Page 23 of A Whisper and a Curse (Raven & Wren #3)
Wait. Did Hadrian believe that Mallory—or any of the other mediums—actually possessed the same power he did?
He had to admit he could not dismiss the notion, even if it made him uncomfortable.
And why should it? He ought to be glad to find someone, or several others, who shared his gift.
Except to confer with them, he’d have to expose himself, and he wasn’t even able to do so with his own mother.
“My bare hand?” Tilda asked. At Mallory’s nod, she removed her glove and presented her right hand.
Mallory clasped it gently. If he closed his eyes, Hadrian would assume he did not have the ability to see her memories. Hadrian had to keep his eyes open or the vision would disappear.
The medium did not close his eyes.
After a moment, he released her. “Hmmm. I don’t feel any special energy in you, Miss Wren.
My apologies. That doesn’t mean you aren’t able to develop a sensitivity.
If you’d like to explore doing so, I can recommend several books here in our library that could guide you.
I would also suggest you join the society, where you would be surrounded by like-minded people. ” He gave her an encouraging smile.
“Thank you,” Tilda replied as she pulled on her glove. “I shall consider that.” She looked at Hadrian. “We should be going.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll show you out,” Mallory offered.
“That isn’t necessary,” Hadrian said. He wanted a chance to look at the séance table in the parlor and wouldn’t be able to if Mallory accompanied them. As it was, they’d have to find a way around the butler. “Please enjoy your tea.”
They exchanged departing pleasantries with the other mediums before taking their leave. Outside the library, Hadrian told Tilda of his intent to investigate the table in the parlor.
“I’ll distract the butler,” Tilda said with an eager glint in her eyes.
“Brilliant.” Hadrian hung back as Tilda went into the entrance hall.
She began speaking with Tuttle and positioned herself in such a way that the butler’s back was to Hadrian so that he could steal into the parlor.
Moving quickly, Hadrian dashed to the table where he dropped to his knees and crawled beneath it.
Though it was dim, he could see the shape of the pedestal matched those of Mrs. Frost’s and Mr. Hawkins’s tables.
He made his way to the pedestal and felt for the carving of the name Clifton.
His fingers found the indentation, and he confirmed it had been made by the same cabinet maker.
Hadrian whipped off his glove and touched the pedestal. In his mind, he saw a small hand, perhaps feminine, press on one of the feet. One side of the pedestal swung outward like a door. The interior of the pedestal was hollow.
Whoever’s memory he was seeing then crawled inside where it was completely dark.
He could not see anything, but he knew there were levers to pull and a small mallet to knock on the underside of the table.
Someone ensconced inside the pedestal manipulated the table and made the raps attributed to the spirits.
Triumphant satisfaction raced through him, and his heart pounded as he withdrew his hand. He pulled on his glove and crawled from under the table as fast as he could, hoping Tilda had been able to continue distracting the butler.
He walked stealthily into the entrance hall, working to keep himself out of the butler’s line of sight. Then he approached them from the direction of the library.
“Ready?” he asked Tilda.
“Oh, yes.” She gave the butler a wide smile. “Tuttle was just telling me that Mr. Mallory informed him after we arrived that he is soon to be promoted. He will move into the headquarters and begin conducting regular séances here.”
“Congratulations, Tuttle,” Hadrian said.
“Thank you, my lord. I am quite chuffed.”
After saying goodbye, Hadrian escorted Tilda outside and into the coach, where he told her what he’d seen with the table. She listened intently, her eyes taking on a sheen of excitement as he revealed the details of the hollow pedestal.
“I don’t think we need to visit Clifton now,” she said. “I think we can unequivocally say that the society engages in trickery in their séances, including the part where the table indicates that spirits are present. And the raps that are supposedly communication from the dead.”
She frowned. “However, we still cannot explain how these mediums know the things that they do. I think in some cases, it’s possible they are merely guessing at truths, as you suggested.”
“I would think the mediums would become quite good at that.”
“It is a form of investigation, really,” Tilda said. “I confess I was affronted when Mallory said I didn’t possess the right sensitivity to be a medium. I think I am rather good at reading people,” she added with a sniff.
Hadrian couldn’t help smiling. “You are indeed. Perhaps Mallory only said that because he is hoping you will join the society and add to their coffers. He has a great many people to support with so many mediums and retainers in his employ.”
“He does indeed.” Tilda’s eyes narrowed. “You believe the entire society is a fraud. A money-making scheme to enrich Mallory?”
“It seems highly possible.” Hadrian lifted his shoulder. “I sense you want to continue the investigation into how the mediums learn specific things about people—whether it’s through the power I have or something else, such as simple investigation into the people who attend séances.”
“I would like to know. Wouldn’t you? Particularly if it’s the former?”
Hadrian exhaled. “I must admit that I would like to find someone who experiences what I do. It would be helpful. And it would make me feel less … peculiar.”
“You are not peculiar.” Her eyes glinted with ferocity. “You are singular . And that is a wonderful thing.”
Though she was referring to his gift, Hadrian imagined she could think that about him entirely. But he would never ask. They’d reestablished their friendship, and that would have to be enough.