any of this degrading matter is whether or not Orazelia's husband really did strangle the girl. Every other bit of the sordid tale is such commonly spread gossip that it has advanced into the arena of local lore. There is no reason to keep it from you and compelling reasons to share it.” Honoria paused and drew in a deep breath.

“The only good thing that came of the whole incident was that it was sufficiently shocking to make your mother's elopement third-rate news. No one paid any mind to it at all once Gladys was found strangled.”

“So this all happened about the same time my parents left Old Orchard?”

“The very same time. In fact, no sooner had Mrs. Doyle found the note from Delphinia explaining that she had gone than gossips arrived with the news of the murder.”

“That must have been a tumultuous morning.”

“It was indeed. I felt quite ashamed of myself that Gladys's murder seemed less important to me than the departure of my beloved sister.”

“Did you have reason for Gladys's death to impact you personally?”

“No, not at all. She was a singer in one of the ballrooms in town. Not at all the sort of person we would have associated with.”

“But Orazelia's husband was the sort to associate with girls in dance halls?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, yes. He had made quite a fool of himself over Gladys and took no trouble to hide his devotion to her. It was mortifying for poor Orazelia.”

“Did Gladys return his affection?”

“She loved his generosity.”

“He gave her gifts?”

“He showered her with so many presents he couldn't afford them.”

“But if he loved her so much, why was he connected to the crime?”

“Because he had gone so far as to embezzle money from his employers in order to start a new life with Gladys away from the dance halls.”

“How did anyone know any of this?”

“Gladys was not a discreet girl and the room in which she entertained Mr. Yancey was one she shared with another girl.”

“That still doesn't explain why he would be accused of the crime.”

“Gladys had no intention of settling down to be a dutiful wife to a stodgy older man. At least the girl had some sense about that.” Honoria shook her head. “When he begged her to run off with him she refused. He became angry and began to shout about how much he had sacrificed to give her a life any woman in her position could only dream of.”

“And someone overheard him?” I asked.

“Many people overheard him. Especially when Gladys laughed in his face and threatened to tell his employer what he had done if he bothered her again.”

“How long before the murder did this take place?”

“She was discovered dead the morning after the argument.”

“Did Mr. Yancey not have an alibi for the time of her death?”

“He did not. He claimed he had tried to drown his sorrows in a bottle and had succeeded in passing out on the beach sometime in the wee hours.”

“No one could say otherwise?”

“He was found on the beach still in a state of inebriation, sand clinging to his trousers. No one could say how long he had been there.”

“Was he convicted of the crime?”

“He died in jail awaiting trial. The court of public opinion found him guilty and has passed the sentence of murderer's children on both Warren and Lucinda. It has been very cruel.”

“Lucinda seems not to have let it break her,” I said.

“Lucinda is a very sensible girl in her own way.” Honoria pushed back her chair and stood. “I hope the two of you will be great friends. She's come to an age where I'm afraid she will need one.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she has always done just as she pleased, and between her unorthodox notions of the role of women and her family's unfortunate reputation she will likely be forced to compromise her principles.” Honoria paused in front of the fireplace and peered into the gilded mirror hung on the wall above it. “Or learn to live on her own as I have done.”

I
awoke to the sound of waves lapping against the shore and a sense of unease. All night long I had tossed and turned, worrying about my first official day as the Belden's medium. According to the small clock on the bed stand I had overslept. As I hurried into a sprigged muslin gown I decided to fasten my mother's ruby necklace around my neck for luck.

I skipped breakfast and instead collected my deck of tarot cards and carried them with me to the séance room. With the Velmont sisters' habit of tardiness I was certain I would have time for a reading for myself before the pair of them arrived. Not that I necessarily believed the cards held any power to predict things but I did find using them helped me to clarify my own thoughts. And I was desperately in need of peacefulness. I hadn't the time to sit and shuffle the cards, let alone conduct a reading, when Elva's and Dovie's voices penetrated the portiere and the two ladies themselves appeared in the room.

“We're here,” announced Elva.

“Right on time,” said Dovie.

“It's a miracle,” said Elva.

“I think there is something quite transformative about this hotel,” said Dovie.

“That's what Mr. MacPherson was just telling us at breakfast. Something to do with energetic crisscrossing that all pulls together in this very spot,” Elva said.

“I'm delighted to see you both no matter what the time. But you've caught me a bit unprepared,” I said. “If you will bear with me I'll just put away the cards and darken the room.”

“Ohhh,” said Dovie. “Intriguing. Do you read cards as well as conduct séances?”

“I do,” I said. Then the voice spoke to me.

“Use the cards.”

Every performer needs a hook, something to set their show apart from the others, to give the audience a little something unexpected. Tarot has always been a comfort to me in times of trouble. Why not rely on them now?

“Sometimes I even use the cards as a way for the spirits to communicate,” I said.

“We've never had a tarot reading or heard of them being used in a sitting, have we, sister?” said Dovie.

“How does it work?” asked Elva. She was the greater skeptic between the two of them. It was Elva I would need to convince if I were to gain their confidence and help the hotel. A practical approach would be the way to win her over.

“Spirits communicate in many ways. Sounds, actual words, images. The pictures on the cards allow the spirits to show images to the sitters as well as the medium. It can be very effective and efficient.” I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt.

“Will it work for our sitting?” said Dovie. “It looks like fun.”

“We certainly can try,” I said. “I'll leave the curtains open in
order for you to better see the cards, all right?” The ladies' thick spectacles suggested they needed any help available to see things in front of them at all. They nodded and we all sat around the small round table in the center of the room. I slid the stack of cards across the midnight blue damask tablecloth to Elva.

“Would you please shuffle the cards and then separate the deck into three stacks?” I asked.

“I am not accustomed to playing cards, Miss Proulx.” Elva looked scandalized, as though I were accusing her of being a scarlet woman.

“I meant no offense. I asked you not because I assumed expertise in card handling but because it is important that the sitter has contact with the cards, that they are the ones to determine the cards selected.”

“I see. In that case, I will do my best.” Elva lifted the stack with her knobby fingers and dropped them easily from one hand to the other. Despite her claim of inexperience, she worked the cards as well as anyone I had ever seen. I wondered which other vices she might not want to admit to. “You're a natural, Miss Velmont,” I said as she finished and split the deck neatly. “Now, I'd like you both to think of the person you wish to contact. Have you agreed ahead of time who this would be?”

“We have,” the sisters said in unison.

“You needn't say who it is but I can tell you I already sense a strong male energy even before I turn over the cards.” It would have been impossible to miss the reverence with which the sisters had mentioned their dearly departed father again and again since their arrival the day before.

“Remarkable,” Dovie said, turning a wide-eyed glance at Elva.

“Indeed,” Elva said with a great deal more reservation in her tone.

“Please concentrate on the image of this loved one as I turn over the first card. This card will signify the spirit that visits.” I held my hand above the card to my right and closed my eyes. “Spirits, please grace us with your presence and deliver to us your messages of love.” I opened my eyes and slowly turned over the card.

“The Emperor,” I said, relieved that the voice had once again steered me along the correct path. Who better than the Emperor to stand in for a beloved father?

“That's Father, to be sure,” Dovie said.

“This is a man of power and of influence. He is a respected leader and ruler of his people.”

“Does he have anything to say to us?” Elva asked. I sensed that despite her skepticism, she had a strong desire to connect with the beyond. I feel a stab of guilt at what I was doing, but once again I heard the voice.

“Trust you do right.”

“The next card will begin the message,” I said. “The Nine of Cups, a card of wishes.”

“Oh, sister.” Dovie grabbed Elva by the arm and squeezed. Elva flinched and let out a faint squeak.

“And the next one?” Elva asked, tapping the third card with a gnarled finger.

“Five of Pentacles. These two elderly people show destitution and suffering. One would be right to call them beggars.” My heart sank at saying this to the old ladies, finding myself fretting that they might be the ones headed for financial ruin. The Velmont sisters, however, both leaned over the card as if they could not believe their good fortune.

“What about the last one?” Dovie asked. Elva appeared to be holding her breath. Her lips were clenched and folded in on
themselves as if she were trying not to let her insides escape her body.

I turned the final card and looked at the image. I waited for the voice, which had become so much stronger with each passing card. Perhaps there was something to Mr. MacPherson's assertions about the hotel. The Knight of Wands sat on his horse, brandishing a stick. I started to speak but the voice interrupted me and advised me as to the proper words.

“Generally this card signifies travel but in your case the word
ride
is being said to me instead. Does this mean anything to you?”

Elva and Dovie turned to face each other. Elva sat stiffly but a single tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek. Dovie pulled a fan from her lap and flipped it open, ruffling the cards with the vigor of her motion.

“The reading seems to have distressed you both. Would you like to stop?”

“Certainly not,” Elva said. She pulled a handkerchief from somewhere in the folds of her costume and delicately blew her nose. “We are simply overcome.”

“It's the message, you see,” Dovie said. “Our father used to always say this to us when we were girls.” Suddenly, even without a direct prompting from the voice, I knew what to say.

“If wishes were horses then beggars would ride,” I said.

“Exactly. We have been searching and searching for a medium to bring us this exact message,” Elva said. Dovie patted her sister on the back of her wrinkled hand and I felt the familiar pang of the outsider. I wondered if the sisters knew how lucky they were to have each other.

“Perhaps I was able to bring the message through because my own father used to say just the same to me,” I said, feeling a little
spooked. After all that had happened between us I was not pleased to consider he might still be influencing me.

“I just knew spending the season at this hotel was the right decision. Didn't I say that, Elva?” Dovie said.

“You did, sister, you most certainly did,” Elva said. I breathed a sigh of relief and settled back into my chair. My first real séance had been an unqualified success. I was off the hook, at least for the moment.

“Ladies, I feel the spirit has left us.”

“You must be exhausted. We will leave you for now.” Dovie rose from her chair and touched my cheek.

“But we will stop at the reception desk and mark down another sitting for tomorrow.”

“I think we should make it two. After all, it has taken us so long to be sure we are hearing from Father. He must have a great deal to say to us.”

“Excellent suggestion, sister.” Elva rose and took Dovie by the arm. “We will book two sessions a day for the remainder of the summer.”

As I watched them go I wondered if it was possible to have been too successful. Unless I could garner new information about the dearly departed Mr. Velmont, I was going to need to rely exclusively on pluck and luck. Or on the voice in my head. As I sat slumped in the plush velvet chair mulling things over I couldn't decide which was more risky.