Page 40 of A Whisper and a Curse
“As ice,” Hadrian replied. “Particularly with my sisters and Gabriel. As the heir, I received the bulk of his attention. I did not, however, mistake it for concern or care. I don’t believe my father was capable of demonstrating that sort of emotion.”
“Not even for his family?”
“Not for anyone.” Hadrian turned his head from the painting, hoping that could be the end of their conversation.
Tilda seemed to understand the hint, and they continued to the drawing room.
Hadrian urged Tilda to sit—but not in his mother’s preferred chair—then waited for the dowager to arrive. She appeared just a moment later.
“What a lovely surprise,” his mother said warmly, stopping beside him so he could buss her cheek. She continued to her chair, eyeing Tilda. “And Miss Wren. I trust this means you’ve come with a report on your investigation?”
“Somewhat, yes,” Tilda said. She looked toward Hadrian, seeming to silently ask if she ought to tell his mother about Mrs. Frost.
Deciding it might be better if he told her, Hadrian took the chair nearest his mother. “We’ve some terribly unfortunate news, I’m afraid. Mrs. Frost is dead.”
His mother gasped, her hand fluttering to her chest. “How can that be? She was just fine two days ago.”
“I’m sorry to say she was, ah, murdered.” Hadrian reached over and clasped his mother’s hand briefly.
“Oh no.” She looked to Hadrian, her eyes dark with concern. “Like that other medium I read about?” At Hadrian’s nod, sheadded, “How dastardly.” She diverted her attention to Tilda. “Are you investigating these murders?”
“Since Mrs. Frost is one of the victims, I am,” Tilda replied. “More accurately, the investigation of Mrs. Frost has required investigation of the London Spiritualism Society, and since two of their mediums have died, their murders have become part of my inquiry.”
“Good,” his mother said firmly. “Poor Mrs. Frost deserves justice. Though I suppose the police are conducting an investigation.”
“They are,” Tilda said.
Hadrian’s mother fell silent a moment, her brow pleated. He could tell she was thinking. Finally, she said, “I wonder if I ought to find a new medium in the London Spiritualism Society.”
Tilda exchanged a look with Hadrian before speaking. “This may not be the best time since two of their number have died.”
“Oh yes, of course.” His mother waved a hand before settling it in her lap. “They are likely upset. Perhaps they won’t be holding séances for a while.”
Hadrian wasn’t going to tell her that they were. “Perhaps this is a sign that you should not continue with your endeavor.”
His mother arched a brow as she leveled a wry stare at him. “And here I thought you didn’t believe in signs or messages from beyond?”
From the corner of his eye, Hadrian saw Tilda quashing a smile. “I think it’s common sense to keep a distance from an organization whose members are dying.”
“I’m sure they didn’t deserve that,” his mother said. “Perhaps now is the precise time the society needs support. Mrs. Frost mentioned membership to me and said she hosts weekly teas for some of the members. I admit I was intrigued and have been considering becoming a patron of the society.”
“Mother, I must also tell you that news of your attendance at Mrs. Frost’s séance will circulate. In the papers.”
Her brows shot up. “Indeed?” She waved her hand again. “No matter. It’sde rigueurto attend a séance.”
Hadrian looked to Tilda. “We must inform my mother of what we’ve learned regarding their tricks.”
They’d discussed whether he might demonstrate the levitation cheat for her, but telling her was enough. She needed to know the truth. Perhaps he could put an end to this nonsense once and for all. Regardless of the mediums’ authenticity, he didn’t particularly want his mother involved with people who were being murdered at an alarming rate.
Tilda gave him a slight nod before addressing his mother. “We’ve learned that some of the mediums in the society perform trickery to dupe those who come to their séances. They cheat at levitation, and we suspect there is something about the tables they use that allows the medium to make them move. Meaning, spirits are not responding with raps or moving the table.”
Shockingly, the dowager countess laughed. “I’ve no interest in their flashy parlor tricks. I don’t doubt those are fake. I understand some people are amused and enthralled. I’ve no quarrel with that. I only care that they can help me speak to my dear Gabriel.”
“But if the raps aren’t truly from the spirits, that is proof that they are not speaking to Gabriel.” Hadrian kept a rein on his patience.
“You’ve proof that is happening?” his mother asked. “What about the information these mediums share about things they shouldn’t know about? I realize Gabriel’s letter may have helped Mrs. Frost with the truth, but from what I have heard from others, she revealed things she couldnothave known.”
It was suddenly clear to Hadrian that his mother was warring with herself. She wanted to speak to Gabriel whilst also worryingabout whether it was really possible. He wondered, as Tilda had suggested, if it wasn’t just easiest—and best—to allow her to think it was, so she could accomplish whatever it was she wished to do in contacting her son.