Katie Rose (39 page)

“That’s whom, my dear.” Mildred nodded, wiping her lips with her napkin, prepared to hold court. White Jennifer, her aunt, and the maid hastened to clear the table, Mildred entertained them with stories about the rich and powerful. Penelope was enthralled, and Jennifer saw that the older woman had taken to her sister completely. Following her aunt into the kitchen, Jennifer smiled.

“I think she likes us, but she keeps looking at me strangely. Are you certain she’s been to séances before?”

Eve nodded. “Yes. I think you remind her of someone.” When Jennifer looked at her quizzically, Eve shrugged. “Let’s get dessert, then I’ll take her out later for calls. Everything is going perfectly so far. Are you prepared for this evening?”

Jennifer nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good. Just continue to follow my lead and all will be well. She likes you girls already, I can tell. That is very unusual for her.”

“I can imagine,” Jennifer said dryly. “She doesn’t seem to like much.”

Eve smiled sadly. “She has her sorrows, but be patient. She really is a wonderful woman, once you get to know her.”

Jennifer had her doubts about Mildred’s wonderfulness, especially as she continued to grouse about everything. The linens weren’t smooth enough, the bathwater wasn’t hot enough, the fruit not quite as fresh as what she was used to, and the supper too ordinary. Jennifer’s only pleasure was hearing that Mildred had snubbed the Billings, who recently had become Jennifer’s most caustic critics. Now, with the séance upon them, she forced all
thoughts of her own annoyance out of her mind and became calm.

“Is everything ready?” she called to Penelope, who giggled behind the wall.

“How do I look?” Her sister rolled her eyes, and the portrait once more appeared to come to life, staring about the room.

Jennifer laughed. “Perfect. Is Winnie set up with the music?”

The harpsichord groaned, and Jennifer nodded in satisfaction. “Good. She’ll be here any minute. Now remember, don’t play the music while I’m reciting the chant, or we’ll lose the effect. I need everyone’s concentration to make this successful.” She removed the crystal ball from her black velvet wrap, and placed it on the table. “Ready.”

Aunt Eve, hearing her cue, brought Mildred into the room. Immediately, the lights dimmed, and the harpsichord played softly from the room beyond. The older woman looked startled as she glanced about. The mynah bird, loosed from his cage, strutted above the new purple curtains like Poe’s own nightmarish poem, while the parrot watched intently. The tiger cat paced back and forth near the fireplace, and the chandelier dripped with cobwebs. The wind moaned outside, and the oak tree tapped the window accommodatingly.

Mildred looked at Jennifer, momentarily surprised by her change of costume. Instead of her normal subdued clothing, she was garbed in a gypsylike outfit. Gold earrings dangled from behind a red veil, and the same garish material was swathed around her. Disdainfully, the old woman took a seat and glanced around the room as if something smelled bad.

“Don’t think these surroundings make any difference,” Mildred said coldly. “While it is all very clever of you girls, I can’t say I’m impressed. Penelope, come out
from behind that wall this instant! As if a portrait could move!”

Jennifer forced a smile while Penelope slid open the secret door and stepped sheepishly into the room. “I find the atmosphere is conducive to the spirit world,” Jennifer explained. “They don’t need the props, but we do. They help keep part of our brain, the logical side, busy, while our spiritual side is then free to reach out.” She handed the woman the deck of tarot cards. “Could you please concentrate on your questions and shuffle the cards?”

Mildred complied, scowling all the while, obviously not convinced by her explanation. Jennifer realized the old dowager would be a tough nut to crack. Most of her clients would have been stunned by the decorations, which would have won half the battle for them, but Mildred was going to require plenty of extra effort.

The old woman returned the deck, still scowling in disbelief. Jennifer concentrated, trying to allow the sensations and feelings to come to her as they had with Mrs. Hawthorne, but Mildred’s incessant scathing remarks and almost palpable disbelief seemed to shut the psychic door in her mind. Try as she might, the layout of brightly colored cards seemed to hold no meaning. Frantically, Jennifer hazarded a guess.

“This is the Knight of Wands. This would mean an older man, over thirty-five years, who is entering your life.”

“There is no such man,” Mildred huffed. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“I see. Then this card”—Jennifer raised one of a woman with a bird on her shoulder, surrounded by a lovely garden—”is a woman of independent means. I think—”

“That is perfectly obvious,” Mildred said impatiently. “A newspaper could tell you that about me. I think your talents have been overestimated by the press, my dear.”

Jennifer heard Penelope’s sharp intake of breath. She had to fight to keep her own emotions under control, for she would have dearly loved to tell Mildred Adams to jump off the partially constructed Brooklyn Bridge. Deciding to forego the cards, Jennifer closed her eyes, focusing on the séance instead.

“I understand you wish to summon someone who has crossed over. Let us attempt to do so now. If everyone will be silent, I will recite a chant that will bring forth the spirit. Mrs. Adams, please concentrate on the image of the person you wish to see.”

Mildred’s lips curved in derision, but she did as Jennifer suggested. Winifred stopped playing the harpsichord, and Penelope took a seat.

Humming softly, Jennifer rolled her head, allowing the eerie mood to possess her. Staring into the crystal ball, she whispered the chant she’d borrowed from the book, allowing her words to be heard by the others in the room.

The wind howled, and Jennifer felt a strange energy fill the room. The hair on the back of her neck rose, and her skin pimpled with goose bumps. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and saw Mildred Adams’s face white with terror. Penelope had arisen and stood open-mouthed, her eyes popping like twin parasols. She pointed behind Jennifer, her mouth open, but no sound came from her lips, as if she’d been struck dumb. Jennifer whirled around in her chair.

A white steamlike mass hovered just behind her chair.
Gasping in shock, Jennifer rose, barely able to step backward as the mass began to take form. Within minutes, it had gone from the appearance of a cloud from a teakettle to the silhouette of a man. Jennifer could make out a masculine form garbed in an old-fashioned cloak, hat, walking stick, and boots.

“My heavens,” Penelope breathed. “It’s a …”

“Ghost!” For the first time in its miserable existence, the parrot spoke, squawking in fright at the emerging phantom.

A face began to emerge from the swirling fog, like a wax sculpture slowly hardening into shape. Recognition struck Jennifer painfully as she stared at the familiar figure, along with a wild hope she almost didn’t dare express. Emotion, rich and enthralling, filled every cell in her body as her heart told her what her mind couldn’t accept. Her exclamation choked in her throat and she could only gape in astonishment as the man fully materialized before her.

“Papa?” Jennifer whispered, but before the presence could acknowledge her, Mildred rose shakily from the table. Her normally stern face had become young again, and her disapproving mouth was smiling in wonder and a happiness that seemed almost holy. Her eyes had softened to those of a girl, and she held her hands to her heart, as if afraid it would escape from her frail body.

“Samuel? Oh, my Lord, Samuel! It is you! My love! You’ve come back to me!”

Jennifer and Penelope glanced at each other, as if to verify what they were seeing, then returned to the phantom that now stood perfectly formed before them. Jennifer’s heart swelled as her father smiled, extending his hand toward her as he used to do when she was a child. Tears started sliding down her cheeks, and she heard Penelope sobbing behind her. Winifred stepped from behind the wall, all of them entranced with the glowing figure that had appeared in the room.

“Samuel! He’s come back!” Mildred turned to Eve in excitement. “She did it! Your niece is really blessed!”

Jennifer sank down into her chair, feeling as if she would faint. Penelope touched her shoulder as if to comfort her, although her hand was damp and shaking. The ghost of their father smiled softly, reassuringly, sending a warmth spiraling through the girls. When he spoke, his voice was exactly the same as they remembered, as if no time had passed at all.

“My dear girls. How long I have wanted to visit with you!”

“Papa? Is it really you?” Penelope cried.

He smiled again. “I have watched and waited, and been with you so often. There wasn’t a tear that you cried or a laugh that you enjoyed that I wasn’t there for.”

“How?” Jennifer asked, unable to believe what her eyes told her was true. “How did you come?”

“You brought me. You’ve perhaps heard of myths where mortals can cross over and bring us back? Your love and prayers did that. Your mother is also with you often, ever since that terrible day when our carriage crashed. Our only regret is the struggle you’ve had to endure, because of us. I was never successful when it came to money, and so couldn’t provide a legacy that would have helped you now.”

“That is my father’s fault,” Mildred sobbed. “He didn’t want me to marry you, and he set out to destroy you. That’s why your businesses failed, and why you were never able to get ahead financially. It is a knowledge that has weighed horribly upon my mind, especially when I learned that your girls had been punished, as well.”

The girls looked at Mildred in amazement. Mildred Adams, wealthy aristocrat, one of New York’s fifty, had once loved their father! It was all too amazing.

The phantom nodded. “All is forgiven. Your father did what he was supposed to do to protect his daughter,
and you and I have loved each other, just as I loved my wife. There is no regret in this.”

“Papa, are you … happy?” Winifred asked, her face streaked with tears.

The spirit nodded slowly. “I know it is hard to understand, but we all are like this. Luminous beings. You cannot remember, but you will. Dust you are. But I am so proud of you all! Winifred, you must follow your instincts. Learn, my dear, for you were given a mind meant for that. Penelope, listen to your heart, and not your purse. And Jennifer, my sweet Jennifer, don’t be so afraid. There is always abundance for those who believe.”

While Jennifer pondered his words, he turned to the two older women. “My dear Eve. I have especially watched over you and sent my love for taking care of my girls. I will be with you again soon. And Mildred,” he said to the matriarch, who suddenly seemed fragile and small, “remember me and help my girls.”

“Papa?” Jennifer cried as the vision before them slowly faded. “Papa!” She ran toward the swirling mist.

“Remember,” the voice echoed. “Remember.”

All of the women were sobbing when the spirit vanished. Aunt Eve recovered first, and turned up the lamps, yet it was as if all light had gone from the room. The void left by Samuel Appleton’s ghost was very real.

“I can’t believe we saw him!” Penelope shook her beautiful head in wonder. “Papa! Was he really here, Jenny, or was it all the same dream I’ve had, over and over?”

“No, he was here,” Jennifer said, embracing her sister. “He was really here.”

“I have to admit, I often had doubts about a hereafter,” Winifred said, her face alight with love and wonder. “But after tonight, I never will again. To think that we not only exist after our time here, but that our love lives on!”

“That’s why we have to be so careful to whom we give that love,” Mildred said softly. She looked like a young girl again, all harshness and disapproval gone from her demeanor. “We really do tie ourselves to each other through that emotion.”

Jennifer thought instantly of Gabriel, and what Mildred’s words implied. Could it be that through love,
she was tied to him for eternity? It was something she couldn’t bear to think about.

“When did you love our father?” Penelope asked, and Mildred smiled sadly.

“Before he met your mother. I think I should start at the beginning now and tell you all about it. Goodness knows, I never thought we’d have this conversation, but after tonight, anything is possible. I was barely sixteen when I met Samuel Appleton. I thought him the most handsome man I’d ever seen, but more than that, he was kind. He was a gentleman’s gentleman, bright and ambitious, but he was also poor.”

“And your parents forbade you to love him,” Jennifer said, her voice tinged with pity for the young girl she pictured.

“Exactly. At first they thought it was just an infatuation, that I would outgrow it. They shepherded me to party after party, seeing that I met all the right men, but to no avail. My heart belonged to Samuel. When they discovered my correspondence with him, they forbade me to see him again and threatened to cut me off completely. I was frightened for him, you see, for this was another time and place and I knew what my parents were capable of. Unfortunately, I didn’t know the whole extent until later. I had simply thought Samuel disappeared and no longer loved me.”