by Laura Briggs
"Fit as a fiddle. Simply keeping on my toes tonight ... as requested by a certain someone." Here, the slightly-reddened eye of the old professor landed squarely on the earl’s daughter Kay before he polished his martini down to its olive. "Better," he declared, setting the empty glass on my tray. "Let there be no accusation that I can't detect fraudulent spirits tonight due to the presence of the real spirits circulating among us."
The doors to the dining room opened a moment later. "Dinner is served," announced Mr. Trelawney.
Black tie and formal frocks for most guests at the earl's birthday dinner, but the more outlandish members of the party didn't feel bound by the rules of tradition. Although Kay and Minerva dripped with the customary diamonds and precious stones and silks, the medium wore a sequined ivory gown and fascinator straight out of a Twenties-era fashion plate, complete with feathers. The ghost hunter's green dress was more of a vintage cocktail gown paired with bright red lipstick and a pair of lacy opaque tights that glittered. Even Ofong the sculptor had chosen a silk dinner jacket and cravat, explaining that 'white tie' was simply not his comfort zone.
Of course, the topic for dinner wasn't spirits or the world beyond the veil, but the earl himself. He appeared to be a man of adventures in addition to title and fortune, judging from the stories of his youth — many of which, as told by Budgy, involved pranks at university, trespassing in an M.P.'s weekend place in town while posing as his guests, and a summer month spent tramping around the northern Italian countryside, staying in local villages and hiking through the mountains.
"Couldn't find a decent hotel in Switzerland, eh?" Bill's sardonic comment was under his breath, and between sips of his cabernet, but it didn't escape his uncle's notice and subsequent glare.
"Those were certainly fine times," said the earl, and I detected some wistfulness in his voice. "Good times. One hadn't yet known loneliness from a service career and an empty manor when there is no one awaiting your return but staff ... or grown too old to enjoy a brisk, steep climb to the summit simply to look over the world below. Yes, I would say those were among the best times in my life, before I met Olivia. Except, of course, for the carnivals." His joke received a laugh from his guests.
I lifted away his plate of half-touched fish as the main course was now served. Dalton began slicing the meat into smaller pieces, taking care to remove a tablet from a bottle in the earl's pocket and administer it with the contents of the water glass.
"I'm only surprised you didn't run away to the circus, instead of making the sensible choice of doing one's duty for one's king," said Budgy. "Run off to find pyramids in South America like that chap Percy Fawcett."
"Were you ever tempted by such ideas?" Natalie smiled with this question, her first at dinner.
"You're psychic. Don't you know the answer already?" joked Kate.
"Some things should be answered only by the people to whom they belong," answered the psychic, solemnly. "It's another's feeling we're discussing."
"I was never one to shirk my duties," said the earl. "I may have wandered the Alps, but not for the purpose of finding a chateau where I could hide myself away from the world. Only of finding an adventure." He smiled at the psychic in return, then lapsed into a brief coughing spell that required his assistant's aid to calm.
Dessert time. Mr. Trelawney opened the doors to allow the birthday cake to be ushered in. It was two layers of impressive frosting, elaborate fondant roses, and one hundred candles marching in perfect unison around its tiers. The earl required help from Dalton and from Phillip to blow them all out.
Calls echoed for a speech as the smoke cleared, so the earl began after a moment to collect his words. "A century is hardly worth living if one doesn't have a purpose, or decent lives with which to share it," he said. "I have been fortunate in both. Neither my intelligence nor my station has been wasted, I hope, and my company has been spent among some of the keenest minds, sharpest wits, and kindest souls the globe has been given the privilege of carrying. At this moment, one comes to mind who possessed all three ... my dear son, who is no longer with us." A brief pause followed.
"And there have been others," the earl continued, which lifted the darkened faces of his family once again, "who have been so very dear to me, some of whom are with me still, and have gathered on this evening for the purpose of humoring an old man, even if they believe his choices are all nonsense apart from the fuss of this evening."
Dark — and somewhat worried — expressions returned among the earl's nearest and dearest, excepting most of his younger friends who were merely here to enjoy a fun week's party. The psychic looked solemn as she listened, with only the faintest of smiles at the speech's end. The assistant was busy laying out the earl's many after-dinner pills, from a container with a dozen compartments filled with little colored tablets.
A cork popped as Mr. Trelawney opened the champagne, which bubbled forth over the gold foil. It was time for birthday toasts to begin.
"Let me be the first to congratulate one of my oldest friends on his life and adventures," said Budgy. "If I were only a half-century older, I would have had the privilege of sharing the best half with you instead of merely hearing about it over martinis at our club."
He let the brief ripple of laughter subside before he continued speaking. "Nonetheless, we had many a pleasant evening together and a splendid — if rather unmentionable — summer of prowling Portofino together when the Riviera's casinos were splendid with lovely young women, wealthy coffers, and starry skies above." A much louder laugh followed from both the ghost hunter and the playwright for what these lines suggested, although Kay's face grew prim and stony.
"To old friends and splendid memories," said Budgy, lifting his glass. Now Kay was nudging Bill in the ribs with her elbow, forcibly. With a sour expression, he slowly drew himself upright, lifting his glass.
"I wanted to say a few words —" here, he managed to glare at his mother without being observed by too many guests on either side, " — about what an excellent man my grandfather is. He's ... a man of good ... taste ... good stock ... and a jolly good bloke all around." This last bit seemed like a last-minute choice at random to finish the sentence. He glanced at his mother again, then added, "I only hope I can become half the man he is." With that, he raised his glass. "To my grandfather, the Earl of Middlewhite."
"Splendidly done, darling," said Kay, with a little too much enthusiasm, as the murmurs and toasts of reply concluded. Now it was Phil's turn.
"I'm sure I'm merely echoing the words of praise my nephew uttered a moment ago," he began, with a slight edge to his tone. "But a man with my father's long years of service, industry, dignity, and familial pride will never be the subject of too many words for my taste. We all agree that he deserves this evening's celebration, surrounded by his beloved family and many of the friends he's made throughout his life's century." He smiled, albeit a limp one. "To my dear father."
Mr. Trelawney had opened the second bottle of champagne. "At this time, perhaps others among the earl's friends would like to share their thoughts as well," he said, as he filled the flutes once more.
Most of the guests were still politely nibbling their cake, and nothing about their expressions suggested they had speeches prepared. After all, not many of them numbered among the earl's oldest friends, except for Minerva, who had momentarily excused herself from the table.
Silence followed. Then, after clearing his throat, the assistant Dalton pushed back his chair.
"I've only known the earl for the past two years, and it may be an impertinence on my part, but I consider him a friend," he said. "I've been grateful for this opportunity, and, though we may have our differences, he's always been both kind and honest ... if a little irascible at times." A few guests smiled; the earl's gaze was strangely intent, a glitter in his eyes as they remained fixed on the far wall.
"So I hope it won't be too much of an impertinence on my part to wish him all the best by raising a glass in his honor." Dalton lift
ed his own. "To Lord Billings. May he live beyond his hundred years to seize a few more."
His toast was echoed at the table, although the expressions of Kay and Phil were begrudging as they joined in. To my surprise, the earl gave his assistant's arm a brief pat of friendliness, although he remained silent. And, I thought, strangely touched by the gesture.
There were no drinks with after-dinner coffee, and no more half-hearted songs at the piano from Bill. Tonight, the medium was giving a 'private reading' to each of the earl's guests, who would have their best opportunity to test her psychic powers if they so chose.
I moved a chair to the head of the sitting room, in front of the windows, with my coworker Katy moving another one to face it. The lights were dimmed, and several soothing candles were lit. The medium took several deep breaths from her seat, exhaling slowly each time. Clearing negative energy, Kate the paranormal investigator explained, in a slightly-loud whisper to Minerva.
"I'm ready to begin," she said, after lifting her head. "Who wishes to be first?"
First was the paranormal expert, of course. She sat down across from the medium, and met her gaze. A long moment passed.
"You have a secret," said the medium.
Kate smirked. "Doesn't everybody?" she replied.
"Not about death, no," answered Natalie. And the look in Kate's eyes proved this touched a nerve.
"You'll have to tell me more," said the paranormal investigator. "So I don't believe you're merely guessing."
Natalie was silent a moment. "You took the watch off the chair, where he left it," she said. "Or was it the edge of the pool? And took the note ... there was a note, I'm quite sure," continued the medium, softly. "It was so the secret would be yours alone, and wouldn't hurt anybody else."
Kate's face didn't betray anything else, although her eyes said more than enough: that the medium had found a dark, deeply-hidden piece of her past.
"You are quite good," Kate said, after a moment. "I'm not saying it's impossible for anyone to guess those things, of course," she added, flippantly. "Perhaps you could tell me what was inscribed on the watch's back?"
Natalie shook her head, solemnly. "No," she said. "That I can't see."
A few more minutes and a few more questions and predictions, then the paranormal investigator rose. Some of Kate's cavalier enthusiasm remained dimmed, however, as if the medium had rattled her by knowing, or guessing, this particular incident. She sat down beside the earl’s daughter, whose face wore a very uneasy look as well.
Natalie's reading of the playwright's aura didn't produce anything nearly as dark or dramatic, instead revealing that he had once worked for a very low-budget theater in secret while he was supposed to be studying engineering at his father's request. Next, she described part of the artist's new sculpture for him, a pair of twisty clay arms and skeletal hands uprising to grasp, representing life and death in unison. Ofong was amazed since he swore that he hadn't even begun to shape it yet in his studio and had told almost no one about it.
The philanthropist Minerva was informed that the bookkeeper who resigned from her foundation three years ago was a secret swindler arrested under another name in Prague, a revelation which amazed the medium's subject. Now young Bill sat down across from the medium.
"I'm not exactly a believer, so surprise me," he said. "Convince me, if you can, oh spirit whisperer."
Natalie gazed at him mildly. The earl's grandson sighed and looked bored. "Any thoughts on my future, maybe?" he asked. "Read any ill fortunes in the tea leaves?"
"No," said the medium. "Although, there is a sum of money coming to you in the future, it seems." Here, Bill's smirk grew a trifle more contented. "A trust fund?"
"Everybody knows that," he answered.
"And you will be accepted to an overseas university next autumn."
"Tell me something a little more imaginative, please." The grandson — rudely, and blatantly against strict hotel policy — was lighting up a cigarette in the sitting room. "How about the next lotto numbers? The numerical code to my home security system?"
"Cabo," said Natalie.
For a second, as I collected his empty coffee cup from the nearby table, I thought Bill looked slightly alarmed. "What?" he scoffed. "What does that mean?"
"Why were you there instead of in Geneva?" she asked. "He waited for you for several hours. He simply assumed there had been a mistake in the letter's date. June twenty-first of this past year."
Bill looked decidedly uncomfortable with this subject. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "I haven't been to Cabo in ages — as for this Geneva stuff, it's all nonsense. I've been accepted at Yale for a term, not some Scandinavian boarding school, for heaven's sake." He tried to laugh, but it didn't quite work.
Natalie said nothing in reply. "What else would you like to know about yourself?" she asked.
"I think your fantastical little stories have been sufficient for me, thanks." He removed himself, only to be replaced by his uncle, whose steely gaze had an unnerving effect on me if not the medium.
They stared at each other for a moment. Natalie spoke first.
"Strawberries," she said. "Your favorite. You had them for breakfast at the hotel in the Lake District, the best you had ever tasted."
Phillip smiled ever so faintly. "I know the place you refer to," he said. "They did have excellent produce."
"You worry a great deal about your father," she said.
"As does every good son," said Phil. "Hardly an astonishing truth about me, as everyone in this room knows."
"You worry that he'll find out about Farroway. It would break his heart to know."
The color drained slowly from Phil's face.
"Will knew. He swore he would never tell. He kept the secret, don't worry," said the medium, holding up her hand before he could speak. "Even now. But the notary's documents are still concealed in the top-hand desk drawer where you keep all your secret papers. The one for which you 'lost' the key ages ago."
Phil was quiet. "I think this is all rather silly," he said. "Some little goose from my housekeeping staff has a vivid imagination, clearly. Or the charwoman at my office building." He didn't try to laugh, but the two angry spots on his cheeks had grown darker.
"But you're keeping it secret for someone else, too. Someone very close to you ... you promised her, because it was so important that no story be printed about it so close to the evening of the election, since he, too, knew something about those papers ...."
Without warning, Kay rose from her chair. Directing a look of fury at both her brother and the medium, she swept from the room without another word. Bill slunk after her a moment later, avoiding his grandfather's line of vision as he tiptoed from the sitting room.
"I'm afraid you've concocted a far too elaborate story for me," said Phillip. "No such excitement in my humble little world of finance, quite assuredly not. In fact ... I don't think I like your insinuations, Miss Norridge. They smack of cheap, cruel theatrics — of a blackmailer's tactics, really, and not those of a polite young woman who should know her place in this company." With that, he pushed back the chair and resumed his place in the audience. Despite his attempt at a noble speech of chastisement, he didn't look really comfortable in my opinion.
"So many secrets," said Natalie, wearily. "The room is so very full of them. And more than one has something they're afraid to let anyone know." She surveyed the room with these words, and her eyes landed on me last of all, oddly enough.
I felt a shiver travel down my spine. She means me? No, that's impossible.
The medium drew herself upright in her chair and closed her eyes. Someone in her audience clapped their hands — a slow, rather dramatic tribute. "Marvelous," said the earl. "Simply splendid." His eager gaze took in his two oldest friends and even his companion — but his son was taking care to avoid making eye contact now, busy texting someone on his smart phone.
The medium leaned back in her chair again. "I'm afraid I can do no more tonig
ht," she said. "And I should rest longer between communications to be ready for the séance as well, so forgive me for saying goodnight so early, Lord Billings." She touched a hand to her forehead, then offered him an apologetic smile.
"Of course, my dear," said the earl, sympathetically. "High time I was off to bed also. Dalton, wheel me upstairs and finish that chapter of the Marquez novel you've been reading to me." At the motion of his employer's hand, the young man immediately wheeled the chair from the room, in the direction of the lift.
Katy and I began gathering the last of the coffee mugs and moving the furniture into place. I collected Bill's ash tray for emptying, wondering if Mr. Trelawney planned to say something about the young heir's arrogant habit or simply ignore it for the remaining couple of days.
"Are you all right, my dear?" Minerva was asking the paranormal investigator. "Perhaps I'm mistaken, but you were rather pale when Miss Norridge was speaking to you."
"You mean my big secret?" said Kate, with a crooked smile. "I suppose I was. It was a wild guess, likely enough ... but it was rather close. Not that I haven't been asked about what happened that day before, only by a very sympathetic DS who understood that I ... might be lying about certain circumstances. To protect someone's name from gossip." Here, Kate twisted a piece of her dress between her fingers. "All quite logical to assume. If you simply assume the public record of what happened is false, you would naturally assume what steps must have been carried out to create it, wouldn't you?"
Her smile was not convincing. Whatever logic came from Kate's lips, a tiny part of the paranormal investigator had been shaken in her opinion about Natalie Norridge. Underestimating her showmanship — or her powers.
"A nice hot cup of tea before bed will put everything to right," Minerva assured her. "Ring for one and sip it in a nice hot bath. It's done wonders for me in the past."
