We Hear the Dead (31 page)

For help, I sought the Grinnells. A carriage took me to their home, and a servant placed me in a small parlor to await a member of the family. I would have preferred Mrs. Sarah Grinnell, but was obliged to accept Cornelius, who was located after nearly an hour of impatient waiting.

“My dear Miss Fox,” he said breathlessly. “You must accept my apology for your long wait. I know you must be concerned—”

“Concerned?” I broke in sharply. “That does not even scratch the surface, Mr. Grinnell. I have been waiting three weeks for word that Dr. Kane's ship had reached Havana, and now today I receive a letter that suggests he has been there for some time and has received none of the letters that I sent to him. He is very sick…very sick, Mr. Grinnell…and he needs me…” Here I struggled not to break down entirely.

“I don't know what to tell you, Miss Fox,” Cornelius stammered. “I know that Dr. Kane arrived in Cuba some days ago. His mother and brother met him there…”

My sharp intake of breath said it all. He broke off at once, and we stared at each other, both knowing why my letters had not reached Elisha and why I had not been notified of his arrival. He was mortified. I was livid. “Please help me,” I whispered, my face flushed. “I need to get to Havana as quickly as I can.”

“Miss Fox,” he replied, in a whisper just as anguished as my own. “You will not be welcomed, I fear.”

Wordlessly, I handed him my last letter from Elisha. As he read it, I saw the struggle on his face. He had always followed the dictates of his father, who was in turn strongly influenced by Judge Kane. But here in his hand was a letter from his dear friend, who had not even the strength to write it himself but had made use of some uneducated servant in his desperation to deliver the message. When he looked up, I saw that even Cornelius Grinnell had been moved to tears. “I will buy your passage personally,” he said. “I will book you on the soonest ship.”

***

The soonest ship was three weeks away. I nearly died with impatience but had to console myself by telegraphing Havana, care of Mr. William Morton, that I was on my way. I followed this with a letter, vividly proclaiming my love and my urgent concern, again addressing it to Morton in the hopes that it would escape the hands of Mrs. Kane and Robert.

Newspaper accounts continued to be grim, and yet they were so often inaccurate and contradictory. Dr. Kane was still news, and if there was no news to report, the journalists in Havana had little scruples about making it up. I was heartsick and weary of their nonsense. I relied on the good sense of Morton and hoped that I would get a detailed account within days.

My departure for Havana was set for mid-February, just a few days after Elisha's birthday. It would take a week to arrive at best, and I could expect an uncertain reception, but as the date approached, I felt more and more relieved. I would soon be at his side, and once there I could bear anything.

I was seated at breakfast, only two days before my ship was set to leave, when Clementine Walters brought me the newspaper. It was such an unlikely thing for her to do. I should have known better than to take it from her hand with so little thought, hardly looking at her, without recognizing the malice in her little cockeyed expression.

However, so self-absorbed was I in my misery that I took the offering with scarcely an acknowledgment and unfolded it innocently to the headline page.

The words were nearly one inch high:

Kane Dead.

Nation Mourns.

I rose from my chair, gasping for air. The room spun around, swinging upside down. Dimly I heard Mrs. Walters cry out.

The world diminished, blackening around the edges, shrinking, until I could see only those two horrible words—

And then my head struck the floor.

Kate

At first we thought Maggie might follow him into the grave.

Falling into a collapse far greater than the one she suffered after Troy so many years ago, my sister succumbed to a dangerously high fever. For days she thrashed in her bed, soaked with sweat and rambling incoherently. Our doctor diagnosed it as a brain fever and proscribed laudanum, but this medication sent her into a delirium so deep and disturbing that we soon abandoned it.

Meanwhile, preparations were made to transport Elisha's body from Havana back to Philadelphia. Newspapers reported that a great procession accompanied his casket to the port, where a ship with railings dressed in black cloth was waiting to receive it. All American ships in the port flew their flags at half-mast, and a cannon cavalcade saluted the ship as it departed.

Mother telegraphed the Kane family in Philadelphia, inquiring about Maggie's role in the planned funeral arrangements, but received no reply. By that time, however, we knew that she would not be in any condition to attend, and so we ignored this discourtesy for the time being. While I held my sister's thin hand, she languished in her sickbed, whispering, “Where is he now?” And I would patiently tell her. It was not difficult to keep track.

The steamer landed in New Orleans, and another procession accompanied Elisha's body to the city hall, where it lay in state for several days. From there it was moved to a steamboat on the Mississippi and transported north to the Ohio River. “Strange that even the corpse of the Arctic wanderer is traveling still,” reported one newspaper.

When his casket disembarked in Cincinnati, it began an even stranger journey, in which cities across Ohio vied for the honor of hosting the body of Dr. Kane. In each place there was a pause in progress so that his casket could lie in state in the city hall or some other public place. Speeches were made, and thousands of people lined up in the streets to see his casket pass. “Poor Kane was a true martyr to science,” spoke the mayor of one city. “There is a genuine sanctity in his coffin, worth the prestige of a thousand conquering heroes.”

The wife of Mr. Henry Grinnell called upon us before her departure for Philadelphia, where she planned to attend the funeral ceremonies. She stayed only a few minutes with Maggie, and then left the sickroom quite disturbed by my sister's condition. “The poor child is not in a state to care about this at present,” she told my mother, “but I know you are concerned for her future welfare, even if she thinks right now that she has no future. So I want you to understand that Dr. Kane made some disposition for her care before he left for England. On the morning of his departure, I was called to my husband's business chamber to witness a will written by Dr. Kane, in which he left five thousand dollars in the care of his brother, to be delivered to Miss Fox in the event of his death.”

“His brother Robert Kane?” I asked, with some concern.

Mrs. Grinnell turned her gaze upon me, and I knew she understood my apprehension, although she was too much a lady to say so. “I understood that Mr. Robert Kane was already the executor of his will, and as this was a last minute change, it was simplest to arrange it thus.”

We asked Mrs. Grinnell if Dr. Kane had spoken of the marriage ceremony performed at Mrs. Walters's house the night before he changed his will, and she expressed some surprise and puzzlement. “He never said a thing,” she exclaimed. “Why, is that even legal in this day and age?”

That was a question Mother and I asked ourselves daily.

Three weeks after his death, Elisha's body was still in transport on its circuitous route home to Philadelphia. From Ohio the casket had been carried by train to Baltimore, where it lay in state at the Maryland Institute below a banner reading “Science Weeps, Humanity Weeps, the World Weeps.” It was early March before the coffin finally boarded a train for Philadelphia, where the grandest and lengthiest services of all were planned. The funeral procession for Elisha Kent Kane, lasting over a month and traversing from Havana to Philadelphia, was the longest and most celebrated in American history. “Not even an American president has received such an honor,” proclaimed Mr. Greeley's newspaper, “for no president since Washington has been as universally loved as Dr. Kane, by the North and the South, the East and the West.”

When he was finally laid to rest in his family crypt outside Philadelphia, Mother and I, at last, breathed a sigh of relief.

For those of us who knew Elisha, it was astonishing to behold this outpouring of grief from thousands of people who did not know him at all. He was only a man, after all, with virtues and faults like any other person. True, he was bold and daring, generous and charming. He was witty and intellectual in public and also wrote tender poetry in private. But Elisha could also be pompous and sanctimonious, and his ambition was self-consuming. He loved my sister, yes, but not as much as he loved himself.

This is not to say that I didn't grieve for him. I did weep for Elisha, who might have been my brother. I would miss his clever conversation and his irreverent grin. I would miss his sense of humor and fondly recall his talent for mimicry. I would miss the way he used to roll his eyes behind Leah's back, and the kindness with which he addressed Mother, no matter how foolishly she rambled.

However, as I sat by the side of my grief-stricken sister, who lay in her bed as if rehearsing for her own coffin, I could not help but also resent him. “He has taken half my soul with him,” she whispered to me, which sounded like some of Elisha's romantic nonsense. Maggie was supposed to be the practical one, but she was wasting away with these morbid, fanciful thoughts. Nothing can take our souls from us, not even death.

He should have married her properly. He should have done it when he returned from the Arctic, over a year ago. The ending would have been the same, for I had known ever since my vision that he would die of sickness at a young age. But at least Maggie could have spent that time as his proper wife, and perhaps there would have been a child to comfort her when he was gone.

My mother blamed Elisha's parents, but I thought he was old enough to make his own decision. Certainly he did not consult his parents in any other aspect of his life. Perhaps they were only an excuse, and the truth was that Elisha feared his reputation as a great man of science would suffer if he took a spirit rapper as his wife.

All the more of a fool was he. What had he accomplished in his lifetime that was truly lasting? All this great display of national mourning, the banners, the flags at half-mast—for what? I could not put my finger on any significant achievement. He made a voyage that failed at its goals and managed to turn it into a heroic endeavor of science and humanitarianism. For all that I had liked the man personally, I could not see anything that justified his treatment as the newest Meriwether Lewis in the history of American exploration.

If one wanted to compare accomplishments, I think Maggie and I had achieved a more lasting success. Hundreds of thousands of people across the world were now exploring communication with the dead, a more worthwhile realm for investigation than the Arctic seas, in my opinion.

I feared that a terrible tragedy loomed on the horizon for our country. The visions came to me more often now, not only in my trances, but troubling my waking moments as well. Repeatedly I dreamed of a conflict so savage and vast that Americans born generations from now would still be feeling its aftereffects. Soon no one would care that Dr. Kane had discovered a patch of water off the coast of Greenland. But thousands and thousands of people would have reason to wish they could speak to their dead.

Poor Elisha. He sacrificed much for his fame, including my sister. But I suspect time will still rob him of that which he held dearer than anything else.

Maggie

I should have known it was impossible to keep him. He was like the bright flame of a match, blazing intensely for only a brief time, destined to burn out too soon and scorch the fingers of anyone trying to hold on. If it had not been his valiant heart that felled him, it would have been the Arctic, or some other heroic venture. We were never going to lead a quiet life together, no matter how much we idly dreamed about it. He was not the kind of man to live quietly.

After his death, I was desperately ill. Grief and regret tormented me in turns, piercing my heart. He had died hundreds of miles away, wanting me and thinking that I had forsaken him. Why had I not taken passage to Havana when I first knew he had left England? I could have been waiting for him when he arrived. I could have been with him at the end, held him in my arms, and eased his passing with my tears. There was also the thought, cruelest of all, that my presence might have given him the strength to rally, as Leah had once done for Calvin…

Mother and Kate and Ellen attended me lovingly, all three of them demonstrating patience beyond what I deserved. After all, was my loss greater than that of Mrs. Jane Appleton Pierce, who saw her son crushed to death in a train wreck? Was it greater than Mrs. Granger's, whose daughter was poisoned by her own husband? Was my loss greater than my brother David's, who lost his daughter to a fever in just two days? I had no business thinking that my suffering was more than that of any other human soul in this imperfect world, and yet it was
my
suffering, and as such, unbearable.

Poor Mother tried so hard to comfort me. “Doctor was a devoted spiritualist,” she said. “Surely he would send a message to you, if you would just open yourself to receive it.” Dear, silly Mother. She had no idea why her words caused me to turn my face to the wall in despair.

Physician, heal thyself
. That is the message he would have sent, I think, with that ironic laugh of his. Having spent the last nine years consoling the bereaved with my rapping from the dead, was I able to lighten my own grief?

No. Because I knew I was a fraud.

I had no better understanding than anyone else of whether there truly was a heaven or a fiery perdition either. For all that Kate and I had rapped out messages from a spiritual paradise, blithely promising salvation for all and eternal happiness in another world, I did not know what happened after death. If there was a heaven to be attained, had I earned it by easing the grief of other people, or was I bound for another destination because I accomplished my work through lies?

And what would happen to me, now that the man who had promised to rescue me from this life of deceit had gone to his own reward without me?

My dreams, when I was able to achieve slumber, tormented me with visions of what might have been. In dreams he returned to me, healthy and hale; I could hear his laugh and feel his hands in mine, his lips upon my cheek. But even in the depths of sleep I knew it for a falsehood and whimpered in dread of the morning. The first moments of wakefulness would strike me like a hammer, and I would open my eyes reluctantly on a world where he did not exist.

I did not die of grief. No one ever truly does.

The days spiraled downward, dark and long and empty. Then one day, I found that I could abide my sickbed no longer, and so I moved to a chair and stared blankly out the window. On another day, I could no longer bear to sit idle, and so I picked up a needle and thread. One simple act followed another, until I finally faced myself in the mirror and beheld the hollowed cheeks, sunken eyes, and matted hair of a woman who had wallowed in her misery for nearly eight weeks. That day I said to myself, “The widow of Dr. Kane should not demean his memory with an appearance like this,” and I sent Ellen out with an order for two mourning dresses in deep black crinoline.

Everyone was so relieved to see me demonstrate some sign of life that they allowed the dresses to be delivered. Then Kate sat down beside me, gently took my hand, and queried, “How are you going to pay for them, Maggie?”

If I was going to live after all, then it would be necessary to make a living. It seemed a terribly mundane concern, something that should not have mattered in a world where the post would never again bring one of his letters, where I would never again bask in his smile. Yet I was keenly aware that I had lived all these weeks on the charity of my friend Mrs. Walters, and I did not wish to burden her any longer. The time had come, Kate explained, to address the legacy that Elisha had left in his will.

“It is fortunate that you have decided to take an interest,” she said, “for I have already written Mr. Kane to inquire about your inheritance.” I gave her a look of surprise and suspicion then, which caused her to add defensively, “I did not write in your name, Maggie. I used Mother's name.”

“Oh, Kate,” I sighed.

“Would you rather I had let Mother write on her own?”

No, of course not. I would not have wanted Robert Kane to sneer at my mother's uneducated scrawl. Kate explained that her initial inquiry had been answered by a curt and disinterested reply. “I can show you the letter,” she offered.

“Do not bother,” I told her. “I am familiar with his style of communication.”

Kate had written him again, persisting in her request for information on the legacy, this time presenting me as Dr. Kane's legal widow. Unsurprisingly, this seemed to catch the lawyer's attention, and he announced an intention to call upon us to discuss the situation.

I did not look forward to it. However, I knew that I could not expect the Kanes to honor my rights as Elisha's widow out of the kindness of their hearts. And so I steeled myself for an unpleasant interview and resolved to behave with the dignity of a lady, however he addressed me as less than one.

I dressed in one of my new mourning gowns for his visit, knowing that the significance of my “widow's weeds” would not escape his shrewd notice. Mrs. Walters and I received him in the parlor alone, as I had decided that the complication of Mother's or Kate's presence was unnecessary. Kate was unhappy to be excluded, but I knew she would not refrain from sharpening her tongue on the man who had treated me so shabbily. And Mother would be bewildered and hurt by the derision of the Kane family representative.

Mr. Kane greeted us perfunctorily and seated himself, crossing his legs with a mannerism that so resembled Elisha it caused a painful stab in my heart. Then he looked up with his cold, hooded eyes and the similarity, thankfully, disappeared. To no one's surprise, he began by announcing he was unable to deliver the money bequeathed to me in Elisha's will.

“My brother did not have five thousand dollars when he passed away,” Robert Kane explained. “He was entirely dependent on my father's allowance for his living expenses. I am afraid that the money bestowed upon you in his last-minute codicil does not exist.”

“What about his book?” I asked.

“The book has not yet been published. If there were any cash advances, they have all been spent.”

“Dr. Kane must have believed the money would come from somewhere,” I said reasonably. “He was hardly likely to change his will on the morning of his departure to bequeath a sum of money he did not have.”

“Perhaps he did it to satisfy some person's demand,” Kane said blandly, “not believing the will would ever be put into effect. I do not think he expected to die on that trip, Miss Fox.”

“Your implication is clear, Mr. Kane,” Mrs. Walters broke in, “although completely wrong.”

For just a moment, Kane looked as surprised as if a mouse in the corner of the room had decided to speak. Mrs. Walters flushed nervously, but pushed up her spectacles and looked at him defiantly. She had resented Mr. Kane ever since he made me sign that document denying my engagement, and she had a few pent-up opinions to express.

“Miss Fox never made any demands on Dr. Kane, although he had raised and dashed her hopes repeatedly.
You
may not have known how sick he was when he left here last October, but I can assure you that
he
did. He was worried and frightened enough to arrange an impromptu marriage on the eve of his departure. He then took the sensible precaution of providing for his new wife in the event that the worst came to pass.”

Recovering from his consternation at this unexpected outburst, Kane composed his features into their normal expressionless mask and said, “Ah, yes, this so-called marriage ceremony, done without benefit of magistrate, minister, or document. Did you witness it, Mrs. Walters?” He reached into his coat pocket and removed a small daybook, opening it with a gesture very like his brother. Again I closed my eyes and tried not to dwell upon their close resemblance.

“I am afraid I did not witness it, Mr. Kane,” Mrs. Walters confessed. “I had already retired for the evening. But I heard all about it the next morning.”

“From my brother?” he asked, making note in his book.

“No, from Miss Fox, and then later from her mother and sister.”

“Miss Fox's mother and sister are the only witnesses, then,” he confirmed. At Mrs. Walters's affirmation, he turned suddenly to me and asked, “Was the marriage consummated following this ceremony?”

I was shocked into breathlessness by the effrontery of his question and could barely speak to object. “That is certainly not a matter for discussion!”

“No, I am afraid it has a certain legal significance,” he persisted. “Did you behave as his wife?”

Flushing with mortification, I cast my eyes down in the semblance of modesty while I frantically considered my answer. To say no might lessen the legality of the marriage, but to say yes would damage my reputation if the marriage was struck down. Appearance was more important than truth here, and only I knew the truth anyway, now that Elisha was gone.

Robert Kane waited patiently for my answer, no doubt enjoying my delicate dilemma. Thankfully, I was saved from a reply by an unlikely source.

“No cohabitation is necessary for the marriage to be legal,” Mrs. Walters piped up. Elisha's brother turned his head and stared at her as if the mouse in the room had now climbed up his trouser leg and bitten his finger. My brave little friend was flushed bright pink, her hands twisted together with nervousness, but she cleared her throat and continued. “I inquired last week with a lawyer who attends my church.” She glanced at me and drew strength from my grateful smile. “He told me that Dr. Kane knew what he was doing. The common-law ceremony is still recognized in this state, and Miss Fox's mother and sister are perfectly legal witnesses.”

“Legal, perhaps,” sniffed Mr. Kane, “but not necessarily believable. The problem is credibility. My brother never expressed to his family any intention of marrying Miss Fox, nor gave any indication that he had already done so, and I was with him up until his very death.”

It was a hurtful statement, perhaps meant to bait me. I wanted to rail at him and vent my anguish.
I would have been there too, had you not thwarted me at every turn, forbidden our match, and diverted my communication in Havana!
But I knew that it was a useless protest and had steeled myself against it before his arrival. A true lady might be forgiven for losing her temper; a woman who had risen up through the lower classes to present herself as a lady did not have that luxury.

Instead, with great self-control, I replied evenly, “I think you will find he stated his intentions to your aunt, Miss Eliza Leiper. And she is under the distinct impression that he informed his parents as well.”

Mr. Kane simply regarded me impassively. “I am very sorry, Miss Fox, but I cannot corroborate that. Perhaps you do not know that my aunt passed away suddenly over a month ago.”

That was shocking enough to get a reaction out of me, no matter how I had hardened my heart to this man. I gasped out loud and pressed my fingers to my lips in distress. Miss Leiper, dead? While I lay in my bed and languished in my grief, she had died? For a long moment, I was too distraught to speak. Poor Miss Leiper, that dear lady!

“The Pattersons,” I whispered finally, my last hope for a friendly welcome among this cold and forbidding family.

“The Pattersons,” he echoed. “The Pattersons never believed my brother would marry you. It seems they knew him a good deal better than you did. I am afraid that Elisha was known in his youth as something of a ladies' man…”

My heart was thudding painfully in my breast, but I carefully modulated my voice to a firm evenness. “You will
not
twist my memory of him, Mr. Kane. I am already familiar with your talent for distorting the truth, and I was also warned by your aunt that you were a ‘detestable' man.” Here I leaned slightly forward and kept my tone as sweet as honey. “When I repeated that to Elisha, he laughed and agreed.”

There may have been a flicker, just a fleeting moment, where his eyes widened in reaction, and I felt rewarded for my small and petty tit for tat. I continued while I felt an advantage. “Besides, Mr. Kane, I have dozens of letters in which your brother discusses our engagement and our intended marriage. There is even one that addresses me as his wife. So do not pretend that you knew his mind better than I did.”

We glared at each other in hearty dislike for a second or two, and then Kane cleared his throat and returned to his professional demeanor. “Returning to the matter at hand, I am afraid that you will be disappointed in your expectations, Miss Fox. I am unable to honor my brother's bequest to you, but I can offer you a small settlement from my own funds—five hundred dollars—under the condition that you hand over all of Dr. Kane's correspondence and retract this fanciful tale of a common-law marriage.”

I should not have been surprised. He had tried to acquire them once before. Still, I shook my head in disbelief. “You cannot have Elisha's letters. They are all I have left of him.”