Page 11 of Unforeseen Affairs (The Sedleys #6)

After the fabricated table-turning, Charlotte was forced to endure further acts of pandering. First, Captain Pearce’s handkerchief appeared in the center of the table, tied in a knot.

“Why, it was in my breast pocket only moments ago!” the dumbfounded, formerly stern-looking man had exclaimed, which was followed by Mrs. Pearce declaring that no maid was to launder the spectacular handkerchief ever again.

Then, in case two sensational acts were not enough for the supposed spirit to prove its sincere desire to answer the questions to be put forth by this odd collection of people, it proceeded to “enter” Mr. Bass, causing his body to elongate.

The group, save Charlotte and Mrs. Stone, was astonished.

Charlotte knew that Mr. Bass was simply holding his body rigid like a board, while using the tablecloth to conceal the fact that there was less of him still under the table than it appeared at first glance.

It was possible he was also wearing trousers specially rigged by a tailor for this one trick.

She imagined how delicious it would be to expose the man in the midst of such duplicity.

Even after all that, though, she reckoned he only appeared to be two or three inches taller.

But the others, she knew, could be counted on to embellish the truth with every recounting of the story, until word traveled through the social circles of the Navy that Mr. Bass had grown a full two feet taller before their eyes.

For that was the magic of stagecraft. Clever costumes and face paint, concealed ropes and trapdoors, set pieces painted upon scrims…

there were any number of ways a troupe could captivate an audience.

Here, though, there was only Mr. Bass.

No, that was not true. Charlotte looked about the room to the extent she could without moving her head, trying to spot Mr. Trenwith somewhere in the shadows, but she did not see him. No doubt he played a role in these illusions.

She then tilted her head slightly to the side, glancing surreptitiously at Sir Colin.

Despite her efforts to pull the curtain back for him, the young man still appeared quite taken by the act.

It would be good fun to sit here silently and watch the delight these poor souls took in allowing themselves to be duped, were it not for Sir Colin and his mother’s obvious desire for a sign from Bernard.

Something that provided evidence of the immortality of the soul, proof that departed loved ones were never truly gone.

As someone who longed to receive such a sign from her own mother, the fact that fakes like Thaddeus Taggart Bass would prey on that emotion to produce such ridiculous parlor tricks infuriated her so.

That anger seethed throughout Mr. Bass’s pandering performance, begging her to act.

But what was there to be done? Mrs. Stone, who possessed a true gift—not just sleight of hand and a bag of tricks—sat not far from her, quiet and still.

If she thought it best to stay silent, Charlotte must follow suit, no matter how frustrating.

Finally, when Mr. Bass “returned” to his regular height, he spoke once more, scarcely suppressing the prideful expression on his face.

“The spirit is gratified by your faith.”

Charlotte snorted.

Thankfully, no one seemed to hear. Except, perhaps, Sir Colin, who glanced at her, looking perplexed.

“He would like to impart—”

“It’s a he?” Mrs. Gearing cut in hopefully.

After a pause, Mr. Bass nodded. “Yes. He’s… why… he was a fire-worshipper, he says. From the far, mysterious East…”

There was a collective rumble of excitement from the assembled.

Charlotte had spent countless afternoons in her father’s library, poring over encyclopedias, almanacs, and travel diaries of all sorts, including the prized bestiary he kept in a glass case under lock and key; she had become quite adept at picking the lock with a hairpin and returning the book when she’d finished.

She made no claim to expertise, but across hundreds of tomes and tens of thousands of pages adorned with maps, stippled images of vases and temples, colored photographs of people in native dress, and detailed written accounts of all of it, she’d never come across a word about fire-worshippers.

“Awful bit of humbug,” she breathed to herself.

“Sorry, what?” whispered Sir Colin, leaning closer so he might hear.

It might have been unintentional, but he clasped her hand tighter as he did so.

“There’s no spirit,” she hissed, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Oh,” Sir Colin replied, unconvinced.

“The spirit has provided me with an image,” said Mr. Bass.

The table went deathly quiet.

“It’s… hmm. I can see it, just about make it out…” With his eyes closed, Mr. Bass threw his head back, making a good show of his supposed struggle. “It’s shrouded in a mist… are those perhaps… yes, they’re sails. Sails of a ship.”

What a painfully obvious guess , Charlotte thought, stifling a sigh. The two families present were so zealous in their devotion to the Royal Navy that salt water practically oozed from their pores.

Hushed murmurs rose from around the table, growing in volume as the sitters’ excitement got the best of them.

“The spirit wishes to speak of something significant, something important… once more they are showing me the sails, and… there’s something in the clouds above them…

a symbol, perhaps? Oh, a letter. Ah—an A .

The letter A .” Mr. Bass relaxed slightly and opened his eyes, glancing about the table. “Does this mean anything to anyone?”

“Abdon!” Mrs. Pearce called out excitedly, looking back and forth from Mr. Bass to Sir Colin’s friend, the one whom Charlotte had assumed to be Miss Pearce’s brother and, as followed from that, Mrs. Pearce’s son.

“Beaky?” Sir Colin said, baffled.

“Beaky?!” Miss Pearce echoed, equally dubious.

The young man in question looked as confused as any of them, but quickly tempered his surprise with a smug grin. Charlotte did not care for the expression.

“What could be exciting about you ?” Miss Pearce addressed her brother with a snort. “My name is Alice, after all—I daresay the spirit could be referring to me!”

“Tell me, sister dear, when was your last voyage under the mast?” Lieutenant Pearce taunted.

“But what does it mean?” Mrs. Gearing pressed, her voice strained as she ignored the two bickering siblings.

Charlotte felt a twist of sympathy for her. She knew Mrs. Gearing’s disappointment only too well, after years of hoping in vain for a sign of her own.

But Charlotte had faith in Mrs. Stone, despite the fact that she had never made contact with her mother. If only Mrs. Gearing hadn’t cast her aside in favor of Mr. Bass and his contrived stunts and loud clothing, then perhaps they would all be witnessing something truly awe-inspiring right now.

Not this sham.

“There is more to it… please, a moment.” Mr. Bass ignored the chorus of sitters and shut his eyes again, acting as though he were bored with their reactions.

“I see a young woman with dark hair… embracing a young man in a blue coat.”

Miss Pearce giggled.

“Is this something that is, or something that may be?” cut in Lieutenant Pearce in a jocular tone.

“Something that is,” replied Mr. Bass, slightly sharpish.

The young man scoffed.

Charlotte looked to Mrs. Stone.

The medium sat stoically, her lips pressed into a hard line in the manner of someone enduring an unpleasant ordeal. Her eyes were barely open, as if her mind were somewhere else entirely.

“Wait! The spirit beckons me forth, to look closer… oh… no… oh dear. There’s a sound now. Of crying. An infant.” Mr. Bass paused for dramatic effect, heightening the tension in the room. “Yes, a baby wailing. Can you hear it?”

Suddenly an unpleasant sound rang out, not unlike that of a drowning cat.

Mrs. Pearce drew in a sharp breath.

Charlotte raised a brow. The sound had come, quite obviously, from the corner of the room in which Mr. Trenwith lurked. But the other participants were all staring at Mr. Bass, goggle-eyed and open-mouthed, completely in his thrall.

Even Sir Colin’s obnoxious friend had quieted.

“And now the man has gone. Dissipated into the mist. The woman, heartbroken. And the ship retreats, its sails full of wind.”

“No!” Mrs. Pearce exclaimed. “Abdon, tell me it is not true!”

Sir Colin’s grip tightened on Charlotte’s hand. She turned to look at him. His handsome face was twisted in a mix of confusion and horror as he watched his friend.

“The letter A ! A ship! With sails!” Mrs. Pearce kept on, working herself into a lather. “Abdon, an infant! A… a… child !”

“I heard its cries,” said Miss Pearce in a shaky voice. She yanked her hand away from her brother as though it had been scalded.

“The circle! The circle!” called out Mr. Bass. “Maintain the circle, please!”

“Tell me it is not true!” wailed Mrs. Pearce, breaking the circle a second time as she jumped to her feet, flapping her hands witlessly.

“On no account should you leave your places!” attempted Mr. Bass in vain.

It was no use. Mrs. Pearce and her daughter were now both shrieking incoherently.

Charlotte felt a surge of happiness as the circle spiraled into chaos.

Someone brought the lamps back up to their full power, dousing the otherworldly scene with a harsh light.

Lieutenant Pearce sat as if in the dock in a courtroom, gripping the edge of the table. His face was pale.

Now several voices rang out, with everyone aside from Charlotte, Mrs. Stone, Lieutenant Pearce, and Sir Colin shouting amongst themselves.

And then Mrs. Pearce swooned.

Her daughter screamed.

Colin did not know when Mrs. Pearce finally came to; he had left her in the hands of his mother and a frantic Alice as Mrs. Stone looked grimly on. The circle had split. And now the close friendship between his family and the Pearces appeared to be in peril.

In the turmoil, Beaky had been cast from the room by a furious Captain Pearce.