The Duke joined them, and Nathaniel made all of the proper introductions, then stood just watching the people milling around the parlour. He did not know quite what to say, and had the sudden uncomfortable feeling that his house had been taken over by lunatics. And yet he remembered the old woman’s previous warning that nothing would inhibit the spirits of the dead like unbelief.
“It is a pleasure finally to meet you, Madame Zoltara,” he said, with a bow, “after having heard so much about you.”
“Let us not speak of pleasure just yet,” Madame Zoltara replied, clapping her hands and gliding past him into the sitting-room. “There is business to be conducted tonight, and the dead will have their say!”
“Er… of course.”
Nathaniel glanced warily at Beatrice and Wilson as they all followed her into the sitting-room and closed the door behind them. A pale ghostly light shone on the window from without, seeming to accentuate the darkness in the room.
They all gathered around the mahogany table set in the centre of the room — Nathaniel and the Duke, Beatrice and Wilson, Bragg and Madame Zoltara. All light in the room was extinguished save a single guttering candle placed in the centre of the table, by the light of which Nathaniel could see Madame Zoltara. She was leaning against the back of her chair, rolling her head back and forth and slowly moaning in a manner that made his flesh crawl.
“I call heaven and earth to witness that we have met here tonight,” she said after a silence that had threatened to go on forever. “Here the invisible and corporeal realms shall meet — and the dead shall make themselves manifest!”
In the bright light of day Nathaniel might have been tempted to laugh at this pronouncement. But with the fog billowing outside the window, the light from the candle casting an animated glow on the back wall, and the way that Madame Zoltara continued to moan softly, even when she was no longer speaking, he could feel the hair on the nape of his neck standing up. He almost wished that his mother was in the room, that he might laugh and not feel afraid, so confident was she that spiritism was purely nonsense.
“Feel the divine emanations,” she said quietly: “the electricity coursing through the room and through every one of us.”
Nathaniel could certainly feel it. The air was so electric, in fact, that although it was nearly pitch-dark he felt he could light a match and set the room on fire.
“We are conductors,” she went on, “and the spirits have summoned us to join them in proper communion. To do this, you must all take hands.”
Nathaniel reached for his father’s right hand. At the same instant, a thin feminine hand slipped into his right hand — a soft, warm, delicate hand — and a sharp feeling of shock and pleasure coursed through his whole body like an electrical current.
It was Beatrice.
“Whom shall I contact?” asked Madame Zoltara. “The spirits circle around us, whispering. They want to know which of them will be called forth tonight, and what is the purpose of this visitation.”
“Please, let’s hear some personal information,” said Wilson in a tone of feigned excitement. “I want them to tell us something they couldn’t possibly have known by natural means.”
Nathaniel grumbled in frustration. It was clear to him that Wilson suspected that Madame Zoltara was an old fraud, and his scepticism threatened to sink the meeting before it could really begin.
If Madame Zoltara noticed, however, she said nothing about it.
“Very well. And who shall be the focus?”
“Why not Lord Salborne?” said Bragg. Even in the darkness his eyes glowed with a keen light. “After all, he’s the reason we are all here tonight.”
“Very well,” she said.
Nathaniel waited with a growing feeling of suspense, anticipating that whatever happened next, it would change the course of his life from this night forward. The mundane world in which he had lived for twenty-eight years would fall away and the secrets of the universe would reveal themselves.
“Ooooooo,” said Madame Zoltara softly. “Oooooooooo!”
She went on like this for a moment or two, half-singing, half-moaning, her beads jangling lightly.
“Lo, my spirit guide comes forth. He is leaping upon the mountains, the feather of a white hawk in his silken hair, and he rides a white horse.”
Nathaniel didn’t know what to make of this, so he simply sat still and waited. Beatrice’s hand shifted uncomfortably in his. He glanced over at his father. The Duke’s head was bowed, his chin resting on his chest. He was fast asleep.
“My guide is altogether lovely, Lord Salborne,” said Madame Zoltara. “He knows every thought you have ever had from the moment you were born until tonight. He saw you as a frightened child, lost in a cave for hours with only your dog for company. He sees the deeds of kindness that you have done in secret. He knows of the shilling that you gave to a young woman only a few days ago.”
It was extraordinary, uncanny. Nathaniel let out a low gasp.
Madame Zoltara continued.
“My spirit guide would like you to know that your kindness and generosity, though unseen and unnoticed in the mortal realm, have won you many admirers in the next life. Though you yearn to be wealthy, the true wealth is already inside you. You have given of yourself unfailingly even when it cost you, and your sacrifices will not go unrewarded.”
Going into this meeting he had doubted that anything this medium might say could truly affect him, but now Nathaniel found himself fighting back tears. It was more than just the fact that she knew things he had never told a living soul — she, or the spirits working through her, had seen straight to the heart of his most secret fear — that no one saw or appreciated the good he had done.
After the meeting was ended, Wilson and Beatrice sought Nathaniel out and Wilson asked him about it.
“Was it true what she said? The part about the cave and the shilling given in secret?”
Nathaniel nodded meekly.
“There was no lie. Every word she spoke was truth.”
“But how could that be? We know that no one can contact the dead, and yet… well, what other explanation is there?”
“She couldn’t possibly have known those things without supernatural assistance,” said Nathaniel. “I fear that we have all been gravely mistaken in matters of life, death, and the world to come. I said that I believed in the spirit realm, but I never truly believed in my heart until tonight. I think that most of us, though we call ourselves Christians, are sceptics at heart.”
Bragg approached the group.
“It’s the spirit of the age,” he said with a solemn nod. “The spirit of unbelief.”
“Well I, for one, don’t believe a word of it,” said Beatrice, her chin raised. Nathaniel and Wilson turned to look at her sharply. “Oh, I believe in heaven and hell well enough — my faith in both is unshakeable. Yet surely there are other ways to explain this woman’s ravings, without having to bring ghosts into it?”
“But how else could she have known about the cave?” replied Nathaniel. “And the woman on the street to whom I gave the shilling?”
“These are mere conjuring tricks, although I cannot explain how they are accomplished. Yet anyone who has looked into your face or known you for longer than a minute can see that you’re generous and kindly disposed to the poor and suffering. I might have told you this without the silly voices and spooky mannerisms.”
A blush swept over Beatrice’s face.
Nathaniel could feel his faith wavering—these aspersions on Madame Zoltara landed like a personal attack. Wilson, however, merely laughed.
“You ought to become a professional revealer of such schemes, my dear sister. Mediums and magicians alike would fear your name.”
“I suppose,” she said, smiling. “Though I fear that the gullible and credulous would rage to see their idols smashed.”
Nathaniel said nothing. His hand was still warm where she had been holding it and his eyes glowed as though guarding a secret that only he kn
ew.
Chapter Five
True to her word, Madame Zoltara sought no monetary compensation for her work that night. However, Nathaniel had been so moved by his experience during the séance that he immediately arranged for another to take place on the following Saturday, the twenty-fifth of October.
Nathaniel perceived that his mind was becoming conflicted with two women — the first a wizened hag with a quavering voice who could talk to the dead, the other a beautiful young woman with a melodic voice he could listen to for hours unending, and who was becoming an anchor for his soul.
It was this second woman who had begun to occupy more and more of his thoughts. Just being near her seemed to set his heart free in ways he had not known previously.
~~~~~
On Tuesday Nathaniel ventured out to Hadleigh House, ostensibly to visit Wilson. The two sat down in the parlour, and began to discuss the matters of the day. When Wilson noticed his friend glancing frequently at the doorway he smiled to himself and rang for a footman.
“Yes, my Lord,” said Parsons.
“Please ask my sister if she would like to join Lord Salborne and myself for some conversation.”
“Yes, my Lord. Would you be requiring tea as well?”
“That would be very nice. Thank you.”
A few minutes later Beatrice swept into the room, the effect of which stopped Nathaniel mid-sentence. He stood up to greet her.
“Lady Beatrice! So glad to see you again.”
“And you as well, my Lord.”
The tea was served with scones and heavy cream. After a time, it was evident to Wilson that the only meaningful conversation taking place was between his friend and his sister, so he rose and removed himself to the edge of the room, staring out the window at the flower garden. Eventually the conversation turned to the subject of Beatrice’s consuming passion.
“And how did you become interested in using herbs for health and healing?” Nathaniel asked.
“It began when I was a little girl, actually,” she said, shifting her position and leaning toward Nathaniel. “I had a pet pigeon that was looking quite ill. I didn’t know what to do, but my mother knew of a woman who raised birds for sale at the market. When I described the symptoms to her, she told me to feed the bird a bit of parsley and some cooked rice coated with honey.”
“And did that work?”
“Oh, yes — the bird recovered quite nicely. As a result, the use of herbs and foods for healthy living has become of intense interest to me. In addition to the extensive collection of herbs and remedies, which I have here in this house, I keep several herbal compounds in my reticule, where they are always at the ready.”
“Speaking of healthy living,” Wilson intervened, “would it not be advantageous to take an invigorating ride in the country sometime? Fresh air? Say, the three of us together?”
Beatrice blushed, but Nathaniel capitalized on his friend’s remark.
“Why, yes, that sounds like a splendid idea! What say you, Lady Beatrice?”
After contemplating for a moment, she replied, “I think that would indeed be healthy — and I would enjoy it very much.”
Nathaniel glanced at Wilson and smiled. Then he turned to Beatrice and said, “How about this Thursday afternoon, a trip through the Regent’s Park?”
~~~~~
Two days later found the trio enjoying the crisp morning air, as they rode through the park together, in an open carriage. When the subject of the séances arose — which was inevitable — a debate emerged among them. Nathaniel was in favour of keeping an open mind, while Beatrice and Wilson held the position that humankind was not meant to commune with those who had passed beyond this existence.
“I have invited Madame Zoltara to return this Saturday night, for another séance,” Nathaniel said. “Why don’t the two of you join us again? We all witnessed some extraordinary events last Saturday. Who knows what might happen this time?”
Wilson and his sister exchanged glances.
“Yes, without doubt it will be entertaining,” he said thoughtfully, folding his arms across his chest. “Perhaps on this occasion this woman and her spirit guides will even outdo themselves.”
Beatrice nodded her agreement.
~~~~~
Saturday the twenty-fifth was a blustery day, with dark clouds and winds increasing as the day progressed. By nightfall the moon was full, but seldom visible in its entirety through the rapidly moving clouds.
The participants began to arrive just before nine o’clock. As before, the first to arrive were Beatrice and Wilson. Nathaniel could not hide his delight at seeing Beatrice again, nor could she hide the glow in her eyes.
“I suppose it would not be entirely untoward if I left the two of you alone for just a few minutes,” Wilson said with an understanding smile. He then wandered into the sitting-room.
Nathaniel and Beatrice began to converse, but were soon interrupted by the arrival of the Duchess.
“Lady Beatrice Stewart,” Nathaniel said, “I would like you to meet my mother, the Duchess of Warbleton. Lady Beatrice is the daughter of the Earl of Blakely.”
“Pleased to meet you, Lady Beatrice,” said the Duchess.
“And you as well, Your Grace,” said Beatrice.
Just then Oakley ushered Anthony Bragg and Madame Zoltara into the room. Introductions were made, and the Duchess apologised for the absence of her husband, who was not fit to participate, and announced that she had acceded to his request that she attend in his stead.
The entire group moved into the sitting-room and, as before, the door was closed behind them. Everyone assembled around the mahogany table, joining hands with the person next to them. Nathaniel seated himself between Beatrice and his mother.
It was an eerie gathering, as the wind whirling the clouds about caused animated patterns to appear on the windows, punctuating the flickering patterns projected onto the walls by the candle in the centre of the table. Powerful gusts of wind forced the entire house to shudder sporadically, rattling ceramic pottery on the shelves surrounding the room.
Madame Zoltara looked upon the group with a sceptical air and then focused on the flame of the candle. She rolled her head and jangled her beads like a ghost lamenting its past sins. Nathaniel was seated with his back to the dining-room window. He had made certain, once again, to be seated next to Beatrice — they had spent several hours together during the past week, and he looked forward to being with her. His pulse gave a familiar flutter when he took her hand in his.
“What do you suppose is going to happen tonight?” he asked her in a whisper.
“I don’t know,” she said with a shudder. “But I feel so apprehensive — not like last time. A sense of foreboding, like something is different about this night.”
“Perhaps it’s the wind,” Nathaniel suggested quietly. “Even the weather seems to be cooperating in Madame Zoltara’s quest to frighten us out of our wits.”
“I almost regret coming, I feel so scared. I rather wish that I was at home, seated beside the fire with a book or my knitting. I much prefer reading Gothic novels to being in one.”
A sudden flash of lightning, and the ensuing ear-splitting thunderclap caused them both to flinch, and the grip they shared to tighten.
While they had been talking, Bragg and Zoltara had been quietly conferring on the opposite side of the table. But when the thunderclap interrupted them she straightened her back and sat upright, clearing her throat.
“Like Micaiah of old,” she said in her usual raspy voice, “I see the spirits of the dead gathered around the throne of the Lord. And the spirits are conferring together, for it is said, ‘Who among us shall go forth and minister wisdom?’”
She fell silent, as though waiting for Nathaniel to give his response. When he spoke, it was in a voice of genuine curiosity.
“Tell the spirits of the departed that I would like some business advice. And I would like it from an experienced man esteemed for his brilliance and practicality.”
There was silence for a long moment, punctuated only by occasional moans from Madame Zoltara. Nathaniel heard the rustle of a dress and glanced up to see his mother shifting uncomfortably in her chair. Somehow her agitation increased the level of suspense that he was feeling. He began to feel deeply anxious that she would get up and leave, and that her disdain would antagonize the spirits.
“Look where it comes!” cried Madame Zoltara at last, and beside him Beatrice gasped. “A dim figure rising up out of the earth. Presently I see only his silhouette at a distance, about the size of a man’s hand.”
“Is he approaching?” asked Wilson, with uncharacteristic fervour.
But before she could respond, something entirely unexpected happened. Nathaniel felt the weight of the table lifting off his legs, and then a second later the table itself slowly rose several inches into the air and wavered there, as if weightless. At the same instant, he heard a steady and persistent tapping, though when he opened his eyes and looked around he was unable to determine the source.
“Yes,” said Madame Zoltara in a constrained voice, her face pale and her brow damp with perspiration. “He is here.”
Just then, on its own, a pitcher scraped its way along a table near the wall. Zoltara gasped. Suddenly a painting fell from the wall to the floor with a thud — and the candle was extinguished, leaving the room in complete darkness!
“It is real!” Zoltara screamed. “It is truly real, and the spirits are here!” The candle was quickly relit. Several of the others glanced up at Madame Zoltara. She had fainted, her head canted to the side. A glass of water was called for, and eventually the woman revived.
“Are you alright?” asked Bragg, placing his hand upon her shoulder.
“I will be,” she said hesitantly, and Nathaniel was surprised to hear what he perceived as a distinct note of panic in her voice. A pained look came into her face as she twitched and moaned.
“No matter what,” Bragg said, “you must complete this séance, for you are well aware there are consequences if the spirits are left unsatisfied.”
Love in the Moonlight: A Regency Romance All Hallows' Eve Collection: 7 Delightful Regency Romance All Hallows' Eve Stories (Regency Collections Book 6) Page 37
