Whispers Beyond the Veil

by Jessica Estevao

  My dinner stirred wretchedly in my stomach, and I cast my eyes to the wardrobe where Millie had hung my own travel-weary gown. Surely there were other places to go. Places without someone watching my every move for signs of deception. Perhaps the best course of action would be to slip away as quickly as I had arrived. Usually, I would have consulted my cards when such weighty matters pressed down my spirits but I had left mine with the ones owned by Honoria and they rested in her room.

  I pushed back the little stool and walked to the wardrobe. I might be a lot of the things Mrs. Doyle implied. I was adept in the art of deception. I was an excellent fraud and I was a confidence artist. I was an accomplished swindler. But I was not an outright thief. I would not leave with anything not my own.

  I unbuttoned the front of my mother’s chemise and commenced to slip it off.

  “Trust that your place is here.” I paused as I heard the voice distinctly through the cloth of the chemise covering my ears. Not that the fabric mattered. Never had I so desperately wanted it to be real, to be giving wise counsel. I tugged off the borrowed garment and reached out for the brass knob on the wardrobe door.

  “Trust that your place is here.” I heard the words again, even louder now. They created a pressure in my head like that of being underwater. I stepped back from the wardrobe and went instead to the dresser. The drawers glided smoothly on their rails as I opened and shut them, looking for a nightgown. I might be mad to listen to such a voice but I remembered my promise to myself to heed its advice no matter how strange. I tucked myself into bed, blew out the bedside candle, and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I was startled awake the next morning by a knock upon the door. The comfort of the bed and the smell of the sea drifting in through the opened window left me momentarily disoriented. As I remembered where I was and why I was there I threw back the coverlet and hoped it was not Mrs. Doyle, accompanied by a policeman, at the door.

  Much to my relief, it was Millie there to help me choose an appropriate costume for the day and to fix my hair into something more suitable than the braid I wore for sleeping. She told me Honoria had once again sent her and had asked me to join her in the dining room once I was dressed.

  I felt my steps falter as I approached the dining room. I hoped my aunt hadn’t requested my presence to tell me Mrs. Doyle insisted I should be on my way. I paused at the doorway and gave myself a stern talking-to. I told myself I was a modern woman with a decent head on her shoulders. As much as I wanted to stay I would land on my feet if forced to leave. I stepped into the dining room with my chin lifted and a smile I did not feel on my face.

  Honoria sat alone at a small table near a window. Her own smile as she glanced up at me looked welcoming and genuine. I felt my worries melt away, for the moment, at least.

  “Good morning, Ruby dear. I trust you slept well?”

  “I’ve never spent a night in greater comfort.” Which was entirely true. There was no comparison to be made between the canvas and wooden folding cot I called my own at the medicine show and my mother’s high bed heaped with pillows and dressed with clean, smooth sheets. I helped myself to oatmeal and a hard-boiled egg from warming dishes on the sideboard. The dining room basked in the warmth of the sun slanting through the windows, and the papered walls displayed images of colorful birds and sprigs of flowers.

  During dinner the night before I had been too busy to notice the details of the room, but now I settled in to admire it at leisure. The furniture and paintings, not to mention the carpets and silk draperies, must have cost a small fortune. The renovations and upkeep on the hotel surely amounted to a great deal of money.

  “I’m glad to hear it. I confess I was so excited by your arrival I couldn’t settle down.” Honoria slid a velvet box across the table to me. “So I used the time to locate this. I’ve been saving it for your return.” I felt a lump form in my throat. Honoria sounded so happy and I knew I didn’t deserve her kindness. I opened the box and gasped at the contents.

  “This is the necklace I saw in the photo of you and my mother.” I ran my finger over the sparkling red stone dangling at the end of a delicate gold chain.

  “I’ve kept it for you all these years. It was your mother’s favorite. I believe it inspired your name.” Honoria lifted it from the box. “Would you like to wear it?”

  “Shouldn’t I save it for a special occasion?”

  “Today is a special occasion. The Velmont sisters, our first guests of the season, are expected this morning.” Honoria motioned for me to turn around, and I felt the weight of the pendant against my bodice.

  “Is it special because they are the first or because of something special about them?”

  “I understand they’re very influential in Spiritualist circles and have said they will recommend the Belden to those of their acquaintance who would be interested if the experience here is all they hope it to be.”

  “Did they say what sort of experience they hope to have?”

  “They are eager to consult with a medium. Apparently, they wish to contact their father, who has passed on to the other side.” Honoria said this without any of the sneer in her voice my father’s always held when discussing his marks. Nothing in her tone suggested she was attempting to deceive herself or anyone else.

  “Isn’t your medium arriving today as well?”

  “She is expected very shortly.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” I asked.

  “I would be most grateful if you would help me to greet newcomers as they arrive.” Before I could respond, a carriage clattered to a stop on the street just outside the window. Honoria straightened her already impressive posture and reaching for my hand pulled me to my feet. “Shall we?”

  • • •

  At first glance, the Velmont sisters were indistinguishable. Both were short, even given the height added by their identical hats. Both wore matte black crepe gowns even more out of fashion than the ones in my mother’s wardrobe. Matching net gloves, wire-rimmed spectacles, and gray hair reinforced the impression that they were identical.

  Indistinguishable, that is, until they began to speak. Unfortunately, they both stepped forward to address Honoria at the same moment.

  “Miss Belden?” they said in unison.

  “You must be the Misses Velmont. I am Honoria Belden and am delighted to welcome you as the first guests of the season at the Hotel Belden.”

  “The very first, you say? What a surprise. We’re never first at anything, are we, Elva?” asked one of the other. “One doesn’t like to push oneself forward unnecessarily, does one?”

  “Nonsense, Dovie. We’re never first because you are always late for everything.” The thinner of the two sisters, and perhaps slightly older, if the lines tightening determinedly around her face were to be trusted, stepped toward me and looked me up and down. The beady look in her eye reminded me of Mrs. Doyle the previous evening. “And who is this young lady? She appears to be a relation of yours, Miss Belden. My sister and I are very keen on close family ties.”

  “May I present my niece, Miss Proulx?” I could feel Honoria’s hand tightening around my upper arm like she was clinging to it for dear life. I wondered if the Velmont sisters were more important people than their appearance would suggest. Why else would such a self-assured woman as Honoria be so nervous in their presence?

  “We only stay at family-run establishments,” Dovie said. “Father only stayed at family-owned hotels and we, of course, have continued to do the same.”

  “You recall I mentioned Mr. Velmont has passed over to the other side?” Honoria said to me.

  “How thoughtful of you to remember, Miss Belden,” Dovie said, reaching out and clasping Honoria’s free hand in her own small, plump one. “We are aflutter with anticipation of the arrival of your medium. She hasn’t gotten here before us, has she?” Dovie sw
iveled her head and looked around as if hoping a medium would simply appear before her as if by magic.

  “Dovie, you know we timed our visit to arrive before the medium,” Elva said. “She’s expected later today, is she not?”

  “Everything has been arranged for weeks. She arrives on the next train from Boston and plans to begin sessions with guests this afternoon,” Honoria said.

  “We shall mark down an appointment as soon as we’ve settled in.” Elva forced out an exaggerated sigh before waving a hand at the modest pile of trunks and bags behind her. “Do you have rooms for us on the first floor?”

  “I’m afraid all our guest rooms are on the second floor and above,” Honoria said. “I hope that won’t be a problem.”

  “But you do have us in a shared room?” Elva asked.

  “Yes, just as you requested. I’ll send for a porter to carry your baggage to your room and I’ll show you to it myself.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself on our account.” Dovie spoke up. “Let Miss Proulx show us the way. If she can spare the time, that is.”

  “It would be my pleasure. Which room are they to have, Aunt?” I asked, keeping my brightest medicine show smile affixed to my face. Considering the importance Honoria seemed to place on the Velmonts, the least I could do was to be obliging. Even if I did get lost along the way.

  “I’ve placed them in the Beach Rose Room.” Honoria cocked an eyebrow to gesture toward the stairs nearest the front of the house. I hoped I was correct in my memory of the hotel from the whirlwind tour the day before. My best hope was that the rooms all had placards attached to their doors with nautically themed names upon them. Like my mother’s room, aptly named the Crow’s Nest.

  “Of course, Aunt. Ladies, if you’ll follow me?”

  As I led the way I could hear them fussing and rustling behind me. Dovie paused to look at every picture on the walls and through every open doorway. Elva walked so swiftly I feared she would tread upon my heels. By the time I’d paused on the first landing Dovie was nowhere in sight.

  “My sister goes floating off with even the most minor of distractions. She takes twice as long as I do to get anywhere at all.” Elva sighed deeply and scowled. “You would not have believed all the fuss it took to get into the carriage and off to the train station this morning.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. It can be a very difficult thing to be a well-organized person when accompanied by those who are not.” I thought of how often I had struggled to roust Father in the morning after a night of excess. He had been a sore trial to me. Not that there was any reason to think Dovie was slow to get moving on account of a blinding headache and a roiling stomach.

  “How well we understand each other, child.” Elva nodded in solidarity with a single bob of her chin.

  I dared to hope things had gotten off to a good start with the first guest, and I felt my spirits lift. Perhaps if the guests approved of me Mrs. Doyle could be convinced to do so, too. I forged ahead up the stairs with renewed enthusiasm. At the top of the wide staircase the hall led to the east and toward the west. Faced with a decision, Honoria’s words about the sisters’ room facing the sea came back to me. The seaside was the east side, that much I was sure of. At least I thought I was.

  I searched ahead at doors, looking for a sign to tell me which room was assigned to the sisters. But all the doors were the same dark walnut inlaid panels and all without a placard like my own. I took a breath and pushed open the first door I came to on the east side of the hotel. Primroses and lilacs frolicked across the wallpaper.

  I pulled the door shut again and hurried to the next room, papered in seashells, and then on to the third, a room decorated with weeping willow trees and men with fishing poles. As Elva caught up with me she raised her eyebrows. Perhaps I was too hasty in assuming I had gotten on her good side.

  “It seems to me you ought to know your way around your own hotel,” Elva said. “Are you sure you’re a member of the Belden family?” At this moment Dovie caught up with us, her hat askew on her graying head, slightly out of breath.

  “What nonsense, Elva. This child is the spitting image of a very fine portrait hanging just down the hall. If you weren’t always in such a hurry you would have spotted it for yourself.” Dovie patted my arm with her plump fingers. “Pay no attention to my sister, child. She’s always on the lookout for charlatans and confidence men. Sadly, those who seek answers to the mysteries of what lies beyond often encounter such frauds.”

  “I take no offense and am sorry to have been less than expert in my assistance. I am indeed Miss Belden’s niece but have only arrived at the hotel for the first time myself yesterday.”

  “That explains things, doesn’t it?” Dovie said with a voice that sounded like it was shaking a finger.

  “I suppose it does. What is not explained is why you are as grown as you are and never before had visited your aunt’s home. Is there something we should know about this hotel? Something that would have given you cause to stay away?” Elva asked.

  “Certainly not, ma’am. My mother died when I was a baby and my father kept me with him in Canada. He had no cause to visit with my mother’s people. We agreed that I was old enough to make those connections myself if I so chose. I did and here I am to do so.”

  “See, Elva, a nice family hotel, just like we were promised.” Dovie stepped past me and opened the next door along the hallway. “Just as I thought. Here’s our room.” I followed the sisters inside and was relieved to notice sprigs of pink roses dotting the wallpaper. Someone had been in earlier to draw the draperies back from the windows. I wondered if it had been Millie. Once again my breath caught in my throat as my eyes took in the expanse of beach and the sparkling bay beyond.

  “It’s magnificent. We shall have a rest and then we will stroll along the beach and refresh ourselves with some sea air. So good for the spirit.” Elva addressed her sister, then turned to me. “I trust we shall see you later, Miss Proulx?”

  “I expect to see you both at luncheon. Please do let me know if you need anything at all.” Elva waved me off and I hurried down the hall in the direction Dovie said she had seen a portrait of someone who looked like me.

  Presently, I reached the stairs and passing them headed down a corridor I didn’t remember from the tour with Honoria the day before. This side of the hotel faced the street, and without the roar of the sea the sounds of people walking by reached my ears easily. Horse hooves clopped along the street, and as I passed a window a man on a bicycle rang his bicycle bell in warning.

  As I made my way down the plushly carpeted hall I happened upon a section of wall covered in paintings. I wondered if amongst them was the one Dovie mentioned. An artful arrangement of portraits painted in dark, thick oils hung in carved wooden frames. At the top of the wall hung a portrait of an old man with an extraordinary display of whiskers. His muttonchops obscured the lower half of his face but his eyes glared out at me so fiercely he made Mrs. Doyle’s scrutiny seem welcoming.

  Next to him, a small woman, if the birdcage behind her was to scale, sat serenely in a dark green chair, her hair pulled so severely back from her head my own scalp ached just from looking at it. A pair of pearl drops adorned her ears and a matching necklace filled the space between her neck and the low bustline on her dress. Her eyes were softer than those of the man, and a slight upturn to the corner of her mouth made me think she enjoyed having her likeness painted.

  Below the older couple hung two more pictures, one of a younger, slightly slimmer Honoria. Her wavy hair fell loosely around her shoulders and her face had the roundness of youth, but it was easy to see that it was she. Unlike the older people, Honoria’s face wore a bold, forceful smile, as if she would lean out of the portrait and tell the viewer an amusing story. Her zest for life was nearly as palpable in the portrait as I had found her to be in the flesh.

  The final frame held a more subdued portrait.
The subject sat demurely, almost shyly. Instead of Honoria’s bold look, she held her head tilted, as if she were listening to something far away. Her eyes were the same dark shade as the woman in the top row and her hair curled as rambunctiously as Honoria’s. She looked exactly like the woman in the photograph I had held on to for so many years. At her throat was the same necklace that now adorned mine. My mother.

  I leaned forward to absorb every detail of the painting, every line, every shadow. The dress she wore for the portrait was the very same one I had chosen to wear the night before. That explained Mrs. Doyle’s comment about me sneaking around and ingratiating myself. There were so many things I would likely never know about my mother. I felt a lump rising in my throat and backed away from the picture.

  There was no reason to be anything but sensible. If I was going to earn my keep I couldn’t spend the day standing about in hallways making myself miserable. I decided to descend via the back stairs to ask Honoria how I could further assist. After I had regained mastery of my emotions.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Miss Flora Roberts?” Honoria asked the turbaned woman. A person looking less like a Flora Roberts I could not have imagined. This woman stood in the foyer swathed in three shawls and a bead-encrusted turban. How she had not fainted dead away from the heat was beyond me. Or from the cloud of her own perfume, wafting violently about the room.

  “No. I am Madame Fidelia. You have heard of me, of course.” The turbaned woman projected her voice as clearly as she projected scent. Honoria glanced in my direction as if to ask me to prompt her memory but I had nothing to offer.

  “I regret to say that I have not.”

  “Surely the letter of introduction from my dear friend Miss Flora Roberts has reached you?” The woman squinted as if she were confused.