The Antics of Evangeline: Collection 1: Mystery and Mayhem in steampunk Melbourne

by Madeleine D'Este

  Evangeline held in her gasp.

  "...two dead children, one boy and one girl. And of course our hostess, Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe, with her dead husband."

  Chale nodded.

  "Seat the dead mothers on opposite sides of the table and the dead children together. We won't use the cards tonight. Only rapping and some spirit fluid. Perhaps the talking board if needed. Can we dim the lights further?"

  Chale adjusted each lamp one by one and the room was lit by the merest glimmer of light, Evangeline could barely make out their faces across the room.

  Madame Zsoldas reached up to touch one of the gas lamps.

  "I like these new filters. They create exactly the right mood. Well done, Chale."

  "I do my best, Madame."

  "Excellent. This room is perfect for our session. Now, I want you to be subtle this evening. If all goes to plan, this will be the first of many sessions with our new guests. I want them to get a taste of the spirits but we will leave them wanting more."

  "Of course, Madame."

  "Show me the rapping."

  Chale stood by the sideboard at the door. A loud rapping sound echoed across the room, yet Chale appeared to be standing completely still.

  Madame Zsoldas laughed heartily.

  "Excellent. We are ready for the show. Let's go and wait for our guests."

  As the room was quiet again, Evangeline's heart fell. She would learn nothing about the spirits tonight. It appeared her father was right. Madame Zsoldas was another charlatan. Poor Augie will be so disappointed, he was so desperate to hear from his departed brother.

  She sighed with frustration. There had to be another way to confirm whether there was dark energy coursing through her veins. Perhaps she should take a logical and scientific approach and return home to discuss the diagnosis with the Professor. This was the sensible option, her father would know what to do. Evangeline unfurled from the curtains and headed towards the door.

  The front gate squeaked and Evangeline's heart clenched. Nervous laughter tittered on the doorstep and the doorbell chimed. Footsteps crossed the foyer and Evangeline scuttled back to her spot behind the curtain. With the guests arriving, there was no chance of escape.

  If only she'd brought a bag of sweets. Humbugs would be the perfect accompaniment to Madame Zsoldas's show.

  Chapter 14

  Chale opened the parlour door and voices carried in from the foyer.

  "Ah, Mrs. Woolpit, why, don't you look radiant this evening. Who says a lady cannot look chic in mourning black," said Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe. "You must pass on the name of your seamstress."

  "Doctor Crawcrook, delighted to see you again," Madame Zsoldas purred. "I hope business is good. Any new interesting diseases?"

  Evangeline wriggled to find a comfortable position. She may be here behind the curtain for a while.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, it is time to begin," Madame Zsoldas announced. "Please leave your sherry glasses behind. The spirits can be mischievous. We do not want any damage to Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe's exceptional crystalware,"

  "That sounds dangerous," stammered the porcine Mrs. Woolpit as Chale directed her to a seat at the table. "Are we in danger?"

  "It is perfectly safe, Mrs. Woolpit," Chale replied. "Madame likes to take every precaution to protect her guests."

  Mrs. Woolpit smiled weakly and cooled her face with a black lace fan.

  "Why, it's awfully dark in here," said a familiar voice with a chuckle. "What are you planning to do with us?"

  "So cheeky, Mr. Beauchamp," said Madame Zsoldas. "Please have a seat over here."

  One by one, the room filled with guests. Some were cautious and took their seats with trepidation, others sat with beaming smiles, ready for the adventure. There were equal numbers of men and women; roly-poly but fashionable Augie, two men with thick grey beards and one with a pale blonde moustache, Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe in her iris gown sprinkled with gems as always, the red-faced Mrs. Woolpit with the fan, and two bony-chested women with similar buck teeth.

  "Now, before we begin, a warning of sorts."

  "I thought you said it was safe," flapped Mrs. Woolpit.

  Madame Zsoldas smiled.

  "There are risks with everything, Mrs. Woolpit. I implore you all to take a brief moment to consider what you are about to experience. You must come to this session with an open mind. You will see and hear unusual things this evening. Happenings which do not make sense in the ordinary world. But I ask you to be sympathetic and welcoming to whatever spirits speak with us tonight."

  Mrs. Woolpit sighed, the buck-toothed sisters pursed their lips and Augie smirked.

  "Once we close the door, we cannot allow anyone to leave the room until the session is complete. If the session is broken while the connection with the spirit world is in progress, someone or something may leak through into this world. It may lead to very dangerous consequences. So I must ask each and every one of you to agree to stay throughout the entire session."

  The guests gulped and fidgeted, including Augie. The smirk gone from his lips.

  "If you cannot promise to stay, please leave now."

  Madame Zsoldas looked directly into the eyes of each guest.

  "I will not be angry or disappointed if anyone wants to leave. But if you feel as though you cannot cope with contact from the other side, please leave now."

  The room was silent as the participants sheepishly glanced at each other. Evangeline wondered who would be the first to leave. Even Augie, ordinarily the most confident man in any room, shuffled in his seat.

  But no one said a word or made a move towards the door.

  "We are all staying?" Madame Zsoldas asked. "We are all in agreement?"

  There were small nods from all eight people.

  "Excellent. We need full commitment from everyone to ensure that the session works. Close the door, Chale. We are ready to begin."

  Chale obeyed and, with the door firmly closed, he took his place standing by the sideboard, statue-still with his usual blank face.

  "Let us all hold hands."

  The nine people sat at the round table, hand in hand.

  With her eyes closed, Madame Zsoldas breathed in sharply through her nostrils and out again, with a hoarse unladylike rattle in her throat. The guests eyed each other nervously.

  "I thank you all for coming this evening. We are about to experience a special event. We are opening the channel between our world of the living and the world of the dead. I ask you all to close your eyes and breathe deeply with me."

  The guests followed her instructions, their eyes firmly closed, breathing in unison.

  "Excellent. I can sense we have a welcoming group here tonight. There is a feeling of fraternity and openness to the wonders and wisdom of the spirit world. This is good. It fills me with welcoming energy. I can sense the door between the two worlds opening. Please repeat after me.

  "We welcome spirits from the other side."

  The guests repeated her words, in a cacophony of deep and high pitched voices and accents from all around the British Isles now at home in the Antipodes.

  "Please share your wisdom with us," Madame Zsoldas said, her eyes firmly shut.

  A few guests sneaked glances around the room before quickly closing their eyes again. Evangeline smiled as she watched the adults struggle with the strangeness of the proceedings.

  "I can feel the door opening. The veil between our two worlds is thin. I am reaching through from here to there."

  Madame Zsoldas's voice was deep and dramatic. Evangeline was impressed with the performance so far. With her acting prowess, Madame Zsoldas could easily star in one of Uncle Augie's productions at the Prince Albert Theatre.

  The round table shifted on its legs, tilting up and down under the nine pairs of hands.

  "What was that?" One of the bony-chested ladies squealed.

  All the guests opened their eyes, horror and surprise across their faces.

  Evangeline squinted hard through the
dim light, scrutinising the legs of the table. At first glance, she could not identify how the trick was done. Then she remembered the steam pneumatic elevator from the mummy unveiling and wondered if the trick used a similar device, but stealthier.

  "Someone is here with us. I knew this group was receptive to the spirit world. Ordinarily the spirits take time to become accustomed to new visitors. But our group is strong and someone is here to speak with us. Now."

  Despite knowing this was all a sham, Evangeline felt a shiver of excitement. She could only imagine how the other guests felt, filled with fear, hope and trepidation. This was rather good fun.

  Madame Zsoldas threw back her head and called out in a loud deep voice.

  "Is there a spirit here in the room?"

  The table jerked from side to side.

  "We have a visitor, my friends. Are you speaking from the other side?"

  This time, the table stayed still.

  "Knock once for yes. Twice for no."

  Bang.

  A loud rapping sound rang through the room, a knock on wood. The same sound Evangeline had heard during their practice — somehow Chale was knocking against the sideboard.

  The blond man gasped audibly.

  "One knock. Yes, there is someone from the other side with us. Thank you for joining our group, spirit. We look forward to hearing your wisdom. Who are you, dear spirit? Are you known to anyone here in this room tonight?"

  The room was silent.

  Bang.

  Another knock but this was a different sound. This was a rap on brass, a metallic ring like the strike of a gong.

  For a split second Chale frowned.

  "Spirit, you are known to someone in this room?" Madame Zsoldas continued.

  Bang.

  The clang of brass sounded again. This time twice as loud.

  Chale's eyes darted around the parlour. A look of confusion briefly ran across his face before he hid his feelings away with his bland expression. If Evangeline didn't know any better, she would assume Chale had no idea what was going on.

  But this was all part of Madame Zsoldas's act. Wasn't it?

  Chapter 15

  "Do you have a relative here at the table? A departed love one?" Madame Zsoldas continued.

  Bang. Bang.

  The answer was no.

  Eyes opened around the table, the guests glancing at one another.

  "You are not related to anyone in this room?"

  Bang. Bang.

  Two knocks on brass, not Chale's wooden knocks.

  "I am confused, dear spirit. Are you related to someone in this room?"

  A portrait began to rattle, thumping against the wall, flapping like a sheet in the wind. Evangeline's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. How was Chale making the picture move?

  "Great Uncle Charles!" Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe exclaimed, pointing at the painting of the grim faced old man with eyes like coal. "He was a very pious man. This must be a sign of his disapproval?"

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Chale jumped from his position at the door, a look of terror across his face. The brass knocking started again, but randomly.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  The lamps in the sconces flickered up and down, blasting the room with light so bright it hurt Evangeline's eyes, then plunging the room into darkness.

  Bang.

  The knocking was as loud as a thunderstorm. Evangeline covered her ears with her hands.

  A deck of white cards fluttered across the room, showering over the table. Evangeline frowned. Had there been a change of plan? Madame Zsoldas said they were not going to use the cards this evening.

  Augie picked a card from the table and read it aloud.

  "Mother."

  Three of the guests at the table gasped.

  "Let me see," said a grey-whiskered man.

  "No, us first," said the bony sisters in harmony, tearing the card from Augie's fingers.

  "Whose handwriting is this?" asked one of the bony sisters. "It does not look like my mother's script."

  "Nor mine," said the grey-whiskered man.

  The temperature in the room plummeted. Like a London day in January, Evangeline could see clouds of her own breath. She was covered in goose pimples, the hairs on her neck standing on end. Evangeline reminded herself this was a performance, then why did she feel so afraid? She wished she could run over to her Uncle Augie for comfort.

  The man with the blond moustache picked up another card from the table.

  "Power," he read.

  Gusts of wind blew through the room, lifting up the table cloth and billowing the curtains. Evangeline clung on for dear life, hoping the unknown winds would not give her away.

  Madame Zsoldas remained calm, despite the chaos all around her.

  "Dear spirit, may we know your name?"

  Bang. Bang.

  Two knocks like cannon fire.

  "Is this a friendly spirit?" stuttered Mrs. Woolpit. "Or have we summonsed up something evil?"

  Augie picked up a third card and read the message aloud.

  "Miriam."

  Evangeline's heart stopped dead.

  "Does anyone here know a Miriam?" Madame Zsoldas asked.

  All the guests shook their heads, except one.

  "I know a Miriam. But she is not dead," said one of the grey-whiskered men stoically.

  "Dear sister spirit, are you Miriam? Is Miriam your name?"

  Bang. Bang.

  Evangeline knew the truth. She knew who Miriam was. But how could Madame Zsoldas possibly know?

  Chapter 16

  The gusts of wind blew harder and harder, blowing the tablecloth right off the table, scattering the rest of the white cards and knocking Augie from his chair. Augie tumbled backwards onto the floor, landing by Chale's feet. Then everything stopped. The room was quiet and still, returning to an ordinary parlour.

  "I say. What's this?" said Augie from his spot on the floor.

  "Please return to your seat, Mr. Beauchamp," Madame Zsoldas said. "Remember you cannot break the circle. There may be consequences. Please do not remove yourself from the table."

  Augie crawled across the floor on hands and knees and grabbed something from Chale's hand. It was a long metal staff with a lump of wood on the end.

  "Turn up the lights," Augie demanded.

  Chale did not move, his eyes directed at the floor.

  "I said turn up the lights. Do you have something to hide?"

  "Of course not," Madame Zsoldas said but she did not move.

  "Then turn up the lights so we can see for ourselves."

  "We are dealing with a spirit, Mr. Beauchamp. We must treat the spirit with respect, otherwise I cannot vouch for what may happen."

  Augie scoffed.

  Evangeline was confused, she wished everything would stop for a moment. What was happening? Was there a real presence in the room? A spirit with knowledge that no one else had?

  "I suspect you are lying to us, Madame. Turn up the lights and prove me wrong."

  Madame Zsoldas called out with her arms outstretched.

  "Dear spirit. Are you still with us?"

  This time there was no response. No knocking, no winds, no flickering lights. Aside from the knocked over furniture and the white cards scattered across the carpeted floor, the room looked like any other richly upholstered parlour.

  "We thank you, spirit," Madame Zsoldas continued. "For revealing yourself and sharing your wisdom with us this evening. Wisdom we do not yet understand. But we thank you for visiting our world tonight."

  Madame Zsoldas lowered her arms and spoke to the guests.

  "The bridge between the two worlds has closed. The session is complete. It is safe to turn on the lights."

  "About time." Augie pushed past Chale and turned up a gaslight dial. "What is this contraption? You were faking the knocks, weren't you?"

  Chale said nothing, his face as bland as ever. He glanced across to Madame Zsoldas as Augie held up the lump of wood.r />
  "You give me too much credit, Mr. Beauchamp. I am no thespian. How do you think I created the gusts of wind? And made the temperature drop?" Madame Zsoldas asked. "Please tell me how I managed to conjure up such an experience for you."

  "Simple, my dear. I'm no clever clogs but all it would take is a clockwork fan and ice. We're no longer in the Dark Ages, you can't fool us with your superstitious claptrap." Augie banged open the sideboard drawers one by one. "Your device must be around here somewhere."

  "Enlighten us, Mr. Beauchamp."

  "I don't know," Augie blustered, as he opened doors and looked under chairs. "All I know is tonight was a sham."

  But Evangeline knew Augie was wrong.

  "I have nothing to hide, Mr. Beauchamp. Open the curtains. Light the rest of the lamps."

  Evangeline froze.

  The room was filled with light, as bright as day. The other guests roused in their seats as though awakening from a deep sleep.

  Chale moved to the opposite window and flung open the curtains. Evangeline's heart started beating rapidly. She took a deep breath and prepared herself. Like a horse waiting for the beginning of a race, she was tensed and ready to strike.

  "How did you make those brass clangs?" Augie peeked behind the settee and under the table. "I've spent twenty years in the theatre, I know a trick when I see one. I toured the Home Counties with Signor Blitz and his trained canaries, I've seen it all. There must be something here somewhere."

  Chale moved closer to Evangeline, opening one side of the curtain. Then the other. Evangeline's hiding place was about to be revealed.

  She burst from behind the curtain, pushing Chale aside and leapt across the room. Using a chair as a platform, Evangeline flung herself into the air and cartwheeled towards the door.

  "And who was that man? Another one of your minions?" Augie said as Evangeline sprinted across the foyer and through the front door, Petunia yapping feebly in the background.

  She darted down the front path, through the gate and across the road. She tumbled over her own front fence and hid under a camellia bush in the fallen leaves. She stopped to catch her breath and looked back across the road. All the front rooms of Mrs. Picklescott-Smythe's house now blazed with light.