Whispers Beyond the Veil (13 page)

“Then it's settled.” Lucinda stood. “All this planning has made me hungry. I'll be back in a moment with some muffins and jam.”

“Do you need help?”

“No. Just make yourself at home and try not to be smothered by an avalanche of needlework in my absence.” Lucinda smiled and Blossom followed her out the door, her toenails clicking and scratching against the gleaming hardwood floors.

I stood and moved about the room, taking it all in. Despite the abundance of decorative items there was a complete absence of dust. The brass light fixtures and andirons shone and the windows and mirrors sparkled. I stepped to the fireplace and looked at the tintypes on the mantel. In one, a man with an elegant mustache and sad eyes peered mournfully at me. In another, a slightly younger Officer Yancey cut a fine figure in an army uniform. I was still leaning over the tintype when Lucinda returned pushing a loaded tea cart.

“I hide this in the closet under the stairs so Mother can't smother it and I can actually use it,” Lucinda said, stopping the cart in front of a pair of armchairs. “You found Warren, I see.”

“I thought it must be him. When was he in the service?”

“He's been back about a year. He served for eight years, more or less.”

“How dashing he looks in his uniform. He looks like a man of adventure.”

“If he was, I don't know about it.” Lucinda sat in one of the chairs and poured the tea. I sat in the other and took the cup she offered.

“A man who doesn't boast about his daring deeds in the service of his country?” I was surprised. Not because Officer Yancey seemed like a man inclined to brag but because the men both visiting the medicine show and working it counted their time in the service as a point of honor and used it as a way to converse with other men.

“Warren won't speak of any of it at all. It is as though eight years of his life never happened. One minute he was gone with nothing more than an occasional letter and then he was back, trying to act as though he never left.”

“Perhaps he did not find army life to his liking,” I said. “I suppose some men don't.”

“All I know is that he came back a changed man.” Lucinda flicked a towel back to reveal a tempting display of baked goods. “But right now I am much more interested in discussing how we are to make a complete change to your wardrobe. After we eat, we'll write to Honoria.”

A
s much as I enjoyed my visit with Lucinda, I was ready for a little time to myself before the rigors of the dinner hour. I headed for the veranda and settled in a deep chair to read and look at the sea.

The view held me spellbound until the sounds of an argument drifted toward me from just beyond the fence enclosing the garden where I had sat with Mrs. Doyle refreshing my mother's hat. I didn't need to view the combatants. I recognized the voices of both Sanford Dobbins and Leander Stickney.

Perhaps I should have done the polite thing and cleared my throat loudly to alert them of my presence. Or even more politely, taken myself elsewhere in order to allow them their privacy. But long ago I had learned what was polite and what was useful were often very different things. I stuck my finger in my book and strained forward to listen closely. I could use all the inside information I could get for my upcoming séance session with the Stickneys.

“Sanford, I've been thinking over the incident with Flora Roberts.” Leander Stickney's voice was deep and forceful. “The
entire situation was very embarrassing and I've concluded I must dismiss you from my employ.”

“You're firing me?”

“You've left me no choice. I only hired you in the first place because your aunt insisted.”

“But you need me.”

“I needed you to help keep your aunt from being taken in by every charlatan in the greater Boston area. But instead, you encouraged her in a relationship that could have done irreparable damage to our family name. After all, how would it look if a fraud investigator's wife was systematically bilked out of her fortune?”

“You never proved Miss Roberts was a fraud.” Sanford's voice shot up an octave.

“I never went public with my findings but that doesn't mean I had no proof.”

“You always do think of your reputation ahead of all else.”

“Lucky for you someone does. If I hadn't caught on to Miss Roberts and told her I'd share my suspicions with the police if she showed her face in Old Orchard this summer she would have drained your aunt dry by the end of the season.”

“You can't really mean to dismiss me. I've been an asset to the society for ages.”

“No, you've repeatedly been a liability. This wasn't the first incident in which you were duped.”

“If you are referring to Madame Gustav, I know what I saw. She materialized a trumpet in the middle of the séance table out of thin air.”

“Madame Gustav was arrested for fraud by the Boston police the day after your session with her.”

“Only because you set them onto her.” Mr. Dobbins's voice was so shrill it was difficult to understand.

“Don't be so naive,” Mr. Stickney said. “You know very well that the police found fishing line and pulleys and a stash of trumpets and other so-called materials of apportment in her rooms when they raided them.”

“And why do you suppose that was?”

“Don't start in with that again. I've already assured you that I did not place those items in her home to incriminate her. Nor did I pay anyone else to do so.” Mr. Stickney cleared his throat.

“I'll tell Permilia that you are firing me and that you're the one responsible for Flora Roberts changing her mind about spending the season at the Belden.”

“No you won't. Unless you persuade my wife that leaving my employ was your idea and keep what you know about Miss Roberts to yourself, I will help myself to your trust account.”

“But that was left to me by my parents. You have no right to it.”

“As trustee I may disburse funds however I see fit until you turn thirty. If there's nothing left of it by then it will be your fault for displeasing me.”

“It's mine upon my marriage.”

“Only if I approve the match. Since I won't, I suggest you follow Miss Roberts's example and disappear.”

“Permilia will be devastated. She thinks of me as a son.”

“But I do not. You have until tomorrow to let your aunt know you have decided to take a job elsewhere.”

A door slammed loudly, then the sound of happy whistling floated over the fence. I leaned back in the wicker chair to think. Leander Stickney was the reason Flora Roberts had canceled at
the Belden—that much was clear. I wondered if my willingness to return to a life of deceit, despite my misgivings, was all for naught. If Mr. Stickney exposed me, Honoria was sure to lose the hotel anyway. But at least I wouldn't have to worry about finding a place to live. Officer Yancey was sure to provide me with accommodations in the nearest jail.

•   •   •

Y
ancey stood on the boardwalk, contemplating the throng milling around the base of the mostly completed pier when he felt a jab between his shoulder blades. He whirled round, wearing his best policeman's scowl, only to face his sister, Lucy.

“I could arrest you for assaulting a police officer,” he said. The girl had no sense at all sometimes.

“I wish I could call the authorities on you for unwarranted meddling.” Lucy was angry. Yancey would have realized it even without the jabbing. Her flushed cheeks were one indication. Her arms alternating between whirling about like pinwheels and clamping across her chest were another. He wasn't going to risk enraging her further and causing a public scene by pretending he didn't know what she was talking about.

“I assume Miss Proulx has declined your overtures of friendship?”

“Of course she hasn't. But the point is that you tried to influence her to do so.”

“I consider it my duty to protect both you and Mother from people like Miss Proulx.”

“Being a dutiful son or devoted brother isn't a part you can pick up and put down when you feel like it, Warren. I seem to
recall you had no interest in protecting us when you ran off to join the army.”

“That's not fair, Lucy.” Yancey felt the familiar tightening in his chest he always experienced when he remembered how eager he was to leave the scandal behind as soon as he was able. “I have apologized as best I could and have been trying to make it up to the both of you ever since.”

“Well, you're going about it all wrong. If we didn't need you then, we certainly don't need you now. Besides, you aren't as much help as you think you are.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You work all hours, pick fights with your boss, cry out in your sleep, and then deny there's anything wrong.” Lucy's face softened, just a little. “You've come back a changed man and not in ways that benefit any of us.”

“You have a romantic notion of what your big brother was, and the reality doesn't match your imaginings. That's all there is to it.”

“No, Warren, it isn't. You've changed and so have I.” Lucy uncrossed her arms and placed a hand on his arm. “I love you but I've learned the hard way that I don't need you. And I certainly won't allow you to act as if you have a right to waltz back into my life after an absence of eight years and tell me what to do.”

“So there's nothing I can do to convince you to stop Mother from consulting with Miss Proulx?”

“Not only are you not going to stop us, you should know I plan to take Miss Proulx on as my own special project.” Lucy shook her head. “That girl at the hotel who reads objects has been absolutely caustic about Ruby's appearance.”

“Miss Proulx told you that?” Yancey was surprised. Miss Proulx seemed too proud to share such a thing.

“Mrs. Doyle told me about it. The maids and servers have noticed. They all like Ruby and they've reported to Mrs. Doyle the jabs and snide comments they've overheard.”

“Is that why you offered Mother's services at making over her wardrobe?”

“What else could I do? It would be criminal to allow such a pretty girl to feel she was unattractive. Besides, I know just how it feels to be whispered about by girls who think they're superior. I couldn't let that happen to a friend if I could possibly help it.”

“I wish I'd never left you and Mother to get along on your own. I know it must have been difficult.”

“You had your own grief to consider. When I was a small girl I used to envy the memories you had of Father when I had none. Now I think maybe I was better off being just a baby when he died.”

“We both had our burdens to bear. I should have come home sooner.”

“Mother and I are very glad to have you back. Even if you decided to become a policeman.”

“You know I do this job to make sure only guilty parties are held responsible for crimes in this town.”

Lucy squeezed Yancey's arm. “I know you think Chief Hurley is responsible for what happened to Father but I don't know how you think working with him will help you to prove it.”

“It's the only way I know of to get to the truth.”

“I can think of a better one.”

“Don't say it.”

“I will say it. You should ask Miss Proulx for help.”

I
sat on the porch until the dinner gong rang announcing the meal would commence in a half hour. With so little time, my preparations for dinner that evening were even more hurried than the night before. Millie had no time to assist me with my hair since the hotel had steadily filled with guests throughout the day.

I made the best of things and managed to pin up my hair with several tortoiseshell combs I found in a drawer of the vanity table. Despite my best efforts, by the time I reached the dining room I felt tendrils straying from the combs and slipping down my back.

Honoria moved from table to table, smiling at guests and faculty alike. I stood in the threshold, overlooking the chattering crowd. I noticed that someone had thought to seat at least one faculty member at each table to mingle with the guests. I wondered how such organization had been accomplished until I moved farther into the room and noticed little paper cards in ornate silver holders. Upon each was written a name.

I picked my way through the room and discovered my own
name at a place near the center. Seated at the same table, I was pleased to see Elva and Dovie Velmont. Between them was a stranger. As I approached, he scraped back his chair and rose.

“Miss Proulx, I presume?” he asked, pointing at the place card.

“I am. I know the Misses Velmont”—I nodded around the table at them—“but I'm afraid I am not acquainted with you, sir.”

“Dennis Ayers, at your service,” he said. “The Misses Velmont have informed me you are the shining star amongst the practitioners here at the Belden.” He drew back my chair and waited while I sat.

“While I am flattered that they would say so, all the practitioners here at the Hotel Belden are the best at what they do.” I smiled at the Misses Velmont. “That being said, every guest has the discipline he or she favors. I suspect these two kind ladies are more partial to communication with those who have passed on than any other area of study.”

“You are too modest, Miss Proulx,” the plumper of the two sisters, Dovie, said.

“Father always said false modesty is as great a sin as unmerited boasting.” Elva lifted her napkin from her plate and opened it with a quick snap of the wrist. Her agility surprised me and I thought I'd be lucky to be as vigorous at half her age.

“I couldn't agree with you more,” Mr. Ayers said. He looked at me with a frankness that was entirely different from that of most men. For starters, he confined his gaze to my face, a notable departure from the others. “False modesty is a form of pride, even of willful deceit.” Even though his voice was warm I felt a chill pass over me.

“We can assure you, while Miss Proulx may be guilty of false
modesty she is certainly not guilty of deceit. Not like some others we could mention. Isn't that right?” Dovie pressed a plump hand against her fleshy bosom and looked to her sister for confirmation.

“We agreed before we came not to discuss our disappointments,” Elva said, turning a stern eye on Dovie.

“Surely you are amongst friends here, Miss Velmont,” Mr. Ayers said. “It sounds as though your experiences might serve as a lesson to others.”

“Father always did admonish us to assist others,” Dovie said, looking at Elva for approval.

“It's a rare daughter who does not profit from following her father's direction, wouldn't you agree, Miss Proulx?”

“Since you put it that way, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to discuss it,” Elva said. “Sadly, there are many, many persons who have endeavored to perpetuate fraud upon us.” The two sisters looked at each other and shook their heads in unison. “Especially when they realized we have the financial wherewithal to make frequent visits to their establishments.”

“They think because we are spinsters we must know nothing of the world,” Dovie said. “You would not believe the nonsensical mutterings we have been subjected to in our quest to make contact with Father.”

“The worst was the mumbo jumbo about being drawn to the light. Father was extremely fair and suffered from terrible headaches. He'd spend hours upon hours in a darkened room avoiding light as much as possible.”

“It was clear from the start none of them had a genuine gift.”

“There was a phrase Father told us he would say through a medium by which we would know it was truly him speaking.
Miss Proulx is the only one to have gotten it right. She has our complete faith.”

“Is that so?” Mr. Ayers turned his attention on me once more and I detected a sparkle in his eye that made me uncomfortable. There was an undercurrent to his conversation that I was unable to comprehend. Mr. Ayers seemed to be sizing me up like he was inspecting a tool in a box for its suitability for a task. As if he were hefting a hammer with a thought as to whether it was the best one for driving a nail. I would be relieved when dinner was finished and I could find an excuse to be rid of him.

“Certainly, it is so,” Dovie said. “We were so pleased with our sitting this afternoon we have already set another for tomorrow morning.”

“I congratulate you, Miss Proulx, on receiving such a ringing endorsement,” Mr. Ayers said.

“I'm pleased the Misses Velmont are so satisfied with my help but I cannot take the credit for it. The spirits do all the work.”

“Don't be so modest. I have every confidence that you are far more deserving of the credit for how effective a sitting is than you admit, Miss Proulx.” He smiled again and I thought of the wolf in an illustrated storybook I had treasured as a child. All I needed were a basket and a cape to be sure he was going to swallow me in an enormous gulp.

“She's a treasure, Mr. Ayers. An absolute treasure,” Dovie said.

“I can hardly wait to test out her abilities for myself,” Mr. Ayers said. And then, while the Misses Velmont were turned toward serving staff bustling in with heavy trays covered with silver dishes, Mr. Ayers winked at me. It was the exact same sort of wink Father used to give me behind the backs of the bumpkins
he was about to separate from their money. The only thing to do was to change the topic.

“Do you have a favorite spiritual discipline, Mr. Ayers?” I asked.

“I'm sure with your talents you must know it already,” he said.

“I am a medium, Mr. Ayers, not a psychic,” I said. “But if I had to guess I would venture to say you read tea leaves.” I gave the Misses Velmont a wink of my own.

“What a charming notion. But my interests lie elsewhere.” Mr. Ayers nodded to the waiter circling the table with a fragrant tureen of soup. The scent wafting from the serving dish momentarily distracted me and I almost missed his next comment. “My passion is art.”

“You're an artist?” Dovie said.

“I flatter myself that I am.”

“What brings you to the Hotel Belden?” I asked.

“I have an interest in spirit art. I wish to develop my ability to channel spirit into visual messages shown through my drawings.”

“Fascinating,” Dovie said. “Do you render landscapes or portraits when you commune with spirit?”

“I specialize in portraits. I pride myself, however immoderate it may seem, that I never forget a face.”

“Never?” said Elva.

“Once I've seen it, no, I never do.” I felt the weight of Mr. Ayers's gaze on my face. “Even if I haven't seen the face in life but rather just in a picture. On a handbill, a flyer, or even on a product label.” I flushed despite my best efforts to remain calm. Something in his look made me feel afraid beyond all reason. His words meant more than they seemed on the surface, that much was certain.