The Spiritualist

by Megan Chance

  How easy it was to maneuver her, after all. Just as Michel had said it would be. I smiled at her. “Do you think you could bring the family here? As you must realize, it’s difficult for me to leave the house just now. And I’d like Dorothy to be present. She’s been so kind to me, after all, but she’s very ill, and I don’t like to trouble her more than I must.”

  “Of course,” Pamela said with alacrity. “I’m certain they’d be anxious to do whatever makes you comfortable.”

  “Perhaps this afternoon?”

  “I’ll send a driver round to the others. Would six be acceptable?”

  “Perfectly,” I said.

  “Then I’ll take my leave.” She went to the door and paused there, turning back to me. “I’m relieved you’re being so gracious about this, Evelyn. I confess I didn’t expect it.”

  “One doesn’t experience life without learning valuable lessons, Pamela. I expect you’ll find I’ve changed a great deal.”

  “I’m gratified to know it,” she said.

  “Yes,” I told her. “So am I.”

  I HEARD THEM arrive that afternoon, though I did not greet them. I wore black bombazine and jet beads around my neck and in my ears, as befitted a proper widow, though I wished nothing more than to be done with mourning. I waited in the upstairs parlor, running my finger along the polished surface of the great round table that had made my future. I let them gather and talk among themselves. I imagined I could feel the shiver of their expectation as they anticipated my surrender.

  Then Michel appeared in the doorway. He was dressed exquisitely, as always, in dark blue that accented the paleness of his eyes. “Dorothy’s downstairs with them. Are you ready?”

  “I’ve never been more so.”

  He held out his arm to me. When I took it, he kissed me lightly upon my forehead. “I’m there with you, chère.”

  “I know it,” I said.

  Together, we went downstairs, to the parlor, where Bella was just exiting after having brought the tea. I heard John’s voice. “Well, it’s about time. A merry chase, wasn’t it, but—”

  He stopped as we entered. They were all there, Dorothy on the chaise and all of Peter’s family: Pamela, her china-doll eyes filled with self-satisfaction; her husband, John, composed as always; Paul, as quiet and watchful as ever; and Penny, humorless and severe.

  “Evelyn,” John said, rising, along with Paul.

  “This is Michel Jourdain,” I said. “I expect you all know of him by now.”

  “I thought this was to be a family discussion,” John said.

  “But Michel is my family,” I said. “And Dorothy too, as my old family abandoned me. I’m very loyal, you know, unless I’m given cause not to be.”

  Pamela said, “For goodness sakes, Evelyn, we’ve discussed this.”

  I looked at the teapot steaming on the table, the unused cups beside it, the plate of untouched cakes. “Would anyone like tea?”

  Michel smiled and withdrew to the corner near the French doors, where he leaned almost indolently against the wall. Paul’s gaze followed him before he turned back to me. I saw the speculation in those eyes that reminded me so much of Peter’s, the quick flash of envy.

  Dorothy said, “None of them want refreshment, child.”

  “I’ve brought the papers,” John said, reaching for his briefcase. “They’re quite simple to understand. All they require is your signature—”

  “I won’t be signing anything,” I said.

  John glanced at Pamela. “But Pam said—”

  I went to the settee and sat, arranging my skirts carefully. Paul and John took their seats again, but warily now.

  “We didn’t come here for games, Evelyn,” Paul said.

  “Well of course you did,” I said. “You came here to win one. But I’m afraid I’ve some conditions for my surrender.”

  “You’re in no position to make conditions,” John said.

  “You think not?” I smiled. “Perhaps you’ll change your mind when I tell you I’ve no interest in the house. You can keep it. Dorothy’s offered me a place here with her, and I’ve accepted. I will take the things that are rightfully mine, of course. The gifts Peter gave me, the jewelry, some of the furniture—I’ll have an inventory done and let you know what I intend to bring with me. And oh—I’ll have Peter’s allowance as well. What was it? Seventy thousand a year, I believe? In perpetuity.”

  Their expressions were dumbfounded, various degrees of Atherton dropped mouths, opened eyes—strange variations on a theme. Even John looked like an Atherton in that moment—as if he had gradually taken on their characteristics simply by virtue of living among them. In the corner, Michel smiled.

  “You must be mad,” Paul sputtered finally. “You truly must be mad. Why should we do such a thing?”

  “If you won’t do it because your brother would have wanted it, then I have no choice but to force you to his will.”

  “And how, exactly, do you intend to do that?” Pamela asked acidly. “Our offer was quite fair, though it would have cost us considerably to save you from the attention you’ve received lately. This spirit calling, Evelyn, your association with this”—she motioned to Michel—“this charlatan. It’s all the talk. People believe you must be insane yourself. You’ve no allies to speak of.”

  Penny said snidely, “What will you do? Call Peter’s spirit down among us?”

  “Oh, I don’t think I need go that far,” I said. I glanced at Michel, who looked as if he might burst out laughing at any moment, and then at Dorothy, who seemed uncomfortable but determined. “I think the mortal world will serve just as well, if not better.”

  John sighed. “Enough of this, Evelyn. I think we’ve given you quite long enough. If you don’t mean to sign these papers, we are truly wasting our time. We’ll see you in court.” He rose.

  “Sit down, John,” I said, and this time I let all my contempt for him ring in my voice.

  He frowned at me in surprise.

  I said, “Did none of you suppose there might have been a reason why Peter married me? I mean, after years of being presented with the best pedigrees in New York City, why would he choose an investigator’s daughter?”

  “You bewitched him,” Paul said.

  John sank back down onto his chair.

  I smiled. “Have you any idea what goes on in those little cabarets on Chatham Street?”

  Penny frowned, but I saw Paul’s sudden attention where he sat beside her.

  “Or the bathhouses?” I went on. “There’s a place called the Persian Poetry Club. Very Turkish in its style, I heard. For those with a Greek temperament. They make a point of studying the more obscure Byronic texts, I’m told. The ones celebrating romantic love. In all its forms. I believe Peter even hired some of the club’s members as legal assistants. Not clever boys, but very pretty. Your brother liked them pretty.”

  Slowly, slowly, I saw my words’ effect. I saw Penny and Pamela reach a dawning understanding. For Paul and John, it did not take so very long. Perhaps they’d wondered before now. They were men of the city, after all.

  “You know, just the other day I was talking to a boy—a friend of Peter’s—and he said the most interesting thing. He asked me who would believe him if he told the truth about Peter’s preferences? And I thought: why, everyone would.”

  “How dare you!” Pamela said. Her color rose. She looked as if she were swelling. “How dare you say those things about my brother!”

  “Your brother was a sodomite,” I said sharply. “It was why he married me. It was why Benjamin Rampling killed him. Not over the law practice, but because they were lovers, and they were fighting over another man. I’ve kept it out of the papers, but all it would take is a word. Can you imagine what the Herald would do with such a story?”

  “You’re lying.” This from Penny. She had gone so pale that she looked like a corpse. “I, for one, won’t stand for it!”

  But John’s face was chiseled stone. “Quiet, Penny,” he said in
a strangled voice. He looked at me. “I don’t imagine you’ve any proof of this?”

  “It’s all true, John,” Dorothy said with a sigh. “I’ve known it for years. I’ve quieted the talk whenever there was any. But I won’t see you cheat Evelyn. It’s distasteful to mention such things, but I’m too old to be fastidious. I’ll do what I must to protect her.”

  I added, “I know where to find his lovers. I’m certain they can produce evidence enough, if you truly require it.”

  John said, “I want a list of all these people.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. How else am I to keep you from cheating me?”

  “You have my word.”

  “It’s not enough. The Atherton name means nothing to me now that Peter’s gone. Don’t think I would hesitate to besmirch it.”

  Pamela seemed to explode. “You are a… a—”

  “An Atherton?” I smiled sweetly. “Unfortunately, that’s true. I like to think I’ve taken on the very best traits of your family. I expect it will take me far.”

  John said, “If we do this, you can rely on us for nothing else.”

  “You’re not setting the conditions. Do what I want or I’ll tell the truth about Peter. It’s quite simple, John. Even your scheming brain ought to grasp it.”

  Penny put her face in her hands. Pamela looked ashen.

  Paul stood angrily. “I’d like to talk to you a moment, Evelyn. Alone.” He reached for my arm.

  Michel roused from his place against the wall. “Sit down,” he said, and though his voice was pleasant enough, the danger in it was unmistakable.

  Paul looked startled, but he withdrew and sat again.

  With a smile, I said, “As you can see, I’ve all the allies I need.”

  John spoke through clenched teeth. “Tell me again what you require.”

  “Seventy thousand a year, and the things from the house I desire. You can keep the rest. Quite a fair bargain, I think.”

  John nodded so stiffly I thought his neck would snap. “Very well. You have your conditions.”

  “Wonderful,” I said. I smiled and picked up the teapot to pour. “I must say—how lovely it is when families get along.”

  34

  __

  AFFINITY

  MAY 1857

  My dear Evelyn, how quickly even my most expansive hopes have been surpassed. Such talent as yours should be shouted from the rooftops!”

  I smiled as Henry Reid bowed over my hand. The parlor was empty now but for the two of us. The night’s circle had disbanded; the only spirits remaining were those lingering in the smell of the liqueur on his breath. I pressed my fingers warmly into his palm. “You’re far too generous. I’m merely a telegraph. Your cousin’s spirit was so anxious to speak to you that I believe she would have found some other means to do so, in time.”

  “It’s you who’re too generous. After the way we treated you after dear Peter’s death—I’m grateful beyond measure that you should see fit to welcome us again so readily.”

  “The spirits teach us to live in everlasting love with one another. I merely follow their dictates.”

  His eyes were hazel beneath his heavy gray brows, and just now they were filled with the most tender reverence. “I feel I must do something to thank you for what you’ve done.”

  I fingered the sapphires—his earlier gift to me—that lay warm and heavy against my bare collarbone. I had worn deep blue satin to match them, and I knew—because I’d seen Henry Reid’s stunned expression when he’d first stepped into the parlor that night—that the effect was remarkable. I dropped my eyes demurely. “The spirits know you for an unselfish man already.”

  He made a sound deep in his throat. When he spoke, his voice was thick. “My dear, do you remember what my cousin said through you?”

  “Oh, hardly. It’s like a dream. Some parts come back to me. Others…”

  “She asked that I try to spread the word of this miracle, and I believe I’ve thought of a way.”

  “Have you?”

  “Jourdain was kind enough to suggest some things. I had thought—what do you say to the idea of starting a spiritualist retreat at Saratoga? Everyone who’s anyone will be there this summer—most have left the city already. We’ve stayed so long for you, but why not continue the circles there? It would take some funds, of course, but I daresay I could manage it. And I’ve other friends as well I think I could convince. I would, of course, be most honored if you and Jourdain would help me. Why, to have you preside over the circle there, at least for a time! Oh, I know you’ve your commitments here, especially with the Spiritualist Convention, but New York in the summer is unbearable, and what with the legislature taking over the police and the new liquor laws and Mayor Wood’s posturing, well, the city’s unstable enough now. It may well prove a powder keg these next months.”

  “I’m honored that you would consider me. But I hardly think—”

  “I’m in a position to pay you quite well for your involvement,” he said quietly. “And Jourdain too, of course.”

  “I don’t know that we could leave Dorothy.”

  “Saratoga’d be just the thing for her. She’s delighted in it in the past. It’s time she got out of this house, don’t you agree? She seems so much better now. I could procure her a private

  rail car.”

  I smiled. “I think Dorothy could afford her own car.”

  He flushed. “I only meant… I know she’s adopted Jourdain and provided for you quite handsomely, and that you must feel an obligation to her, but she cannot mean to keep you just for herself, Evelyn. The world awaits your gift. Having given it to us, she would be selfish to withdraw it.”

  “I owe her a great deal. And she depends upon Michel.”

  He reached for my hand again. His palms were moist; he squeezed my fingers hard. “We all owe her, my dear. She helped to discover you. But did you never mean to move on? To share your gift with everyone? To teach us all the wonder of the Summerland?”

  “The spirits bid me do as they will,” I said. “But they do tend to look favorably upon generosity”—I touched the sapphires again—“in all its forms.”

  “Then I will do all in my power to influence them,” he said.

  I drew my hand from his, and nodded to where Rose stood in the doorway. “I believe your wife’s waiting for you.”

  Reid bowed once more. “Until the next time, then.”

  I followed him to the doorway and watched as he took Rose’s arm and led her from the parlor and down the stairs. I heard the others at the door as they said their good-byes, their exhilarated laughter, their assurances of return, and I felt a heady satisfaction that only grew when their voices disappeared into the night, and the door was closed behind them, and I heard the footsteps I waited for come back up the stairs.

  He was nearly to the landing when I said, “I understand the spirits mentioned Saratoga tonight.”

  He took the last steps easily. “Oui. They did.”

  “Reid said he would get a private rail car for Dorothy.”

  He laughed. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

  “And he’d pay quite well for our ‘involvement.’ ”

  He came up to me, slipping his arms around me, and I leaned into him. “Ah, I intend so, chère. Next time, suggest that a suite would be just the thing—it must be large enough for a circle, eh?”

  “Why, that’s up to the spirits. I’m only the conduit.”

  “Oui, of course. But make him suffer a little first, eh? Tell him we’ll hold no circle next week. What should we say—ah, tell him that with the police so distracted, the streets are too dangerous.”

  “He’ll be impatient.”

  He lifted the heavy strand of gems around my neck and let them fall again, a gentle thud against my skin. “Impatient men are generous ones. Or haven’t you learned that by now?”

  “Should I make you wait, then? Now that you’re a rich Bennett?”

  “Rich as Croesus,” he agreed. He kiss
ed the hollow of my throat, brushing his lips against the gold links of my necklace. “And thanks to you, ma coeur, about to be richer.”

  I took his head in my hands. My fingers tangled in the silkiness of his hair. I kept his mouth close against me. “And then? After that—what will we do then?”

  “Whatever we wish. I told you once we could have the world. We’re just beginning to own it. Would you stop now?”

  “No,” I said. “No.”

  I felt him smile against my skin. “I thought not. You’re a wolf like me after all, Evie. Will you finally admit it?”

  I closed my eyes. I remembered the look that had been on his face as he’d pulled the trigger that night, and I knew what he’d done for me. It was what I would have done for him, given the chance, had I been able to reach the gold-chased penknife I’d hidden in the pocket of the dressing gown, had I a single moment longer. I wondered: had the spirits known that when they sent Michel to me? Had they known this guide of theirs would fit me so well? Had they seen the affinity between us?

  It hardly mattered, I supposed. The spirits were as capricious and selfish in their world as they had been in ours. Their purposes were their own. The only truth was whatever you could make someone believe.

  “Come to bed,” I said to him, and then I took his hand and led him there.

  Tomorrow was soon enough to own the world.

  How we would make it dance.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  MEGAN CHANCE is a former television news photographer. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two daughters. She is also the author of An Inconvenient Wife and Susannah Morrow.

  ALSO BY THE AUTHOR

  An Inconvenient Wife

  Susannah Morrow

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2008 by Megan Chance

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Three Rivers Press, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.