The Spirit Room Read Free

shoulder. “Let’s have the ginger cake, Anna.” Mrs. Fielding beckoned to Anna with a wave of one hand and, with the other, pressed down once again on Izzie’s shoulder, more gently this time. Izzie gave in, sinking back into the chair.
     
    “Perhaps we should go now,” Izzie said, wanting to flick Mrs. Fielding’s hand away.
     
    “Clara, would you like to continue with the lessons?” Mrs. Fielding asked.
     
    Having just taken a large bite of ginger cake, Clara chewed for a long moment, then looked up toward the glass chandelier over the table and then gulped down her cake. She glanced over at Izzie and squinted again. That squint was a bad sign. Clara was afraid of something and wanting something at the same time. Clara looked at Mrs. Fielding.
     
    “Yes, ma’am.”
     
    Oh , rubbish and rot . Clara wanted the lessons, ghosts and all. Well, that was going to make getting out of Papa’s scheme a lot harder.
     
    “And why is that, dear?”
     
    Clara fidgeted in her seat. “I want to learn something new.” She grasped the edge of the tablecloth and began to twist it. “And I want to help our father. He needs us.”
     
    Papa’s girl again. Clara needed some talking to. Papa had run away from them. He had deserted his family. Why wasn’t she angry at him for that?
     
    “That’s very noble dear, but this is special work, sacred work. I’m sure you and Isabelle can find other ways to help the family.”
     
    “There’s something else,” Clara said. “I think Izzie is like you and Anna.”
     
    Mrs. Fielding, blue eyes sparkling, examined Izzie.
     
    “Papa got you thinking that way. It isn’t so.” Izzie shoved her teacup and cake plate away. “It’s ridiculous.”
     
    “Izzie says things sometimes that no one else knows. When someone knocks on the door at our rooms, she always guesses who it is.”
     
    “That’s nothing, Clara. I just know how people knock. Mrs. Purcell knocks three times firmly. Miss Mary Carter and Miss Jane Carter both knock very lightly but Mary keeps going and Jane is short with it.”
     
    “Girls, I can return your father’s money to him or we can continue and see if your transcendent powers develop. It may very well turn out that neither of you have a gift. If we go on, I expect your utmost dedication and concentration on the exercises.”
     
    Egging them on with nods and smiles, Anna rose and stood by her fancy tea tray. These women certainly knew something extraordinary. Whether it was about religion or theater or death or artful deception, it wasn’t entirely clear. Izzie clenched her hands together in her lap. If they got their money back, Papa could return it to whomever he borrowed it from and there would be less chance of trouble later. If they went on with the lessons, she and Clara would be mediums, either true ones or charlatans, as soon as Papa set them up.
     
    Mrs. Fielding stroked Izzie’s hair lightly.
     
    “Isabelle, I think this is up to you.”
     
    Suddenly Anna was making a terrible ruckus, her shoulders gyrating, her arms flailing about. Eyes closed and neck craned back, Anna lifted her face toward the ceiling. At first her breathing was belabored, then she yipped piercingly like a wolf cub.
     
    “She’s in a trance,” Mrs. Fielding whispered as she extracted one of Clara’s hands from its grip on the tablecloth and held it, then she reached down for Izzie’s hands and tried to unclench them, but Izzie refused. “I think she is going to speak for her spirit now. Don’t be afraid. He’s a kind gentleman.”
     
    Anna opened her mouth and a low, scratchy voice poured forth. “Clara, Izzie, your mother wants to speak to you.”
     
    Izzie’s heart cramped. She glanced over at Clara who was sitting rigid with thunderstruck eyes. This was certainly an inventive way to get them to take the lessons, but it was cruel.
     
    “She says your life will not be complete until you embrace Spiritualism, Isabelle.” Anna’s voice was sweet