Something Strange and Deadly (4 page)

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

S
aturday morning arrived, and when the sun hit my
eyes, yesterday's horrors flooded my brain. The train station, the letter, the séance—they all crashed in over me.

I hadn't forgotten my decision to see the Spirit-Hunters, but I also hadn't worked out a way to do it. It was one thing to run household errands alone, but to go to the crowded Exhibition by myself would raise questions.

As Mary helped me dress, I considered whether sneaking away was worth Mama's inevitable suspicion.

Mary gripped my corset laces. “Inhale.”

I sucked in, and the corset's whalebones cinched in. “Too tight!”

“Too fat is more like it.” She gave one final tug before deftly knotting the laces. Then she helped me layer on the petticoats, bustle, skirts, and polonaise of the same gray gown I'd worn yesterday. It was a walking gown, so the train was shorter and allowed easier navigation of the Philadelphia sidewalks. Plus, the smoky color had the advantage of not showing dust.

“Where is it you're goin'?” Mary asked, her mouth pruned skeptically. “You did the shopping yesterday, and the bank is closed today.” As my mother's devoted servant, Mary kept no secrets from Mama—or rather, she only kept secrets when the payment was good.

I ignored her probing and focused on pinning my gray, feathered hat at the perfect jaunty angle. As I was pushing in the last pin, a loud knock startled us.

Mary and I exchanged wide-eyed glances before racing from the room. We reached the foyer just as Jeremy opened the door to find Allison Wilcox, flushed and beautiful in a sky blue walking gown. My eyebrows rose in a combination of awe and envy as she swept past Jeremy into the foyer.

“What brings you here so early?” I asked. A morning call could ruin my trip to the Spirit-Hunters—what if Mama woke up before Allison left?

“After last night, Clarence, Mother, and I were dreadfully worried.” She clapped her hands and leaned close. “But it was all a grand hoax?”

I tried to murmur an agreement, but all that came out was a strange gurgling sound. If only it
had been
a hoax.

Allison's eyebrows shot up. “I knew it! Now come with me to the Continental. I'm just
dying
to have tea and show off my new gown.”

I blinked rapidly, at a complete loss for words. She wanted to spend time with me? And at the Continental Hotel no less?

Allison, sensing I needed an extra nudge, added, “I heard the Brazilian emperor is staying there! What if we caught a glimpse? Patience and Mercy would just
die
with envy!”

I forced a chuckle. Emperors? Overpriced tea? This was definitely not how I wanted to spend my morning—to say nothing of my outfit, which was absolutely unfit for luxurious society.

“Um, wh-who would chaperone?” I asked.

She gave a tinkling laugh and shook her head. “We don't need a chaperone, Eleanor! It's not as if we're going to the theater or a party. I go to tea without Mother all the time.” She held out her arm and crooked it, waiting for me to slip my own arm through. “Now, are you coming or not?”

No chaperone? But that meant... My breath caught in my throat. That meant I had an
escape
! Ugly dress or not, this was a gaping wide opportunity for an unrestrained trip to the Spirit-Hunters!

My lips twitched with excitement, and before Mary could utter a protest, I snatched my parasol from beside the door and scooted outside with Allison.

We scurried to her family's carriage—a well-made, black coach that could easily fit eight people.

Allison slid across the purple satin cushions to a window, tied back the lilac curtains, and then gestured for me to do the same. As I fumbled with ribbons, the horses clattered to a start.

I leaned close to the carriage window and watched the mansions, elaborate fences, and well-tended yards roll past. Usually I navigated the hour-long trek into the city on foot or sat crammed on a horse-drawn streetcar. To ride without dust, mud, or horse manure flying into my face—no wonder Allison could wear such a brilliant blue dress!

I snuck a glance at her beautiful gown and then stared mournfully at my own. My petticoat hems were frayed from all the scrubbing I'd put them through, and they'd long since evolved from white to a mottled brown. Plus, there was a rather obvious rip from that dratted old man's boot at the depot.

Allison poked me with her parasol. “So how'd you do it?”

“Do what?” I shifted my body to face her.

“The séance, of course! How'd you get the floor to shake and the air to freeze?”

I lifted one shoulder and said casually, “It was all real, of course.”

“Pshaw! I don't believe that.” She wagged her finger at me. “Your mother used to throw all sorts of séances—
my
mother told me so—but they were never so wild as that.”

I frowned. How did Mrs. Wilcox know about Mama's séances? I thought we'd only known the Wilcox family a short while. Strange...

The carriage pulled onto busy Chestnut Street. Hackneys and wagons rattled by, and as we crossed the bridge with the Schuylkill River glittering below, the first buildings of downtown Philadelphia came into view. Shop after shop—all with enormous signs shouting their wares: B
OOTS
& S
HOES
, S
TRAW
G
OODS
, G
LASS
& S
ILVERWARE
—were interspersed with saloons, banks, restaurants, and offices.

Allison prodded me with her parasol again. “Clarence wants to know if you're available tomorrow.”

“Huh?” I grunted.

“He wants to take you for a drive tomorrow afternoon, if you're free.”

A strange sense of unreality washed over me, and I eyed her with disbelief. No one had ever invited me for a drive before, so why the dickens would Clarence Wilcox want to?

I voiced my question in slightly politer terms.

“He said he likes your company.”

I sputtered a laugh. There was
no way
Clarence had enjoyed my company. Sakes alive, he'd caught me eavesdropping!

Allison scowled. “Why're you laughing? What's wrong with—”

“It's not that,” I interrupted. “I'm just surprised is all... but also delighted.” I grinned. It felt false, but Allison didn't seem to notice.

Handsome Clarence asking me for a drive... It was rather surprising, yet my stomach fluttered at the prospect.
And wait until Mama hears this news!

“So I'll tell him you've accepted?” Allison asked.

“Yes, yes. Tell him to come at half past three.”

She squealed and bounced across the carriage to plop down beside me. “I wish young men would call on
me
! Clarence has some rather handsome chums, you know, but he says I'm not allowed to flirt with any of them. Of course, I haven't seen them much lately....” Her words faded, and she gnawed her bottom lip.

“Is everything all right?”

She sighed dramatically. “Oh yes, it's merely curious. They used to come every day because of the election, but I haven't seen any of them in more than a week.” She paused and looked out the window. “Oh look!” Her face lit up and she pointed. “Just look at those crowds.”

I followed her gaze and saw the Continental Hotel towering over the wide, open intersection of Chestnut and Ninth Streets. The side that faced us was elegant, pale sandstone; and Allison was right: people were everywhere—standing on the sidewalks, meandering around the front columns, and gawking at the top floor.

“They all want to see the emperor too.” Allison flashed her eyebrows at me. “But they can't get into the tearoom, and I can. It's so wonderful to be rich, isn't it?”

Allison and I entered the hotel's lobby. Travelers marched past us, their poor footmen lumbering behind with trunks and bags. My heels clicked on the marble floor, and I couldn't keep the smile off my face. The last time I'd been here, Father had been alive and Elijah was still a boy. We were on our way to the library, and Father had stopped by for a quick business meeting. Elijah and I had stared, mouths agape, at the colorful, ornate frescoes on the ceiling, the dangling chandeliers, and the white, ionic columns. Then as soon as Father had left us (with orders to sit quietly while he ran up to a different floor), we'd leaped into action, pretending we were a prince and princess trapped in an enchanted palace.

My smile fell. Elijah was in trouble, yet I was here instead of out finding the Spirit-Hunters to help him. I had to get away from Allison as soon as possible, but without offending her in the process.

“Oh, don't look so wretched,” Allison whined. She grabbed my arm and waved to a glass-windowed storefront. “Let's shop while we wait.”

Allison had refused to take the stairs, and that meant waiting for the elevator to deposit its passengers above. So I followed her into Charles Oakford & Sons.

The Continental Hotel's ground floor was filled with expensive shops to entice Philadelphia's wealthiest and most powerful visitors. This particular store held some of the most dazzling products I'd ever seen. Long tables were covered in delicate straw bonnets, feminine top hats, dramatic wide brims—any hat a girl could ever want was for sale in this store.

For sale, and outrageously expensive.

A gray-haired clerk with muttonchops moved to help us, but Allison bypassed him without so much as a glance. Her eyes were locked on a blue silk bonnet that matched her dress.

“This is just
divine
.” She swooped the hat off its display. “Let's each buy a new hat! Then we can wear them to tea and stun all the men with our beauty.”

I blanched. Buy a
hat
? Just like that with no thought to the cost? “But I already have one.” I waved vaguely at my head. “And I can't buy things without my mother's permission.”

Her excited expression froze. “What?”

“I-I'm not allowed to buy anything new without my mother to approve it.” It wasn't true—not since I'd taken over our family's finances. All the same, it was the best excuse I could conjure.

Her nose wrinkled. “That's silly. I'm going to look stunning in something new, and you'll just look drab in that old thing.”

Heat crept into my cheeks. “Well, if I'm drab, then that means you'll look all the more beautiful.”

Her eyes popped wide, and a smile flashed on her lips. “True! I hadn't thought of it like—oh look! The vertical train is here!” She tossed the blue hat onto the nearest table. I barely had time to shoot the clerk an apologetic grin before she whisked me out of the store.

Several breathless moments later, I was wedged in the tiny, gilded compartment beside Allison and a set of somber couples. A porter stepped inside and slid a metal grate over the entrance.

“Second floor,” Allison chirped. With a shudder, the cubicle began to rise.

I fidgeted with the buttons on my gloves. I'd never been on an elevator—or vertical train, as some people still called it. But when, after several seconds, nothing happened but slow ascension, I heaved a sigh. Outside the grate, I could see the next floor coming nearer and nearer until the great contraption finally stopped. The porter opened the grate.

Allison crooked her arm in mine and guided me down a narrow hall with maroon rugs and shiny mirrors. Before us was an open door from which sunlight shone and voices murmured over the tinkle of silverware.

The Continental Hotel's famous tearoom.

With each step my insides roiled. Mama may have held a successful séance last night and the Wilcoxes may have befriended us, but I still wasn't overly comfortable in high society. It was one thing to learn the rules of the well-bred, but quite another to actually
use
them. All the judging and gossip—I simply wasn't very good at it.

We passed through the door and into a crowded, pastel room lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. The round tables were covered with lacy tablecloths, and almost all of them were full.

A waiter dressed in a prim black suit guided us to a table beside a window, spouted out a long list of items, and then waited for our orders.

My heart plummeted to my stomach. He hadn't listed any prices!

“A pot of tea,” Allison said. “The fresh fruit platter, a sampling of your pastries, and some of that French bread, whatever it is called.” She glanced at me. “Anything else?”

I shook my head frantically. All the blood had fled my face. What the blazes did etiquette demand when faced with no money?

Allison nodded at the waiter, and he glided off. Then she picked up her earlier conversation, completely unaware of my inner panic.

I slid my hands into my pockets and tried to feel out how many coins I had. Three nickels, four dimes, and a quarter. There was no way it was going to be enough, and this was not the sort of place that would let me pay on
credit
.

I inhaled deeply, ready to come clean about my “momentary absence of funds,” when Allison's constant stream of words suddenly broke off.

Her eyes narrowed to vicious slits; her gaze was behind me. “Those lying ninnies,” she said through clenched teeth.

I risked a glance back. It was the Virtue Sisters with two mustached young men.

“They told me they were busy today,” Allison continued. “Why would they say that?”

The sisters noticed us, and though their faces momentarily hardened, they quickly brandished fake smiles and strode toward us.

I twisted back to Allison. “What did they tell you?”

“That they were too busy tending to their mother after last night's horrors to join us for tea.” She gritted her teeth and then flourished her own false grin.