Velvet (20 page)

‘When was this?'

‘Oh, a year or so back. I was that close to drowning, I was, and Kitty never tried to come back to save me! A waterman plucked me out of the canal and cleared my lungs, and then his wife slowly nursed me back to health. I was proper poorly, mind you – caught a fever from the fetid water and it took four or five months before I was back to normal.'

‘And then what happened?' Madame asked.

‘When I got back on my feet, I discovered I'd missed my own funeral! Some other cove – an old tramp – had fallen in the canal round about the same time and he'd been fished out, dead as a doorknocker. The neighbours all thought it was me.'

‘How very odd,' said Madame.

‘I never spoke up because it rather suited me to start over again. I owed money to the landlord as well as the bookies, y'see. I moved away and changed my appearance. When I eventually decided to go racing again, it was like fate agreed with what I'd done, because I won all that money.'

‘So,' Madame asked delicately, ‘have you never thought of trying to find your daughter?'

Mr Grey shook his head. ‘Wherever she is, she's probably dancing on my grave – or what she thinks is my grave.' He blew his nose heartily. ‘Never loved me, she didn't. Maybe if she'd loved me a bit I'd have been a better father to her. Sometimes I lie awake at night and think about how it might have been if –'

‘You must excuse me now,' Madame said quickly, ‘but please do come and see us again soon. We can then begin to talk to your dear wife about the marvellous charity that you're going to endow.'

George ushered him towards the side door. ‘May we wish you a very good day, Mr Grey.'

Chapter Twelve

In Which the Spirits Attend Egyptian Hall

‘I believe you already know that my grandmother was a Russian princess – one of the Romanovs,’ Madame said to Velvet. ‘I grew up with the understanding that I have royal blood in me.’

Velvet nodded. She remembered that from the first evening at Prince’s Hall – and to think she was now living and working for this wonderful woman who was almost a princess!

‘My grandmother was extremely beautiful – men fought wars for her – but she married an Englishman for love, left Russia and came to live in London. She and my mother both had the Sight, but I was scornful of it until, on my sixteenth birthday, Grandmother spoke to me in a vision.’

She hesitated and Velvet, sitting beside her on a bench in Regent’s Park, breathlessly urged her to go on.

‘As well as telling me that I would have an immense and devoted following, she said I must never allow my talents to corrupt me. I should remain chaste and pure, and devote myself to a spiritual life.’

‘You did tell me once that you would never marry or have children,’ said Velvet, slightly embarrassed at discussing such an intimate topic with her employer.

‘Ah, yes.’ Madame nodded. ‘That is one of the hardships: never to know the love of a good man or have a family of my own.’

‘Although – do excuse me for mentioning it – your mother and grandmother obviously had families.’

‘But they didn’t dedicate their lives to their calling, as I have. Their spirituality, their psychic ability, was sublimated. They did not live by it.’

Velvet nodded that she understood. Uneasy about asking more questions, she reached up, pulled down a rose on a low bough and inhaled its perfume. ‘Such a beautiful scent.’

‘Your mother loved roses,’ said Madame unexpectedly.

‘Did she?’ Velvet asked in surprise. ‘I hardly think of her in terms of loving flowers. We certainly never had any growing in the yard at home.’

‘She was just telling me how much she cares for them,’ Madame said. Velvet gave a little gasp and Madame looked at her fondly, as if through a mother’s eyes. ‘Especially roses that are scented and a vivid red, very much like the one you have your nose in now.’

Velvet smiled, deeply touched by the thought that her mother could be watching over her.

‘She is very near to you,’ Madame went on softly. ‘The mother and child relationship is the closest there is, and cannot be severed by death. She cares for you still.’

Velvet felt tears come into her eyes.

‘She is saying . . .’ Madame frowned a little. ‘Oh, she’s asking why you’ve changed your name. She says the name she gave you at birth was Kitty! Can that be true, or have we got a naughty spirit here making mischief?’

Velvet looked at Madame, awestruck. Truly, she was the most brilliant medium in the world. She gathered herself and after a moment said, ‘It is true, yes. I wanted to make myself into another person, so I called myself Velvet when I began working at the laundry.’

Madame laughed. ‘My spirits never let me down. I can find out all your secrets!’ she said. Then she frowned and added quickly, ‘No, sir, I cannot speak to you at the present time.’

‘Who’s that?’ Velvet asked.

‘How strange are the spirits on the Other Side! Your father is here – I believe he was attracted by the spirit of your mother. But your mother will not tolerate his presence and has disappeared.’ She raised her voice slightly. ‘I’m sorry, sir. Your attendance here is unwelcome at the moment. Please go back from whence you came.’

Velvet clenched her hands within her lace gloves. Her father had come to make trouble, for sure – to try and incriminate her in his death.

‘Ah, he’s gone,’ Madame said after a moment. ‘But your mother has been frightened by him and won’t return. Another day, perhaps.’ She got up from the bench and opened her parasol. ‘Shall we walk to the rose arbour?’

They did so, but the heavy scent of the massed roses there was too overwhelming for the delicate nose of Madame and she decided they should return to Darkling Villa.

‘I have a little favour to ask of you,’ she said as they turned for home.

‘Of course,’ Velvet said. ‘Anything.’

‘You may have heard me and George speaking about an engagement at the Egyptian Hall this Friday.’

Velvet nodded.

‘You’ve attended one of my public sessions before.’

‘I have, before I came to work for you,’ Velvet said. ‘You gave me an invitation to Prince’s Hall at Christmas.’

‘Of course. Well, it’ll be an evening similar to that, with questions written and put into envelopes, and the spirits answering the queries through me.’ She paused. ‘I don’t particularly enjoy these entertainments, but we hold one or two a year, whenever we want to gain new clients. To put it in the vulgar manner it deserves,’ she added, ‘it’s to drum up numbers.’

Velvet, very surprised, said, ‘But surely you already have more clients than you can handle?’

‘Not really. I have a great deal of commitments, you see; money that I have to set aside for my charities and foundations and committees, also the rental on our beautiful house is rather large.’ She smiled and nodded at a passing man who raised his hat to her. ‘There are so many mediums competing for business now that, rather sadly, it has become a race – a matter of always keeping ahead, of gaining clients before they can be taken by others.’

‘But what a shame that a gift like yours has to be treated in such a way.’

‘It is,’ Madame agreed. ‘But I’d like you to come along and watch us, Velvet.’

‘Of course, if you wish,’ Velvet said, rather pleased.

‘Sometimes the audience can be a bit slow, you see,’ Madame explained, ‘so it would be helpful if you could lead the applause or do a little cheering if I get something especially accurate.’

Velvet smiled. ‘I’d be delighted.’

On Friday, well before six o’clock, the audience for ‘The Spirits Speak’ began assembling at London’s famous Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly. Madame and George had left the house some time earlier in order that Madame should become familiar and easy with the atmosphere at the venue, but Velvet arrived in a hansom cab a fashionable five minutes late.

None of Madame’s regular clients were expected to attend something so populist, but nevertheless Velvet was in disguise. Her dark curls were hidden under a wig of curly fair hair and a headdress of ostrich feathers, and she wore a slightly outrageous gown of Madame’s – something she’d told Velvet was left over from her Russian inheritance – in flame-coloured silk, with heavy embroidery and a matching bolero.

Arriving at Egyptian Hall, a remarkable building with columns and sphinxes and lavishly painted decor, Velvet took a seat towards the back and enjoyed looking at what the ladies were wearing, taking pleasure in the knowledge that soon she would be watching George on stage at his magnificent best. Things had been very congenial between them lately; there had been another kiss, many loving looks, and George was behaving in a very cool manner towards Sissy Lawson, at least whenever Velvet was near.

When every seat in the hall had been taken and the audience hushed, George escorted Madame on to the stage. He explained that everyone was going to be given a chance to ask the spirits a question but that, sadly, Madame would not be able to address them all in the time given. People were asked, therefore, to take one of Madame’s cards at the door on their way out, and if their question had not been chosen, or they wanted further explanation of an answer given, to get in touch with her privately. Everyone who wanted to do so was then given a moment to write their question on the square of paper left under their seat and put it into an envelope collected by George.

After ten or so minutes, a large basket of envelopes was presented to Madame. An envelope was selected by George and handed to her. Madame closed her eyes for a moment, holding the envelope close to her heart.

‘One of the fair sex has asked this question, a stylish lady,’ she said on opening her eyes. ‘She has asked me to verify the wishes of someone in spirit concerning a piece of jewellery.’

There was a murmur from someone in the audience.

‘Who was it who spoke?’ Madame peered over the footlights, looking especially beautiful in a black evening gown embroidered all over with dangling crystals. ‘I’m afraid I can’t see you very well. Could the lights be dimmed a little?’

After the lamps were turned down, Madame looked across the audience. ‘If I have summed up the question correctly, could the person who asked it stand up, please?’

Velvet turned to look at the lady who stood up on the other side of the hall. ‘I think you’re holding my question, Madame Savoya,’ she said.

She was a lady in her thirties, Velvet noted, attractive, with slightly prominent front teeth.

‘Can you just confirm that we do not know each other in any way, and that you have not asked a question of me before?’

‘I confirm it,’ the lady said clearly. ‘I do not know you, nor have I previously asked a question.’

‘Very well.’ Madame smiled. ‘You asked about a piece of jewellery?’

‘Yes, it’s –’

‘Please don’t help me,’ Madame said. ‘It’s glittering and it’s green. Is the jewel in question an emerald?’

‘Yes!’ she exclaimed, and Velvet and several other members of the audience gasped excitedly.

‘I think it may be a brooch. No, it’s a pendant on a gold chain!’

‘That’s quite right.’

‘And it belonged to a lady who is now on the Other Side. Your aunt?’

‘Yes.’

Velvet started the smattering of applause which ran across the theatre.

‘She passed over in the month of . . . February.’

‘She did.’

‘And her name began with a . . . “G”. Or perhaps an “O”. An unusual name . . . Ori—?’

‘Her name was Oriana,’ the woman said, smiling.

Led by Velvet, everyone clapped enthusiastically. Velvet craned her neck around in order to see more of the woman who was speaking. Looking at her she frowned, puzzled. There was something vaguely familiar about her . . . something about the way she spoke.

‘I shall now concentrate on the question you’ve asked,’ Madame said. ‘Your aunt died and . . .’ She spoke into the ether. ‘Yes, I see. Thank you. Your aunt is here, and she’s telling me that she left her daughter most of her jewellery.’

‘That’s right, but she had always promised me the emerald pendant.’

The lady who was speaking lisped slightly as she spoke, perhaps because of her prominent teeth, and it was this slight speech defect which nudged at Velvet’s memory. Where had she heard her before?

‘Your aunt says that she left a letter telling her daughter this.’ Madame paused and then delivered the final grand disclosure. ‘It’s hidden in her study, in a secret drawer!’

‘Oh! That’s wonderful,’ said the lady as the applause rang out. ‘I shall tell my cousin, and I’m sure she won’t keep the emerald from me any longer.’

Velvet suddenly realised where she’d seen the lady: she’d been at the evening of mediumship she had attended with Lizzie. She hadn’t asked a question about an emerald then, but about whether she would get married or not, and Madame had given her a very precise answer. How very curious, Velvet thought, still strongly clapping Madame.

‘Thank you very much,’ the woman said to Madame, whilst Velvet and the rest of the audience continued to applaud and murmur to each other how skilful Madame was. ‘I’m most grateful.’