Page 34 of A Whisper and a Curse

“I am Lord Ravenhurst,” Hadrian said pleasantly. “This is Miss Wren. We’d like to speak with Mr. Hawkins if he is available.”

“Come in, I suppose.” The woman opened the door wider and admitted them into the entrance hall. “You can wait in the parlor there.” She gestured to the left.

The woman started to turn, but Tilda stopped her. “Are you the housekeeper?”

“Yes. I’m Mrs. Wilson.”

Tilda summoned an enthusiastic smile. “It must be exciting to work for a medium, particularly during the séances.”

The housekeeper’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I wouldn’t call it exciting. It’s a household, just like any other. I only work during the mornings and afternoons. I leave after I prepare dinner for Mr. Hawkins, which suits me fine as I only live down Sekforde Street with my son and his family.”

“You aren’t interested in spiritualism?” Tilda asked, pleased the woman had been so forthcoming.

Mrs. Wilson pursed her lips. “It’s not my place to say.” Her tone was crisp and, to Tilda, indicated her disdain. The housekeeper turned and disappeared into the bowels of the house.

“That was informative,” Hadrian said.

“Quite. I was hoping to learn something, and she exceeded my expectations. As with the other mediums’ households, she does not live here.”

“However, unlike with the others, she does not work at the séances,” Hadrian noted. “We know the Henry siblings were working during the séance we attended.”

Tilda moved into the parlor, where an arched window faced the street. A large round table that looked almost exactly like the one at Mrs. Frost’s dominated the room.

“Is this table identical to Mrs. Frost’s?” Hadrian asked, echoing Tilda’s thoughts.

“It appears to be. Should you investigate underneath to see if it looks the same there too?”

Hadrian crouched down. “The pedestal appears the same. I see the clawed feet.” He removed his glove.

“Careful,” Tilda warned. “Perhaps you shouldn’t touch anything else today.”

“I need to. We’re here. Besides, my headache is almost gone.”

“But you’ll get another,” Tilda said. “I hate that this useful skill causes you pain.”

“I can manage.” He touched the table.

Tilda watched anxiously as he fell silent, his gaze fixed somewhere beneath the table. A moment later, he blinked.

“I saw a séance. Whoever’s memory I saw was seated at the table.”

“Do you have any clue whose memory it was?” Tilda asked.

“I looked down to see the hands, and they definitely belonged to a man. There was an onyx ring on the left hand, which held a woman’s hand. But his right hand clasped another man—Montrose.”

The man who’d sat on Mrs. Frost’s right the other night. “I thought the séances worked best when they sat everyone by sex—man, woman, man woman, and so on. You’re sure the memory was that of a man?”

Hadrian nodded. “Completely.”

Hawkins appeared in the doorway to the entrance hall. Tilda gestured for Hadrian to stand up.

“Lord Ravenhurst and Miss Wren, what a surprise.” Hawkins’s purple-and-brown striped trousers looked as thoughthey’d been procured from the same shop as Ezra Clement’s garments. The medium’s dark hair was slicked back from his forehead, and his shockingly light-blue eyes fixed them with an eerie curiosity. Looking at the unearthly glimmer in his gaze, Tilda believed he could commune with the dead.

She noted he wore an onyx ring on the little finger of his left hand.

“Did you drop something?” Hawkins asked.

Hadrian had risen. “My handkerchief. I was also admiring your table. It’s a beautiful piece. Might I inquire where you obtained it?”