The Witch of Napoli (24 page)

Moments later, we all heard a sharp rap that distinctly sounded like it came from
under
the table. Hanging onto Alessandra’s left hand, Henry leaned down.

“Archie?”

“No movement of
Signora
’s knees or feet,” came a soft whisper from under the table. Maxine shorthanded it to her log. “8:12 PM. Rap heard under the table. Medium’s knees and feet were under continuous control.”

Less than a minute later, Lady Carraig spoke up.

“I felt a touch on my elbow…”

Then Lord Carraig. “I felt a shove on my back.”

Alessandra jumped up and everyone in the circle scrambled to their feet, still holding hands.

“Spirits, we know you are here,” she shouted. “SHOW US MORE!”

Huxley looked nervous.

Mallory cried out from under the table, “What’s going on?”

“Stay there!” Henry shot back.

I felt a rush of excitement. Alessandra had uttered those exact same words at Rossi’s house in Naples, the night I took my famous photograph.
Show us more!
Right after that, the table had levitated into the air. It was going to happen again.

“SHOW US MORE!” she shouted.

“Watch the table,” I told Elsa. I held my breath.

Nothing happened.

The table remained on the floor.

We stood there, all of us, looking stupid, for fifteen or twenty seconds, until Huxley finally turned to Alessandra.

“Perhaps we should all sit down now?” he sneered.

Alessandra stared at the table, a look of disbelief on her face. We all sat back down and Alessandra resumed her pleadings –
Spirits come! Spirits come!
– but there was an edge of panic in her voice now. The minutes continued to slip away – five, ten, fifteen – until we finally heard the soft bong of the clock on the mantel.

9:30
P.M.
Time up.

Across the table, Huxley smiled smugly.

A
lessandra was nervous. I could tell.

At breakfast the next morning, she ate little and said less and wanted to retreat to her room afterwards, but I convinced her to take a walk in the garden. It was a glorious, sunny August morning.

“You’ll do better tonight,” I assured her, as we made our way through a trellised archway into Maxine Tyndall’s magnificent, formal rose garden which flanked the east side of Farnam House. Maxine bred her roses for competition, and showed them at the Royal National Rose Society’s annual exhibition. Red and white tea roses bordered the brick walk, and a bright orange butterfly flitted across our path, but Alessandra didn’t seem to notice. She plodded along, head down, ignoring my attempts to cheer her up, until we reached an iron bench next to a sundial and I made her sit down.

“What is the matter with you?” I demanded. “You’ve still got two more chances. You’ll do fine.” In truth, I wasn’t thinking about Alessandra – my mind was on Elsa. She was coming over after lunch and I was excited.

Alessandra stared at the gravel at her feet.

“The spirits, Tommaso – I could feel them at first. Not strongly, but they were there. Then they faded away. I couldn’t feel them anymore.” She nervously fingered the
corno
around her neck. “Everything feels wrong here.”

She turned to me. “Maybe I made a mistake coming here.”

“It’s a little late to do anything about it now,” I shot back.

She reached out for my hand. “Tommaso, please, don’t be hard on me.”

I felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But why didn’t you call on Fra Girolamo?”

“I…I was afraid to.”

“Why?”

She hesitated. “Maybe he won’t come.” She wrung her hands. “Maybe he hates this place, like I do.”

“But he’s always come when you’ve called before.”

Alessandra stared straight ahead. “Maybe he won’t hear me. We’re so far from home.”

“Well, it’s not the end of the world if he fails to show up. You go home without Huxley’s hundred pounds, that’s all.”

She jumped to her feet. “And let Huxley win? Never!”

“Well, do it or don’t,” I finally said, annoyed. “I don’t care.”

We continued down the path past the Tyndall’s glasshouse where rakes and hoes and pruning shears were neatly hung in a wooden cabinet, and a gardener was filling a basket with white roses. When he saw us, he smiled, stepped outside, tipped his hat and handed Alessandra one of the roses.

“See,” I teased as we set off again, “not everyone in England is against you.”

She stuck her tongue out at me.

We finally reached the river and plopped down on the grass under a tree. A convoy of ducks paddled up to the bank hoping for a handout before giving up and drifting off. Alessandra finally spoke up.

“Do you think I could live in Paris?”

I looked at her. “Paris?”

“Camillo says it’s cold there in the winter. He says it even snows sometimes, and there’s ice on the sidewalks.” She laughed. “Imagine me slipping and falling on my big backside.”

“You’re reconsidering his offer?” I was surprised. She had sounded so sure back in Warsaw. She picked up a pebble and tossed it into the water, watching the ripples run away.

“I don’t know. Everything is so confusing…”

“
Andiamo,
Tommaso!” Let’s go!

I looked out the drawing room window and there was Elsa on a bicycle, laughing and pedaling around the gravel driveway alongside the house, her long dress flying out, one hand holding on to her white straw hat. She looked fantastic.

“Coming!” I yelled.

On my way out, I passed by the billiard room and Mallory waved to me. Huxley had just lined up a long shot, and with a crack sent the ball straight across the green felt, potting it in the far pocket. Mallory raised his cue. “I don’t stand a chance, Tommaso,” he laughed. Huxley ignored me, moving on to the next shot.

When I got outside, a servant stood next to Elsa, holding two bicycles.

Elsa gave me a big grin. “Where’s Alessandra?”

“She had something to do,” I said. In truth, I hadn’t mentioned the bicycle ride to her. I wanted it to be just me and Elsa.

“Do you know how to ride a bicycle?” Alessandra asked.

“Me? Of course!” I lied, grabbing the handlebars.

It was my first time on a bicycle. I pushed off and wobbled around in a crazy circle fighting to keep my balance, nearly running over the terrified maid before flipping over the handlebars and falling on my
culone
. Elsa started laughing. Red-faced, I jumped up and shoved off again, this time doing better – I’m not an acrobat but I’ve got good balance. As she applauded, I even managed a quick “no hands” to show off for her before skidding to a stop next to her bicycle.

“Ready!” I grinned, and we set off together towards Cambridge town.

The weather was humid and sticky, and soon my shirt was soaked in sweat, but Elsa pedaled at a strong pace. The road into town was busy – lots of carts and carriages and people trudging along with bundles and bags, which we had to dodge as Elsa and I chatted away. At one point, a small dog raced out of a yard and tried to bite Elsa’s boot, but I cut him off with my bike and Elsa flashed me a grateful smile. I felt like I was making progress.

When we reached the university, we hopped off the bicycles and I bought us ice creams from a street vendor and we sat together on a bench under a tall tree enjoying our “penny licks” as the English call them.

“Alessandra is missing a treat,” Elsa said, running her pretty pink tongue around the glass, determined not to waste a smidgen of her vanilla ice.

She handed me her empty glass. “Is she alright, Tommaso? She seems so unhappy.”

“She’ll be alright,” I said. “She’s just not used to England.”

Elsa hesitated. “I’m ashamed no one from the Society was there to meet her in London. I’m sure that didn’t make her feel very welcome. Mr. Huxley sent the Cook agent to the wrong station – to the Waterloo Station. My father told me he can’t understand how Mr. Huxley could have gotten it wrong.”

“Alessandra is convinced he did it on purpose. She doesn’t like him.”

“Good! I don’t like him either,” Elsa replied. The anger in her voice took me by surprise.

“I agree he’s not very pleasant,” I said.

“It’s more than that.”

I waited for her to continue. Finally she spoke.

“He…he’s always …touching me, Tommaso.” She shivered. “My father won’t believe me….everybody thinks he’s such a nice man…” She turned to me, her eyes blazing. “I hope Alessandra humiliates him! Then maybe he’ll quit, and go away, and leave me alone.” She turned away but I could see tears in her eyes.

I didn’t know what to say. The whole thing was so unexpected.

We rode back to Tyndall’s house in silence. On the way back, dark clouds gathered, the air became heavy and sultry, and the rumble of thunder announced a coming storm. Before we could reach home, the downpour caught us, drenching us to the bone. When we finally arrived at Farnam House, servants ran out of the house with umbrellas to take our bicycles, and a maid stood inside the door with towels to dry ourselves off. As we walked down the hall, Elsa turned to me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have told you. I didn’t mean to spoil your afternoon.”

I wanted to reach out and take her in my arms, but I was too embarrassed.

“Will you be all right?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

The upstairs hall was dark and gloomy, except when a flash of lightning momentarily lit the hall. When I got to Alessandra’s room, I knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” came a startled voice from inside the room.

“Alessandra, it’s me – Tommaso.”

I heard feet hurrying across the floor, a key was turned in the lock, the door was opened a crack, and Alessandra peered out.

“Tommaso! Where were you?” she cried. “I’ve been looking for you all afternoon.”

I stepped into the room. “Elsa took me for a bicycle ride.” I could see the disappointment on her face. “We would have invited you,” I added hastily, “but it looked like rain. I didn’t want you to get a cold. You’re lucky you didn’t come. We got soaked.”

Alessandra shut the door and locked it.

“I’m scared, Tommaso!” she said as she dragged me towards her bed.

Tarot cards were spread out on the sheet, illuminated by the flickering of a bedside candle.

“Put the cards away,” I said. “You’ll do fine tonight.” Whenever Alessandra got really nervous about something, she always pulled them out. That’s the problem with Italians. We’re too superstitious.

“No!” she exclaimed. “Look!” She sat down on the bed, clinching her fists, tears in her eyes.

Six cards were laid out in a half circle, Neapolitan style. In the center, face up, sat the seventh card – a burning tower, with a woman falling to her death. Everybody in Naples knew what that meant.

Catastrophe.

I
could tell she was scared.

Alessandra made the sign of the cross when we entered the séance room – something I never saw her do before.

The plan was simple. She would call Savonarola.
Babbo
Giro would hear her, and come, and possess his beloved, and produce an astonishment to humiliate Huxley, just like he did at Ile Ribaud.

As soon as we were seated in the library, and Mallory took his position under the table with the oil lamp, Alessandra immediately bent her head, and closed her eyes, and began mumbling the disturbing incantation she used in Naples.

“
Babbo
…
Babbo
!…
Per favore! Per favore
!”

Please, Father, please!

Henry Tyndall looked amused. Huxley had told him about Savonarola but, like Lombardi, he didn’t buy the absurd idea of spirit possession by a mad monk from the medieval ages. But Huxley, controlling Alessandra’s other hand, bit his lip nervously.

“
Babbo
…
Babbo
!…
Per favore! Per favore
!”

Over and over.

“
Babbo
…
Babbo
!…
Per favore! Per favore
!”

As the minutes ticked away and nothing happened, Huxley relaxed.

Alessandra readjusted her position in her chair, then scrunched her eyes even tighter. Her plaintive begging resumed. Louder. More insistent.

Suddenly, her shoulders slumped, and her head fell forward and rested on the table.

I felt a rush of relief. I knew what would happen next – I had seen it in Naples, and at Ile Ribaud. She would remain there motionless for a minute, then there would be violent shudders as Savonarola’s spirit took possession of her body, then…

Alessandra slowly lifted her head and turned towards Huxley. He shrank back into his chair, hand raised to shield himself from the chilling look of the discarnate monstrosity we both expected.

But I was the one who let out a gasp.

Instead of Savonarola’s menacing gaze, the eyes were Alessandra’s, and they were filled with tears.

“He can’t hear me,” she whispered.

Then she stood up and walked out of the room.

For a second, Huxley looked bewildered, then a leer of triumph spread across his face.

Mallory poked his head out from under the table. “What’s going on?”

Henry turned to me. “The sitting is over?”

I looked towards the door.

“I…I think so,” I replied.

Henry pulled out his gold pocket watch, glanced at it, then turned to Maxine. “Please record that
Signora
Poverelli voluntarily terminated the second sitting at 8:15 PM…” He snapped the case shut and slipped it back into his vest pocket. “…and that during the second sitting, there occurred nothing worthy of note.”

When I got upstairs, I saw a maid fleeing down the hall. I knocked on Alessandra’s door and opened it. Alessandra was angrily pacing the room.

“I found the maid rummaging through my closet when I came up,” she declared.

“Maybe she was doing some cleaning,” I suggested.

“At eight o’clock at night?”

“What did she say?”

“She said she was changing the pillows. The hell she was!” Alessandra walked over and slammed the door. “She was looking through my bag.” I steered her back to the bed and made her sit down.