Whispers Beyond the Veil

by Jessica Estevao

  I was betting the same rules would apply to those in pursuit of the spirits as it had to those in pursuit of physical cures. From the feel of their hands, Orazelia felt no fear of what she might hear. Her hand lay heavily in mine, like a sack of dried beans. Lucinda, despite her stoic appearance, displayed much more trepidation. Her hand was rigid in mine, the fingers stiff and unyielding, and she held my hand lightly, as if she feared the consequences of a stronger connection.

  “Please close your eyes and think of nothing save the purpose we propose,” I said, slowing my breathing and making sure it could be heard by the others in the hope they would be encouraged to match it.

  Cultivating relaxation in the seeker is another trick of the trade. Calm leaves the patron more open to suggestion and more easily led into revealing their desires and concerns. I watched as they followed my suggestion and I continued to breathe deeply as I tried to listen to their own breathing patterns. It was a technique I used many times in the medicine show.

  One of Father’s best moneymakers was to send men with notices ahead to towns promoting the powers of his Wonder Child. Whenever there was enough money, he had handbills printed claiming I could diagnose illnesses from liver complaints to ruptures to consumption and that with a laying on of hands I could cure most of them. What I couldn’t cure for one dollar with my magnetic energy, I was to suggest bottles of his healing elixir could. For two dollars apiece. Before I was old enough for my feet to touch the decking of the wagon I could feel when I was speaking of the querent’s fears and when I was addressing their hopes.

  On more than one occasion I would sit in the wagon and provide consultations for hours at a time if the crowds were large enough. There was no medical value to what I did but I told myself I gave people comfort. The familiar rush of shame crept up my neck as I prepared to work the same sort of scam on my aunt’s trusting friends.

  As luxurious as the appointments in the room were, everything suddenly felt overlaid by a film of tawdriness that I knew emanated from me. I would never be more than a cheat and a liar, no matter how expensive my dress or opulent my surroundings. Or even how pure my motivations. As Mrs. Doyle had so eloquently pointed out, I was my father’s daughter. As bad as that made me feel much of the time, it was in fact coming in handy at present. I shoved my trepidation aside and focused on the feeling in the room.

  “Please concentrate on the person you would like me to contact. Bring this person clearly to mind and hold your thoughts fixed there. However, I cannot promise we will receive a visit from that loved one. The spirits have minds of their own and do not feel compelled to appear just because we wish them to do so.” I creaked one eye open slightly and noticed both Orazelia and Lucinda were nodding their heads. “Once I have become aware of a presence, you are welcome to ask any questions you like. I do not promise answers but I will do my best to communicate whatever they pass on to me.”

  “We understand completely.” Lucinda patted her mother on the back of the hand, and I wondered if perhaps Lucinda was the more capable of the two. From outward appearances she certainly seemed stronger. If her looks were any indication, Orazelia had been older than the average mother when Lucinda had been born. Age, however, was not what gave the impression of fragility. Her eyes were softly focused and her face had a look of befuddlement that Lucinda’s did not share. Orazelia looked a bit like a child who had been startled out of a nap in an unaccustomed place and was searching the room for a familiar face.

  Lucinda, however, seemed more like a child who would never have succumbed to a nap in the first place. Her bright, honey-colored curls bounced and jiggled with every turn of her head. Her posture, while straight, gave a sense of being poised for action rather than for showing her figure to advantage. Everything about her spoke of confidence and grace.

  “We are grateful for the experience, no matter who comes to call,” Lucinda said.

  “Spirits, please hear our invitation to commune with us here on the earthly plane,” I said, my voice pitched lower than usual and the words spoken barely above a whisper. Then stronger, as if I were desperate in my pleading. “I know there must be someone who wishes to contact these dear ladies.” A subtle pull on my hands told me the sitters were willing this to be the case. I felt them both leaning toward me slightly. Time to start fishing.

  “I will begin by slowly reciting the letters of the alphabet. If we are lucky, a spirit will make itself known to us when his or her initial is spoken aloud,” I said. I watched them through slit eyelids as they both nodded in agreement.

  “A, B, C.” I spoke slowly and in a voice barely above a whisper. “D, E, F, G.” On the letter G both women tightened their grip, Orazelia with a surprising degree of strength.

  “G. Is there a spirit here with a connection to the letter G?” I asked, then paused as if listening. “There is a spirit here with a name starting with G. Is it your surname?” Both women sat quietly. “No, it is your Christian name, is it not?” Again, they each tensed their grip. Now I needed to know if they were expecting a man or a woman to appear, and I would need some indication of age.

  “Thank you for blessing our gathering with your presence. We wish to know more about your time on our mortal plane. Am I speaking with a gentleman or a lady?” Once again I interpreted the unspoken message from my sitters.

  “A female personage is with us, but I am not certain as to her age,” I said. My chances of suggesting the right thing were dead even. Still, hedging my bets was even surer. “Her energy feels youthful to me, but perhaps she was simply young at heart.”

  “Gladys.” Orazelia’s voice caught in her throat.

  “You can’t be sure, Mum,” Lucinda said.

  “Was Gladys your name when you walked amongst us?” I asked, sure I had hit the mark. The fluttering in my stomach and the hammering of my heart both subsided enough for me to hear the ticking of the mantel clock. I felt a shabby sense of triumph, a familiar mingling of power, trepidation, and shame. It was a combination I had sworn to myself to leave behind with Johnny’s lifeless body. Before I could chastise myself further, Orazelia leaned close and squeezed my hand harder than ever. I snapped my attention to the task at hand. “Yes, Gladys is her name. She wants you to know she is peaceful and happy on the other side.”

  “Gladys’s happiness is the least of our concerns. As if we’d be worried about her,” Lucinda said. Of all the ways in which I had anticipated the reading could have taken a wrong turn, I had not expected hostility toward a spirit visitor.

  “Spirits are very sensitive to any feeling that they are unwelcome. I feel the link weakening.”

  “Lucinda, please, I have questions for Gladys. Do not drive her away.”

  “Gladys, are you still here?” I paused for effect before continuing. “She is present but I feel her reluctance to stay. Perhaps it would be best to start with something simple.”

  “Would you please ask her if she still seeks justice?” Orazelia wanted to know. I wondered exactly what a complicated question would involve if Orazelia felt a question concerning justice was a simple one.

  “Gladys says the concept of justice is not relevant to those in spirit. She says they only feel unbounded love.”

  “Unbounded love was part and parcel of her way of life when she was in the flesh, too,” Lucinda said. I felt her hand tugging away slightly as she leaned back in her chair. She was growing impatient with the spiritual visitor. But her mother was not. I wondered how they knew Gladys and how I should proceed.

  “Lucy, my dear, please try to remember that you are a lady and that we do not say such things.” Orazelia’s voice sounded more sad than critical. “Ruby, ask if she needs resolution to the circumstances of her death.”

  “She does not,” I said with conviction. The tremble in both the sitters’ hands led me on. “But she realizes that the circumstances surrounding her passing are important to you. She will try to help ease
your mind about it if she has the answers you seek.” Perhaps I had overreached but I didn’t know what else to say.

  “Can she see who killed her?” Orazelia asked. I was stunned. The idea that Gladys had been murdered had not crossed my mind. Disease and even accidental death were all too common, and the loss of loved ones, even young people in the prime of life, to such events was something that touched all but the luckiest few. But something as sensational as murder was rare indeed. This was going to require careful navigation. Especially since I didn’t even know how these ladies knew Gladys.

  “Gladys says the details of her passing are shrouded in uncertainty. Death came upon her quickly and without ceremony.” I cocked my head to the side as if to listen more carefully to the sound of Gladys’s faint voice. “One moment she was here and the next she was beyond the reach of pain and suffering.”

  “So she doesn’t know any more about who killed her than we do?” Lucinda asked.

  “She says she dearly wishes she could enlighten you but that she either never knew or the information was lost in the transmutation of her soul. Gladys says that those things unneeded in the hereafter are melted away during the getting from here to there like dross from silver. The gift of death is its ability to purify the spirit and rid it of burdens. Only light and love endure the journey.”

  With that I felt certain it was time to bring the session to a conclusion. I sighed deeply and with a shuddering exhalation sagged back against my chair, releasing their hands. I hoped they understood the message that we were through. I fluttered my eyelids opened and through the flickering candlelight I could see the two of them looking at me.

  “Ladies, I do hope you felt your time was well spent.” I looked hopefully from one to the other. “I’m sorry if Gladys was not able to answer your questions.”

  “No one has been able to answer that particular question for nearly twenty years.” Orazelia looked tired and older than she had when she entered the room less than an hour before. “It isn’t your fault Gladys’s murder is still a mystery.”

  “Most people would say it isn’t a mystery at all.” Lucinda pushed her chair back and slipped one slim hand into a fine lace glove. “Perhaps it would be best to try to contact Father the next time instead.”

  “Your father was many things, Lucy, but a truthful man he was not. Besides, after all that has happened he is the last person in this world or the next with whom I would wish to speak.” With that, Orazelia pushed her chair back and gathered up her own pair of gloves. “Ruby, I’ll be going now to speak with Honoria.” She swished out of the room and left me alone with her daughter and an uneasy feeling as to what she would report to my aunt.

  Lucinda remained seated across from me and plucked idly at her silk bag. “I must apologize for my mother. No matter how I’ve tried to discourage her, she has been trying to establish contact with Gladys for years. Truth to tell, I can’t remember a time when she wasn’t obsessed with contacting her.”

  “Forgive my curiosity, but why should she care so much about what happened to Gladys? I wasn’t able to tell from the reading—was she a family member?” I wondered if I was breaching some sort of professional rule of ethics but my curiosity had gotten the better of me.

  “You don’t know who she was?” Lucinda scrunched her eyebrows together and stared at me.

  “I do not,” I said in complete earnestness. “How could I? I’ve only just arrived yesterday and I don’t believe I’d ever been in contact with anyone who knew you or your family before then.”

  “I apologize.” Lucinda’s face smoothed. “I sometimes forget not everyone I meet knows everything about my family and our history.”

  “I’d think in a town with as many tourists as this one has, you would be meeting new people all the time.”

  “There are plenty of tourists, but the people of our acquaintance are few and far between. After the scandal, Mother has tended to keep to herself, making an exception for a few dear friends like Honoria.”

  “I did not mean to pry or to solicit a confidence. I don’t wish to invade your privacy.”

  “There is no harm in telling you. Besides, it would be nice to tell someone myself for a change instead of having people point and whisper as I go past.” Lucinda lifted her chin and looked me in the eye. “Gladys is the young woman my father is supposed to have been conducting an illicit affair with. Even more unfortunately, all evidence pointed to the notion that he was the one who strangled her.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I found Honoria in the ladies’ writing room at the back of the hotel, facing the sea. Several strands of dark hair escaped from the pile on top of her head, and even with her back to me I could read fatigue in her posture. I crossed the room, hoping her report from Orazelia was favorable.

  “Am I interrupting?” I asked as she turned to the sound of my footfalls.

  “No. As soon as Orazelia left I began writing up an advertisement. Now that you will be our medium, I plan to include your name in the notices I place in the papers.” Honoria motioned to the seat near her. I felt my knees weaken and was grateful for an invitation to sit.

  “You wish to mention my real name in the advertisements?” I was accustomed to seeing myself advertised on handbills and signs of all sorts but never using my real name. Father and I had created a long list of stage names, some of which I had grown quite fond of but never had we used our own. Doing so felt as much like breaking a taboo as would wearing trousers or lopping off my hair.

  “I understand your hesitation but we are building a reputation of integrity here at the Belden. Using a name not your own only serves to create the impression you have something to hide.”

  “I wouldn’t want to give anyone reason to suppose I was behaving fraudulently,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even.

  “We must be perceived to be blameless and forthcoming in every way if this venture is to succeed. Our reputation will be our greatest asset, my dear.” Honoria tapped the end of her pen against the ink bottle. “I should be surprised if you have reason to fear any accusations of fraud after the report I received from Orazelia. She was positively enraptured by your abilities.”

  “I’m delighted to hear she felt her session a success.” I paused, wondering if I should ask about Gladys. “I was unsure if the spirit that contacted us was one who would have brought distress rather than comfort.”

  “You’ve been talking to Lucy,” Honoria said. I nodded. “Orazelia is distressed at not knowing for sure whether or not her husband was involved in Gladys Willard’s murder.”

  “I understood from Lucinda that for years there has been a shadow looming over the family reputation.”

  “A shadow.” Honoria leaned back in her chair and turned her body fully to face me. “It’s more of a tornado that won’t stop whipping through their lives. If you can help provide Orazelia with answers, I would be very grateful.”

  “I should have thought Orazelia would want to contact her husband rather than his alleged victim,” I said. “Wouldn’t that be the more typical path to take for such information?”

  “It would if Orazelia could bring herself to speak to the man.” Honoria clucked her tongue. “After all, he humiliated her and left her and her children the objects of ridicule and scorn.”

  “Under those circumstances, I can understand her disinclination to involve herself with him but if she truly seeks the information, I should have thought she would welcome answers from any source, no matter how undesirable.”

  “If you are going to continue to conduct readings for Orazelia, as she has asked that you should, I suppose it would be best to acquaint you with what is known of her sad history. You might find her behaviors easier to understand if you have a framework for them.”

  “I shouldn’t like you to think I was asking you to betray a confidence.”

  Honoria snorted, most indelicately. “The o
nly thing that could be considered still in confidence about any of this degrading matter is whether or not Orazelia’s husband really did strangle the girl. Every other bit of the sordid tale is such commonly spread gossip that it has advanced into the arena of local lore. There is no reason to keep it from you and compelling reasons to share it.” Honoria paused and drew in a deep breath.

  “The only good thing that came of the whole incident was that it was sufficiently shocking to make your mother’s elopement third-rate news. No one paid any mind to it at all once Gladys was found strangled.”

  “So this all happened about the same time my parents left Old Orchard?”

  “The very same time. In fact, no sooner had Mrs. Doyle found the note from Delphinia explaining that she had gone than gossips arrived with the news of the murder.”

  “That must have been a tumultuous morning.”

  “It was indeed. I felt quite ashamed of myself that Gladys’s murder seemed less important to me than the departure of my beloved sister.”

  “Did you have reason for Gladys’s death to impact you personally?”

  “No, not at all. She was a singer in one of the ballrooms in town. Not at all the sort of person we would have associated with.”

  “But Orazelia’s husband was the sort to associate with girls in dance halls?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately, yes. He had made quite a fool of himself over Gladys and took no trouble to hide his devotion to her. It was mortifying for poor Orazelia.”

  “Did Gladys return his affection?”

  “She loved his generosity.”

  “He gave her gifts?”

  “He showered her with so many presents he couldn’t afford them.”

  “But if he loved her so much, why was he connected to the crime?”

  “Because he had gone so far as to embezzle money from his employers in order to start a new life with Gladys away from the dance halls.”