Whispers Beyond the Veil (5 page)

I felt my shoulders pull down from around my ears as she eased the brush rhythmically through my hair until it shone in the beam of light glinting through the turret window. Deftly twisting and patting, she pinned up the heavy mass of it before adding an ornamented comb as a finishing touch.

“You've worked magic, Millie,” I said as she regarded her creation. “Nothing will convince me you haven't been doing this for years.” A slow blush spread over her fair cheeks as we looked at each other in the mirror.

“I've got sisters, miss, I mean Ruby. I always love helping them to do their hair for dances and such.”

“I always wanted a sister,” I said. “You'll have to thank yours for letting me borrow you for the evening.”

“They'd be happy to share, I'm sure.” Millie's hand froze in midair as a bell jangled on the wall. I hadn't noticed the contraption of buttons and a bell on the wall near the bed when I lay down earlier. “We'd best be done. The bell means five minutes until dinner.”

“I shouldn't wish to be late. Especially not on my first night here.”

“No, you do not. Mrs. Doyle would have come up herself to see what ailed you if you had missed her dinner. She's all het up since she heard you'd come home.”

“Mrs. Doyle?”

“She's the cook and housekeeper for the hotel. Even Miss Belden's a little scared of her.”

“She sounds like a force to be reckoned with.”

“Oh, she is. Nothing gets past Mrs. Doyle.”

“Then I guess that is all the primping we have time for tonight. I don't know how I would have managed without you, Millie. Thank you so much.” I pushed back the tiny stool and stood to leave.

“You won't thank me if I let you head to the dining room without a pair of gloves. There have to be some around here somewhere.” I swallowed hard. I was going to have to keep on my toes if there was any way I would fit in here at the Belden.

I tugged open a drawer of the vanity and found a pair of long black gloves. Pulling them on I rushed for the door. As I hurried down the stairs I gave myself a stern talking-to. After all, the terrors of the dining room could not be worse than those I had left behind.

B
en stood silently at the base of the stairs as though he had been awaiting me. He escorted me to the dining room and wordlessly opened the paneled double doors. I looked around, noticing the round tables scattered about the long room. Upon surveying the other diners I congratulated myself on selecting one of the more elaborate gowns from my mother's wardrobe.

Honoria had been right about the fit. It might have been made just for me. The satin fabric smelled a bit musty but the rich red color set off my dark hair and eyes, if I did say so myself. One by one, conversations at the occupied tables ceased as the occupants noticed me standing at the threshold. Honoria rose from her seat and met me at the door.

“Ruby, you are the vision of your mother. I should have known you'd pick her favorite dress.” She smoothed her hands across my shoulders, then drew me into the room. “Friends,” she said to the assembled group, “I'd like to introduce my niece, Miss Ruby Proulx.” Greetings came from all around the room and I nodded to each person in turn. “This is my dear friend, George Cheswick. You may remember him from this afternoon.” Honoria said.
The gentleman from the séance who had opened the drapes crossed the dining room and offered me his hand.

“Such a delight to meet you.” George managed a large smile despite his mouth being weighed down by a staggering mustache.

“Likewise,” I replied.

“George encourages me concerning my psychic pursuits, even going so far as to join the Divination Circle. He has become quite adept at the practice of automatic writing,” Honoria said. George blushed a deep red where the swirling points of his mustache touched his round cheeks.

“And seated next to the window are Everett and Cecelia MacPherson. He's the resident radiesthesist and she's our astrologer.” Honoria smiled at an older man whose most noticeable feature was his skeletal slimness and an Adam's apple larger than his nose. Seated next to him was a pale woman dressed all in black and holding a small fat dog in her lap. Cecelia flashed me a welcoming smile. Her dog gave an excited yip, then sprawled, panting, across her lap.

“I'm naught but a dowser, young lady,” Everett said, his voice rolling with a heavy Scots accent. There was a cook in the medicine show from Nova Scotia with the same sort of voice. I felt a momentary tug of homesickness. “But if you need something found, I'm the man for the job. My wife, however, has much more impressive skills to demonstrate. Show her, my dear.” Everett patted his wife's shoulder with a bony hand.

“When were you born, my dear?”

“February fifteenth.” I wondered if she always started conversations that way.

“An Aquarius. You are experiencing important transits.”

“I am?” I had no idea what she was describing. My unease
before arriving in the dining room had centered on my appearance and how to comport myself. I had not imagined I'd be conversationally disadvantaged as well.

“Yes, you are. For an Aquarius today I would predict a slight head injury, an attempted robbery, and a rescue by a handsome policeman.” Cecelia gave me another sparkling smile.

“You can tell that from just hearing my birthday?” I hoped my voice did not betray my skepticism.

“Not from your birthday alone. For all that I'd need to look at a complete natal chart.”

“Do stop teasing the girl,” Honoria said. “Everett and Cecelia ran into Officer Yancey as he was leaving the hotel this afternoon. He told them you had a run-in with a pickpocket. Something you might have mentioned to me, I would add.” Honoria shook her head at me, then led me to the last occupied table. “This young man, Ned Larkin, is our numerologist, and seated next to him is Amanda Howell, a gifted psychometrist.” Ned hopped to his feet and offered a slight bow. He clasped my hand between his two damp palms and pumped it up and down with enthusiasm.

“Do let me know what I can do to make you feel welcome here at the Belden,” he said.

“You already have,” I said, hoping he didn't see me wincing as my shoulder made a popping noise.

“Please join us,” Ned said, pulling out a chair right next to his.

“Yes, do,” added Amanda from across the table. She let her gaze wander up and down the length of my gown as if trying to memorize the details in order to forbid her dressmaker from creating something remotely similar. I looked to my aunt, hoping she would require my presence at her own table but she just waved
me into the offered seat and turned her attention to a woman carrying a steaming tray of food. “Honoria did not tell us your discipline. Is it by any chance the ability to time travel?” Amanda looked pointedly at my dress once more and I felt determined not to let the pleasure of wearing it dim. I called upon my years of showmanship and gave her the brightest smile I could muster as Ned pushed my chair up to the table.

“If only such a thing were possible. Have you read
The Time Machine
?” For all his faults Father believed in education. Since formal schooling did not exist on the road he made an effort to provide me with a constant supply of books in a wide range of topics. While I wished I could boast of a love of poetry and classics, the truth was my taste ran decidedly to the far more sensational works of H. G. Wells and Arthur Conan Doyle.

“As serious students of the higher realms Ned and I have no time or inclination for such frivolities.” I looked over at Ned, who shifted in his chair and pleated his napkin with long fingers. He met my eyes and gave the slightest of shrugs, which I took as an apology.

“I am sure my aunt is glad to have such devoted members of her ensemble. What exactly does each of you do? I am unfamiliar with the terms
numerologist
and
psychometrist
.” I directed my question to Ned, who cut Amanda off as she began to reply.

“I study the relationships between numbers and events, personalities, and life paths. It is an ancient science with predictive capabilities. Perhaps tomorrow I could conduct a reading for you?” Before I could answer I felt a sharp blow to my shin. Assuming the kick was intended for Ned, I ignored it and answered as I wished.

“How generous. Have you time right after breakfast?” I asked.

“He does not. Ned helps me in the mornings with my token reading practice,” Amanda said. “Isn't that right?” She turned to Ned.

“I cannot see why you insist on me putting you through practice readings every day. You're more than prepared for the guests to arrive.” From Amanda's behavior and the scorching scowl she gave me it was clear to me why she insisted on Ned's attentions. I wondered if he was being deliberately dimwitted.

“I shouldn't like to disturb a psychometry routine, whatever it may be,” I said. After all, Amanda may not have seemed interested in befriending me but there was no reason to antagonize her unnecessarily. The young woman with the heavy tray arrived at our table and sat a plate in front of each of us. As I looked at the offering of tender greens, a heaping mound of mashed potatoes, and a portion of fish in a creamy sauce I realized I was famished.

“Psychometry is the challenging art of reading the energy of objects by touching them,” she said.

“What sort of objects?” I asked.

“Personal possessions held close to the body like jewelry or even spectacles conduct information the most readily. But under the right circumstances I could read just about anything.”

“Why do people ask for this service?” I asked.

“Because the people who appear in our lives aren't always exactly who or what they claim to be. Clients rely on me to help them to uncover harmful secrets. I'd be happy to do a reading for you if you'd like.” Amanda gave me the first genuine smile I had seen from her, then snapped her large white teeth down on a forkful of beet greens. “That is, unless you have something to hide.”

•   •   •

S
he's the spitting image of her mother,” Orazelia said.

“People always say things like that about long-lost relatives,” Lucinda said.

“She looks more like Delphinia than you do me,” Orazelia said.

“That's because I favor Father's side.” A noticeable hush descended on the room as all three paused their clanking and scraping of cutlery on china. Yancey rushed to fill the silence and distract his mother from painful memories and his sister from her gaffe.

“She made an impression everywhere today. The scene at the train station caused quite a stir.”

“Is it true that she bashed a pickpocket over the head with her parasol?” Lucinda completely abandoned any pretense of interest in her meal and leaned so far forward the lace on her bodice loomed perilously close to her soup plate.

“Lucinda, I'm sure that isn't true in the least. People do so love to exaggerate.” Orazelia's tone was stern but she laid her own fork down and gave her son her full attention.

“I'm afraid the witnesses all concurred with what Lucy has heard.” Yancey paused to enjoy a sip of soup. No sense wasting a perfectly good meal just because his family had more appetite for gossip than for food.

“See, Mother. I told you.” Lucinda stretched even farther forward, and this time managed to wet her ruffles with the tomato bisque. She was so engrossed she didn't seem to notice. “Did you catch the thief?”

“No, but I've given word to the men to be on the lookout for someone skulking about with a parasol-shaped dent in the side of his head. We should have him before long, I expect.”

“Such high spirits. So unorthodox. It will do Honoria a world of good to have her visit. I hope she intends to stay for a while,” Orazelia said.

“I wonder what people will say about her arriving so unexpectedly. There's sure to be a great deal of talk.” Lucinda waved her hands about wildly. Even in the low light of the candles Yancey could see the high color on her cheeks.

“There's always talk surrounding the Belden women. At least this time Honoria will enjoy the subject,” Orazelia said.

“I wonder if she's here to help Honoria with the business,” Lucy said. “Perhaps she received a message from the beyond, letting her know her aunt needed her.”

“I certainly hope she shows more sense than to claim a thing like that. The last thing we need is someone else bringing that séance nonsense in your lives again.” Yancey felt his hand clench around his spoon. He fixed his eyes on his mother. “You've barely recovered from the last go-round with it.” Something in his sister's manner gave him pause. He wasn't at all happy with the way she was chewing on her lower lip. As a child that always had meant she was hiding something. “You do remember you promised not to hire any of the practitioners at the hotel, don't you?”

“I have no plans to do so, despite my feelings on the subject.” Orazelia sniffed and reached for a dinner roll.

“It's for your own good, Mother. If you'd kept on the way you were going you would have shelled out every penny you had and still not heard an answer which satisfied you.”

Yancey loathed this particular conversation. When Honoria
announced her plans to renovate the Belden and create a haven for gullible souls with money to burn he worried Orazelia would not be able not resist the temptation to participate in all her friend had to offer. The dire state of his mother's finances was not his only worry on the subject. Orazelia's nerves had been shattered by the emotional highs and lows each new encounter with a self-proclaimed medium had wrought. If he'd had his way every last one of those charlatans would be rotting in a cell until they were nothing but spirits themselves.

“Well, whatever Miss Proulx's reasons are for appearing out of the blue, I'm delighted that she's here. I've always felt sorry for Honoria, rattling around in that hotel with nobody but paying guests and the Dragon.”

“You know I dislike it when you call Mrs. Doyle names,” Orazelia said. “She may be fiercely protective of Honoria but that doesn't make her a dragon.”

“We all know how important allies are in time of trouble, Lucy,” Yancey said. “If I had to guess, I'd say Miss Proulx is exactly what Honoria needs to put the past behind her.”

“What makes you the authority on this particular young lady?” Lucinda asked.

“I'm no authority. I only walked her from the police station to the Hotel Belden. It was my duty to see that she was entertained on our way.”

“I can't see that it was your duty to take her there at all. If she had been a grubby fifteen-year-old boy you would have left him to make his own way,” Lucy said.

“But she was not grubby, nor was she a boy. Your brother has done his best to make her feel welcomed. Tomorrow, Lucinda, we must do the same.”

“What a good idea. Honoria hustled her out of there so quickly I didn't even have a chance to say hello.”

“We shall pay a call tomorrow afternoon. Even if she is not in we will leave our cards and an invitation to something or other. We could arrange a dinner party.” Orazelia clasped her hands together excitedly and winked at Yancey in a way that left the palms of his hands clammy. If there was one thing he didn't like about his mother it was her insistent matchmaking. But at least she appeared to have forgotten to be angry at him.