Page 21 of A Whisper and a Curse (Raven & Wren #3)

T he following afternoon, Hadrian and Tilda arrived at the London Spiritualism Society. The butler greeted them by name, clearly remembering them from their last visit.

Hadrian smiled at the butler, who looked to be around Hadrian’s age or slightly older.

He was young for such a position, but it seemed as though all the mediums’ retainers were youthful.

The man in front of him was tall and muscular with sharp green eyes and a brilliant smile.

“Good afternoon. Tuttle, is it?” Hadrian asked.

“That’s correct, my lord.” The man seemed flattered.

“We’ve come to speak with Mr. Mallory, if possible,” Tilda said as they stepped into the entrance hall.

“Certainly. I believe he is meeting with someone in his office, but if you’d care to wait in the library, there is a group congregated there. I believe tea will be served in a short while.”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Tilda followed Tuttle as he guided them to the library, and Hadrian trailed them.

At the door to the library, Tuttle stepped aside and gestured for them to go in. “I’ll let Mr. Mallory know you are here.” He pivoted on his heel and departed.

The library contained about a half dozen people. A few were seated and engaged in conversation, whilst others stood near the hearth.

Hadrian leaned toward Tilda and whispered, “I’d no idea we were coming on a day when others would be here.”

“It’s most fortuitous since we are looking for a new medium,” she replied softly. “And to hopefully question members about the society.”

A woman from the group at the hearth came toward them, her rouged lips spreading in a wide smile. Hadrian recognized her immediately from Ward’s inquest. She was one of the women who’d been seated behind Mallory that day.

“Welcome, I am Mrs. Mercy Griswold, medium. I think I’ve seen you before.” Her brow knitted. “Lord Ravenhurst?”

“And Miss Wren,” Hadrian said, indicating Tilda.

Mrs. Griswold’s blond brows arched over her aquamarine eyes. “Ah, yes, Lysander pointed you out to me at Cyril’s inquest.”

“I imagine it’s been most disturbing to lose not just one, but two of your members,” Tilda said with a sad frown.

The woman’s gaze dipped to the floor. “We are devastated.”

“I confess I am surprised the society is still welcoming visitors, though glad,” Hadrian said.

Tilda nodded in agreement. “I am also surprised that the mediums have continued to hold séances.”

“We did discuss pausing séances, and Lysander considered draping everything in black, but I convinced him that was silly.”

“Silly?” Hadrian asked, surprised at her choice of words. Most people did not think of death and grieving as “silly.” He noted that none of the people in the library were dressed in mourning clothes. Instead, they all sported black armbands.

Mrs. Griswold waved her pale hand. “I only meant that it’s absurd to think that a society founded on communing with the spirit world would be put off by death.

We commune with the dead every day.” She smiled prettily, her gaze settling on Hadrian.

Sobering, she added, “We have many important patrons who rely on us, and we cannot let them down.”

“Where do you conduct your séances, Mrs. Griswold?” Tilda asked.

“Here,” Mrs. Griswold replied. “I love the energy that comes from this space, probably because many mediums have passed through these rooms and several live here at any time.”

“Do they?” Tilda asked in a casual manner, though Hadrian could tell her curiosity was piqued. “I didn’t realize anyone lived here, beyond Mr. Mallory.”

Mrs. Griswold pursed her lips in thought. “There are three mediums in residence currently, aside from Mr. Mallory, including me.”

“Why do you live here?” Hadrian asked. He found the arrangement odd, as if Mallory were running a boarding house, particularly if their stays were temporary, as Mrs. Griswold seemed to indicate.

Shrugging, Mrs. Griswold glanced toward the hearth where a man and woman were still speaking. The woman had pivoted so that Hadrian could see her face, and Hadrian realized she’d been seated with Mrs. Griswold at Ward’s inquest.

“Lysander generously offers us lodging whilst we train to become mediums,” Mrs. Griswold explained. Her expression grew serious. “It’s important that we learn to harness our unique energies and learn to speak with the spirit realm.”

Tilda cocked her head. “What if someone decides they don’t wish to practice as a medium and chooses not to remain in the society?”

“I don’t know that I’m aware of anyone who’s done that,” Mrs. Griswold said without a moment’s thought.

Hadrian thought of Roger Grenville. Perhaps Mrs. Griswold hadn’t known him.

“I understand Mrs. Frost was considering leaving the society after Mr. Ward was murdered,” Tilda said.

Mrs. Griswold pressed her lips together before responding. “I had not heard that. And unfortunately, that rumor cannot be confirmed. Poor dear. I still can’t believe she and Cyril are gone. I expect them to walk in at any moment.” She glanced toward the doorway and blinked a few times.

“Can you tell us about the séances that are held here?” Tilda cast a look in the direction of the parlor where they’d seen the large séance table. Hadrian hoped he would have a chance to look at it and see if it was also made by Clifton. “They’re conducted by the mediums who live here?”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Griswold said.

“It sounds as though the society is a kind of school for mediums,” Tilda mused.

“More like a place to hone our skills,” Mrs. Griswold said. “All of the society’s mediums have a natural gift for communicating with the spirit realm. The society allows us to grow our energy and truly embody our talents.”

“We heard about the person who interrupted one of Mr. Ward’s séances here recently,” Tilda said, her brows gathering with concern. She was very adept at playing a role when interviewing people. “I imagine that is upsetting, since he was murdered.”

“Indeed.” Mrs. Griswold nodded vigorously. “I do hope the police are being thorough in their investigation.”

“I’m sure they are,” Tilda said.

Mrs. Griswold looked to Hadrian. “Your mother attended a séance with Deborah—Mrs. Frost—earlier this week. Was she hoping to attend another?”

“She was, in fact,” Hadrian replied. “We came here today to see if another medium would suit.”

A dazzling smile lit up Mrs. Griswold’s face. “I would be happy to conduct a séance for Lady Ravenhurst.”

“Splendid!” Hadrian infused as much enthusiasm into his reaction as he could and only hoped he was convincing.

He was not skilled at acting like Tilda—yet.

“When will that be? My mother is anxious that it should be soon. Mrs. Frost mentioned there was a window of opportunity to reach my brother whilst he is near. Or something.”

Mrs. Griswold nodded. “Deborah was absolutely right. Had your brother appeared at the séance?”

“He seemed to. Briefly.”

“Then yes, we will want to have the séance soon. I’ll speak with Lysander and let you know.” Mrs. Griswold glanced toward the doorway. “In fact, I’ll do that now. Please excuse me.”

As the medium left, another man entered. He looked familiar.

Tilda leaned toward Hadrian. “Isn’t that man one of the footmen who served dinner at Mrs. Frost’s?”

Hadrian surveyed the man’s oval face. He had deep-set eyes and a cleft chin. “Yes, I thought I’d seen him before.”

“Let us confirm.” Tilda moved toward the young man before he could progress to join anyone. She smiled warmly. “Good afternoon, I’m Miss Wren. Weren’t you at Mrs. Frost’s the other evening serving dinner?”

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 the society?” 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?