Page 33 of A Whisper and a Curse (Raven & Wren #3)

“They are father and son. Captain Vale lives a few miles from here.” Grenville narrowed his eyes at them.

“Are you investigating Thaddeus for murder? I would be shocked if he would compromise his own ambition by killing the very mediums he’d recruited, especially since it seems the society has gained several prominent patrons. ”

“You seem very informed about the society despite leaving it,” Tilda noted.

“I have followed Thaddeus’s rise.” Grenville sounded slightly bitter. Tilda wondered if the man had a good motive for wanting to ruin his former partner’s success. But Grenville would have had to travel to London to commit murder. “Are you investigating Thaddeus?” he asked again.

“We are investigating the murders as well as the society in general. We have learned that the society’s mediums commit fraud in their séances.

They use hollow tables and parlor tricks to impress the attendees.

” Tilda looked at Grenville intently, wondering if he may hold the key to what they were missing.

“Is that what you and Thaddeus did when you worked together?”

“Not at first, but Thaddeus suggested we add theatrics that impress people so they would talk about our séances and entice others to come.” Grenville grimaced. “I’m ashamed to say it worked beautifully. We became rather popular.”

“Was there anything real about your séances?” Hadrian asked, his tone slightly accusatory.

“Of course,” Grenville replied quickly. “I do have a sensitivity to people. I can feel their energy, and sometimes—often, really—I can use that energy to glimpse things. I confess much of it is nebulous—feelings and sensations, rather than actually hearing something specific from someone in the spirit realm.”

“And yet the mediums in the London Spiritualism Society somehow know specific things about people. The best we can surmise is that the society conducts investigations to learn details they can share in a séance. Or they actually speak to the dead, which you say isn’t possible.”

“It isn’t possible for me ,” Grenville clarified.

“Are you saying it is for someone?” Tilda asked.

Grenville gave her a wry smile. “I am not aware of anyone who speaks to the dead. However, there are other means by which someone may gather information that seems impossible.”

“That is rather vague.” Tilda darted a look at Hadrian. His features were impassive, and she couldn’t tell if he suspected what she did—that Grenville was referring to some other supernatural ability. “What means are you referring to?”

Grenville hesitated, then leaned slightly toward them over the table. “Can you believe in something that cannot be proven?” he asked softly.

Tilda’s pulse quickened as she wondered if Grenville meant a power such as Hadrian’s. Glancing toward Hadrian once more, she saw that his jaw had clenched. “We very well might,” she replied to Grenville without irony.

There was a long silence as Grenville studied them both.

“How refreshing,” he murmured. “Still, you may not believe what I am about to say, and I don’t share this lightly.

In fact, I’ve never shared it with anyone before.

However, I think it is necessary, given the nature of your investigation and the fact that lives have been lost.” He paused, regarding them as if he expected they might interrupt.

However, Tilda was rapt and a quick glance toward Hadrian said he was the same.

“Thaddeus is able to experience the memories of others when he touches them,” Grenville said, and Tilda’s pulse leapt.

She wished she could touch Hadrian, to convey both her excitement and support.

“I would not have believed it myself if he had not performed the trick on me multiple times. He experienced memories of mine that I hadn’t shared with others, and in some cases barely remembered myself. ”

Tilda cast a sideways look at Hadrian, but his expression was blank—eerily so. “That is astonishing,” she said to Grenville. “It must have been unnerving and yet exciting at the same time—the ability to relive something you had almost forgotten.”

“I’m shocked you understand and that you actually seem to believe me.

” Grenville stared at them somewhat incredulously.

“Truthfully, I found it unnerving. After a time, however, Thaddeus was no longer able to experience my memories, which relieved me. It seemed that as we became close, he lost the ability, at least with me.” Perhaps that explained why Hadrian hadn’t seen Tilda’s memories.

They were, as recognized by both of them, close friends.

She could almost feel the tension coursing through Hadrian, but there would be time to discuss his reaction and what this could mean later. “May I ask how you came to meet one another?” she asked Grenville.

“I was working as a spiritualist, and Thaddeus came to see me—in this very room. He said he was an aspiring spiritualist and performed his trick for me.” Grenville paused, his expression wry.

“Forgive me, I should not call it a trick, for his ability is quite real.

It is the manner in which he purveyed it that counted as trickery, in my opinion. But I am getting ahead of the story.

“After I saw what he was capable of, I invited him to join me in my business,” Grenville continued. “With his skill, we could help people in ways that could be deeply meaningful.”

“How was that?” Hadrian asked, his voice flat.

Grenville looked toward him. “You are skeptical.”

“You mentioned trickery, and I do not like the idea of people being defrauded,” Hadrian said coldly.

“Nor do I,” Grenville whispered. “Though I am ashamed to admit we did just that. But I no longer truck with activities designed to shock and entertain. You will not find me moving objects or shaking the table.” He spoke vehemently, and Tilda believed him.

“And yet you still call yourself a spiritualist. What is it you do?” Hadrian asked.

“As I explained, I am sensitive to people and their energy. I help them, usually with their grief over losing someone. Whilst I don’t actually speak to their deceased loved one, I can feel the energy around the person, or persons, I’m with and generally ascertain a connection between them and the person in the spirit realm.

I ease their mind as to how their loved one has passed on. ”

“But you don’t really know,” Hadrian said. “It sounds as though you offer them vague assurances.”

“Life is not always as clear as black versus white, my lord.” Grenville cocked his head as he studied Hadrian.

“I sense you are afraid of what could happen when one lets down their guard to experience the sensations of spiritualism. Perhaps I am wrong about that, but I don’t think I am.

And that is what makes me a spiritualist.”

“You read people like one might read a book,” Tilda said, hoping Hadrian wasn’t too uncomfortable. She rather thought Grenville was right about Hadrian being afraid, but she was fairly certain it came from having gained this strange ability and not knowing how or why.

“Somewhat, Miss Wren,” Grenville said with a smile.

“I imagine you’d like me to continue my story regarding Thaddeus.

” At her nod, he continued. “We started working together nearly five years ago. As I briefly mentioned earlier, we became quite a sensation. People would come from all over to consult with us, and we would travel to Bath on occasion, where people would gather by the dozens to attend our séances. Thaddeus suggested we could do quite well in London, and I confess I was wooed by his ideas, which included starting a society for spiritualism. As I mentioned, I was glad to be able to offer meaningful help to people. We would connect them with deceased loved ones via the memories that Thaddeus could sense when he held their hands.”

“Why position it like that?” Hadrian asked. “Why make it about communicating with the dead instead of helping people to unlock distant memories?”

Grenville’s expression was open and honest. “Because spiritualism is about communicating with the spirit realm and the belief that one lives on after death. That is what comforts people, especially those facing the end of their mortal life.”

“You took advantage of a popular endeavor in order to profit,” Hadrian said sharply.

Grenville did not respond.

“What was your plan when you arrived in London?” Tilda asked, eager for Grenville to continue with his tale and hopeful that Hadrian hadn’t just put him off.

Thankfully, Grenville went on. “Thaddeus envisioned a society where people would pay a membership fee that included attendance to séances and a place to congregate with like-minded others. We needed a house for our headquarters. We saved our funds, but once we arrived in London, we realized we could not hope to afford a house in a highly desirable area. Thaddeus appealed to his father, who leased a house in Belgravia for us in which to found the London Spiritualism Society.”

Now they knew why Captain Owen Vale’s name was on the lease for the property.

“But once the society was founded, you left London,” Hadrian noted. “Why?”

Grenville frowned, and he looked down at the table between them.

“I realized Thaddeus would go to any length to grow the society as quickly as possible. He recruited mediums, which we hadn’t discussed, and taught them the silly parlor tricks.

He wanted the séances to become more spectacle than spiritualism.

I did not agree.” He looked up at them, his mouth set into a firm line.

“He also set his sights on London’s upper crust.” Grenville looked at Hadrian.

“People like you, my lord. He hoped they would become patrons, and if they did not, he said he would use other means to increase the society’s coffers—that was his primary goal. ”

“The society’s coffers or his own?” Tilda asked.