Page 93 of A Whisper and a Curse

Hadrian’s brows arched. “Do share.”

“I have been thinking about who may or may not share your ability in addition to Mallory. It seems likely that the three people who sit beside the mediums and often speak to them during the séance are able to experience memories through touch. However, I also find it odd that Mallory was able to find three people who not only possess the same ability he does, but who agreed to use that ability to pretend to converse with the spirit realm.”

“Yes, that does seem a trifle far-fetched, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever meet anyone who is like me, and I have.”

Tilda nodded. “That is true, but let me continue. Earlier today, I was making notes about our investigation. I noticed something intriguing about Montrose, Sullivan, and Parr.” Shemet Hadrian’s gaze. “They all have first names that are found in Shakespeare.”

Hadrian brows arched briefly. “Like Lysander.”

“Precisely. It seems all the attendees are here, and I do not see Montrose or Sullivan, and I was under the impression that one of them—or Parr, whom we haven’t met—was necessary to glean information for the medium to use during the séance. The fact that none of them are here tonight supports my theory.” She paused, anticipating Hadrian’s reaction. “They aren’t here because they aren’t real people.”

“Of course they’re real people,” Hadrian said. “We’ve met two of them.”

“I mean, they aren’t Montrose or Sullivan or Parr. They are all Mallory in disguise.”

Hadrian’s eyes rounded briefly before he grinned. “You are brilliant.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. If it’s true, I rather think I should have determined it earlier. It seems obvious, especially with Miss Sullivan’s raspy voice and thick veil that completely obliterated her face.”

“Not to mention the odd gloves which almost entirely covered her hands. Without them, you’d likely be able to detect she was a man …” Hadrian’s voice trailed off. He snapped his gaze to Tilda’s. “Miss Sullivan has the same power I do. I felt that same jolt of energy when she touched me at Hawkins’s séance as I did when I met Captain Vale. I’d completely forgotten.” He shook his head. “So foolish of me. Is that proof she really is Mallory?”

“That’s not foolish at all,” Tilda said. “I’m glad you remembered. I don’t know that it’s proof positive, but it certainly supports my theory.”

Mrs. Griswold had stood at the table for a moment, her features in deep concentration. Now, she brightened as shesurveyed the room. “Good evening everyone, and welcome. I am grateful to each of you for coming tonight, especially here in this now hallowed place where we lost our dear Mrs. Frost.” She paused and her features tightened with resolve. “Alas, we will not be broken by tragedy, and I am confident the murderer will soon be caught.”

The medium began to announce the seating for the séance. Tilda and Hadrian would be opposite Mrs. Griswold at seats six and seven respectively, whilst Hadrian’s mother was again at number ten.

The medium called a man named Inwood to sit beside her at number eleven. He had thick, dark, curly hair and wore spectacles, which he adjusted after he took his chair.

“Let us keep an eye on Inwood to see if he speaks to Mrs. Griswold at all during the séance,” Hadrian whispered.

“You should touch him after to see if he shares your ability.”

“I’ll do that.”

Mrs. Griswold began the séance. She went straight to instructing them to join hands. “I need everyone to put their minds to the spirit realm. Please think of someone departed, preferably someone close to you. Your thoughts will attract them and make our link to the spirt realm more secure.”

Tilda hadn’t meant to think of her father, but his face rose in her mind. To think he could be close was nearly torture. Then she reminded herself that it wasn’t true, that it would never be true. He was gone. All she had were her memories. She slid a look at Hadrian and wondered if she dared have him try to see one.

What good would that do? It would only serve to remind her of what she’d lost.

“Are there spirits with us?” Mrs. Griswold asked. She did not close her eyes at all. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the branchof candles in the middle of the table. They flickered as cool air swept over the room.

Tilda turned her head and tried to see where it may have come from. The room was very dim—Crocker had extinguished all illumination save the candelabrum. She thought the breeze had come from the corner behind her left shoulder and made a note to investigate the area after the séance. It had to be another parlor trick executed by the society.

The table began to move, drawing Tilda’s attention from the corner. Hadrian’s grip on her hand tightened slightly before he loosened it again. He slid her a look of mild annoyance, and she suspected he wanted to dive under the table and see what was happening with the hollow pedestal. Tilda was curious who would fit inside the pedestal. It had to be a small person, perhaps even a child.

Hadrian leaned forward over the table. He looked as though he was holding his breath. His chest was not moving.

Was he listening for something?

“Speak to us, spirits,” Mrs. Griswold called. “Are you here?”

Three raps answered her query.

Hadrian sat back with a brief frown before smoothing his features into a benign expression.

“Captain Becket, are you with us?” Mrs. Griswold asked.