The Spiritualist Read Free Page A

with a smile, a flirtatious glance, that I wasn’t certain I’d heard the intimation within them. I was suddenly off balance. I realized with discomfort that my dismissal of him had been too quick. He was more clever than I had first thought.
    But then we were at the table, and he was introducing me to the rest of the party, and I noticed that they were all from the higher levels of society, all of them dressed in the best clothes and jewels, all monied. Of course they were; this was Dorothy Bennett’s home, after all, and the Bennetts were one of the best families in New York City. To capture Dorothy Bennett had been quite a coup for a man like Michel Jourdain. I wondered how he had accomplished it and found myself reluctantly impressed at the feat. No one knew better than I how difficult it was to seize the interest of society—or to maintain it.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Robert Dudley,” he was saying as he gestured to a sandy-haired man with a sallow-faced, rather disapproving-looking wife. “Dudley’s searching for his brother, who was lost in Mexico during the war. We’ve achieved some success in finding his spirit.”
    “Under Michel’s expert tutelage, of course,” Robert Dudley said, taking my hand. “How pleased we are to meet you at last.”
    His wife smiled, though it scarcely improved her dour face. But her voice was kind. “You must call me Grace, my dear. We’ve so looked forward to your visit. Peter is such a favorite of ours.”
    “Jacob Colville,” a tall, darkly mustachioed man introduced himself. “Welcome, Mrs. Atherton.”
    “Colville lost his wife this past spring,” Michel told me.
    “How terrible.”
    “I miss her,” Jacob said. “But how can I complain when she experiences such peace now?”
    “You’ve contacted her, then?”
    “Oh yes. Quite often.”
    I smiled. “How reassuring that must be for you, Mr. Colville.”
    “Very,” he said. “I must say, Mrs. Atherton, I’m surprised to see you here. I’d thought you must be a doubter. I’m happy to see I’m wrong. Atherton is a lucky man indeed to have a wife with such an open mind.”
    I felt a twinge of guilt, but still I kept my smile. “I hope any doubts I have might be proved away.”
    “You’ve come to the right place for it,” said a small, dark-haired woman with a demure prettiness whose name I learned was Sarah Grimm. The diamonds in her dangling earrings twinkled to match the light that shone in her eyes when she looked at Michel Jourdain. “Michel is the preeminent medium in the city.”
    Michel inclined his head humbly. “You place me too high.”
    “Not at all,” she said, and I heard the echo of Peter’s reverence in her voice. She fingered the heavy ruby brooch at the bertha of her deep rose-colored gown as if she wanted to tear it off and press it into his hands, and I had the distinct impression that it wouldn’t have been unusual for her to do such a thing. “Mrs. Hardinge and Mrs. Fox cannot come close to matching you, and I’ve seen them both. I know.”
    “Sarah’s right about that.” A man with curling red hair set his arm around her shoulders and gave her an intimate smile. “You’re in for a treat, Mrs. Atherton. The world that communicates with us through Jourdain is a remarkable one.”
    “It has nearly made Maull put aside his Fourierist tendencies, hasn’t it?” Robert Dudley teased.
    The redheaded man flushed and then raised his chin proudly. “On the contrary, Dudley. Rather it has inflamed them. To know there is a chance at a world where love is the supreme ruler—”
    “Wilson,” Sarah admonished quietly.
    He flushed again and looked at me. “My pardon, Mrs. Atherton. Sometimes my… passions… run away with me.”
    “You must all call me Evelyn,” I said. “And please, don’t apologize. I’m exhausted with the fashion of boredom. It’s refreshing to see enthusiasm, whatever the reason.”
    “I’m Wilson Maull,” he said with a smile. “And you are indeed as