Authors: Saralynn Hoyt
"Oh, my. Oh, my." she cackled walking around the
room. "So many of you!"
She seemed to be the old hag that everyone had expected.
Although, since she was covered from the top of her head to the tips of her
feet in silk scarves and tassels, it was impossible to be certain. Even her
face was obscured by a veil of nearly, but not quite sheer fabric. Nothing, not
even a tiny bit of her was exposed beneath the elaborate costume. And yet, Ford
pondered, there was something disturbingly familiar about her.
"Hmmm, who shall we have at the table?" The old
woman questioned the crowd of nearly twenty. "Only room enough for eight."
Everyone started talking at once, their disappointment was
obvious. They all, like Ford, had come looking to contact a long lost or
recently departed loved one. It now seemed, not everyone would be able to
participate. Ford felt devastation at the realization, even though he’d never
actually believed in this hocus pocus from the get go. After all, a small
slight hope had brought him here tonight.
"You, and you dear. You—"
Madame Lou was walking around the room selecting the chosen
few. Ford knew it was hopeless for him. She would have been told who the
important people were ahead of time. He was, after all, only the son of a
businessman. She paused in front of him and again he felt a quiver of
familiarity. Impossible, of course, it was just part of the show. She must have
lit some incense that evoked certain reactions. Ford would examine her
accoutrements more closely while the others were involved in the entertainment.
"Yes, you sir. I’ll need you at the table." Madame
Lou did not give Ford a chance to refuse her invitation. She had already moved
on to the next guest.
O’Neill grabbed him by his sleeve, "Get over there, and
have a seat, Northcliffe. I personally cannot wait to see what she wants with
you."
Lord Suffolk was practically cackling with glee at having
his stodgy, scientific friend sitting at a table of metaphysical fanatics. Ford
himself was pondering the matter as well. Not just what the illustrious, and
very clever it seemed, Madame Lou wanted with him, but why he had come in the
first place. Sabrina. Her name echoed in his head. Ford went to the silk draped
table and sat down in an empty chair. He was here for Sabrina’s sake. She was
the one woman he had ever truly loved, besides his mother, of course. Just
thinking about the last week they had spent together sent him into a fantasy of
bliss and happiness.
"Man, woman, man, woman," Madame Lou was shaking a
finger covered in rings at him. Somehow, she jingled as she walked around the
table. It was the glittery things attached to the scarves making the noise.
He stood and changed seats to find himself between the
Countess of Edmunton and Lady Haverstam The countess was quite mature and thin
as a stick, while Lady Haverstam was a plump woman of maybe thirty years. They
were both tense with excitement and couldn’t stop chattering to each other,
trying to bring Ford into their conversation. But his mind was too preoccupied
to follow them. How could a man as enamored as he, not be consumed by thoughts
of his true love? He would have to concentrate on the proceedings, though, if
he were to get what he came for.
When everyone was finally seated, Ford looked around and
realized that he sat directly across from the mysterious Madame Lou. She
narrowed her eyes at him, making it even more difficult to discern their color.
Not that he could see anything anyway behind the gauze of her headdress. And
along with the dim light of the flickering candles she had set about the room
in a way that only Madame Lou understood, it was impossible to see what the
woman looked like. Ford was actually beginning to wonder if she was even
female.
"Quiet!" Madame Lou brought her jeweled hands down
hard on the table, and the crystals and candles she had set out trembled. "The
spirits are here, but they cannot be heard above the din."
Instantly the room was silent. Ford watched as Madame Lou
appeared to go into a trance. She chanted quietly to herself in what sounded
like a Punjabi language. Suddenly she slumped across the table and it seemed
like everyone in the library was holding their breath, including Ford. Madame
Lou slowly sat up straight and Ford was finally able to inhale. She was
spectacular, really. If his head wasn’t so firmly set in the world of things
one could prove, he might easily succumb to her performance. The chimes on her
scarves where also a tantalizing part of her mesmerizing effect. They gave the
impression of other worldly movement. And it certainly helped that a slight
draft fluttered the curtains as if ghostly fingers were moving them.
"Hold hands," Madame Lou commanded in an ominous
voice. "Lady Haverstam. Your sister wishes to tell you something."
"Letitia?" Lady Haverstam asked with a squeak.
Ford thought the woman would squeeze his hand off. But he
was too interested in what the covered and bejeweled woman would say next to
worry about a little thing like proper circulation.
"Yes, your sister is here, with a message." Madame
Lou was quiet then, as if actually listening to the spirit’s request. "She
says, ‘Margaret, you look—healthy. Tell my boys I love them. And tell Albert to
look in the attic. The eastern corner. And of course I forgive you."
"Oh, Letitia," Lady Haverstam began sobbing.
Ford released the Countess’s hand to give the tearful woman
his handkerchief. She took it gratefully, trying to get her emotions under
control. Then he returned his attention to Madame Lou. This wasn’t proceeding
as he’d expected. The psychic was disclosing what sounded like a description of
where an object might be located. In his experience, specifics were not a part
of the business of hocus pocus frauds. Usually, the gypsies or tarot card
flipping charlatans would give vague, ubiquitous readings. Messages or
predictions that could apply to nearly anyone at any time. This was different.
Ford leaned in closer, fascinated now to see what Madame Lou
would say next. She surprised him by staring directly into his eyes and
pointing her ringed finger at him.
"Ford Northcliffe, your mother is present."
Ford heard O’Neill snort with mirth, not even trying to hide
his amusement. Suddenly he wondered exactly what the man had told the
clairvoyant. If this was a setup, he was going to pummel his friend. He had his
skeptic’s hat firmly back on.
After another dramatic pause, Madame Lou continued in that
same eerie voice. "Your mother has two things to say. One, you came here
tonight to ask a specific question. Her answer is this. ‘I made a mistake, son,
find a way.’ And the second thing she has to say is, ‘I know you won’t believe
any of this, so look behind the picture of the—"
Madame Lou stopped speaking and shook her head, sending her
spangles tinkling. She looked around the room obviously uncomfortable.
"Bloody hell," the woman muttered in a voice that
did not fit her appearance. "Bugger. Lord Ashton? Your older brother is
being an ass." Madame Lou’s mysterious tone was back.
Lord Ashton laughed. "He generally was, Madam."
"I apologize to Mr. Northcliffe, I’ve lost contact with
his mother. Maybe she’ll return later. Oh, all right, quit being such a pest.
Lord Ashton, apparently your sibling has something to say."
Ford sat back disappointed. For a brief moment he thought
the woman might actually have a message from his mother. He had hoped it might
provide a chance to back out of his promise. But her words were cryptic,
ubiquitous, they could mean anything he wanted them too. And then, when she
mentioned a picture, Ford was sure she was going to present him with an
opportunity to prove or disprove the veracity of this evening. But now he was
back to scoffing at himself for even being here. If there had been a way for
him to leave at that moment without disturbing the whole party, he certainly
would.
Madame Lou continued her farce, reuniting brothers, sisters,
mothers, fathers, and even a few children. It made Ford think again of his
sister Piper and the odd dream he’d had while sick with a fever. As if reading
his mind, Madame Lou suddenly came back to him again.
"Piper is here, Mr. Northcliffe, or Ford as she called
you." Ford was startled back from his musings. "She wants you to
continue your work. It pleases her that you do it. But she warns you to not
give up the on people and things in life that are really meaningful. Your life
can be a disaster if you’re not careful."
"What about the picture?" Ford asked, now
desperate for something he could grasp onto.
Madame Lou looked as if she was struggling to hear
something. "I can’t find Catherine anywhere. I’m so sorry Ford, she’s out
of my reach. Piper’s gone now too."
Surprised by the young woman’s voice coming from deep
beneath the layers of silk, Ford was taken aback and for a moment and he truly
believed that she was talking to his dearly departed. But his fury at his own
stupidity overrode any thoughts of who this charlatan was. Ford stood abruptly removing
his hands from Lady Haverstam and the Countess of Edmunton’s grasp.
"Good evening," he said politely, keeping his true
thoughts to himself. "I think I’ve had enough."
"Damn it man, you’ve broken the circle," Lord
Suffolk said, but he didn’t move.
"I’m sure there’s more than one person who can take my
place." Ford nodded to his host. "Thank you for your hospitality,
Lord Suffolk, but I really must go."
The room fairly buzzed with murmurs and Ford did not want to
stay a moment longer to hear what was being said. This whole evening had been a
waste of his precious time. Besides, Sabrina was at home waiting for him. He
found George out back having a smoke and the two men walked to the garage and
retrieved the automobile. Ford attempted to cool his anger and frustration of how
the evening had played out as they made their way home. On the one hand, he’d
half believed what the soothsayer was babbling, and it gave him a small amount
of hope that he could cast aside the deathbed promise. But on the other hand,
there was no proof, nothing tangible to grasp onto that made the experience
anything more than a frivolous party game for the constantly bored gentry.
He struggled with the questions the evening had produced
most of the way home. But as he got closer to the house on Park Lane, he began
to think of more pleasant things. Sabrina was there, possibly in his bed now
and waiting for him. He imagined her there, undressed, her hair down, the light
from the fire caressing her perfect alabaster skin. He was hard in an instant
and would have gotten out and pushed the motorcar if he thought it would get
him home faster. Soon, soon he would once again be in his love’s arms. He would
worry about the future later. Right now, he would settle for what he could
have. Sabrina, willing and loving in every way.
The evening had been a total disaster. Madame Lou wished
she too could have walked out, she had been so angry. Who did Lord Ashton think
he was anyway? After all, titles meant nothing in the afterlife. She sat in her
tearoom shuffling the tarot cards ruthlessly. They took the brunt of her anger
over this most recent debacle. Maybe they would have some good news for her
tonight before she went to bed. She closed her eyes and summoned her spirit
guides, breathing in and out slowly until she could feel the power rushing
through her. The dead themselves were unusually quiet now. She wasn’t surprised
after the way she had cursed them out on her way home. But other mystical
forces were still available to her as she slowly laid the cards on the table.
They were all Swords, and every one of them cards of trouble. The Three of
Swords, loss and heartache, the Five of Swords, quarrels and ruined plans, and
the Two of Swords indicating an uncertain future. How unfortunate! And it was
all Lord Ashton’s fault. She would have to start over from scratch on this
couple. Not only was the contact with Ford a complete failure, but now it
looked as if Sabrina was about to do something rash and ridiculous. Oh dear, oh
dear. How had it all come down to this?
Sabrina wanted to wait up for Ford and make love to him all
night, but Alice had taken too long to get ready for bed. By the time the
little girl had finally fallen asleep, Sabrina was exhausted. She only meant to
lie down for a few minutes to rest her eyes, but instead fell into a deeply
restful sleep. When she woke, it was four in the morning and too late to go to
Ford.
This morning he had meetings with several gentlemen at the
Royal Academy to discuss his findings on the herbal remedies of the Far East.
Then she’d promised Alice they would go to the park in the afternoon if the
weather permitted. And by the time they returned, he was scheduled to see his
solicitor. It would be dinner before she saw him again. But if it meant another
night of passionate lovemaking, she could wait, with pleasure. Sighing she fell
back asleep and dreamed of walking down the aisle of a grand church toward Ford
and the priest. She wore the most beautiful dress and Alice was walking behind
her, holding the train that was at least twenty feet long. Everyone she loved
was there, Cassie, Mrs. Dixon, Roland, and all of her old friends as well. Just
as Ford was turning around to smile at her, he suddenly turned into Gerald. His
grin was leering and he had a policeman standing behind him. The threat was
obvious. If she faltered, he would have her thrown into jail. Then he turned
his lecherous stare on little Alice and for a moment his face turned into the
spitting image of the devil himself. Horns on his head and fire spurting out of
his ears. Evil incarnate.
Sabrina jerked awake. She was covered in sweat and was
breathing as if she had run ten blocks. A nightmare, it was just a nightmare.
But it had been so real. So frighteningly real. She jumped out of bed and ran
to check on Alice. The child was sleeping peacefully without a care in the
world. Sabrina did something she normally wouldn’t dream of and rang for a
maid. She didn’t want to leave Alice alone and asked Missy to have Mrs. Dixon
come up for a moment.