Page 47 of A Whisper and a Curse

The man’s dark blue eyes rounded. “I was, er, yes.”

“I’m Ravenhurst,” Hadrian said. “And you are?”

“Michael Crocker,” the young man replied, clasping his hands nervously. “I know who you are, sir.” He squeezed his eyes closed briefly. “Rather, my lord.”

Hadrian wondered why the footman was here outside of his capacity as a domestic servant. “Are you a member of thesociety?” He kept his voice smooth and genial to put Crocker at ease.

“I am.”

Hadrian wondered how a footman could afford to be a member of the society. Perhaps they had different levels of patronage. Still, a society that welcomed a duchess and a footman was an oddity.

“What is your interest in spiritualism?” Tilda asked Crocker.

“I, er, my parents died when I was young, and when I learned I could speak with them, I wanted to try.”

“Is that how you came to join the society?” Hadrian asked. “Pardon me for asking, but I am curious how you can afford that on your salary.”

“Because I am employed by the society, I am allowed to be a member. I am training to be a medium myself.” Crocker blushed faintly and didn’t quite meet their eyes.

“How wonderful,” Tilda said warmly. “Do you live here with the other mediums who are training?”

“No,” Crocker answered quickly, then paused. “The mediums who live here are more accomplished, but I am hopeful that I will progress soon. I conducted my first séance last week, and it was very well received.”

“Have you learned how to move objects or levitate?” Hadrian managed to keep a straight face. “I imagine that is difficult.”

“I can levitate, yes.” Crocker sounded proud, but there was another flash of color in his cheeks. “I did not attempt it at the last séance, however. It was enough to contact the spirit realm. Perhaps next time.”

“Were you able to speak with your parents?” Tilda asked.

“I did, not long after I came to the society a few months ago. In the séance I conducted, I practiced by contacting John Tabor, one of the mediums’ spirit guides.” He blushed again. “But you know that from Mrs. Frost’s séance.”

“Who attends a practice séance? I should think that would be most interesting,” Tilda said.

“Members of the society,” Crocker replied.

“Are there many people like you?” Tilda asked. “Those who are currently working as retainers who hope to become mediums?”

“Not too many,” he replied vaguely. Was he being evasive, or did he not know?

“You must pardon me.” Crocker inclined his head toward them before moving to join the man and woman at the hearth.

Tilda turned toward Hadrian. “I find this process of training mediums fascinating.”

“It reeks of corruption, if you ask me.” Hadrian scoffed. “I should think mediums would have a gift that cannot be trained.”

“They might if their ability is the same as yours. Actually, even with your gift, it seems you can learn new things, such as smelling a memory.” She glanced toward Crocker. “Do you suppose the footman is able to experience another’s memories?”

“If so, how does Mallory find these people? And does that mean Crocker’s story about wanting to speak with his dead parents is a lie?”

Tilda’s attention flicked to the doorway. “Here comes Mallory. We can ask him.”

Hadrian turned his head to see the leader of the society. Mallory’s blond hair was bright against the unrelenting black of his costume. Even the man’s shirt was black. Why was he dressed fully in mourning whilst no one else was?

Mallory walked toward them. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. “Ravenhurst, Miss Wren.”

Quickly removing his glove, Hadrian seized the chance to at last shake the man’s hand. He reached out to the medium. “Mallory, my condolences.”

They briefly clasped hands—very briefly, for the medium released Hadrian immediately in order to take Tilda’s hand. Hadrian hadn’t seen any kind of vision or felt any sentiment. Mallory’s skin was clammy, and Hadrian had experienced a flash of cold, which he attributed to not particularly caring for the man.