Velvet (17 page)

Five more minutes went by, during which Madame saw off another stray spirit, then she suddenly held out her arms. ‘Come, child!’ she said softly. ‘Come and let your mama see you.’

There was a strangled cry from Mrs Fortesque in the first row. After a few seconds, a child’s voice, high and tremulous, said, ‘
Mama! Where are you
?’

‘I’m here, my darling!’ Mrs Fortesque called. ‘Come to me.’

‘
Mama! It’s dark over here
.’

‘But where are you?’

‘
I don’t know
.’

‘Can you let me see you?’

There was a groan from Madame and she slumped forward slightly, then the voice said, ‘
I don’t know how
.’

‘Try, darling! Your mama loves you very much. She’s waiting here for you to appear.’

After another silence and some laboured breathing from Madame, startled calls came from those in the front row: ‘Something is forming on the ground! Something white . . .’

Mrs Fortesque dropped on to all fours to be closer to whatever it was that was appearing.

George quickly stepped in and barred her way. ‘I beg you, madam, go back to your chair or Madame Savoya will not be able to continue the séance.’

As Velvet helped Mrs Fortesque back into her seat, the eyes of every other person in the room were on the white shape that was forming at Madame’s feet. This seemed to be of a similar composition to the spirit which had appeared there before, although this time it did not grow in length, but stayed small – baby-sized.

‘Can you stand now, darling? Can you come to me?’

‘The ectoplasm which is forming a likeness of your child’s body is attached to Madame Savoya,’ George said. ‘It cannot come towards you.’

‘But I must hold her!’ Mrs Fortesque cried. ‘Just let me touch her.’

‘Madam, that is not possible.’

‘I can hardly see her . . . Can she become more distinct?’

‘Not at this time, I fear,’ George said. ‘Madame Savoya is a skilful practitioner, but this is an inexact science.’

‘Oh, let her speak to me herself! Let me see more of her and hear what she says!’ Mrs Fortesque pleaded. ‘Oh, my darling! Are you amongst the angels?’

‘
They play with me and teach me
,’ came the piping voice, ‘
but I miss my mama!
’

‘And I miss you, my dearest.’ Mrs Fortesque stood up again and attempted to go towards Madame’s cabinet, so that Velvet had to intervene and hold her back. ‘I implore you, madam,’ she whispered. ‘It may be injurious to Madame’s life if you touch her. It may even be injurious to the spirit of your own child!’

‘
I have to go now, Mama.
’

‘Not yet, surely! Don’t leave me!’ Mrs Fortesque screamed, but the white cloud shook a little and then dropped and disappeared, as it had before.

There came the sound of Mrs Fortesque sobbing, then Madame stirred and opened her eyes and the audience, who had been holding their collective breath, let out a lengthy sigh.

Madame was still slumped over as if she had lost all her strength, and George ran to close the curtain so that she could start to recover in private.

The Fortesque party were soon dressed in their outer clothes and waiting on the steps of the open front door, but when Velvet went back into the front room, Mrs Fortesque was still speaking to Madame and George.

‘Please, I beg you. Would you just consider it?’ Mrs Fortesque was asking Madame as Velvet entered.

‘Impossible,’ Madame said. ‘Or near impossible. Certainly I’ve never heard of it being attempted before.’

‘But you, Madame Savoya, have a reputation as one of the most skilful mediums in London. Everyone swears by you!’

‘My dear Mrs Fortesque,’ Madame said, ‘even if I could manage to do such a thing, it would very probably damage me. At the least, I would be so depleted, so drained, that I’d never be able to work again.’

‘But you’d never
need
to work again. I’d pay you enough to last the rest of your life! My husband is very rich and he’d give everything he has to make me happy.’ So saying, she broke into sobs.

Madame and George exchanged glances. ‘My dear woman,’ Madame said, ‘I’ve never heard that such a thing is possible but will only say – and this must not be repeated – that I will investigate further.’ On Mrs Fortesque straightening up and looking at her joyfully, Madame repeated, ‘I only promise that I’ll look into it, but you mustn’t tell a soul. Leave it to me. George will contact you if I have any news to impart.’

Mrs Fortesque’s face, though wet with tears, broke into a shaky smile. She kissed Madame, was helped into her coat and bonnet by Velvet and taken to the door. Velvet returned to the front room, ostensibly to collect the vases of flowers and take them downstairs, but secretly keen to know more of what Mrs Fortesque had been asking.

Madame beckoned to her. ‘I expect you’re curious as to what was being said.’

‘It sounds as if Mrs Fortesque is expecting you to work miracles.’

‘Indeed she is,’ said Madame.

‘What is it that she wants?’

Madame spread her hands wide. ‘She wants her child back! She wants me to materialise her baby completely, so that she can carry her away.’

Velvet started. ‘But surely that is impossible?’

There was a long silence between the three of them, then George said, ‘Know only this: with Madame, nothing is impossible.’

Reflecting on everything later in her room, Velvet thought what a bizarre evening it had been. Did she really and truly believe that a dead child had, that night, come back to life – or almost to life? How had the ectoplasm been formed? Was it made of smoke or something more substantial? If it was made of some material thing, then might there be some trace left in Madame’s cabinet?

Velvet went over and over these questions in her mind and, finally, finding it impossible to sleep, decided to go downstairs to see if she could discover more about this so-called ectoplasm. She put a wrap over her nightdress, lit a candle and went downstairs. The house was, of course, silent and dark, but Velvet was not nervous.

She pushed open the door to the front room, intending to go straight to Madame’s cabinet and examine the floor for traces of white foam or something similar. Someone was already in the room, however. Two people, in fact, in a lovers’ embrace. As Velvet gasped with shock, the person who was facing her opened his eyes and looked directly at her.

Horrified, she realised that it was George.

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

 

 

‘Do be seated, Lady Blue,' Madame Savoya said. ‘I hope this warmer weather is agreeable to you. I'm finding it rather hot in town, myself.'

‘Oh, I do so concur,' Lady Blue said. ‘It's just a pity I can't get down to our villa by the sea – such a long journey on one's own.'

‘A villa by the sea sounds lovely! Where is it?'

‘Brighton, on the south coast. We find the sea breezes most invigorating. That is,
I
find the sea breezes most invigorating.' She shook her head. ‘I find it so difficult to remember that I'm alone now.'

‘You're not entirely alone,' Madame said gently. ‘Your husband is near you always. You know that, don't you?'

‘He's close by, whether you can see him or not,' George put in.

‘Yes. Thank you,' Lady Blue said. ‘Knowing that is such a comfort.' She dabbed her eyes. ‘Dear Bertie . . .'

‘Did your husband enjoy it beside the sea?' Madame asked. On Lady Blue nodding and sniffing into a handkerchief, she went on. ‘I hear that sea-bathing is quite the thing nowadays. They're even talking of having mixed bathing.'

‘Really?' Lady Blue said. ‘I don't know whether my husband would have approved of that. However, he did love sea-swimming, whereas I find the waves much too rough.'

George sat down, his notepad under his arm. ‘I'm with milord on that,' he said. ‘I find swimming in the sea very exhilarating.'

‘Oh!' said Lady Blue. ‘He used to use that word, too. He'd tell me that fighting the waves let him know he was still alive!' Suddenly realising what she'd said, she collapsed over her handkerchief once again.

‘There, there,' said Madame, patting her client's arm. ‘Let us look for the positive in all things.'

‘Yes, yes, of course,' said Lady Blue. She tucked the handkerchief into her reticule and managed to smile at George. ‘You really are very much like he was as a young man.'

Madame smiled indulgently. ‘It's quite uncanny, isn't it? I think we've remarked before on George's similarities to his lordship.' She paused, then added, ‘It's almost as if your dear husband's spirit lives on in him.'

‘How wonderful that would be,' said Lady Blue.

Madame patted a fold of her silk skirt into place. ‘But your villa at the seaside – how often do you go there now, Lady Blue?'

‘Not very much at all. I suppose it's silly to keep it, really, when you think of the cost of employing a permanent housekeeper, but . . . well, I haven't got round to doing anything about it yet.'

Some other chit-chat followed and then, when Lady Blue was completely at her ease, Madame said that she thought the time was right to see if her husband could be contacted.

Lady Blue assented and Madame closed her eyes, saying that she didn't think he was far away; in fact, she could feel his presence quite close by.

After two minutes of silence, Madame lifted her voice and said, ‘Of course you may. Welcome to my home, milord.'

‘Oh!' exclaimed Lady Blue, all of a flutter. ‘Are you there, Bertie?'

The same deeper, stronger voice as before replied, ‘I am, my dear. I am beside you.'

‘I want to ask you how you are,' Lady Blue said anxiously, ‘but that hardly applies, does it?'

‘It really does not. I am as I am,' said her husband.

‘Are you happy?'

‘Such concepts are impossible to understand in this realm. It's more important to me that you are content.'

‘I can never be content without you!' Lady Blue gave a strangled sob. ‘I'm lonely, Bertie.'

‘Ah, my dear! If only we'd had children,' came the reply. ‘Children would have filled the gap that my death has left in your life.'

‘Yes, they would have been such a comfort.'

‘Have you thought any more about what I said?'

‘About . . . about helping the young man here make his way in the world?'

‘Indeed. Acting as his patron and his benefactor.'

‘I have,' Lady Blue said, giving George a sideways glance, ‘although I did wonder about your nephew.'

‘Who?' Lord Blue barked.

‘Well, I suppose he's not really a nephew. Your cousin Myra's boy, Albert. He was named after you, you know.'

‘Never set eyes on him!'

‘You have, dearest. Not very often, granted. But he came to your funeral.'

There came a grunt. ‘I know why that was: he hoped I'd left him something.'

‘He seemed quite a good sort. Going into law, I believe.'

‘Being a good sort isn't enough reason for me to make him my heir. Come to think of it, I never liked the boy!'

‘Did you not? You never said, dear,' Lady Blue protested mildly.

‘I want my houses and my money to go to someone who is like me in spirit. Someone who'll enjoy our villa by the sea! Someone who'll change his name to mine and carry on the title and the family line.'

‘But such a person could not inherit your title!'

‘He could assume it, with your permission' was the response.

‘Oh!' said Lady Blue. ‘I hadn't thought of that.' She toyed nervously with her handkerchief again. ‘Is that what you really want, Bertie?'

‘Of course. What's the point in sitting on my money? When you die it'll go to the blasted government. Take the lot in taxes, they will.'

‘But what about cousin Myra's boy?'

‘I don't like cousin Myra's boy. He's a fortune hunter! I don't like the idea of him lording it in our house. I want someone sensitive and thoughtful, someone who'll look after you like a son.'

Lady Blue nodded. ‘Very well, dear.'

‘I want you to look into it, then come back again and tell me how you're going to do it.'

‘I shall go to Burgess and Burgess –'

‘Not them! They'll try and talk you out of it. No, go to one of the new firms of solicitors in Church Street and insist on having what you want. No shilly-shallying.'

‘All right, dear.'

‘I shall be so proud if you do this for me, Ceci. It would make me very happy.'