Shrouded In Thought (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 2) (10 page)

Evangeline tried to pass the entire matter off lightly. “Really, Martin, I am much obliged to you for hiring the entertainment. I was prepared for a séance, but the Punch and Judy show was an unexpected diversion.”

Martin smiled thinly as nervous laughter erupted around the table. Euphemia’s face had gone white with rage. Freddie could guess that the subject of Desmond’s behavior would be discussed at great length by the Allworthys into the wee hours of the morning.

In a tiny voice, Serafina suggested an alternate amusement. “Perhaps it is time for us to begin.”

Rousing herself from the contemplation of murder, Euphemia attempted a smile. “Yes, you’re perfectly correct, my dear. It’s growing quite late, isn’t it.” She rose. “If you’ll all just follow me into the parlor, I believe we have a table large enough to accommodate the party. Garrison?” She looked inquisitively at the butler.

“At once, madame.” He bowed and went off to retrieve the requisite furniture.

While the servants were setting up the apparatus of the séance, the guests sipped coffee and made small talk. Even Roland, normally oblivious to matters of tact and decorum, made no allusion to the strange visit that had just transpired. Instead, he engaged Freddie in a harmless discussion of pheasant hunting.

When everything was ready, Serafina took charge. She instructed Garrison to extinguish all the lights in the room, leaving only a candelabrum in the center of the table.

She motioned to the guests. “If you will all please to be seated, we may begin.”

They silently complied with her request. The only servant remaining in the room was Garrison, who stood by the parlor door, presumably in the unlikely event that a spirit required admittance through a conventional portal.

Theophilus attempted to join hands with Serafina on his left and Euphemia on his right but the medium stopped him. “No, not yet, Theophilus, I feel I must do impressions first.”

“Impressions?” Freddie asked cautiously.

Apparently knowing the variety of interpretations his satiric mind could make of that small word, Evangeline cut in. “I believe she wishes to tell us about ourselves. Isn’t that so?”

Serafina nodded. “Yes, it is for my benefit also. It helps me to know the energy that surrounds me. A séance can be full of surprises if you are not prepared.” She laughed lightly.

Euphemia beamed indulgently, for the moment forgetting the outrage of the previous hour in her pleasure at having netted the social catch of the season. “That would be most amusing for all of us, I’m sure.” She patted her husband’s hand. “Wouldn’t it, Martin?”

Martin mumbled some form of assent, obviously not convinced that the show about to begin would be any less humiliating than the one that had so recently ended.

Serafina nodded, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Freddie watched as her eyelids fluttered like tiny birds. She opened them again and swept her gaze across the table. “You...” She looked directly at Freddie.

Taken aback by her unexpected approach, the young man squeaked, “Me?”

“Mr. Simpson, calm yourself.” The medium laughed. “I mean you no harm. I have just formed an impression of you first, that is all.”

“Oh.” Freddie felt a certain amount of trepidation nonetheless.

“I see many pieces of paper around you. They are whirling around in the air. They seem to come from a big machine. A machine that looks like a furnace. And when it opens its mouth, these many pieces of paper come flying out. You understand this image?”

“Yes.” Freddie’s reply was terse. He didn’t want to give her any extra information since he was far from a believer when it came to matters of the occult.

Evangeline raised an amused eyebrow, accurately inferring the amount of surprise the young man was feeling.

Serafina continued. “These papers. I think they are newspapers. You work for a newspaper, Mr. Simpson?”

“Yes.” His response was barely a whisper.

Euphemia drew in a sharp breath. She evidently now understood the reason for Freddie’s interest in the Allworthy family.

Switching to another subject, Serafina turned toward Evangeline. “This young man thinks much of you.”

Evangeline laughed. “He’s underfoot constantly and has been since he was still in knee pants.”

Serafina smiled at Freddie’s inability to conceal a pained expression. She must have realized that she had exposed his feelings. “Do not trouble yourself, Mr. Simpson. The lady has a great regard for you as well. More than she will say.”

Freddie felt a warm glow. Though he was willing to discredit every other word Serafina spoke as pure hokum, he clung to that one statement as gospel truth. He snuck a quick glance at Evangeline to see how she had taken the disclosure. In the flickering candlelight, he noticed the right corner of her mouth lifted in a secret smile of amusement.

Serafina focused her attention more fixedly on Evangeline. “I see you with many people surrounding you. People of different ages, of different countries, all in a room together with you. How can this be? You live in this city, do you not?”

“That is true.” Evangeline was far more forthcoming than Freddie. “I am a teacher.”

“Ah, I see.” The medium nodded. “But this is a different school. People come from everywhere. It is open to all who wish to go.”

“Also true.” Evangeline appeared to be impressed. “I teach at the Mast House settlement. The immigrants come there to learn English, to learn crafts, many different things.”

“But that is not all you do,” Serafina corrected. “You are... you are... What is the English word for this?” She paused a moment. “Ah yes, you are what they call a detective.”

Freddie laughed out loud.

“No, I am not,” Evangeline retorted gently.

In an even softer voice, Serafina insisted, “You think you are not, but you are, or will be soon. That is your destiny. You are a detective.”

“I’ll call the Pinkertons for you in the morning, shall I?” Freddie’s comment was only half-derisive since he was well aware of his friend’s abilities in that line of endeavor.

“I see around you a statue of justice. With a sword in one hand and the scales in the other. But she is not as in the statues we always see.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“She has not the blindfold. She sees the truth. You are like her. You see things as they are. You are one of us.”

“One of you?” Evangeline repeated, uncomprehending.

“Like me, a sensitive. You have the same gift. But you use your thinking too much. You must learn to listen to your heart—your inner voice—more often. It will not lead you in the wrong path. You have considered this matter often.”

Freddie was amazed when he looked at his friend’s expression. He expected her to make some witty reply and laugh off the advice. Instead, her face bore a look of serious concentration. “Yes, you are right,” she said.

Serafina turned her attention to her next subject. “You come from an illustrious family.”

Martin sat straighter in his chair and acknowledged the truth of her observation with a nod.

“They go back this way for many generations. Row upon row of distinguished ones preceding you.”

In the dim light, Freddie fancied he saw Martin almost smile.

Serafina continued. “I see each one clasping hands. Like links in a chain. A strong chain, but it is a chain that binds you.”

“What?”

“Yes, it is so. A strong chain but a heavy one. I see you carry the weight of it all. You stumble. I see you falling because the weight is too heavy.”

Martin waved his hand, dismissing her words. “Absurd. I don’t know what you mean!”

Serafina gave a small shrug. “Sometimes, I do not know what these pictures mean either. You must forgive me if I have offended.”

“Of course you haven’t offended, my dear.” Euphemia glared at her husband. “Please continue. We are all attention.”

“Now you, my kind hostess,” the medium forged on. She closed her eyes for a moment and her brows knit in concentration. “This I do not understand.” She opened her eyes. “I see you are a good woman. A woman of strong character. You are much distressed by something that has happened in the past few days, but you will set things to rights.”

“Most assuredly,” Euphemia interjected with determination.

“But that is not all. I see you holding a glass. But the glass falls from your hand and it shatters. I have a bad feeling. You must be careful in the weeks to come. Be very, very careful.” Serafina’s voice had taken on an urgent tone.

Euphemia seemed disturbed by the medium’s prediction but tried to hide it. “Oh, perhaps a household accident and nothing more.”

“Perhaps,” Serafina echoed uncertainly.

Euphemia attempted to distract her guest from distressing thoughts. “You must give us your impressions of Roland next.”

“Yes, yes, I will try.” Serafina sighed and closed her eyes. She breathed deeply a few times, apparently trying to clear away the dark image she had just seen. A smile formed on her lips as she opened her eyes to gaze at the youth across the table from her. “You have many interests in life, and it is hard for you to settle on any one thing. You have an eye for the ladies, do you not?”

Roland laughed without a trace of self-consciousness. “You’ve caught me there, Miss Serafina. And may I say you’re quite a pleasing prospect to contemplate.”

Serafina ignored the comment. “Yes, yes, it is romance that you live for. The thrill of the chase. The conquest, and then always you begin again. It is what makes the sun rise and set for you.” She fixed her attention on some invisible object behind Roland’s left shoulder. Freddie followed her gaze, peering off into the shadows beyond the range of the candlelight. He could see nothing.

“There is a figure. A young woman, I think, standing behind you.”

“What?” Roland turned in disbelief.

“Yes, she is there, but you will not see her with your eyes. It is with the second sight that I see her. She is flitting back and forth behind you.”

Serafina squinted a moment in the half-light, trying to make out some detail of the apparition. “But this is strange. Her hair is wet. So are her clothes.”

Freddie felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Roland evidently felt no such reaction. He merely exclaimed, “Really! How odd.”

At that moment, Freddie noticed that Martin had begun to tap his fingers nervously on the tabletop.

The reporter jumped in to ask a question. The urgency of his tone must have surprised everyone. “Her hair, what color is it?”

Serafina replied without hesitation. “It is dark brown. There are damp curls all around her face. Her lips are blue from the cold. She is so very, very cold.”

“And her gown. What color is that?”

Serafina squinted again. She hesitated. “I think it is gray. A very light gray. Not white. Maybe the gown is silk.”

Freddie became distracted by Martin. The host had taken out a handkerchief and was dabbing at his forehead, even though the room was a trifle drafty. His breathing had become rapid and shallow.

Roland was exhibiting no signs of concern, only curiosity. “How odd. I’m sorry to say I can’t place this bathing beauty you describe. Is she pretty? I’d like to meet her if she is!”

Serafina raised her hand to silence him. “Wait,” she commanded tensely. “She is saying something and I cannot hear her.” The medium began to silently mouth the words. “I cannot... I cannot... sw... swi...”

“It’s suffocating in here. The air is too close!” Martin sprang from his chair. He tore impatiently at his collar. “Garrison, the lights. I must have light!”

The butler hastened to turn up the gas jets.

“I... I’m sorry. The room is too stuffy. Cursed dizziness. I must go outside for a breath of air.” With that, Allworthy hastily departed the room, leaving the other guests stunned and disoriented.

Serafina looked dazed, her concentration broken.

Euphemia flew to her side. “Are you all right, my dear? Garrison, a glass of water!”

“No, please do not concern yourself, madame. When I am concentrating, it is like a trance, and to have it broken so abruptly...”