The Dark Between (15 page)

She took a breath and spoke gently. “Asher, I know next to nothing about Spiritualist beliefs. My father may have been—perhaps still is—a member of this Metaphysical Society, but
I
have lived a very sheltered life.” She looked down. “I can only tell you what I saw. Do you wish me to continue? I’m trying to give you the background for what happened yesterday at the British Museum.”

“The British?” Kate’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “I thought you were at the Fitzwilliam and then Coe Fen.”

Elsie glanced at Asher, who lifted a hand as though prompting her to continue.

“I will tell you about the British Museum, Kate. But first I want to explain … that is to say, I want you to understand why I take Chlorodyne.” An image of her grandmother flashed in Elsie’s mind, and she fought to still the trembling in her hands. “Not long after my encounter with the vicar’s dead niece, my
own grandmother died. She’d been living with us for at least a year and had battled illness the entire time. When my mother and I were packing her things, it happened again. One moment I was folding clothes, and the next I was convulsing. But this time my mother witnessed the episode … and the vision was much darker.” She explained her grandmother’s blackened mouth, the accusations of poisoning. “When I regained consciousness, I told Mother what I saw. She called me a liar. She … 
struck
me. After that she sought to control my episodes with Chlorodyne.”

“Good Lord,” whispered Kate.

Asher’s eyes were wide. “You accused your mother of poisoning your grandmother?”

“Of course not! I merely told her what Grandmama said. She said
I’d
poisoned her. I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“Maybe your mother did,” Asher said after a moment. “And that’s why she was so angry. Maybe her next act was to silence you, like most guilty people do to those who have information on them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean anything, Elsie.
I’m
certainly not accusing your mother of murder. It’s ridiculous to even talk about it. I’m only saying that an
imaginative
sort of person might interpret your dream to mean that your grandmother’s death wasn’t natural.”

Elsie bit her lip, wondering why men so often paired logic with condescension. “My
dream
? How can you call it that? Why would I dream something so specific … so horrible?”

He shrugged. “Maybe when your grandmother was living you saw something that you didn’t understand. Later on, your dream worked it out for you in the form of a nightmare.”

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” Elsie said, her voice shaking. “I know the difference between a dream and this sort of vision.”

Asher looked pained. “Believe me, I’ve heard that before.”

“Asher, please.” Kate glared at him before turning back to Elsie. “Why do you think this image on your photograph is Billy? I mean, it certainly reminds me of him, but … what does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” Elsie said after a moment. “It’s never happened before.”

Asher narrowed his eyes. “And yet … forgive me if this sounds rude, but you want us to believe that your camera somehow captured the image of a ghost?”

Elsie looked away, wishing she’d burned the photo and left well enough alone.

“Don’t worry about the photograph for now,” Kate said quickly. “Why were you at the British Museum?”

Elsie hesitated. “It’s difficult to explain.”

Asher opened his mouth, but then closed it again. After a moment he nodded, and to Elsie his expression seemed vaguely contrite.

“The important thing is that I forgot my Chlorodyne and had another vision. I saw a young woman. She may have been beautiful when she was alive. She wasn’t hostile like my grandmother—she didn’t terrify me—but she was terribly sad. She said again and again that she was sorry.” She tried to picture the woman’s face. “I didn’t recognize her, but she seemed to know the man who held me.”

Kate’s eyebrows shot upward. “A man
held
you?”

“This gentleman happened to be near when she had her episode,” said Asher.

“No, I don’t think it’s that simple.” Elsie paused to find the right words. “I believe he
caused
the seizure.”

Asher leaned forward. “What do you mean, he caused it?”

“It was almost as though
he
were the haunted one, and I just happened to be in the way.”

“So you’re saying your seizures are triggered by proximity to spirits of the dead?” Asher looked thoughtful. “If that’s possible, and I’m not saying such things are, it means Billy was dead on Monday.”

Elsie nodded. “I suppose so.…”

Asher turned to Kate. “When did you last see him alive?”

“Saturday night.”

“But how could Elsie see him—or photograph him, actually—on the grounds of Summerfield?” asked Asher. “I thought he lived and worked in Castle End.”

Kate cleared her throat. “Billy had been gathering information on Mr. Thompson and my father for the Saturday séance. He’d been
inside
the college, trying to get details from the staff.” She glanced at Elsie. “Does this mean he was murdered within the grounds of Summerfield?”

“Possibly,” said Elsie slowly, shivering at the thought. “Though I hardly know how to make sense of it myself.”

Asher lifted his hand. “I know Kate suspects it was murder, but there were no marks of deadly violence on the body. For all we know he may have died of exposure.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s summer,” said Kate.

Asher shrugged. “The nights have been cool. It’s easier to believe that than to believe in the existence of spirit visions.”

Elsie stared at him. “What if I could prove it to you?”

“And how would you do that?”

“What if I
try
to reach out to this boy?” A knot formed in her stomach at the very thought of it. She’d never once initiated an episode—she didn’t know if it was possible. “That way you’d
have your proof, and Kate might gain more information about what happened to Billy.”

Asher turned to Kate. “You think we’re actually going to learn anything from this? You should know better after what you’ve seen … and
done
.”

“I’m not proud of what I’ve done,” said Kate. “And there’s no doubt Martineau was a cheat. But why would Elsie lie? What’s the harm in letting her try?”

Asher sighed. “I’m not saying she’s lying. I’m skeptical because …”

“Because you think I’m delusional,” Elsie finished for him, gratified to see him flinch at her words.

“All right, then,” he said. “We’ll try it as a scientific experiment in which you prove you’re not delusional. I’ll even take a photograph, with your permission.”

Elsie frowned at the thought of Asher’s broad hands fumbling with her camera. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t trust me with it?”

“I want you watching the entire time. You’re the skeptic, after all. Kate can work the camera.”

“Really?” Kate beamed at her.

“Fine,” Asher said. “But where should we conduct this experiment?”

“We should go back to that outbuilding on the edge of the garden where Elsie had her seizure,” Kate said. “It may be that Billy … that
something
lingers there.”

“That sounds like as good a place as any,” said Asher. “When do we begin?”

“Tomorrow,” said Elsie, her gut pitting with dread.

Asher awoke the next morning with a headache.

He’d lain awake half the night, harassed by memories and doubts. Was he falling for the same swindle that had made a fool of his father? One that had made a fool of Asher, too, for that matter. A beautiful lady, educated and refined, who happened to have spirit visions. A young lady setting a trap for the next gullible Spiritualist … or the next young idiot with delusions of chivalry.

When would he finally erase Letty from his memory? He could hear her soft laugh, feel the pressure of her hand on his arm. But he also remembered the cunning curve of her mouth as Father whispered in her ear. These persistent memories made Asher hate himself all the more for not yet deadening his heart to the viper.

After nightmares of Father and his beautiful muse—whispering together, embracing—he’d woken in a sweat. Once his breathing finally calmed, he shook his head. It was old territory and he was weary of returning to it.

Nothing would come from their experiment today. No doubt Elsie would feel betrayed—a thoroughly illogical reaction, but just what he’d expect from a sensitive girl like her. It was best for her to face the truth. If she could put this nonsense behind her, perhaps she could be happy.

But Kate’s words echoed in his mind.
Why would Elsie lie?

He groaned. If Elsie was telling the truth and something
did
happen, if she saw a spirit and communicated with it, in a way that left no doubt of what she’d seen …

But that
wouldn’t
happen. Not one shred of science proved the existence of an afterlife or of man’s ability to communicate with the dead. For years he had watched his father attempt to collect such data, and the old fool had failed to gather anything
more conclusive than anecdotal evidence—and that from a load of self-serving liars, no doubt.

He walked downstairs with his head pounding and a scowl on his face.

The others were already seated at the breakfast table. Mrs. Thompson smiled at him.

“I have another telegram for you, Asher.”

His heart sank.
Father
. He took the offered envelope and stuffed it in his pocket without giving it a second glance.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Kate’s expression was quizzical, but to Asher it also seemed vaguely challenging.

“I will later,” he said stiffly.

The room fell silent—a noisy, uncomfortable sort of quiet.

“Such a beautiful morning,” said Elsie, her tone so giddy it nearly rang false. “Perfect light for camera work.”

Mrs. Thompson turned her sober gaze to the girl. “Another day of photography? But you already had Kate for the entire morning yesterday. That wasn’t enough?”

“There are a few more poses I wish to stage, Aunt. I understand Kate is expected in the library. What if I helped in the afternoon to make up for her absence this morning?” She glanced at Asher.

“Er … I could help, too,” he said quickly. “I mean, if that would make it easier to do without Kate this morning.”

Mrs. Thompson gave them each a hard look before her mouth flattened into a tight smile. “This must be quite a project you’ve undertaken, Elsie. I confess I’m glad to see you all occupied in such an artistic pursuit.” She glanced at Mr. Thompson, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “I’ll tell Miss Freeman to expect you this afternoon.”

“Thank you, Aunt.” Elsie beamed. “I wish to take a
photograph by the outbuilding on the far reaches of the college gardens, perhaps using the doorway as a frame. But the door is locked. Might we borrow the key?”

“I’m not sure where that key would be.” Mrs. Thompson turned to her husband. “Oliver?”

Mr. Thompson frowned. “Do you mean the old laboratory? The groundskeeper has a key, but he’s off in the country visiting family at the moment. I used to have a spare.…” He trailed off, looking sharply at Elsie. “Must you get
inside
the lab? It’s rather in disrepair—the building’s not been used since we built the new Science Annex.”

Asher noted the flush in Elsie’s cheeks as she bowed her head contritely.

“It was just a thought, Uncle.”

When the Thompsons finally rose to attend to their duties, Asher eagerly followed their example. Kate raised an eyebrow at him. Did she think he was looking forward to this test of Elsie’s abilities? He just wished the entire business to be over with.

Elsie led the way to the old lab. Once there she set up her tripod, mounted the camera, and gave Kate a quick lesson in activating the shutter. Asher watched in silence, still annoyed to have been denied this privilege.

Kate peered through the lens. “When should I take the photograph? How will I know when you’re seeing a spirit?”

Elsie frowned. “Good question. I’m not certain I’ll be able to tell you.” She turned to him. “What do you think, Asher?”

He thought back to her convulsions at the British Museum. After the initial seizure she’d gone deathly quiet and still. Then what happened? Had she opened her eyes? That was it—she’d appeared to be looking at someone or something. It had almost seemed that she was
listening
.

“Wait until she goes quiet and opens her eyes,” he said to
Kate. “She’ll still be in the trance, but I’m guessing that’s when she experiences her vision.”

Elsie rubbed her temple, frowning. “I purposely didn’t take my medicine this morning, and my head is beginning to pound most dreadfully.”

“Then we should get on with it,” Kate said simply.

Asher crossed his arms. “What can I do?”

“Have an open mind,” Elsie said.

Her direct gaze brought heat to his cheeks. He nodded slowly and shoved his hands back in his pockets.

Elsie made her way to where she’d stood the day of the photograph. She clasped her hands and closed her eyes. Asher turned to see Kate peering through the camera lens. With her head down the curve of her neck seemed almost swan-like.