The Spirit Room (61 page)

“
You’d be just as fine as Miss Keene and you could have your own theatre, too.”

“
You could help me with the plays or selling tickets or the costumes.”

Hannah grinned and slipped her arm around Clara’s shoulder. “I’d like that.”

As they headed back to Green Street, arms entwined, Clara quietly pictured herself taking a bow to a room full of applauding people and she felt her heart grow warm.

Forty-Three

“IT’S IN THAT GIBBERISH LANGUAGE
that looks like French again.” At the small marble table in Mrs. Fielding’s spirit parlor, Izzie shuffled through six pages of trance writing.

“
Your letters are in tongues. The spirits sometimes speak languages that we don’t know,” Anna said.

Izzie’s left-handed letters always came out this way. They weren’t written in French as she had originally thought. Roland had taken her first foreign looking letter to a friend who was a language scholar at Columbia College. He described it as gibberish although he said there were a few French words sprinkled throughout it.

Roland had also looked into the account from the spirit in Izzie’s first trance, the voice that said he was John Child’s brother and that he had died on the sunken ship, the
Hungarian
. To Izzie’s and everyone’s amazement, there had been a passenger named Child on the
Hungarian
and it had gone down that very night of the trance just off of Nova Scotia. Roland tried to find John Child but, ultimately, had no idea how to go about it.

After Izzie’s first trance, Mrs. Fielding brought Izzie into every spirit circle she held at the house and took her out to others as well. Izzie went into trance easily and sometimes spoke what she heard and sometimes wrote it. Occasionally, she said something that seemed so accurate that the seekers were sure they were communicating with loved ones in Summerland. Most of the time she couldn’t even remember what she had said and was surprised when she came out of the trance and the seekers were gasping with joy or crying miserably.

There were no physical manifestations at Mrs. Fielding’s spirit circles on Twenty-Fifth Street. When Mrs. Fielding and Anna went on tour they used rapping or knocking because people expected it, but in her home, it was not invited or permitted. Still, they did not confide in Izzie exactly how they made the rapping occur when they were on tour. They simply said they had ways of encouraging it. They both declared they fervently believed in genuine manifestations and swore that some mediums were capable of allowing spirits to perform in our tangible world. Over the years they had witnessed many spirit circles with perfect and true manifestations.

“
Izzie, while you are here, you will surely have the opportunity to experience the rapture of divine presence,” Mrs. Fielding said.

Izzie wasn’t much interested in the rapture of divine presence unless it could help her find her sisters. Since she had begun her own trances, it was only on a rare night that voices would interrupt her sleep. The voices were more content to wait for the daily activity of trance and letter-writing and planchette communication. It didn’t matter whether Izzie was acting as the medium or someone else was. It now seemed her voices had suddenly become very polite and were pleased to wait to be spoken to rather than intruding. Mrs. Fielding told her that each Spiritualist developed in her own unique way and she wasn’t surprised at all that, as Izzie took more command of her gifts, the spirits were happier.

Izzie flipped the papers over to the blank sides. “Let’s start again.”

“
I have to go to bed, Izzie. I’m depleted.” Anna stood up.

“
Just once more. I’m not tired yet. I can handle one more trance. I’m sure of it.”

“
We’ve been working until past midnight every single night for weeks.” Anna placed a hand on Izzie’s shoulder. “Nothing about your sisters has come out of it.”

“
Does that mean it won’t the next time or the next?”

“
No, but I can’t really get clear communication if I am exhausted. Adele has been disappointed with my trances lately.”

“
Did she say so?”

“
No, but I know her. She is fussing over you, Izzie, and talking all the time about you and not saying a word to me. I haven’t even heard or seen a spirit in a week.” Anna took her hand away. “I’m so very tired.”

“
Anna, I don’t want to take attention away from your trances. I only sit at Mrs. Fielding’s circles because she wants me to and because there might be a new medium she’s invited who I can ask about my sisters.”

“
But, you are gifted. You have wonderful transcendent powers. Don’t you care about using your gifts for those who seek solace?”

“
I can only think about Clara and Euphora. By now they could be dead or in some unbearable situation. Why haven’t they written to me in Rochester? Something has gone wrong, something unimaginable.” Izzie broke into tears. “And why hasn’t Billy written to me? Where are they all?”

Anna came back to her and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to bed. We’ll try again tomorrow night.”

<><><>

THE NEXT DAY, the sun was shining. The snow and ice had lingered through the cold days of March and April, but now even the last few small pockets of slush clinging to the walks in the northern shadows of buildings had melted. Izzie walked all day looking for her sisters. She had been around to all the orphanages and charitable societies three times. This day alone, she’d gone to fifteen boardinghouses that took single women. Her knuckles sore from knocking on doors, she decided it had come time to visit the parlor and assignation houses. Roland had told her about sporting guides, pamphlets, that listed all the houses. She’d ask him to get her one.

She arrived home at Mrs. Fielding’s from her daily search just in time for the late afternoon spirit circle. It was a circle of eight. A medium from Boston, a Mr. Dexter Dana, was there with four of his New York friends. Izzie was impatient to ask for a spirit communication. Everyone at the table could ask for a message, medium or not. Mrs. Fielding’s rules were that Anna and Izzie always waited until all the guests asked first. If there didn’t seem to be much occurring for the seekers, and people wanted to take more time because they were still interested in the possibilities of any communication at all, then Anna and Izzie, and even Mrs. Fielding could ask, especially if there were guest mediums.

So far, in all of Mrs. Fielding’s séances, no one had been able to tell Izzie anything at all that would help her in her search. A few times Mrs. Fielding made coherent sentences on her planchette, but they were about Izzie’s gifts, not her sisters. Twice Anna felt the presence of Izzie’s mother, but didn’t receive any specific message. Another time a guest medium seemed to have words from her farmer grandfather, Gregory Benton, back in England. His communication was about his dairy cows and farm.

All of this teased at Izzie. It made her desperate for more, her own trances, Anna’s, Mrs. Fielding’s, anything from anyone who called themselves a medium or Spiritualist. Maybe one of these times she’d get the information she longed for. Maybe from Mr. Dana tonight. She eyed him. He was young, fair, with long locks of yellow hair covering his ears, clean-shaven, and spectacles resting on a small nose.

Dexter Dana sat on Mrs. Fielding’s right. Since there were four mediums altogether, the other seekers were spread between them. Spreading her hands on the table, Mrs. Fielding directed them to be silent a moment, then said, “When one of you feels the urge, ask if there is a spirit here who wishes to speak to you.”

They fell quiet. Seconds ticked by. Minutes. No one asked for a spirit. Izzie watched Mr. Dana. Eyes closed, he swayed slightly from left to right, like he was listening to music. He looked ready to go into trance.

“
Is there a spirit present who will communicate with me?” Izzie asked.

Mrs. Fielding grimaced at her and Izzie knew she would have scolded her if it wouldn’t have disrupted the circle. Izzie’s knee bounced nervously under the table.

“
Flowers of spring, flowers anew,” Mr. Dana sang and swayed. He had a tenor’s voice. Izzie sank back in her chair, both knees bouncing now.
Rubbish
. He was going to sing. The singing mediums never offered anything specific. Mrs. Fielding hadn’t mentioned he was a singing medium.

The earth brings life

The angels soar

Glad song of love and joy

Heaven is open to all

Oh, Heaven is open to all

When he was finished he became still, opened his blue eyes, and grinned at Izzie. She smiled back emptily. Worthless, she thought. Completely worthless.

The rest of the séance was mundane, lots of slips of paper with names of living and deceased, another song about mothers and their mothers, and Anna went into a short trance in which she described a beautiful forest. People thought it was lovely, but no one drew meaning from it.

Izzie was too irked to even try a trance. Mrs. Fielding kept looking over at her, expecting her to try, but Izzie was simply too irritated. After Mr. Dana sang to her, it was hard to even hold still. She wanted to turn the table upside down and get rid of everyone. She could run upstairs pretending to be ill, a pain in her side perhaps, or a fit of coughing. Anna was watching her closely, too. She and Mrs. Fielding could watch her all they wanted. She wasn’t going to go into trance with these people.

<><><>

AT SUPPER, MRS. FIELDING WOULDN’T LOOK AT IZZIE. She seemed to be ignoring her, but afterward when Izzie was sitting on the sofa in Mrs. Fielding’s study, taking off her boots, there was a knock on the door.

“
Come in.”

Eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, Mrs. Fielding stood in the doorway in her robe. “You know the rules at the table,” she said.

“
I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Mrs. Fielding stepped into the room. “And you didn’t even try to go into trance. You’re restlessness was a distraction to everyone in the circle. You know it takes solemn concentration by all.”

“
I’ll be better next time.”

“
You will.”

“
I feel I will never find my sisters.”

“
You may or you may not. I know this is dreadful for you, but you are a true medium now.” Mrs. Fielding sat down next to Izzie and put an arm around her shoulders. “You must adhere to the highest standards of grace and kindness. It is a privilege to communicate with the spirits, not a penance.”

Izzie nodded, hoping the lecture would be short.

Mrs. Fielding walked to the door, her red and silver hair flowing down over her shoulders, then turned back to Izzie. “The Grand Circle of mediums is next Saturday. I expect you to be a perfect apprentice. I’ve told you all along. People rarely hear exactly what they want from the spirits.”

“
I only want to know this one thing. This one thing.”

Mrs. Fielding sighed. “We are not meant to know everything about our own lives. We must discover our own destinies.” She shut the door and was gone.

“
What good is any of it? Rapture. Trance. Transcendent powers.
Rot
.” Izzie yanked a boot off and threw it hard at the bookcase. It crashed into a handful of books, dislodging them, then fell with a thud onto the wood floor.

<><><>

THE ROCKAWAY JOUNCED hard over a rut in the wet street. Roland Fielding grunted. Rain was pouring down and, even in late morning, it was as dark as dusk. Izzie was beside herself with excitement. She was on her way, with Anna, Roland Fielding, and Mrs. Fielding, to Anna Coan’s home. They were to attend the Grand Circle of mediums there and she was absolutely sure that today she would finally receive a spirit communication that would lead her to her sisters.

All week, Mrs. Fielding and Anna had been in a twitter, reminiscing and chatting incessantly about previous Grand Circles. The grand spiritual circles were gatherings of some of the most renowned mediums from the Northeast—Boston, Hartford, Bridgeport, Philadelphia, Albany, and of course, New York City. For days they’d been talking about circles they’d been part of, or witnessed, with some of the mediums who would be there today—Mrs. Pettis, Mrs. Guile, Miss Jordan, Miss Cole, George Redman, and Katy Fox, one of the famous Fox sisters. Katy Fox was a young woman of twenty-three now, no longer the young girl who, with her sister, made spirit rapping into a national sensation. There were to be all types of mediums at this event—rapping, singing, testing, healing, writing, tipping, manifesting, and even a painting medium.

The more Izzie listened to all the stories of songs and tables tipping and visions, the more nervous and thrilled she became. She would certainly get the information about her sisters from talents like these. She hadn’t slept one wink this past night.

“
Remember what I told you, Isabelle,” Mrs. Fielding, sitting across from her, looked deadly serious. “Communications are rarely as complete as people want them to be. Also, you may not get a turn to ask for a communication. There will be forty or fifty people there. You must be patient and gracious.”