CHAPTER FIFTEEN #2
“I remember you were there when I woke up. You were very kind to take care of me.”
“But what happened?” Millie pressed.
Leona cast her thoughts back with reluctance. “The violin played a familiar song. A song from the war, perhaps?”
“I remember that, too. Then what happened?”
“I’m not sure.” What to say? “There was so much noise and Jesper telling us to hold the circle.” Leona paused again, studying her hands. “May I ask you? Who is the agent of the spirit writing when you are in a—trance? Is this the correct word?”
“Yes, of course, you may ask me anything you like. And it’s an amazing story.
When I was a child, I made a friend, an Egyptian girl named Khepri, which means Morning Sun.
Isn’t that pretty? No one else could see her, however.
We met in our dreams and walked in each other’s worlds for years.
We grew up together and, oh, suffered so much sorrow and joy.
” Her plain face suffused with light, her eyes bright but turned inward, her gaze unfocused.
“Sorrow nearly took her from me. But then Jesper came into my life. And Mrs. Drew and Iris. They saved us.”
Leona had a hundred questions but pounced on one. “Who is Iris?”
Millie focused on Leona again. “Iris is my sister-in-law, Jesper’s sister. But you haven’t met her yet. She’s been visiting her mother. She should return any day now, perhaps even today.”
Her heart leaped—though many women visited their mothers at any given time. “And—” Leona cast about to keep Millie talking. “What did your mother think about your invisible friend? Did she know?”
Millie put her fist over her heart. “My mother? My mother is—oh!” Her eyes lit up at something or someone behind Leona.
She glanced quickly over her shoulder, but the room was empty.
“Well, hello, dear spirit!” Millie called out with a wave.
Leona twisted around more fully in her chair. “Is it Khepri?”
“Oh, no my dear, it’s your husband, Jack.”
Leona took a sharp, involuntary breath. Millie couldn’t possibly know. “My husband’s name is John. Perhaps you misheard me.”
Millie tilted her head as if listening.
“No, it’s Jack. Your other husband?” She giggled. “How many husbands do you have, Elmira?”
Jesper had found out her identity after all. He must have and now he was using Millie to play a game of torture with her. “Please stop, Millie, I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Millie frowned at her. “It’s rude to ignore them. And if you tell them to go away, they might not come back.”
Coincidence and trickery. Another test? “I only have one husband. His name is John. Please, ask him about the will.”
Millie glanced up at the space behind her, nodding her head.
“Jack has a lot to say,” she said. “It’s very hard for him. He doesn’t want to be separated from you.” She continued to stare into the air. “Yes, of course.” She turned to Leona. “Was it a terrible death?”
“Yes,” Leona blurted, realizing too late how she’d trapped herself here. She wanted to believe the Veil parted and her own Jack arrived. But it wasn’t, it couldn’t be. “John, help me, please!”
The strains of Soldier’s Joy crept into the room.
“Someone you loved died in the war,” Millie said, her whole demeanor heavy with sadness.
“Perhaps he loved you more than you knew? An old sweetheart still connected to you. His love so strong, he’s come through the Veil.
” Tears rolled down Millie’s cheeks. “He’s so sad.
He loved you so much, but you never knew.
And it hurt so much when he died—he didn’t want to go—but the agony—” Great gulping sobs tore from Millie.
“Oh, for God’s sake, stop!” Leona shouted.
The diabolical music stopped. She’d believed, for only the space of two heartbeats, Jack had returned through this woman, but the story she relayed was sheer fiction.
Was that how it happened to the believers?
For those fleeting moments, relief. But her relief turned to grief and the ensuing anger burned it all to ash.
Damn them. Was it real for Millie, with her talk of invisible friends and visits to another time, another country?
Did the woman live in a dream, a spiritualist’s dream of the spirit world within reach?
Jack was a nickname for John if there were more than one in a family.
Perhaps she’d read Leona’s distress when she said the wrong name and created this soldier phantasm to cover up. Millie’s sobs faded away to hiccups.
But Leona couldn’t shake the feeling Jesper Frost knew all, and her return to the spiritualists’ house was a trap. She pulled her handkerchief from the reticule and handed it to Millie. “Here.”
Millie kept her head down as she made a visible effort to regain her composure. “Thank you,” she said in a quiet voice. “I just need a moment.”
Was she crying on cue, too?
“Of course. Shall I ask for tea sent up?”
“No, we’ll go down. What an introduction to mediumship for you, my dear friend.”
“Millie, are you not well?”
“Right as rain,” she said, though sweat lay across her brow and lower lip, her pallor an unhealthy white. “I feel quite purged after a session with the spirits.”
“Were the spirits hurting you?” Leona asked for something to say.
Millie gave her a smug smile. “No, the spirits wouldn’t hurt me, nor would they hurt you, my friend.” She stood, but sat back down. “I need another moment or two. I feel quite drawn.”
“Here, we both need refreshment. I’ll help you.” She held out her hand and pulled Millie to her feet. Leona didn’t want to spend another moment in this diabolical classroom. She put her arm around the woman’s waist. “Lean on me, dear.”
It was awkward with the cane, but they managed.
Mrs. Drew was setting out tea in the small downstairs study, a fire blazing in the fireplace, a connecting door to the kitchen beside it.
As they entered, the conversation was circling around train arrival times and sending Freddie to the station to bring someone home, if one of them could stir themselves to find him.
“My darling, what’s wrong?” Jesper put his teacup down with a clatter. He took her from Leona to seat her in comfort with much fuss in a chair by the fire.
“Nothing a good cup of tea won’t cure,” Millie said with a wan smile as Jesper handed her the steaming cup.
“There was a spirit.” Leona seated herself on the plush sofa, paying great attention to rearranging her skirts to hide her expression and laying the cane within reach. “It was in pain.”
“He remembered his pain, pain he hasn’t let go of yet—in order to make his transition to the next level,” Millie corrected.
“I have much to learn,” Leona said with all the humbleness she could muster. She let her gaze wander to the packing crates, the empty shelves. “This house is so lovely, but you are leaving it.”
Jesper laughed and sat beside her. “We have outgrown this house. We are staying in Brooklyn, my dear, but moving to a larger home to offer more for our subscribers and students. More lectures and classes. More books in the library.”
“How wonderful.” Leona let a note of worry creep into her words.
“We are hoping you will be a part of our future, my dear,” Jesper said.
“Oh, I’m flattered!”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Drew said. “It’s not flattery. The Frosts see something special in you, a spiritual maturity and intelligence. But we know nothing about you, not even your address.”
“The spirit world has spoken for Elmira,” Millie pointed out.
Leona said, “If we could find my husband’s will?”
“Yes?” Jesper nodded. “Yes.”
He was a humbug and a blackmailer, a corrupter, a thief, perhaps even worst. In the ledger, there would be more like him, the guilty.
“I have pledged my financial support. But I need the will.”
Jesper’s glance fell to the ruby ring on her finger. “A token of trust between us would go a long way to ensure we find the will for you.”
Mrs. Drew nodded, her wolfish smile returning. “Indeed.”
Leona touched the ring, dismay filling her heart.
It was Gil’s ring, not the fictional husband, John.
If she handed it over, she would never see it again.
He’d notice its absence from her finger.
But she had to keep their goodwill. Not only had Geneva’s theft of her memoir driven her here, but she also sensed she’d find the answer to Daphne’s death in this house, despite what the coroner ruled.
Her thoughts flew back and forth in a maddening display of indecision.
She twisted the ring on her finger, hoping the words would come to her.
The front door opened, breaking the spell; the palpable shift of their attention away from her a sheer relief.
“Jesper!” a woman called out in a querulous tone. “You were supposed to meet my train.”
Leona froze in her seat, her mouth falling open in shock.
Millie jumped to her feet. “Iris is back!”
Jesper turned to Mrs. Drew. “I thought you sent Freddie?”
“I did, but he can’t pass a saloon without getting half-rats.” Mrs. Drew snarled. “You should have gone to get her. Now Herself is in a temper.”
“I can handle Iris,” Jesper said.
Leona hastily checked the veil over her face, stood, and moved away from the group. She began edging her way around the room to the closed door to the kitchen. She’d left her reticule upstairs but she’d never make it up there and back without revealing she was not who she pretended to be.
Herself entered the parlor. “I need money to pay for the cab.” She pulled her gloves off and allowed Millie to embrace her. All the while, she glared at Jesper over her shoulder.
“How is your mother?” Millie glanced around to find Leona, caught her eye as she was standing with her back to the closed door. “Here is Elmira St. James, a new student.”
The woman turned her attention to Leona. “How do you do?”
Leona took off the hat and veil to confront her, deathly tired of charade. “Hello, Audrey.”
Iris’s hand flew to her collar where a diamond pin in the shape of a star winked. Victory thrilled through Leona. Daphne had loved that pin, one of the many such gifts from her husband.
“Leona,” Iris replied with a sniff. “What in the name of God are you doing here?”
“Oh, no,” Millie cried. “Are you a reporter?”
“Iris, I told you not to wear—” Jesper bit off the words and pointed a shaking finger at Leona. “Who are you?”
“Leona Gladney,” Iris answered. “The family friend of my former employer? A very nosy friend.”
“And why is she here?” Mrs. Drew sputtered. “Why is she pretending to be that abominable creature Elmira St. James?”
Pale brows rose in question. “Why indeed?” Iris echoed.
“You stole Daphne Van Wyn’s jewelry.” Leona’s whole body vibrated, but she wanted a response.
“And you killed her.” She glared first at Iris, then Jesper.
Next directed her gaze to Millie, catching her eye and holding her there.
“Which one of you held her down? Who held the pillow over her face until she suffocated? That’s why the pillow was on the floor, like Winifred said. Daphne woke up and fought back.”
“No!” Millie cried out in genuine-sounding terror.
Iris rolled her eyes, though she’d gone white. “You are the strangest creature, Leona Gladney.” She turned to Jesper. “An opium addict, I’m afraid. You should call for the police, Mrs. Drew.”
Leona grabbed the doorknob, turning it as she shouted, “Yes, do call for the police! Let them have a look at Mrs. Drew’s ledger to discover why you’re blackmailing Benedict Van Wyn.
Never mind, Mrs. Drew, I’ll go for the police myself.
” She turned the handle and pushed. The door flew open with such force it struck the wall behind it.
“Stop her,” Jesper shouted. “Shut her up.”
The door led to the kitchen. The back door lay beyond the work table, the steaming pot on the stove, the iron utensils hanging on the wall. So far away.
Mrs. Drew grabbed Leona’s wrist. Leona wrenched it out of her hand.
She struck out, landing a blow on the woman’s cheek so she stood still a moment, stunned.
Leona shoved her hard. Mrs. Drew hit the wall in a dull clang of metal pots and utensils.
Leona ran for the back door and yanked it open.
She flew out into the fading daylight without her hat or coat.
Ran until she found a cab to bring her the rest of the way home to the safety of Cranberry Street.