by Rhys Bowen
The driveway went on and on, with the dark shapes of trees looming on either side of us before we came to the gate—a tall, wrought-iron structure that was opened for us by the a burly gatekeeper. Then another half mile of darkness bouncing down an unpaved road with not a single light visible until we turned in at another fortresslike gateway to Riverside, the Van Gelders' mansion. Riverside had none of its neighbor’s extravagance of design. It was a square brick residence, with simple eighteenth-century lines and white shutters. As our wraps were being taken from us, Mrs. Van Gelder came out into the hallway to meet us.
“I am so delighted that you have agreed to grace our home, Mrs. Flynn,” she said, embracing Theresa. “And you, Senator. We are honored.”
While Theresa was presenting the rest of us, Mrs. Van Gelder’s eyes were darting around. “You didn't bring the rest of your party? The Misses Sorensen are not coming after all?”
“We've sent the auto back for them,” Theresa said. “It only seats five at the most and they were not quite ready”
“Ah, splendid. Do come and meet my husband. Theo—our neighbors are here!”
She led us through to a rather austere reception room where Roland Van Gelder and his father waited. The elder Mr. Van Gelder’s face seemed to be frozen in a severe and permanent scowl. The scowl didn't waver as we came in.
“Mrs. Flynn. Senator,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “Good to have you here. How’s the reelection campaign going?”
“Hasn't really started yet,” Barney said, “and how about you? Will you be running again, or are you thinking of handing your seat over to the younger generation?”
“Roland?” Van Gelder glared at his son. “He couldn't run an egg-and-spoon race.”
“Really, Father, I must protest,” Roland said. “You haven't exactly educated me for much, have you? If I'd studied law at Harvard—”
“You need brains to study law. Unfortunately, you've inherited your mother’s scatterbrain mentality. Not your fault, I suppose, but not the stuff that politicians are made of.”
Roland frowned at his father, helped himself to a generous amount of whiskey, and made his way over to Belinda. The rest ofis stood around awkwardly.
“And where are the famous spirit ladies?” Van Gelder asked. “Did you decide not to share them after all?”
I couldn't recall meeting anyone so offensive and wondered who might have voted for him. But Theresa, sweet as always, merely smiled. “They are on their way. We only own one automobile, you know, and the chauffeur has returned for them.” She slipped her arm through mine. “In the meantime, may I present our guests—my cousin, Clara Tompkins, my sister, Belinda Butler, and my husband’s cousin, Molly Gaffney, newly arrived from Ireland.”
“You're most welcome, ladies. How about a drink to counteract the chilly night air?” And he led us to a drinks table where he began pouring. Compared to the Flynns' establishment there was adistinct lack of servants.
“Roland mentioned you had some other young men staying with you?” Theresa asked, looking around hopefully.
“We do. Son of a friend of mine. English fellow. And his army pal. They're doing what all young Englishmen do—out to snag rich American brides. Where the deuce are they, Sophie?”
Mrs. Van Gelder scurried to his side. “They returned late from today’s outing and will be down as soon as they have made themselves respectable. Such nice boys. You girls could do worse.” She gave a knowing smile to Belinda and me. “Both have considerable properties over in England, so we understand.”
“Why does everyone think we are desperate to be found a husband?” Belinda whispered in my ear. It was her first friendly overture.
“Like you, I intend to find my own husband some day,” I whispered back, “but not too soon.”
We exchanged a smile. Allies for a moment.
Noises in the entrance hall indicated the arrival of the Sorensen Sisters. Mrs. Van Gelder flew out to greet them and swept them into the room, gushing effusively over them. “And we'd be so honored if you'd just show us a small example of your powers…. Longing to meet you for years … such a wonderful gift. … The dearly departed … always feel their presence.”
Miss Emily and Miss Ella both looked a little flustered, but accepted glasses of sherry when pressed.
“I really don't think—” Miss Emily began.
“Not really conducive to visiting spirits—” Miss Ella seconded. Both were waved aside by the force of Mrs. Van Gelder’s will. “I am sure that Riverside, being an older and more noble establishment than the recently built Adare, will be quite to the liking of any spirit worth its salt,” she said firmly. “I have set up the morning room for you. I thought that since we had promised the young people dancing after dinner, we should have our séance now, while we're waiting for the young men to join us. I am sure they have no interest in contacting the dead. Why don't we go through?”
I had to watch with admiration. Mrs. Van Gelder was a small woman, not unlike portraits I had seen of Queen Victoria. She had the same force of personality as the old queen, I noted, as the two sisters allowed themselves to be swept out of the room again, followed by the rest of us.
Chairs had been set in a circle in an adjoining room.
“This will do, won't it?” Mrs. Van Gelder asked.
The sisters looked around. The rest of us held our breath.
Finally Miss Emily nodded. “We may be able to entice our spirit guide to manifest himself here. Well just have to see. But no electric light, if you please. Just one candle.”
A candle was lit. Grotesque shadows danced on the walls. We took our places in the circle. Miss Emily shook her head.
“We have unbelievers present. I can feel it. Chief Ojuweca certainly won't be enticed to come in the presence of those who mock him.”
Barney nudged Mr. Van Gelder. “He means us, old sport. I suspect you don't believe in this any more than I do. Why don't we go and visit your Scotch decanter until the ladies are done?”
“Excellent idea.” Mr. Van Gelder looked almost kindly toward his arch enemy. They departed. A hush fell upon the rest of us. The candle flickered in the draft from the closing door.
“Please take hands,” Miss Emily instructed. “I sense a presence. Are you with us, Chief Ojuweca?”
The candle flickered, but there was no voice.
“If you are present, signify by rapping once.”
A mighty rap made everyone jump
“He’s here,” Mrs. Van Gelder said in an excited stage whisper. “I wonder if we are going to see him.”
“Will you reveal yourself to us tonight, Chief Ojuweca?” Miss Ella asked.
Two loud and disapproving raps. It was hard to tell where they were coming from. I could see Miss Emily’s and Miss Ella’s hands. They were joined with the others in the circle.
“May we ask what has displeased you?” Miss Ella said.
“There are still unbelievers present,” came a distant voice from somewhere up in the ceiling. “If they choose to stay, it is at their own peril. They may see what they would not want to see.”
Even though I knew this was another trick, I felt sweat tricklingdown my bare back.
“Will no spirits choose to visit us tonight?” Miss Ella persisted.
“We shall wait and see,” said the voice. “Patience.”
We waited. Then five loud raps made everyone jump.
“Who is here?” Miss Ella asked.
Cousin Clara glanced across the room and gave a shriek. “Look, there on the table!”
A disembodied hand was moving across a side table, glowing with a light of its own. Then suddenly it vanished.
“Who are you?” Miss Ella asked, her voice now sharp and taut with fear.
“Peace. He is my messenger,” said Chief Ojuweca. “He escorts the spirits you seek. Wait and see.”
Then there came a tiny voice, no more than a whisper. “Mommy?”
Theresa jumped to her feet. “Brendan!” s
he gasped, shaking her hand clear of mine. “It’s Brendan. Where are you, my love? Speak to me.”
“Sit down, please,” Miss Ella admonished.
“But I must speak to him. Tell him I'm here if he doesn't know. Brendan, my love, speak to me.” She pushed her way out of the circle. A chair clattered over. Then silence.
“It’s no good,” Miss Emily said. “You've driven them away. Theywon't come back tonight. The spirits are sometimes very shy, you know. As I said earlier, I sensed that the atmosphere wasn't quite right this evening. The spirits do not like it if we try to make a spectacle of them or use them for our own benefit.” I found this ironic coming from a woman who had done this on the stage until her finances permitted her to conduct only private séances.
“Turn the electric light on, please,” Miss Ella commanded.
I was closest to the switch. As I got to my feet and walked toward the door, I became aware of a figure standing there in deep shadow. Suddenly I realized that I recognized him. It was Justin Hartley, the man I had killed a year ago.
Thirteen
My breath came in short gasps as I fought for air. The world was spinning around me, stars were dancing be-fore my eyes. I believe that someone caught me as I fell.
I came to, coughing and spluttering, when smelling salts were waved under my nose.
“It’s all right, Molly dear. Just lie still for a while,” said a soothing voice.
I opened my eyes to find myself lying on a low couch. Theresa knelt beside me. Mrs. Van Gelder held the bottle of smelling salts in her hand and was looking at me with apprehension.
“What happened to me?” I asked.
“You fainted. Quite understandable, given the heat in the room and the excitement,” Mrs. Van Gelder said.
“But I never faint,” I protested and realized immediately why other women fainted so often when I didn't. When one is alarmed, one takes short breaths, which are not possible given the restrictions of a corset. As these thoughts went through my head, I remembered what had made me faint. I fought to sit up and looked around nervously. I was in a room bathed in strong electric light and there was no sign of Justin Hartley’s ghost. The Misses Sorensen had promised they would make unbelievers change their minds and they had done so. I would have to write to Daniel and tell him that the sisters were quite genuine.
“How do you feel now, Miss Gaffney?” Mrs. Van Gelder asked. “Do you think you feel strong enough to join us at dinner?” She patted my hand. I sat up, feeling foolish.
“Quite well again, thank you. I'm so sorry for causing this trouble.”
“Not at all. It happens to all young girls, doesn't it? Too much emotion.”
I was furious at myself for being lumped together with emotionally unstable and weak young women, but I couldn't very well correct her. I had to smile wanly and allow myself to be lifted to my feet.
“And you, Mrs. Flynn?” Mrs. Van Gelder turned to Theresa, who had been sitting on a chair beside me. “Will you join us? I realize it must have been most emotionally distressing for you too.”
“Oh no, quite the contrary” Theresa’s eyes were shining. “I heard Brendan’s voice. We all heard it, didn't we? That means Chief Ojuweca has contacted him and hell come back to me when die time is right. At last I dare to hope!”
Belinda helped her to her feet. We came out into the hallway to find that the men had already gone through to the dining room.
“Ah, here come the casualties,” Mr. Van Gelder said brightly. “Quite recovered, I hope. I always said that seances were dangerous things. Messing with the unknown. No good can come if it, you know.”
“Nonsense, Theo. You don't know what you're talking about,” Mrs. Van Gelder said. “Mrs. Flynn distinctly heard her son’s voice. We all did.”
“And we saw a creeping hand,” Cousin Clara exclaimed.
“Whose hand?” Barney asked.
“Nobody’s. It moved with a life of its own and it glowed with its own light,” Qara went on excitedly. “Then it just vanished. Poof, like that. Most chilling.”
“A disembodied hand? What next!” Bamey took his wife’s arm. “You are responsible for bringing this nonsense into my household.
Now you've got all the women in hysterics, even Cousin Molly, who seemed most level-headed to me.”
“We're letting the soup get cold, Theo,” Mrs. Van Gelder said. “Our two young adventurers have returned unscathed and are now champing at the bit for food, I'm sure. May I present Captain Cathers and his friend Mr. Hartley.”
Captain Cathers had a pleasant, very English sort of face with light hair and rather protruding teeth. Then my gaze moved to the other man. For a moment the room swung again and I had to put a hand onto the back of a chair to steady myself. It couldn't be possible. The last time I had seen Justin Hartley, he was lying dead in a pool of blood on my kitchen floor. I hadn't meant to kill him, God’s truth. But I'd kicked out with all my might when he tried to force me back onto the kitchen table and he'd hit his head on the comer of our cast iron stove. I suppose I panicked then and fled. I was sure I'd get no sympathy from the courts for killing the landowner’s son. And so I had come, through a series of lucky breaks, to America, where I had almost forgotten that my adventure had started with killing another human being.
I glanced at the man again. He was pale enough to be a ghost, with dark, hollow eyes. Now dressed in evening attire, he looked like the model of a Romantic poet. Inside my corset my heart was thumping alarmingly.
“And gentlemen, may I present our guests, Senator and Mrs. Flynn and their party, Miss Butler, Miss Tompkins and Miss Gaffney.”
The two men bowed politely I saw Justin look at me and then his gaze moved on to Belinda. I was still holding my breath as I was escorted to table. Mr. Van Gelder took the head of the table with Theresa on one side of him and Miss Emily on the other. Roland was placed beside Miss Emily and I next to him with Clara on my other side. Justin Hartley had been put at the foot of the table, on Mrs. Van Gelder’s left. He seemed more interested in getting to the bowl of soup in his place than in looking at me.
I sat, still holding my breath and trying not to look in his direction.
We ate soup. A maid was in attendance to clear away dirty dishes, but the Van Gelders didn't seem to have a butler. The food wasn't up to the quality of Adare, either, which was good, because I couldn't eat a thing. My gaze kept moving toward Justin, who was currently tucking into his food with relish. How could he be alive? How could he not know me? Then, of course, it hit me. It wasn't Justin at all. It was a family member who closely resembled him. I remembered how alike two of my brothers were, so much so that one had impersonated the other, for a fee, in catechism class. I knew Justin had no brothers, but a cousin, maybe?
The talk was all about the day’s adventure.
They went down the river by canoe, wasn't that brave of them?” Mrs. Van Gelder exclaimed.
There was no bravery involved, I assure you, dear lady,” Captain Cathers said in his lazy English drawl. “We went with the cur-rent until it petered out in the middle of the Tappan Zee, then we paddled to the side, caught the ferry and came back. A pleasant little ride, but not the least dangerous.”
“So what do you think of our American countryside, Mr. Hartley?” Van Gelder asked.
“Quite amazing, what I can see of it,” he answered. “Of course, as I told you, I had a severe riding accident which has robbed me of part of my vision.”
“Oh yes, how terrible for you,” Mrs. Van Gelder said.
“Not at all. I am lucky to be alive.”
A wave of relief swept through me. Justin was alive. I hadn't killed him after all. And more miraculous still his vision had been damaged. He didn't recognize me. I was safe. I ventured a mouthful of roast beef.
After dinner we went into the drawing room where the carpet had been rolled up and the French doors were open onto the terrace.
“Young people always have to have dancing, don't they?” Mrs. Van Gelder as
ked. “I regret that we don't have anything like a pianola to accompany us, so we must take turns in playing. Now, who is familiar with a Strauss waltz?”
“I had better play,” Cousin Clara moved toward the piano, “since I will not be taking part in the dancing.” And she struck up a lively tune in three quarter time. Roland and Captain Cathers both made a beeline for Belinda. Roland got there first and so Captain Cathers was left with me.
“I must apologize in advance for any stepped-upon toes, Miss Gaffney,” he said. “I am more skilled at hunting than dancing.”
“I'm not much of a dancer myself,” I replied.
He looked at me in astonishment. 'You're Irish,” he exclaimed.
“Yes, I'm the Senator’s cousin, come to stay with him.”
“What a coincidence. My friend Hartley is also from Ireland. Which part are you from?”
Limerick,” I said swiftly “The Senator’s whole family lives around that city.”
“And how do you like America so far?” he asked.
“Delightful. I'm having such a lovely time and my cousin is making me so welcome.”
“I'm glad to hear it.”
“And you, Captain Cathers, how do you find America?”
“I'm dying to see the rest of it,” he said. “The untamed West calls. The visit here is a courtesy call from my parents, but 111 be dragging poor Hartley off on a train as soon as possible and then across mountains and deserts. He needs building up, you know. Poor chap had a badridingaccident. Hovered between life and death for months. Only just back on his feet now.”
“How terrible for him.”
“Absolutely. Had to resign his commission, of course, and still gets dizzy spells. We're hoping that fresh air and exercise will bring additional improvement.”
I glanced back at Justin, sitting alone at the table, and fought with a stab of guilt. Then I reminded myself how the accident had happened in the first place.
The music ended. Instead of escorting me back to my seat, Captain Cathers held onto my arm and led me to the table where Justin sat. “Come and meet my friend, Miss Gaffney,” he said. “I hate to leave him sitting alone, but he doesn't trust himself to dance any more.” I could think of no good reason not to comply.
