T.J. Laverne

Copyright © 2021 by T.J. Laverne

 

Chapter 1

 

Orange light danced across the navy damask wallpaper of the dining room. A single candle was lit in the center of the table. The flame sputtered and almost went out, plunging the room in darkness before the flame jumped back to life.

 

Nervous laughter filled the room and Nora Charlton turned around, wondering where the sudden breeze had come from. Maybe someone had just opened a window.

 

“The spirits of your loved ones are waiting to cross the veil between their world and ours,” a cool voice came from the far end of the table. “Let us form a circle through which the spirits may enter by joining hands on the table.”

 

Nora twitched. She hadn’t realized they would have to hold hands.

 

She had never been to a séance before. No one in the room had. She heard whispers around the table and a couple more nervous titters. Apparently, everyone was wondering the same thing as Nora. Was it quite proper to hold hands?

 

One by one, people obeyed. Nora chanced a glance to her left, but she could barely see the man sitting beside her in the dim light. The man was Gilbert Huxley. Somehow, she had found herself sitting beside Gilbert Huxley at the séance table.

 

For now, he was just a wall of shadow—nothing but a black suit and dimly glowing red skin. She couldn’t even see the features of his face, nor the curly, brown hair atop his head. She couldn’t tell if he was looking in her direction.

 

She did, however, feel his presence rather intensely. He was like a radiating oven. She had rarely been this close to Gilbert Huxley in the 10 years she had known him, nor to any other man who was not her father or brother. Least of all in the dark. It was not proper for a man and woman to be so close, unless they were on the dance floor. But Gilbert had never danced with her.

 

She swallowed and put her left hand on the table, waiting. It was almost a minute before a warm, rather sweaty hand folded uncertainly around it. She looked down at their joined hands, trying not to panic. This could hardly count as holding hands. His hand simply rested open on top of hers, touching as little surface area as possible.

 

Was her hand too rough? Too cold? Too sweaty? Was she such a repulsive human being that he couldn’t even properly hold her hand?

 

She breathed irritably through her nose and lifted their joined hands above the table, weaving her fingers forcefully through his. When she had a firm grip, she let their hands fall back to the table.

 

She felt him turn toward her and saw the whites of his eyes widen in the candlelight. She sighed and turned away. Apparently, she shouldn’t have done that. She had behaved inappropriately. Again. And now Gilbert knew she was not a proper lady, if he hadn’t known already. Which he probably did.

 

A smaller, dryer hand was holding Nora’s right hand—properly. Nora glanced at her sister, Arianna. She could see only the whites of her wide eyes and her white teeth as she smiled nervously. She gave Nora’s hand an anxious squeeze. Arianna didn’t want to be here, but Nora had fairly dragged her through the door.

 

Sitting on the other side of Arianna was the regal Lady Pembleton, wife to the Viscount. Lady Pembleton was the godmother of the Charlton sisters, and was therefore their advisor in all things correct and genteel. Nora was thankful Lady Pembleton was not sitting beside her. She would already have rebuked Nora several times in the last few minutes.

 

“The spirits of our loved ones wish to commune with us,” the medium continued from the shadows. She pronounced her words strangely, in a way Nora had never heard before. She had an American accent. “They have important things they wish to tell us: About their lives and their deaths. About our world and our future. About the afterlife.”

 

Nora took in a deep breath, finally nervous, herself. Had a spirit in the room told the medium he wanted to reveal something about his death? A shiver ran through her, but not from cold, from anticipation. She had been anxiously awaiting this moment all week.

 

Many of the guests who had come to the séance tonight had a repressed desire to communicate with a loved one they had lost. Mrs. Perham had lost her husband almost 40 years ago at Waterloo. Sir Colwell had lost a wife to consumption. Mr. and Mrs. Alsbrook had lost their five-year-old daughter to scarlet fever. Mrs. Fairleigh had given birth to a stillborn. And Nora and Arianna had lost a mother 11 years ago to cholera, as well as a brother nearly three years ago to accidental injury.

 

Nora and Arianna’s eldest sister, Emma, would not be provoked to attend such a frivolous activity as a séance, as if frivolity was the absolute worst sin a young lady could commit. Emma was a proper lady, and never had to be reminded of what was proper and improper by Lady Pembleton.

 

Lady Pembleton had quite agreed with Emma, as usual, but had nevertheless decided to attend the séance as Nora and Arianna’s chaperone. Nora was not deceived. Lady Pembleton had lost a sister to pneumonia a few years ago.

 

The American medium, Mrs. Richards, continued her spiel about crossing the veil, communing with loved ones, and learning the secrets of the afterlife. At one point, she had the entire table recite the Lord’s Prayer to ensure the purity of the ritual and the acceptance of only good spirits into their circle.

 

Nervous energy filled the room. Nora unconsciously squeezed both Gilbert’s and Arianna’s hands, the anticipation getting to be too much. Gilbert’s hand twitched beneath hers and she stopped squeezing it, feeling suddenly foolish. Her face burned and she was thankful the room was dark. Her hand felt like a river inside his. He was so warm. Why were men so warm?

 

She began to sweat, herself, beneath her layers of horsehair crinoline, petticoats, and flounces. She wanted to lift them up and get some air to her legs since no one could see her, but she couldn’t let go of Gilbert’s and Arianna’s hands.

 

The medium told them all to close their eyes and concentrate on their loved ones. Though Nora could barely see, she did what the medium asked.

 

Nora thought about her brother almost every minute of every day, so it wasn’t difficult. It was like a festering wound that lived deep inside her chest that would never heal. She missed him so much it was painful.

 

August had been her best friend in the world. Only a year apart in age, they had been closer even than Nora and Arianna. He had understood her like no one else had, and vice versa.

 

They had once been inseparable. They had climbed trees together, sang together, read together. He taught her how to hunt and fish, she taught him how to write, and they spent many an hour talking about all the places they would see and the crazy things they would do when they grew up. And when he was away at school, Nora could’ve filled her whole wardrobe with all the letters he had written her.

 

His death had come as such a shock to her and her family, she wondered if she would ever get over it. He had fallen down the stairs at a friend’s house in Surrey. But why? How? People didn’t just simply fall down stairs. Had he been drinking? Had he been ill? Had he been pushed? Had he thrown himself down them on purpose?

 

In life, August had had a particularly hard time being himself. He often suffered from depression and would lie in bed sometimes for days. But he had never once spoken of taking his own life. The August she had known would never have done such a thing. He had too much zest for life, too much that he wanted to do and see, like Nora.

 

Was it possible Nora hadn’t known him as well as she had thought? Had he hidden the severity of his depression from her? Had it driven him to take his own life? And what about her? Hadn’t he wanted to stay alive for her sake?

 

There was nothing she wanted more than to speak to her brother, just one more time. To tell him how much she loved and missed him. And to find out, once and for all, how and why he had died.

 

Would he come to her tonight? Did he want to talk to her as much as she wanted to talk to him? Did he miss her, too?

 

Nora’s eyes burned and she let the tears flow down her cheeks. No one could see her anyway, and everyone at the table had probably already seen her cry at least once in her lifetime. She was never good at holding it in, like Emma and Arianna. She sniffled rather loudly and felt Gilbert turn in her direction. She turned instinctively away, even though he couldn’t see her.

 

The medium repeated her speech over and over as the room waited in silent anticipation. The candle fluttered a second time, dipping so low that it almost went out again. Everyone around the table gasped and Nora felt a chill on the back of her neck. The air felt colder.

 

“Is there a spirit among us?” the medium called out. “Is there a spirit here in the room?”

 

The candle fluttered a third time and more people gasped and giggled nervously.

 

“I can feel your presence,” the medium continued in her grandest voice. “Please, let us know you are here.”

 

Nora looked all around the black room, though she couldn’t see a thing. Fear clutched her throat. Though she was desperate to see and talk to her brother, she was still terrified at the prospect of seeing an actual spirit, or ghost.

 

What if it wasn’t August? What if it was a hostile spirit who wanted to harm them? She reminded herself that they had spoken the Lord’s Prayer and her fear subsided somewhat.

 

And then she began to feel it, too. Goosebumps erupted on her arms. Something in the room had changed, and it wasn’t the people around the table. She could sense another presence. It was very close and very cold. She could feel it prickling through her scalp like a hundred needles, and on the back of her neck.

 

She had had this feeling before. She had felt a presence in her own home, many times, since August’s death. Most often it came to her in her bedroom or in the reading nook in the library—places she had spent the most time with her brother.

 

It always started with a prickling through her scalp, down the back of her neck, trickling all the way down her spine. And then it would seep through her chest and down each of her limbs as though she were being plunged into an ice-cold bath, until she felt as though her very bones were frozen.

 

And there was the feeling of familiarity that came with it, a feeling she had only ever had with August. It was the connection they had shared—the feeling of being safe and understood.

 

And sometimes, when this feeling came over her, she swore she saw something hovering in the corner of the room. It was something like a reflection in a glass window, or a faded imprint on the particles in the air. It subtly took the shape of a person, but it was so faint, Nora wasn’t even sure it was really there. Except she could feel it watching her. And then she would blink and it would be gone.

 

The first time she had seen this apparition, she had very nearly died from shock, right then and there. But somehow she knew, deep down in her very core, that it was August.

 

That same feeling came over her now, and her heart began to race. Elation flooded through her veins. She wanted to stand up and yell out to her brother, but she managed to restrain herself. Arianna would be mortified and she would never hear the end of it from Lady Pembleton. Not to mention, Gilbert would think she was hysterical.

 

“Please, give us a sign you are here,” the medium called out. “If you are here, tap three times.”

 

Nora held her breath, as did everyone else. A moment later, the tapping began.

 

Nora looked all around, trying to figure out where it was coming from, wondering if someone at the table was doing it. It seemed to be coming from the walls around them. She swallowed and a chill trickled down her spine.

​

It tapped three times.