The Spiritualist (51 page)

“Hello, Pamela,” I said. “How odd to see you. I cannot think what you must have come for. Except perhaps to apologize.”

She lifted her chin. “Can we not be civil to each other, Evelyn?”

“Why, I don’t know. Can we?”

“The family’s sent me to try to make amends. We were wrong about your role in Peter’s murder.”

“How kind of you to realize it. Especially now that you’ve ruined me.”

Her full lips thinned to near invisibility. “Must you make this difficult?”

“I’m only returning the favor.”

“Evelyn, please. We’re quite sorry for what we put you through. Though it seems to me you’ve done well enough since.” She gestured to the parlor. “From what I understand, Dorothy Bennett has treated you like a daughter.”

“She was kind enough to help me when I needed it.”

“I’ve heard many reports of your new talents. We all have. You seem to have recovered quite well on your own.”

“Oh, yes,” I said sarcastically. “As you can see, all of society is clamoring at my door to apologize for its appalling behavior.”

She had the grace to flush. “We—the family, that is—wish to extend our hands to you again, Evelyn. We had hoped we might be able to reach some kind of accommodation.”

“Oh? What accommodation is that?”

“In regards to Peter’s will. Given everything you’ve been through, we thought—well, John and Paul thought—you must be anxious to put all this behind you. To start life over, as it were.”

“I see. You intend to let the will stand?”

She glanced up again, her eyes flashing angrily before she recomposed herself. “Goodness, Evelyn, even you can’t believe we would so willingly hand over Mama’s house and everything else to you. Peter’s allowance is nearly seventy thousand a year.”

“Then I’ve no idea what accommodation you can mean.”

“All this… attention… you’ve endured must be wearing. I can’t think that you’d want to continue it. You’ll get no support among the upper ten if you decide to fight. What can you hope to gain but a disgraceful reputation? It’s time for healing, Evelyn. We’re willing to”—she took a deep breath, as if the word was difficult for her to say—“sanction your return to society—after a proper period of mourning, of course—if you will sign a paper relinquishing your claim. It will save us all a great deal of time and trouble.”

“I see. I’ll be the repentant Atherton returned to the fold?”

“Your life will be as before,” she said. “With Dorothy Bennett’s support, and ours, you can move freely in society again. It’s a generous offer, Evelyn. You must know it.”

“More than generous. I hardly expected it.”

Pamela looked surprised. “Then you’ll consider it?”

How easy it was to maneuver her, after all. Just as Michel had said it would be. I smiled at her. “Do you think you could bring the family here? As you must realize, it’s difficult for me to leave the house just now. And I’d like Dorothy to be present. She’s been so kind to me, after all, but she’s very ill, and I don’t like to trouble her more than I must.”

“Of course,” Pamela said with alacrity. “I’m certain they’d be anxious to do whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Perhaps this afternoon?”

“I’ll send a driver round to the others. Would six be acceptable?”

“Perfectly,” I said.

“Then I’ll take my leave.” She went to the door and paused there, turning back to me. “I’m relieved you’re being so gracious about this, Evelyn. I confess I didn’t expect it.”

“One doesn’t experience life without learning valuable lessons, Pamela. I expect you’ll find I’ve changed a great deal.”

“I’m gratified to know it,” she said.

“Yes,” I told her. “So am I.”

I
HEARD THEM
arrive that afternoon, though I did not greet them. I wore black bombazine and jet beads around my neck and in my ears, as befitted a proper widow, though I wished nothing more than to be done with mourning. I waited in the upstairs parlor, running my finger along the polished surface of the great round table that had made my future. I let them gather and talk among themselves. I imagined I could feel the shiver of their expectation as they anticipated my surrender.

Then Michel appeared in the doorway. He was dressed exquisitely, as always, in dark blue that accented the paleness of his eyes. “Dorothy’s downstairs with them. Are you ready?”

“I’ve never been more so.”

He held out his arm to me. When I took it, he kissed me lightly upon my forehead. “I’m there with you,
chère.
”

“I know it,” I said.

Together, we went downstairs, to the parlor, where Bella was just exiting after having brought the tea. I heard John’s voice. “Well, it’s about time. A merry chase, wasn’t it, but—”

He stopped as we entered. They were all there, Dorothy on the chaise and all of Peter’s family: Pamela, her china-doll eyes filled with self-satisfaction; her husband, John, composed as always; Paul, as quiet and watchful as ever; and Penny, humorless and severe.

“Evelyn,” John said, rising, along with Paul.

“This is Michel Jourdain,” I said. “I expect you all know of him by now.”

“I thought this was to be a family discussion,” John said.

“But Michel is my family,” I said. “And Dorothy too, as my old family abandoned me. I’m very loyal, you know, unless I’m given cause not to be.”

Pamela said, “For goodness sakes, Evelyn, we’ve discussed this.”

I looked at the teapot steaming on the table, the unused cups beside it, the plate of untouched cakes. “Would anyone like tea?”

Michel smiled and withdrew to the corner near the French doors, where he leaned almost indolently against the wall. Paul’s gaze followed him before he turned back to me. I saw the speculation in those eyes that reminded me so much of Peter’s, the quick flash of envy.

Dorothy said, “None of them want refreshment, child.”

“I’ve brought the papers,” John said, reaching for his briefcase. “They’re quite simple to understand. All they require is your signature—”

“I won’t be signing anything,” I said.

John glanced at Pamela. “But Pam said—”

I went to the settee and sat, arranging my skirts carefully. Paul and John took their seats again, but warily now.

“We didn’t come here for games, Evelyn,” Paul said.

“Well of course you did,” I said. “You came here to win one. But I’m afraid I’ve some conditions for my surrender.”

“You’re in no position to make conditions,” John said.

“You think not?” I smiled. “Perhaps you’ll change your mind when I tell you I’ve no interest in the house. You can keep it. Dorothy’s offered me a place here with her, and I’ve accepted. I will take the things that are rightfully mine, of course. The gifts Peter gave me, the jewelry, some of the furniture—I’ll have an inventory done and let you know what I intend to bring with me. And oh—I’ll have Peter’s allowance as well. What was it? Seventy thousand a year, I believe? In perpetuity.”

Their expressions were dumbfounded, various degrees of Atherton dropped mouths, opened eyes—strange variations on a theme. Even John looked like an Atherton in that moment—as if he had gradually taken on their characteristics simply by virtue of living among them. In the corner, Michel smiled.

“You must be mad,” Paul sputtered finally. “You truly must be mad. Why should we do such a thing?”

“If you won’t do it because your brother would have wanted it, then I have no choice but to force you to his will.”

“And how, exactly, do you intend to do that?” Pamela asked acidly. “Our offer was quite fair, though it would have cost us considerably to save you from the attention you’ve received lately. This spirit calling, Evelyn, your association with this”—she motioned to Michel—“this charlatan. It’s all the talk. People believe you must be insane yourself. You’ve no allies to speak of.”

Penny said snidely, “What will you do? Call Peter’s spirit down among us?”

“Oh, I don’t think I need go that far,” I said. I glanced at Michel, who looked as if he might burst out laughing at any moment, and then at Dorothy, who seemed uncomfortable but determined. “I think the mortal world will serve just as well, if not better.”

John sighed. “Enough of this, Evelyn. I think we’ve given you quite long enough. If you don’t mean to sign these papers, we are truly wasting our time. We’ll see you in court.” He rose.

“Sit down, John,” I said, and this time I let all my contempt for him ring in my voice.

He frowned at me in surprise.

I said, “Did none of you suppose there might have been a reason why Peter married me? I mean, after years of being presented with the best pedigrees in New York City, why would he choose an investigator’s daughter?”

“You bewitched him,” Paul said.

John sank back down onto his chair.

I smiled. “Have you any idea what goes on in those little cabarets on Chatham Street?”

Penny frowned, but I saw Paul’s sudden attention where he sat beside her.

“Or the bathhouses?” I went on. “There’s a place called the Persian Poetry Club. Very Turkish in its style, I heard. For those with a Greek temperament. They make a point of studying the more obscure Byronic texts, I’m told. The ones celebrating romantic love. In all its forms. I believe Peter even hired some of the club’s members as legal assistants. Not clever boys, but very pretty. Your brother liked them pretty.”

Slowly, slowly, I saw my words’ effect. I saw Penny and Pamela reach a dawning understanding. For Paul and John, it did not take so very long. Perhaps they’d wondered before now. They were men of the city, after all.

“You know, just the other day I was talking to a boy—a friend of Peter’s—and he said the most interesting thing. He asked me who would believe him if he told the truth about Peter’s preferences? And I thought: why, everyone would.”

“How dare you!” Pamela said. Her color rose. She looked as if she were swelling. “How dare you say those things about my brother!”

“Your brother was a sodomite,” I said sharply. “It was why he married me. It was why Benjamin Rampling killed him. Not over the law practice, but because they were lovers, and they were fighting over another man. I’ve kept it out of the papers, but all it would take is a word. Can you imagine what the
Herald
would do with such a story?”

“You’re lying.” This from Penny. She had gone so pale that she looked like a corpse. “I, for one, won’t stand for it!”

But John’s face was chiseled stone. “Quiet, Penny,” he said in a strangled voice. He looked at me. “I don’t imagine you’ve any proof of this?”

“It’s all true, John,” Dorothy said with a sigh. “I’ve known it for years. I’ve quieted the talk whenever there was any. But I won’t see you cheat Evelyn. It’s distasteful to mention such things, but I’m too old to be fastidious. I’ll do what I must to protect her.”

I added, “I know where to find his lovers. I’m certain they can produce evidence enough, if you truly require it.”

John said, “I want a list of all these people.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. How else am I to keep you from cheating me?”

“You have my word.”

“It’s not enough. The Atherton name means nothing to me now that Peter’s gone. Don’t think I would hesitate to besmirch it.”

Pamela seemed to explode. “You are a… a—”

“An Atherton?” I smiled sweetly. “Unfortunately, that’s true. I like to think I’ve taken on the very best traits of your family. I expect it will take me far.”

John said, “If we do this, you can rely on us for nothing else.”

“You’re not setting the conditions. Do what I want or I’ll tell the truth about Peter. It’s quite simple, John. Even your scheming brain ought to grasp it.”

Penny put her face in her hands. Pamela looked ashen.

Paul stood angrily. “I’d like to talk to you a moment, Evelyn. Alone.” He reached for my arm.

Michel roused from his place against the wall. “Sit down,” he said, and though his voice was pleasant enough, the danger in it was unmistakable.

Paul looked startled, but he withdrew and sat again.

With a smile, I said, “As you can see, I’ve all the allies I need.”

John spoke through clenched teeth. “Tell me again what you require.”

“Seventy thousand a year, and the things from the house I desire. You can keep the rest. Quite a fair bargain, I think.”

John nodded so stiffly I thought his neck would snap. “Very well. You have your conditions.”

“Wonderful,” I said. I smiled and picked up the teapot to pour. “I must say—how lovely it is when families get along.”

M
y dear Evelyn, how quickly even my most expansive hopes have been surpassed. Such talent as yours should be shouted from the rooftops!”

I smiled as Henry Reid bowed over my hand. The parlor was empty now but for the two of us. The night’s circle had disbanded; the only spirits remaining were those lingering in the smell of the liqueur on his breath. I pressed my fingers warmly into his palm. “You’re far too generous. I’m merely a telegraph. Your cousin’s spirit was so anxious to speak to you that I believe she would have found some other means to do so, in time.”

“It’s you who’re too generous. After the way we treated you after dear Peter’s death—I’m grateful beyond measure that you should see fit to welcome us again so readily.”

“The spirits teach us to live in everlasting love with one another. I merely follow their dictates.”

His eyes were hazel beneath his heavy gray brows, and just now they were filled with the most tender reverence. “I feel I must do something to thank you for what you’ve done.”

I fingered the sapphires—his earlier gift to me—that lay warm and heavy against my bare collarbone. I had worn deep blue satin to match them, and I knew—because I’d seen Henry Reid’s stunned expression when he’d first stepped into the parlor that night—that the effect was remarkable. I dropped my eyes demurely. “The spirits know you for an unselfish man already.”

He made a sound deep in his throat. When he spoke, his voice was thick. “My dear, do you remember what my cousin said through you?”