Velvet (10 page)

Velvet nodded, swallowing hard.

Another knock came. For a moment, Velvet, horrified, thought it was Charlie back again, but it was actually a distinguished-looking man with a walrus moustache whom she presently discovered was the famous novelist and cricketer Mr Arthur Conan Doyle. He brought with him a small clique of ladies, all of whom seemed (to Velvet, at least) to be terribly interested in George, asking him about a cold he’d had the last time they’d seen him and vying to tell him of their experiences in horseless vehicles. Velvet, stung with jealousy, found some compensation in the fact that Sissy Lawson was reduced to being a dumb maidservant, albeit one who was deliberately brushing herself up against George whenever she passed him.

Madame was due to come down from her rooms at eight o’clock, and a little before this George whispered that Madame would like to say a few words to Velvet. She went upstairs, rather apprehensive that Madame might have used her psychic talents to somehow deduce that she’d had a male caller at an inopportune time, but it appeared that she merely wanted to make sure that her clients were at ease.

‘I do find that if a sitter is too agitated or upset it disturbs the spirits and they don’t appear,’ she explained to Velvet.

Velvet assured her that all was in order downstairs and that her clients seemed perfectly happy.

‘George tells me you are managing very well with the small talk,’ Madame said. ‘Of course, I knew you would. Has anyone been speaking of anything in particular? About those dear loved ones they hope to hear from, perhaps?’

Velvet had heard several things spoken of: it was the anniversary of someone’s passing, Mr Conan Doyle had made a trip to Dartmoor, and someone’s deceased aunt had spent her last years cultivating a wonderful rose garden.

‘How interesting.’ Madame nodded her thanks. She was wearing a new gown, its bodice encrusted with pearl and coral beads, and looked, Velvet thought, especially lovely. ‘Was there anything else?’

Velvet shook her head. ‘It was mostly talk about the weather – oh, and a gentleman’s dog had died and he was wondering if dogs passed to the Other Side.’ Velvet waited for Madame to respond to this latter statement, for Velvet herself had been wondering the same thing, and if dogs passed over, then what about cats, rabbits, horses, cows and so on? Why, if they all went on, then the Other Side must be fair teeming with livestock.

Madame, however, did not have anything to say on this subject, she merely spoke to say that she hoped it would be a successful séance. ‘My clients rely on me so much,’ she sighed. ‘Some of them merely exist from one séance to the next, waiting for news of their nearest and dearest, waiting to be told how to live.’ She shook her head. ‘They cling to me like leeches, some of them.’

‘But think of the good that you do, Madame!’ Velvet cried. ‘No job could be more worthwhile or more admirable.’

‘Ah. If you say so.’ Madame smiled weakly and then seemed to rally a little. ‘Would you ask George to seat our guests around the table, please, and then announce me.’

Velvet curtseyed. ‘I will, Madame.’

These instructions being carried out, on Madame’s command Velvet extinguished the two lamps, and the large front room, apart from the dim glow of a candle burning on the sideboard, was plunged into almost total darkness. Standing at the back of the room ready to turn on the lamps when directed, Velvet could only see those sitting around the large table in faint silhouette. She was, however, enjoying gazing upon the lowered head of George – such shiny and thick black hair! – who was sitting opposite Madame.

Madame explained to the assembled company that George was becoming sensitive to spirits in his own right and it was especially helpful to have him in the circle when there were other gentlemen present. ‘Of course, we hope that many spirits will attend us this night,’ she continued, ‘and that those who arrive at our Dark Circle troubled will hear from their loved ones and go away with lighter hearts.’

‘Amen to that!’ Mr Conan Doyle intoned, and the others murmured agreement.

Rapt, Velvet held her breath, waiting. She felt strangely moved, almost tearful with the honour of being present at such an important occasion.

‘I’d like everyone to put their hands on the table with their fingers spread out,’ Madame said. Everyone did so. ‘And would you please make sure that your little fingers are touching those of the people on each side of you. This is to ensure unity between us, and to make certain that there is no cheating of any description.’

Madame’s left little finger, Velvet noted, was touching that of a lady with a tall, feathery decoration in her hair, and her right hand touched that of Mr Conan Doyle. George, she could not help but note, was sitting next to a young lady with pink ribbons in her hair who was remarkably pretty.

When Madame finished speaking, the only sounds in the room were a man’s wheezy breathing and the distant noise of traffic. Velvet held her breath, tense and expectant, as Madame’s eyes closed, her breathing became more laboured and her head fell forward.

After several more moments, she lifted her head and said in a level tone, ‘I have a lady here in spirit, a lady who loved roses. She is telling me that her name began with a letter at the start of the alphabet. A, B or C, perhaps. Will anyone claim her?’

There was a little gasp of excitement, then a lady responded by saying that this surely was a dear aunt of hers, for her name had been Barbara and she had grown roses in her walled garden.

There was a murmur around the table at this, which turned to startled exclamations when a pink rose suddenly appeared, flying through the air to land in the middle of the table. Velvet gasped aloud, so surprised was she. Where
had
that come from? It was winter and roses were very much out of season.

Madame laughed. ‘Your aunt is being very playful!’ she said, and then put her head on one side as if listening. ‘Oh, Barbara says roses grow in heaven,’ she reported, and the woman who was Barbara’s niece gave a sob of joy.

‘Barbara’ then spoke of different relatives who had passed on before her, saying they were content, then she was succeeded by a gentleman spirit who knew Mr Conan Doyle had visited Dartmoor and who wondered if he intended to set his next story there.

The imposing figure of Arthur Conan Doyle shifted in his seat. ‘I certainly do,’ he said. Then he added, amidst some laughter, ‘Can the spirits tell me if it’ll be a success or not?’

Madame next spoke of an old gentleman who said that today was the very anniversary of the day he had passed over, causing a young lady present to give a little scream in surprise. He did not have much to say, but asked if a last photograph of him could be put in a frame and placed on the mantelpiece, and his granddaughter promised to do this.

Madame moved on. More messages were delivered, flowers fell from nowhere (another rose, plus some more seasonal tulips), then a whistle sounded and a bell tinkled, both unseen by human eye. Velvet was awestruck and completely overcome by Madame’s abilities. She was surely the best and cleverest medium in London!

At the end of the session, with the guests departed, George took himself off to lock up the house and wind the clocks. Velvet collected up the sweetmeat dishes and took them downstairs where, Mrs Lawson having retired to bed, her daughter was polishing crystal wine glasses. Knowing that Sissy had a long walk home, Velvet offered to finish them for her.

Sissy shook her head. ‘That’s all right.’ She smirked at Velvet. ‘
Quite
all right,’ she repeated, making Velvet look at her curiously. ‘Because when I stay late I always get walked home by Mr George, you see.’

Velvet didn’t hesitate in her response. ‘But of course. Mr George is far too much of a gentleman to allow any girl to walk home on her own.’

Then she went to her room and fumed.

Madame Savoya's First Private Sitting with ‘Lady Blue'

 

 

‘How very pleasant to see you, my lady,' said Madame Savoya. ‘I'm delighted that you decided to come and see us privately.'

Lady Blue smiled. A frail-looking, painfully thin woman of well over seventy, she was still in full mourning, though her husband had been dead over a year and one might have expected to see the black enlivened by touches of purple or cream. ‘I had to come to you,' she said, adjusting the spotted veil which covered her face, ‘for you're the only medium who has been able to bring my husband close.'

Madame nodded. ‘I believe I did form a special bond with him. Your husband was a very devout and gentle soul; his spirit seemed to reach out to me.'

‘Indeed it did,' said Lady Blue. ‘And I look forward to more sessions with you. It's such a comfort to know that I can speak to my dear husband any time I choose. It lessens the pain of being without him.'

‘Of course, my lady,' said Madame Savoya, ‘but please be aware that the spirits may not always be willing to present themselves. Also, I have many other clients to attend to, so sometimes it may be impossible for me to drop everything and sit for you.'

Lady Blue raised a lace-gloved hand. ‘I am very willing to pay you handsomely for the privilege.'

Madame Savoya gave no outward indication of having heard such a detail. ‘We will use the colour of your aura to distinguish you, and your real name will not be used anywhere,' she said kindly. ‘We'll refer to your husband and yourself in any notes as Lord and Lady Blue.' Lady Blue nodded and Madame went on, ‘As usual, my assistant will take notes for us. I believe your husband rather took to George at our original séance.'

‘Yes, I think he did,' agreed Lady Blue. ‘My husband and I never had children, you know, but he always took a considerable interest in our friends' sons and daughters.' She shook her head and pressed a lace handkerchief to her eyes. ‘Oh, I can't believe that he's no longer with me.'

‘But he is,' Madame said gently. ‘There's merely a gossamer web between his world and ours.'

‘Ah,' trembled Lady Blue.

George saw that Lady Blue was seated comfortably with a cushion at her back, and then sat down beside her with his notepad. Madame pressed one of Lady Blue's hands and, ascertaining that her client was quite at ease, moved back a little, closed her eyes and tilted her face heavenwards.

After three minutes or so, she opened her eyes and said, ‘What do you think? I have the noble lord with me already. The dear man knew you were coming here and was only waiting for me to go into trance.'

‘Bertie!' Lady Blue exclaimed, a tear forming in her eye. ‘Is it really you?'

Madame's voice, when the reply came, was deeper and more solid-sounding than it had been before. ‘Yes, it really is me, my dear.'

‘Only some people say it's not possible to . . .'

‘Ceci! You may put your trust in Madame Savoya and her assistant. Their hearts are pure; they seek only your happiness.'

Lady Blue gave a nervous little smile to George. ‘Only my husband called me Ceci!' she whispered. ‘Short for Cecilia, you know. Oh, I'm terribly lonely without you, Bertie.'

‘Then you must seek me out here as much as you can. Make speaking to me a regular part of your life. Why don't you also pursue some new interests? The youth just here . . .'

Lady Blue's eyes went to George. ‘Yes? You mean George?'

‘I see well his steadfast and untainted soul. My dear, he's the sort of son we might have been blessed with.'

Lady Blue nodded sadly.

‘It would be wonderful if we could enhance his life in some way; help him make his way in the world.'

‘Yes, I suppose it would, dear,' came the slightly hesitant answer from Lady Blue.

‘If we could assist him, I'd feel that my life hadn't been in vain.'

‘Dearest!'

‘Perhaps you could think about what might be done for him – some patronage, a step up.'

George looked at Lady Blue in surprise and shook his head, frowning. ‘Oh, I couldn't possibly accept such a thing . . .' he said in a very low voice.

‘The fellow might be reluctant,' interrupted the strong voice, ‘but after all, Ceci, we have no one else to leave our money to, have we?'

‘I was wondering about leaving it to the animals,' said Lady Blue. ‘There are several donkey charities and –'

‘Oh, my dear, surely not! Animals already have many societies and charities to care for them. It would be far, far better to put money directly into the hands of humans, perhaps even donate it to someone who'll use it for the furtherance of spiritualism.'

Lady Blue nodded. ‘I see, dear, yes. How wise you are! It does so help me to speak to you and hear your thoughts.'

‘Let us talk more of this anon. In the meantime, please promise me that you'll look after yourself. You mustn't go outside when the temperature is too low, nor when it looks like snow. Make sure that you have at least nine hours' sleep a night and that the housekeeper cooks nourishing breakfasts every day.'

Lady Blue nodded intently. ‘Anything else?'

‘You must trust in Madame Savoya, for she is one of the very few true mediums. Don't lower yourself to visit others.'