I thought maybe I hadn’t heard him right. “Mr. Huxley’s not coming?”
“Bout of indigestion. He had two of Mrs. Mallory’s famous lemon syllabubs for dessert last night.” He chuckled. “That will send you off to the WC, eh Maxie?”
Henry picked up his creel.
“Last chance to catch a real fish, Master Labella – wicked teeth, razor sharp gills. A true fighter! That’s your English pike.” Henry had been inviting me all week to go fishing with him, but I was focused on landing Elsa.
“Thank you,” I said, “But I promised Alessandra I’d go for a walk with her this morning.”
“Capital idea.” he replied. “Settle her down.” He frowned at me. “I must say I’ve been disappointed in her performance. Frankly, I expected a better show, given all the hoopla coming from Dr. Lombardi and his colleagues.”
“She’ll do better tonight, sir,” I promised.
“She better,” Henry warned. “Last chance for your Signora.” He patted his vest pocket for his cigars. “Mr. Huxley has asked Mr. Mallory to take his place sitting up at the table. He’ll be delighted, no doubt. Bloody uncomfortable sitting on the floor for an hour.” He stuck a cigar in his mouth and headed for the door. “Well, cheerio!”
Maxine headed back to the library and her magazine and I stood there. Whatever chance I had of convincing Alessandra to drop her crazy scheme was gone. Without Huxley there, she would certainly roll the dice. I trudged up to Alessandra’s room to give her the stunning news.
As I expected, she was thrilled.
“My God, Tommaso! Huxley won’t be there tonight?” She grabbed me by the shoulders and started dancing me around the room. “You’ll see. We can do this!”
I pushed her away. “Leave me out of this!” I said. “I don’t want any part of your crazy plan. You’re stupid! You’re risking everything!”
“Tommaso …” I could see the hurt in her eyes.
I took her hand. “Alessandra, please, I’m begging you.” I said. “No tricks. Do your best, whatever happens happens, we go home. Lombardi is waiting for you. If it doesn’t work out you’ve still got Rome and 4,000 lire. Fuck Huxley and his hundred pounds.”
“I can’t, Tommaso. I…I can’t let him win.” She looked at me. “I can do this. You have to trust me. I’ve worked it all out. The flowers will be…”
“Stop,” I said. “I don’t want to know.” I stood there, looking at her.
“Do your best,” I finally said, and headed for the door.
Chapter 64
Just before we stepped into the library that night, Henry pulled us aside.
“I dropped off a bottle of Dr. Bateman’s Elixir Salutis to Mr. Huxley this afternoon for his dyspepsia. He leaned in conspiratorially. “I really wanted to show him the fish I caught. Four pounds, six, by Jove!” He grinned. “Nigel may know a bit about fisticuffs, but he couldn’t catch a fish if his life depended on it.”
He pulled out his snuff box and took a pinch. “Found him in bed surrounded by tea pots and rhubarb pills. Anyway, we were talking and he told me he was concerned that some of our `Continental friends will dismiss the Society’s experiments as unfair – too rigid. He wants no excuses.” He turned to Alessandra. “He suggested we skip the clock tonight, and provide you with a more sympathetic circle of sitters, as well. He wants you at ease tonight, allow you to do your best. After some consideration, I agreed with him. Sporting chance and all that, eh wot? So we’ve invited two ladies from the local Cambridge Spiritualist Church to join us tonight.”
We heard a loud voice call out.
“Signora Poverelli! Signora Poverelli!”
Henry smiled and pointed to a plump matron hurrying across the room towards us, waving a newspaper in her hand. “That’s Mrs. Goody. Let’s see what she has to say to you.”
Mrs. Goody could hardly contain her excitement.
“What an honor, Signora!” She thrust the newspaper into Alessandra’s hand. “We’ve read so much about you. The Spiritualist Light has been following your tour of Europe all summer.” She clutched her bosom, breathless with excitement. “I can’t believe we will be sitting with you tonight! Can you, Abigail?”
Her elderly companion, gripping a cane, waved a tiny hand from a library chair across the room. She looked like she was in her seventies.
“We’ve brought along a song book,” Goody gushed, dragging it out of her purse and putting on her spectacles. “Abigail and I may not always sing on tune, but we sing loud enough to raise the dead.” She tittered. “That’s a little joke of ours.”
Elsa discretely tugged my arm and we slipped past them into the library. “She got that right,” Elsa giggled. “My father’s taken me to some of their Saturday services.”
Mallory was standing in the corner, chatting with Maxine. It seemed strange not to see Huxley with them, eyeing us suspiciously. Maxine waved us over.
“I suspect our Elsa is going to miss Master Labella here when he returns to Naples.”
Elsa blushed.
Henry called across the room. “When you’re ready, Mr. Mallory, we can begin.” He came over and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be blunt, Master Labella. Every medium the Society has investigated to date has turned out to be either a fraud or a bust. I know many people view our investigations as foolish, even laughable. But we remain hopeful – it only takes one white crow to upset the law that all crows are black.”
Elsa pulled me close, her bright eyes shining with excitement.
“Alessandra’s our white crow. Isn’t she, Tommaso.”
Chapter 65
I kept my eyes fixed on Alessandra all night.
I knew she was going to do it, but when she finally made the move, I still didn’t see it. Nobody else did either. It was amazing.
The lamp was under the table, but the wick had been trimmed. Alessandra was patient. She wasn’t on a clock. She let the minutes plod by –– long stretches of silence, the excitement wearing off, people starting to yawn. At the same time, she herself constantly moved about in her seat, rearranging her position, asking Mallory and Henry to release their grip for a few seconds to allow her to “scratch her nose.” Twice she had us all conveniently stand up so Mrs. Goody could lead us in a rousing hymn. Henry wasn’t Huxley – he was an amateur. He allowed so many diversions, so many opportunities to set up the move.
We had been sitting there for almost an hour when Alessandra suddenly sat up in her chair.
“They’re here,” she announced. “I can feel their presence. Spirits, show us a sign!” She jumped to her feet and swept her arms heavenward.
A second later, Mrs. Goody spoke up. “I feel something!”
She reached up, patted her head, then gasped in surprise. “Why they’re…flowers!”
Everyone looked up. Rose petals were fluttering down from the gloom above her head, into her hair, onto her shoulders.
Mallory ducked under the table for the oil lamp, raised it, and everyone stared in astonishment at the table top, now littered with rose petals. Abigail reached out with her bony hand to scoop up a souvenir from the Other Side.
“A gift from the spirits!” she croaked, gaping up at the ceiling.
“An apport!” squealed Mrs. Goody. “Good heavens!”
Elsa stared at the petals, mouth open wide, then broke into a grin. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. She jumped up and kissed me. “Tommaso! Oh, I’m so happy!”
Mallory reached out and grabbed Alessandra’s hand. “Signora!” he cried. “Bravo! Bravo!”
Henry sat there stunned, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Finally, he stood up. “Rather remarkable,” he said. “I don’t know what else to say.” He turned to Maxine and frowned. “Wait till Nigel hears about this.”
I looked at Alessandra and she gave me a quick wink. How she managed to toss the rose petals into the air without being seen, she never told me. My guess is they were in her sleeve all along. It was a hell of a performance, but I wanted us gone before
Huxley recovered from his bout of indigestion.
We needed to grab the money and run.
Chapter 66
I was going to miss Elsa.
I hadn’t managed to steal anything more than a kiss, but I had been making progress. One more week and I would have gotten in her knickers, believe me. I dreamed about her that night, and was awoken the next morning by the sound of her laughter out in the hall.
“Tommaso, wake up!”
For a second, I imagined I was still dreaming, but it was definitely her cheerful chirp, followed by Alessandra’s voice. “We’re going for a walk before breakfast!” I looked over at the clock on the mantel. It was already eight, and outside my window the sun was up. I quickly threw on my shirt and pants, ran my hand through my hair, and opened the door. Elsa stood there grinning, hands on her hips, sporting a pretty red skirt and smelling of lilacs.
“Sleepyhead!” Elsa grabbed my arm and pulled me outside.
Alessandra had a smug, triumphant look on her face. I didn’t blame her. Huxley had her on the ropes, the bell was about to ring, but she had slipped the knockout, caught him with a surprise punch of her own, and put him on the canvas. She looked like her old self – confident, happy, cocky.
“We’re going home, Tommaso!” she said, giving me a big hug. “I can’t wait to see Camillo!”
“Wasn’t Alessandra fantastic last night, Tommaso?” Elsa exclaimed. She dug into her skirt pocket and pulled out a rose petal. “I’m going to keep this for the rest of my life.” She turned to Alessandra. “My father is so happy! At breakfast this morning, he said you have given humanity hope.”
“So the Society is conceding?” I asked.
“My father expects them to. He said he sees no other conclusion that can be drawn. They’ll have to draft an official report, of course.”
“Have they talked to Mr. Huxley yet?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “I know he’s not feeling well.”
“He looked so much better this morning. He’s meeting with father and Henry in the library right now.”
“Good,” laughed Alessandra. “I hope he brought his hundred pounds.”
We walked outside and into the sunshine. It was a beautiful, late summer morning, the air perfumed with the smell of freshly-cut grass. A maid was waiting in the driveway with Hercules, the Tyndall’s hound. She curtsied and handed Elsa the leash. Like Alessandra, Elsa loved dogs, and always walked him when she came over. The two of them fussed over him like he was a baby, cooing and patting him, and took turns holding the leash as we strolled the gardens.
As we passed by the glass house, the gardener gave us a distinctly unfriendly look, and turned his back to us as we passed by. Elsa and Alessandra were too busy chattering away to notice it, but I saw it. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I found it odd.
We finished a leisurely circle of the house and Elsa turned to me.
“I’m starving. Race you back to the house!” she said, and took off with Hercules.
“Tommaso’s last!” Alessandra shouted. She grabbed her skirts and started running, me on her heels. I sped past Alessandra, but Elsa was too fast. We all ended up winded and laughing at the front door, ready for a hearty breakfast of bangers and mash. Alessandra hung back for a moment, letting Elsa enter first. Then she wheeled around and leapt into my arms.
“Oh God, Tommaso! We did it!”
And then everything came crashing down.
Chapter 67
It’s still painful to recall what happened next.
Henry and Maxine were sitting in the library on the edge of their seats, whispering with Mallory, when we hurried by on our way to the dining room. Alessandra called out and waved, but nobody looked up. That’s when I knew something was terribly wrong.
We entered the dining room and discovered Huxley sitting there, a cup of tea in his hand. Behind him stood Bridget, the upstairs maid Alessandra had surprised in her room the night of the second sitting, “changing the pillows” as she claimed. She had a smirk on her face. She was also concealing something behind her ample butt.
Huxley put down his cup.
“Be a good little girl and run along, Elsa. Your father is waiting for you in the library.”
Elsa hesitated, then looked at me. “Be right back,” she said, and left.
Huxley folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.
“Buongiorno, Signora Poverelli.”
Alessandra glared at him. “Where’s my money?”
Huxley faked a pout. “How rude! Aren’t you going to ask me how I feel? After all, I’ve been… sick.” He chuckled.
Alessandra stared at him.
“ No? Ah well. As you can see, I’ve managed a miraculous recovery. I couldn’t let you leave England before I could say goodbye.” The smile disappeared. He leaned forward, his mouth drawn back in a snarl. He raised his hand. “Bridget?”
Bridget stepped forward, pulled a box from behind her back, and set it on the table.
Alessandra gave a cry.
It was her hatbox.
“Bridget was cleaning your room while you were out walking this morning, and found this in the back of your closet. Shall we see what’s inside?” Huxley opened the top and pushed it across the table. My stomach turned over.
It was all there. Pruning shears, rosebuds, cut stems, clods of dirt, mud smears. All the evidence Huxley needed to destroy Alessandra.
Huxley closed the box. “Bridget will testify that she saw you sneak out of the house with it on Tuesday night, followed you, then watched you return with it – am I correct, Bridget?
“As you said, sir.”
Alessandra stared hard at Bridget, but Bridget stared right back, defiant.
It all made sense –the click of the door we heard that night was Bridget. Right then and there, I should have insisted to Alessandra that we abandon the whole crazy scheme, but I hadn’t.
Huxley pulled out his cigar case and reached in his pocket for a match.
“Bridget observed you the whole time you were here. She was in my employ, by the way – an arrangement I made before you even arrived in England.”
“Fuck you,” said Alessandra.
I swallowed hard. “Was Mr. Mallory in on this?”
“No. ” Huxley lit his cigar, took a deep puff, inspected the glowing tip, then studied Alessandra for a moment. “Your kind are so predictable. I suspected you were planning to use the rose petals in your last sitting. But I was afraid if I were there, you might think twice, might settle for…a draw instead.”
He leaned forward. “I didn’t want that. I wanted to show the world what you really are. So I made it easy for you. I faked my little stomach ache, had Henry invite that simpleton Mrs. Goody to take my place. I suggested he get rid of the clock, so you had all the time in the world to set up your pathetic little trick.” He sneered. “I wanted you to cheat!”
He stuck the cigar in his mouth. “And you took the bait.”
“Bastardo!” Alessandra leaned forward and knocked the cigar out of his mouth. “Ti faccio un…”
I grabbed Alessandra. “Shut up!”
It was over. I was embarrassed, and furious at Alessandra.
Huxley stood up and smiled. “There’s no need for you to go upstairs –the Tyndall’s have already packed you bags. You’ll find them waiting for you in the carriage at the back door.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out an envelope, and offered it to Alessandra.
“Not the hundred pounds you expected, Signora – just a train ticket to send you back where you belong.”
Alessandra grabbed the envelope, then leaned forward and spit on his suit.
I grabbed her and hustled her out of the room. All I wanted to do was get to the train station. As we hurried past the library on the way to the carriage, I saw Elsa sitting in an armchair, crying. I wanted to tell her I had nothing to do with it, that it was all Alessandra’s idea, that I had tried to stop her. I didn’t want her to remember me as a cheat.
It was t
he last time I saw Elsa.
Huxley delivered one final twist of the knife, with the help of a telegram he wired ahead to the London Times the minute we fled Farnam House in disgrace. By the time we reached the Dover docks late that afternoon, newspaper boys were already hawking papers with Alessandra’s photo emblazoned on the front page along with big, black headlines – I could only make out “Italian” and “Huxley” but I could guess the rest.
The ferry horn was sounding as we hurried towards the gangway, a newsboy hanging on my arm, pestering me to buy a paper. All of a sudden, he recognized Alessandra. He stared at her in disbelief, then let out a yell.
“The dago! The dago!”
He danced around, pointing at her and making faces as every newsboy on the pier came running. Alessandra fled up the gangway. I dug into my pocket, gave him a coin, grabbed a paper and followed her to our cabin. When I got there, I shoved the paper in her face.
“Are you happy now?” I shouted. “Lombardi warned you not to go to England. But you wouldn’t listen! I warned you not to play tricks, but you wouldn’t listen! You could have quit while you were ahead. Now you’re an international joke.”
So was Lombardi.
The ferry’s engines rumbled to life, the deckhands slipped the lines, and we cast off for France. The Paris newspapers probably had the story already.
“Camillo’s gonna kill you when he finds out.”
Chapter 68
Alessandra looked terrible.
She sat in her seat, a tear-soaked handkerchief clutched in her hand, silently staring out the window as the night train from Calais sped towards Paris. I was worried about her.
She didn’t eat anything on the ferry back to France, and gave me a scare when I found her standing alone at the stern of the boat, clutching the rail, the sea just a small jump away. The empty expression in her eyes scared me enough that I steered her back to the cabin and kept her close to me the rest of the trip. I was feeling pretty bad myself, after how I had behaved in Dover. She needed a friend, and I had failed. When we boarded the night train to Paris, the conductor had kindly inquired whether the lady was ill, and whether I would like him to tell the porter to bring Alessandra a glass of brandy once we left the station. I thanked him, and when it showed up I made her drink enough to sleep an hour before she woke again to stare out the window.
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