“You are like a daughter to me now,” Madame LeBlanc said. “And you should dress like you are my child.” Madame LeBlanc had a bath drawn for Diane, and she washed the girl’s hair, lathering in a lavender soap that smelled of spring.
As Diane’s hair dried by a vent that blew warm air, she ate not only dry toast but also cheese and sausage—just like Madame LeBlanc.
“What is important is that going forward, I will introduce you as my daughter, and you must not contradict me,” she said.
The butter tasted so good on the toast and the cheese was so ripe and creamy, she was not sure she cared, but still she asked, “Why?”
“Because it’s best that way.”
Diane frowned at the empty reply.
“I will also have you accompany me to some of my onboard appointments. I’ve heard the way the ladies speak about your eyes and how pretty you are.”
Madame LeBlanc arranged Diane’s hair in ringlets in front of her dressing table outfitted with pretty jars and delicate perfume bottles.
“Ah, to have such beautiful hair again,” Madame LeBlanc said as their gazes met in the mirror. “And your eyes. They are like lavender gems. You are quite magical, child.”
“Thank you, Madame LeBlanc.”
“You must not call me Madame LeBlanc any longer,” she said. “It’s far too formal for a mother and daughter.” She produced a white ribbon and coiled it around the hair she’d gathered at the crown of Diane’s head. “Perhaps you could call me Mimi? It sounds so endearing, no? Would that work for you, my dear?”
Diane had loved her mother, father, sisters, and brothers, but after two years of separation from them, Madame LeBlanc was as close as she had to family now. “Yes, Mimi.”
“Ah, I do like the sound of that. Good girl.” She tied the ribbon in an elaborate bow and then got the dress for Diane to step into. Madame LeBlanc faced Diane away from the mirror as she carefully fastened each button. When she turned Diane to face the mirror, the girl was stunned by her reflection. She looked like a princess.
“Mimi, thank you,” she said.
“But of course, my girl.”
“Will Pierre be coming with us?” Diane asked.
“Yes, but we will not see him much on the ship. You seem to be quite clumsy when he’s around, and it would not do for you to be black and blue all the time.”
An undercurrent of worry roiled under her fleeting sense of relief. Pierre had been careful to obey Mr. LeBlanc, but she worried that he did not fear Madame LeBlanc in the least.
They boarded the ship that afternoon, and it turned into a frenzied affair. Madame LeBlanc had dressed in a brightly colored, fitted coat made of silk, and she wore a wide-brimmed hat. She was a handsome woman who painted her lips and cheeks a faint blush of pink and enjoyed the glances and nods she garnered from men.
Pierre was sent ahead to board the ship alone, and Madame LeBlanc and Diane followed in a hired carriage that was far finer than their normal modes of transportation. As they walked up the gangplank, Madame LeBlanc held her head high, as if she were from the wealthiest of families.
Diane had always thought the LeBlancs’ Baltimore townhouse was so much finer than her parents’ home in Cape Hudson and had found it strange that Madame LeBlanc complained about money all the time. But now, as she stared at the polished portholes, teak trim, and fine carpeting of the ship, she realized there were many far wealthier than the LeBlancs. Madame LeBlanc’s eyes glistened as she looked around the ship and the finely dressed ladies and gentlemen.
“We’ll have this life one day, Diane,” Madame LeBlanc said. “We’ll dress in the best and stay in the finest establishments as soon as I speak to Cousin Gilbert. But you must be very good and do exactly as I say.” She softly brushed a curl from Diane’s eyes.
“Yes, Mimi.”
“Securing a prosperous future can be a delicate process for women in our station.”
“Station?”
“Women who are too smart or too pretty to work the streets but still without real means. I had reasonable funds when Mr. LeBlanc was alive, but his passing has made it more difficult. But not to worry. I have an idea for us both.”
Madame LeBlanc and Diane settled in their stateroom, which came equipped with a small sitting room, a bedroom for Madame LeBlanc, and a much smaller room for Diane. Their trunks had arrived and were stacked on top of each other in Madame LeBlanc’s room.
“Where will Pierre sleep?” Diane asked.
“He has his own room. As I said, we won’t be seeing him during this trip.”
“Why not? He’s always close to you.”
“It is best we not associate with him now. Perhaps later when we are in France.”
Diane hid her smile as she removed her hat and gloves.
“Diane, dear, if you will get us unpacked, then we can order some tea. Then I shall move about the ship and make our introduction. Though you better change out of that dress while you work. We want it nice and crisp.”
Moments later, Madame LeBlanc had breezed out of the cabin with the promise to have a tray sent for Diane. As soon as the cabin door was closed, Diane walked to the porthole and watched as the coast grew more distant. How many times had she sat on the bay’s shore with her sisters and watched the boats steam south from Baltimore? Eventually, the vessel would dip around the southern edge of the peninsula and cut out toward the open waters of the Atlantic.
The tray Madame LeBlanc had promised never came, and Diane, tired from their long day, slid under the sheets of her small cot. She dreamed of her mother, standing on the beach, her hair blowing in the wind. Her mother turned to Diane and said with a smile, “It will be all right. You’ll see.”
Diane awoke when she heard the cabin door open. A glance at the clock on the wall told her it was nearly one o’clock in the morning.
Rubbing her eyes, she rose and found Madame LeBlanc pulling the last of her pearl-studded hatpins free. She removed her hat and set it on the chair before she walked across the room and poured herself a cup of tea. She took a long, deep sip, and then, turning to Diane, she smiled. “We have a luncheon appointment today. You must wear your white dress.”
Diane’s stomach grumbled, and she quickly pressed her hand onto it. “I’m hungry.”
“Oh, my. I didn’t send up a plate for you, did I? But I didn’t forget.” She reached into her purse, pulled out a napkin, and handed it to Diane.
Diane carefully unwrapped the cloth napkin embossed with the ship’s logo and found a sizable slice of cheese and sausage.
“That should hold you until our lunch.”
Diane took a bit of the cheese, savoring the taste, which was far finer than they normally ate. “Will I be able to eat at lunch today?”
“Perhaps.”
Moonlight streamed through the porthole, catching the diamonds in Madame LeBlanc’s earrings, which were the last gift that Mr. LeBlanc had given her.
“Mrs. Howard is going to be our hostess. You must be very polite and speak only when spoken to.”
“In English or French?”
“French, I think. And remember: if I should refer to you as my daughter, do not disagree with me. I know I shall never take the place of your mama, but Mrs. Howard, a woman I just met, looked so lonely. Her son passed last year, and I thought she would feel closer to me if she knew I was a mother too.”
She yawned and glared at the night sky. “But that is not for hours, so until then I must sleep. Wake me at noon, and that should be enough time before our two o’clock lunch.”
“Yes, Mimi.”
“That’s a good girl.”
Diane helped Madame LeBlanc undress, and when Madame LeBlanc slipped into bed, Diane hung up her beaded blue dress and put her shoes inside her traveling trunk. As she picked up Madame LeBlanc’s earrings from the nightstand, an odd sense of disappointment passed through her. Mr. LeBlanc had gifted his wife the earrings on her last birthday. Though she’d smiled for her husband, she had often lamented t
hat the stones were so small. Carefully, Diane tucked them away in the silk bag that held all Madame LeBlanc’s baubles.
Diane spent the morning reading and practicing her French letters. By two, both Diane and Madame LeBlanc were at Mrs. JoAnn Howard’s stateroom, which was located on the top deck of the ship.
The room was ten times the size of theirs with portholes offering a lovely view of the open sea. There was a lush display of freshly cut yellow roses, and the portraits hanging on the walls looked as if they had come from a private collection.
Mrs. Howard appeared to be in her fifties and had thick swaths of gray hair woven through the chestnut brown. Her face was round, and though not remarkable in her looks, she didn’t look unpleasant either. Mrs. Howard smiled at Diane and welcomed her and Madame LeBlanc into the suite.
Over a cold lunch of biscuits, roasted chicken, and fresh berries, Diane tried not to eat too quickly. Mrs. Howard spoke about how she had lost her husband and son in a typhoid epidemic a year earlier.
Madame LeBlanc was kind to Mrs. Howard, listening patiently to her sad tale. The older woman soon relaxed and began to chat easily with Madame LeBlanc.
The waiter delivered the women coffee and Diane a hot chocolate, which to her delight tasted more delicious than anything she’d ever had. After the waiter closed the suite’s door, Madame LeBlanc reached into her small purse and removed a velvet bag with a gold drawstring.
“You are a lucky woman to have such a lovely daughter,” Mrs. Howard said as she smiled at Diane. “She is a delight.”
“Our children give our life such richness,” Madame LeBlanc said.
“Yes,” Mrs. Howard said. “I miss my Peter and our son more than I can say.” The portly woman glanced toward the closed door. “You hinted at dinner last night that there might be a way to talk to them?”
Madame LeBlanc sipped her coffee, in no rush. “There is. But it’s not easy.”
“I am willing to do whatever it takes. Truly.”
Diane licked the chocolate from her upper lip as she studied Madame LeBlanc. Speaking of spirits and the dead seemed like such a dangerous topic, and she was certain the minister in Cape Hudson would not approve. But she was not afraid—she was fascinated.
Madame LeBlanc calmly sipped her coffee, smiling at Diane and gently arranging a curl over the girl’s shoulder. “You were right to summon me here today. The longer we travel over open water, the weaker my connection with the departed becomes. Most spirits are grounded to earth, and their energies are scattered by water.”
Mrs. Howard tugged a small roll of bills from her purse and set it on the table. “If my husband were alive, he would be appalled if he knew we were talking.”
“Ah, but he is not alive, and I think now he would not mind if you reached over the heavens to speak with him. I sense he misses you very much.”
“Truly?”
“Yes. I’m certain.”
“What else does he say? What about our son?” Mrs. Howard glanced out the porthole at the smooth waters of the open sea. “Oh dear, I hope we’re not too late.”
Madame LeBlanc tucked the money in her purse and smiled. “Our timing might be perfect. The day is lovely and the skies clear.” She set her cup down. “Diane, my sweet, would you draw the curtains, please?”
Diane’s cup rattled in her saucer as she set it on the satin-covered table. Carefully she rose, straightening her skirts, and walked to the round porthole. With a yank, she drew the velvet curtains closed. Immediately the room dimmed.
Madame LeBlanc pulled a small cloth folded into fourths from her bag and unfurled it on the table. It was covered in an arching alphabet written in scrolled letters, and under that were the words yes and no. Next, from a purple silk bag, Madame LeBlanc removed an odd device shaped like a pear and adorned with a red gem and black scrolls. Finally, she removed a candle from her bag and lit it.
“Diane, dear, would you dim the lanterns?”
Diane crossed the room and turned the gas dimmer down until the flame was barely visible. The candlelight flickered and glowed on the scalloped wallpaper and cast shadows into the corners.
When she sat, Madame LeBlanc extended her arms to Mrs. Howard, and the two clasped hands. She shifted in her seat and then announced, “It is good Diane is here. She is young energy. Spirits are attracted to it.”
Diane perched on the edge of her seat, her hot chocolate nearly forgotten. She was anxious about what Madame LeBlanc was about to do. She knew Madame LeBlanc had clients and often visited them in their homes, but there was never any discussion about what happened. Had she been speaking to the dead all this time? Could Madame LeBlanc speak to Diane’s mama? Nervous energy buzzed through her limbs, and sitting still as Madame LeBlanc had taught her was difficult.
“You must grasp our hands as well, Diane,” Madame LeBlanc said. “The three of us must create a circle of trust. Spirits can be distrusting of the living, and they like it when we are clustered together.”
“Why would they distrust us, Mimi?” Diane asked.
“Perhaps they are jealous because we are alive and they are not,” Madame LeBlanc said. “Perhaps they need our combined energy to realize we can speak to them.”
“How do you know when they are here?” Diane laid her right palm first in Mrs. Howard’s and found it damp and soft. Her left hand went into Madame LeBlanc’s dry, small hand that radiated with surprising strength. Madame LeBlanc’s ringed fingers wrapped around hers.
“They are always here. It just takes someone like me to see them,” Madame LeBlanc said.
“Your mama has a very special gift,” Mrs. Howard whispered. “My dear friend Elizabeth Lawrence from New York was quite impressed with your skills. You might remember she is acquainted with George Buchanan.”
The Buchanan name caught Diane’s attention, and she nearly mentioned Claire. But when she looked up, Madame LeBlanc leveled a warning glance in her direction.
She pushed aside all the questions about the Buchanans for now. Later, she would ask Madame LeBlanc if there was news of Claire.
Diane’s thoughts turned to all the women who’d visited their townhome, and she knew now that Madame LeBlanc had been speaking to their departed loved ones. Madame LeBlanc closed her eyes, and so did Mrs. Howard. Diane closed hers—almost. Her curiosity was too keen for her not to watch whatever she was about to see.
As the small woman began to hum and roll her head from side to side, Mrs. Howard drew in a deep breath as if she were trying to inhale whatever magic was spinning around Madame LeBlanc.
The humming turned into a kind of chanting, and then Madame LeBlanc returned to humming. Diane felt the vibrations in her chest and grew more curious by the second as she expected some specter to appear before them.
Madame LeBlanc called to Mr. Howard several times, pausing her chants to listen for any kind of answer. This went on for several minutes, and Diane felt her anticipation waning as Mrs. Howard also shifted in her seat.
“Men can be as stubborn in death as in life,” Madame LeBlanc said. “Perhaps your son is more open to a visit. Call to him.”
“Yes, my son was always such a sweet boy.” Closing her eyes again and settling back in her chair, Mrs. Howard called out to the boy several times. Silence rose up and thickened the air.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Mrs. Howard startled and opened her eyes. “Is it my son?”
Madame LeBlanc shook her head. “Shh. I feel something.”
“Yes, yes, I do too,” Mrs. Howard said.
Anticipation hummed in Diane, and she felt an excitement normally reserved for Christmas morning.
“Sebastian Jr., are you there?” Madame LeBlanc asked.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound was faint at first, reverberating from the ceiling above. “Sebastian, are you there? Your mother wants to talk to you.”
Diane peeked and noticed Madame LeBlanc now staring up at the ceiling, searching. All Diane saw was the white, freshly painted ceili
ng.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sounds were louder this time and came in a rapid-fire progression. Despite Diane’s cynicism, her skin prickled with anticipation. If Sebastian could be summoned, then surely her mama could be.
“That is your son,” Madame LeBlanc whispered.
“Sebastian, is that you?” Mrs. Howard asked.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Tears welled in Mrs. Howard’s eyes as if she were staring into the face of her son. “I knew you would come.”
Diane’s heart swelled with hope as she thought of all the questions she would ask her own mama. Claire would be so thrilled to know that their mama was watching over them. And that they were not alone. Any communication would have been welcome—it pained her to admit that she already could not remember what her mother’s voice had sounded like.
As the minutes passed, Madame LeBlanc instructed Mrs. Howard to speak to her son, and the woman quickly began to chatter about her day. “Oh, Sebastian, I do miss you so much.”
There was the occasional knocking to remind everyone that Sebastian was still around until the knocking stopped and there was only eerie silence. Madame LeBlanc sat back in her chair, pulling her hands free and breaking the circle.
She closed her eyes, removed a lace handkerchief from her shirt cuff, and dabbed her dry forehead. “Your son has returned to the other side of the veil.”
“So soon?” Mrs. Howard choked back tears.
“Yes. Diane, could you turn up the lanterns? And pour me a glass of water?”
The girl rose, twisted the knob, and as the flame rose, blinked against the brightness.
Madame LeBlanc took a long sip from her water glass. “He enjoyed his visit with you.”
“How do you know?” Mrs. Howard asked.
“I simply do.”
“Can I speak to him again?” Mrs. Howard asked.
“Not today. I’m tired. Perhaps tomorrow.”
“Yes, yes. That would be lovely. Would lunch work?”
“Perhaps dinner. My senses are keener at night.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Howard pressed her hands to her flushed face. “Thank you.”
Out in the hallway, Madame LeBlanc seemed to recover some of her energy as she took Diane by the hand and the two returned to their cabin. As they neared the cabin, Pierre approached them. He looked sullen, as he normally did, and glanced from left to right as if to ensure no one was around before he acknowledged their presence.
Spring House Page 9
