Whispers Beyond the Veil (12 page)

“I know you have reason to resent my father. I am sorry for all the pain he caused the family,” I said. “But I'm not my father or even my mother and do not wish to shoulder either the credit or the blame for them. I made my way here determined to make the best of things my own way. I hope you will find it in your heart to put your distaste for my father aside and to evaluate my character on its own merits.”

“That is exactly what I intend to do.” She handed me back the bonnet. “I was a milliner before I came to work at the Belden. I made this hat for your mother. I'm glad to see it getting some use once more.” She took her leave of me without a backward glance.

I remained seated on the bench considering the formidable Mrs. Doyle. While she was clearly one to carry a grudge in both hands she was also willing to give me the benefit of her expertise when I asked for it. And she obviously was someone deeply loyal to those she loved. Maybe, just maybe if I did my best for Honoria and the Belden she would find a way to accept me. But for now, I would consider her willingness to help with the hat a sign of real progress.

T
he door of the séance room was open when I stepped in to look for someone who could direct me to the address included in Lucinda's letter. Amanda Howell sat at one end of a camelback sofa while Ned Larkin perched at the other. Amanda's eyes were closed and her fist clasped tightly around a silken drawstring bag. My cards. I must have forgotten them when I left the room after the unpleasantness with Officer Yancey. Ned looked up at me, then held a finger to his lips. I stopped and silently began to watch.

I didn't like for Amanda to touch my things without asking but, despite her claims, I wasn't really afraid she would be able to learn anything about me from the cards. After all, you'd have to be a fool to imagine someone could learn about an object's owner by simply holding it. Wouldn't you?

“I have the sense this object has been in one family for many years.” Amanda paused and clenched her eyes even more tightly closed. “It has traveled a long distance but is now back where it belongs.”

“What else are you noticing?” Ned asked. From what she had
described at dinner the night I had arrived, this appeared to be a practice session for token reading or psychometry. I was in a hurry to get to Lucinda's but this was too fascinating to miss. I would ask for directions when they were through.

“I feel secrets and fear. Loneliness. Desperation. This object comforts the owner whose life is one of hardship.” Amanda opened her eyes, then opened her hand to look at what it contained. “Where did you get this?”

“It was lying on the table when I arrived. I don't know to whom it belongs,” Ned said.

“Despite the age of the item it has a youthful energy. And it definitely belongs to a woman,” Amanda said. I must have made a noise, because Amanda turned her attention to the doorway and gave me an unpleasant smile. “As a matter of fact, I believe this belongs to Miss Proulx.” She held out the bag to me as if challenging me to take it. Ned turned in my direction, his eyebrows pulled down together in confusion.

“I should not have thought an object like the one you described could possibly have belonged to Miss Proulx.” He lifted the bag from her hand and began examining it.

“It is mine,” I said, stepping into the room. “But I am afraid Miss Howell needs a great deal of practice in order to be ready to conduct sessions for guests.”

“That's exactly what we were doing. Amanda has had an attack of nerves now that we know Mr. Stickney is here investigating the practitioners.”

“If that reading is typical I can see why you might be concerned,” I said.

“Are you saying I was not accurate in my reading?” Amanda asked.

“You guessed the owner correctly. That's at least something.” I couldn't resist poking at her a bit.

“So everything else was wrong?” Ned asked. Amanda looked at me and her own expression did not require a psychic gift to interpret. We were unlikely to become friends.

“Let's just say I would continue practicing if I were her,” I said.

“I am quite certain I need fear Mr. Stickney's scrutiny far less than you,” Amanda said.

“Did your reading tell you that as well?” I asked.

“No, common sense did. After all, it hardly seems credible that you would announce you just happened to be a medium as soon as Flora Roberts canceled.”

“What are you implying?” I said.

“I'm not implying anything. I am flat out saying that I believe you are a fraud.” With that, she rose from the sofa and swept past me out the door, pressing my cards into my hand as she went. “You'll need every bit of cunning these imply you possess if you stand a chance of fooling Mr. Stickney.” She scowled at me, then flounced off in her fashionable gown.

“Miss Proulx, I must apologize for Amanda,” Ned said. “I have no idea what came over her. She is usually so accurate and has such a ladylike demeanor.”

“Worry brings out the worst in us all. Think nothing of it.”

“How understanding of you. I'm afraid Mr. Stickney's arrival has all the practitioners upset.”

“Why should they be?” I was curious about the attitude of the staff.

“No one likes to be under suspicion. Besides, it fundamentally changes the atmosphere in the hotel from one of support to
one of skepticism. Everett mentioned at luncheon that he feels a change in the energy here already and it has only been a few hours. Just imagine what it could do over the course of the season.”

“Do you feel it yourself?”

“Numerology is more of a science. Facts, figures, and numbers are far less susceptible to that sort of thing than is dowsing, scrying, or even your own practice of mediumship. Have you done a reading since Mr. Stickney arrived?”

“I have not. I understand he arrived just after I concluded my session this morning with the Velmonts.”

“So you have not yet felt any resistance in the part of the spirits or of your own guide to the change in the wind?” I could have kissed him if I were that sort of girl. Ned had given me a perfect excuse to use if I found myself in trouble with any of the clients. I could blame Mr. Stickney for silencing the spirits.

“It is likely it will be more difficult to connect with those in spirit with a doubtful energy hanging over us all. Still, we shall have to make the best of it.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help,” Ned said, which reminded me of my appointment with Lucinda.

“There is a way you could help me. Can you tell me how to get to this address?” I pointed to Lucinda's card.

“I know just where this is. I'd be happy to escort you.” Ned crooked his arm and ushered me out the door.

•   •   •

A
ll the way to Lucinda's house Ned kept up a steady stream of chatter. I was grateful for the distraction. His efforts to impress me with his knowledge of the area and his expertise in
numerology drove Amanda's words from my thoughts. Mostly. But every time he paused I could hear her giving an accurate description of my emotions and my past just from touching my cards. Could it be possible for someone to possess such a talent? Or was her assessment of my character and background just wishful thinking on her part? Either way, I would do my best not to allow her to touch anything else I owned.

Ned brought me directly to Lucinda's doorstep. After assuring himself I could find my own way back to the hotel he made his good-byes and left me to my visit.

The Yancey home was small but well kept. Crisp gray paint with white trim and a profusion of flowers in the boxes at the windows proclaimed the owners of the little Cape to be house-proud. I mounted the steps to the small porch and pulled on the bell. Yapping emerged from inside before Lucinda herself flung open the door.

“Ruby, I hope you like dogs,” she said, bending to scoop up a plump ball of scruffy cream-colored fur and frantic energy. “Blossom, stop barking and say hello to our friend Ruby.”

“I adore them.” One of the many things that played a part in my fantasy of living in a house was to have a dog. Blossom was just exactly what I had imagined, except the dog in my mind's eye had dark spots on its coat. I pulled off my glove and held my fingers out for the little dog to sniff.

“She likes you,” Lucinda said when Blossom licked my fingertips.

“I like her, too,” I said, feeling pleased to have passed muster. “What sort of dog is she?”

“A very naughty one.” Lucinda gently patted Blossom's thick body. “I don't suppose you'd like a puppy in a few weeks, would you?”

“I would love one but I certainly can't speak for Honoria.”

“I don't expect you'll have any worries there. From what my mother has to say, Honoria would give you anything you asked to keep you at the Belden. She's simply over the moon that you've come home.” Lucinda stepped back into the short hallway and returned Blossom to the floor. “But let's not stand here in the doorway. The parlor's right over there.”

I followed her into a small, bright room filled to bursting with bric-a-brac. Every surface simply heaved with vases, doilies, and small figurines. Needlepoint pillows clotted the chairs and the sofa. Only the floor was unblemished by decoration.

“Make yourself comfortable, if you possibly can,” Lucinda said with a broad sweep of her arm. “When Mother isn't consulting with your aunt about the spiritual side of life she throws herself headlong into needlework.”

“Did she create all of this?”

“Yes. She's simply a wonder with a needle and thread. Mother needs things to keep her busy and to take her mind off the past. Which is one of the reasons I invited you here today.”

“I am terribly sorry if your mother was disturbed by the séance. I'd be happy to make excuses as to why I cannot hold another sitting with your mother if that's why you asked to see me.” I had been hoping to make a friend of Lucinda but I understood if she was not interested.

“I wanted to see you about Mother, but I would like you to have more contact with her rather than less.”

“More sittings, you mean?”

“Not so much sittings as fittings.” Lucinda passed her gaze over the room and shook her head. “May I speak frankly without fear of offending you?”

“I am not easily offended. Please tell me what you had in mind.”

“Your wardrobe. It simply won't do.”

“My clothing was lost along the journey,” I said, hoping the lie sounded convincing. “I am very grateful that Honoria kept all my mother's things and that they fit so well.”

“They are very pretty but are tragically out of date. A young woman such as yourself, with looks, a social position, and a need to mingle with guests at the hotel should be dressed appropriately.”

“I could not ask Honoria for money for clothing and I am afraid I have none of my own.”

“I'm doing a poor job of explaining my idea. I would like you to do me the very great favor of allowing my mother to make over your gowns.”

“I couldn't ask that of her. Imagine the work it would take.”

“Exactly. She needs a new project. The bigger, the better. It would cost nothing to alter the existing wardrobe other than time, and she would be delighted to do it.”

“It seems too much to ask.”

“I am asking you to allow me to portray you as desperate and without resources to aid yourself. I'm very much afraid I'm the one asking too much.”

“Will Honoria object to the gowns being altered? After all, she has kept everything in my mother's room just as it was when she left, including the clothing.”

“She has been keeping everything in the room for you and she wants you to love it all and to stay with her always. She certainly isn't going to deny you this.”

“I wouldn't even know how to ask. She has already been so generous, giving me a home and making me feel so welcome.”

“Leave that bit to me. I shall write to her and propose that in order to best represent the Belden you need a proper wardrobe. I will suggest Honoria would be doing me a favor by allowing Mother to make the alterations.”

“Are you certain she won't object?”

“Of course she won't. Even Warren couldn't complain about it. As a matter of fact, his commenting on what a shame it was that such a pretty girl as you was dressed as a middle-aged woman convinced me to formulate this plan in the first place.”

Heat surged to my cheeks and down my neck. I certainly was not interested in Officer Yancey's good opinion but knowing he thought I was pretty and pitiable was strangely disturbing.

“Do you think your mother really would be willing?” I asked.

“Does it look to you as though she has space to drape another doily? Besides, we've already discussed it and she would like to do it as a way to repay you for contacting Gladys. She's looking forward to many more sessions.”

“Your brother came by the hotel this morning to warn me not to conduct any more séances for your mother or you, so I doubt that will be necessary.”

“He did what?” Lucinda's tone perked up Blossom's droopy ears.

“He demanded that I stop playing havoc with your mother's nerves. He was quite insistent.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I had no intention of stopping the sessions as long as your mother wished me to continue them.”

“Good for you. I knew you were a modern sort of girl the minute I saw you no matter how old-fashioned your clothes were.”

“I hope I haven't caused a rift in your home.”

“Don't give it another thought. Mother will be delighted you've agreed to the project. Warren has no say in our affairs.”

“If you're certain, it would be a relief to face the dining room feeling more in fashion.” I thought of Amanda and her cutting remarks. It gave me a slight tremor of excitement to think of her reaction when I appeared at the table with something she could not fault.