Page 25 of Whispers of Shadowbrook House

Sipping her lukewarm tea with the dog curled on her lap, Pearl waited for Madame Genevieve to speak.

Again, her voice rolled to Pearl in long, mournful tones.

“I understand you must feel shy in my presence. Meeting a person one has only read about in newspaper articles or heard discussed in hushed, respectful voices can be intimidating.”

Without lifting her head, Pearl raised her eyes to glance at the woman. “I assure you, I’ve never read about you.”

Far from being offended by Pearl’s uncharacteristically rude comment, Madame Genevieve smiled.

One hand waved the air in front of her face, setting her bracelets clinking.

“No matter. You know me now.” The woman rolled her hands around each other as if using a towel to dry them. “Let us discuss the poor boy.”

Pearl knew this was Mr. Ravenscroft’s wish, but she did not feel she had to make it easy on the charlatan. “Are you here as a physician?”

Madame Genevieve gave a wide smile. “Of course not. I’m here to see to his spiritual being, not his physical.”

Pearl nodded. “I see. You’re a representative of the clergy, then?”

One hand drifted up and straightened the tail of a scarf wrapped around her crown. It looked more like a bandage than a turban. “I think you know I’m not.”

“In that case, I’m not at all sure what you are doing here.”

Pearl didn’t intend her comment to invite an introduction, but Madame Genevieve smiled as if the cutting remark was exactly what she hoped to hear.

“I reside between the planes of the seen and the unseen.”

Pearl hummed in assent as if such words made any sense at all. “Except for today, when you come to reside at Shadowbrook House.”

Madame Genevieve chuckled, and a note quavered deep in her voice, reminding Pearl of the reverberations at an organ concert.

“Indeed, I do. As do many of the spirits of the departed.”

Pearl did not feel herself equal to making an appropriate response to that, so she stayed silent.

“As you have certainly surmised, dear Arthur requires my help in communing with those he has lost.”

“I surmised no such thing,” Pearl answered.

She wanted no part of this woman’s charade, but being accused of understanding or expecting this person’s employment at Shadowbrook appealed least of all.

Yet Mr. Ravenscroft had instructed Pearl to help her.

To give her information about the house? About Maxwell? The idea was repellent.

Pearl wished Oliver had not gone out today.

She had a feeling he’d see through Madame Genevieve’s pretense as easily as she did, and together they’d be able to convince Mr. Ravenscroft to send the fraud away.

Surely the man would listen to his nephew, even if he rarely invited any counsel from Pearl.

Pearl decided she had better take in as much information from the woman as she could. Arguing with her did not appear to work in Pearl’s favor.

She looked the woman fully in the face. “Madame Genevieve,” she said, choking on the gravity the address required, “my only concern is to care for Maxwell. The state of the household directly affects the boy. If his grandfather thinks you can be of some assistance, I’m willing to extend whatever help you need.

But please do not assume I understand what you’re about.

Your interests seem to be as foreign to me as any city on the other side of the earth. ”

In answer, Madame Genevieve performed another deep sigh. Her words came as slowly as before, causing Pearl to wish she could speed her up.

“I appreciate your honesty, but I’m curious why you are so resistant to my work. Work you claim not to understand. You’re an educated girl. Tell me what you’ve gleaned. Surely, I’m not such a mystery.”

Visibly relaxing, Madame Genevieve sat deeper into her chair. A nod of the head and a wave of her hand seemed to suggest Pearl was forgiven for not knowing the woman’s reputation.

“You’re a medium?”

“I prefer the word spiritualist , but it all comes down to the same thing.”

“And you think you hear ghosts—understand them.”

Madame Genevieve inclined her head. “In much the same way you think you understand the work of being a governess.”

Trading insults was not Pearl’s habit. She knew she’d begun whatever conflict she was engaged in now. She could revert to a more formal politeness. “I suppose we all have a limited knowledge of any situation or experience.”

Madame Genevieve smiled. “Exactly. We think we know what we are about, and then we learn more. As we look back, we see how much we’ve grown in our capacity and our understanding.”

Pearl shook her head. “Whether you choose to believe me or not, I must restate my claim not to understand anything about your business.”

Madame Genevieve breathed out a deep, audible sigh and launched into what Pearl assumed was another practiced presentation. “The realm of spirits is here among us. Those of us blessed with the Sight rub shoulders with the departed in every moment.”

The same drawling, moaning tones underscored the woman’s every word, but Pearl had no intention of interrupting Madame Genevieve. The more she refuted the woman’s strange claims, the longer this conversation would last.

“There are, of course, peak locations: places where spiritual energy is more concentrated than others. I am attuned to these places and to those who reside in them, both the seen and the unseen. My work is to reach beyond the shroud of forgetfulness that obscures you people who suffer with a literal mind and connect you with those whom you have lost.”

Pearl felt strongly the discomfort of the sudden use of “you” in Madame Genevieve’s performance. This was not about Pearl. But she was determined to let the woman get through her monologue and ask her questions so Pearl could escape this parlor and get back to Maxwell.

“Most of the departed remain close to their places of death, but it’s not unheard of for spirits to travel, especially when they’re following someone they loved in life. Perhaps some of your dead have come here to share in your company.”

Pearl couldn’t help it—she scoffed. Then she gave a small shake of her head and lowered her eyes so the woman wouldn’t find her confrontational.

“It’s very rare for one not blessed with the Sight to trust easily, but I will extend my best efforts so your doubt and lack of confidence don’t stand in the way of healing for dear Arthur and his grandson.”

Madame Genevieve stared at Pearl with what might have been a serious expression of concern, but Pearl kept herself busy imagining rebuttals, so she barely spared a glance in return.

The woman paused long enough that Pearl’s curiosity grew unbearable. She had to look at her.

When their eyes met, Madame Genevieve made a quiet humming sound. Not the moaning wail of her performance voice, but a suggestion of understanding.

“I hope there’s some room for healing yourself here as well,” she said in a soft, normal voice.

Pearl looked at the dog in her lap, unsure how to answer.

With a dramatic wave of her arms, Madame Genevieve brushed away the momentary distraction.

“Maxwell Burton Ravens-croft is a lad living close to the edge of the worlds. He has lost his parents, tragically, in his earliest days. And he suffers from an illness that keeps him repressed in body and mind.”

Repressed in his mind? Did Madame Genevieve insult Maxwell’s intellect simply to get a response from Pearl? It was possible she was only continuing to perform nonsense, but her words touched a raw nerve.

Her answer emerged from her mouth, spiky and sharp. “There is nothing lacking in Maxwell’s mind. He’s as bright a child as I’ve ever known. If Mr. Ravenscroft suggested Maxwell’s illness has in any way altered his mental capacity, he was mistaken.”

Madame Genevieve’s mouth twitched in a smile. Whatever she was hoping for, it appeared Pearl had provided it.

“Does the boy use his bright mind to speak to you of his deceased parents? Does he ask you about yours?”

That was a step too far. Mr. Ravenscroft could require her to converse with this woman, but no one could force her to discuss the loss of her family.

“Maxwell and I have many things to talk about every day without resorting to silly mysticism.”

Madame Genevieve nodded. Her answer was spoken without any of the shuddering breaths or drawn-out moans. “Don’t imagine it escaped my notice that you didn’t answer my question.”

She didn’t wait for Pearl to reply, and with a flutter of sleeves, the spiritualist gave another deep, groaning sigh. “There is much to uncover here, and many secrets to bring to light. I look forward to learning more at your side.”

Pearl knew a dismissal when she heard one, no matter how long the words dragged on. She stood, set the sleeping dog on the chair, tossed a nod in Madame Genevieve’s direction, and walked out of the room.

Why in the world had Mr. Ravenscroft brought that silly woman here? What could she possibly think Pearl would tell her? And to what end? What did Madame Genevieve want?

By the time she’d climbed the stairs and reached Maxwell’s door, Pearl had spun her mind into a tangle.

What had she learned from the interview?

Was the woman laughable? Certainly. Did she exert a certain hold over Mr. Ravenscroft?

It seemed so. Was she asking far too many impertinent questions? Undoubtedly.

Pearl wished she could simply dismiss the presence of this stranger in the house, to ignore the uncomfortable feeling her questioning brought.

But Madame Genevieve’s first half hour at Shadowbrook had been anything but subtle.

She’d not slip out of Pearl’s thoughts as long as she stayed in the house.

Gently tapping against Maxwell’s door, she waited for his invitation. It wasn’t impossible to think he’d still be asleep, and she feared his mood was morose, as it so often was when he chose to stay in his bed for many hours.

“Come in.” Maxwell’s voice floated out into the hall.