Boston Metaphysical Society Read online

  “You’d better if you want this deal to go through with Tillenghast.”

  Hal dismissed his brother with a wave of his hand. “Bah! You’ll never agree to work with him. They know it. I know it. Everyone knows it. Even Sampson knows it.”

  Jonathan stood up, walked over to Hal, and loomed over him like an ominous shadow. “Then why are you here, Hal? What is it you really want?”

  Hal stood up straight, his upper lip quivering into a snarl, then backed off. “What I want, little brother, is to be far drunker than I am now,” he said as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He stumbled back, grabbed a carafe of bourbon, and lurched out of the library.

  Jonathan gave Sampson a knowing look. The house manager put his glass down and followed the elder Weldsmore out of the room.

  “Make sure he doesn’t fall down the stairs again,” Jonathan called after him. He then turned, crossed his arms, and stared into the fire again.

  The Tillenghasts were using his brother, but to what end, he wondered. Hal had his own agenda, which might include taking control of House Weldsmore. Jonathan wasn’t sure, but he assumed Tillenghast wanted to forge an alliance with him without the other Great Houses knowing about it. Tillenghast needed him to make his plan work, but why send Thomas and Hal? Why not a proper emissary? All of these machinations had to be a subterfuge for something else. Jonathan had to figure out what that was before Alfred Tillenghast started another war.

  ***

  Elizabeth heard the faint sounds of a piano as she walked down a hallway in the Gardner mansion. The noise from the surrounding crowd was muffled, as if she had cotton in her ears, but the music from the piano grew sharper. Anxious that she was missing the performance, Elizabeth picked up her skirts so they wouldn’t trip her as she hurried through what was now a throng of tightly packed people. She pushed and shoved her way through, not caring about decorum. When she got to the edge of the crowd, she lurched forward and found herself staring at a blank wall. She reached out to touch it. The wall was warm, soothing even. The heat wound its way up her arm and circled around her neck, soothing her. It touched the base of her skull, probing, then without warning pierced her brain. Elizabeth screamed.

  She opened her eyes to find herself staring at a dilapidated brick wall. Droplets of water trickled through the mold ridden cracks. The dank smell of an unventilated room assaulted her nose. An old bed spring dug into her shoulder, and whoever’s body she inhabited turned over.

  Rage and disappointment overwhelmed her. She was having another vision.

  The nature of her gift allowed her to inhabit the body of someone in the near or far future. How far, she was never certain. However, by the style of the clothing and the condition of the building, Elizabeth guessed she was somewhere in the South Side. Her visions never took her outside of Boston. It had not occurred to her before that proximity might be an important factor, but perhaps she should consider that.

  Elizabeth wished she had the ability to control the bodies she ‘visited.’ Helpless, all she could do was wait and attempt to figure out why her psyche was drawn not only to this person, but to this time and place. Where in time, she wasn’t sure, but her gut told her it was in the near future.

  Her host’s eyes were open, so she could confirm the hands she stared at belonged to a girl, perhaps a teenager. Calloused and scarred from some sort of menial labor, the newer cuts were healing. The girl gazed across the room, which allowed Elizabeth to see she was not alone. A number of cots were set up, and people wearing the same type of russet brown-colored clothing were sleeping or muttering to themselves, some curled up in a ball rocking. Elizabeth first presumed she was inside an insane asylum, but there were no orderlies or guards, nor were there bars on any of the four windows or the solid-looking door. She had never been inside such an institution but knew they kept the inmates locked up and supervised. Here no one seemed too interested in doing much of anything.

  Footsteps caught the girl’s attention. They came from beyond the door. Anxious, she sat up. Elizabeth felt her heart race and skin perspire. The girl was afraid.

  Elizabeth hoped whoever was coming might provide her with some answers, but instead something strange happened. The footsteps stopped in front of the door, and an orange-reddish glow began to emanate around the doorframe. It was if a single sun rose behind it. The girl’s heart beat faster, as she raised her fists and beat herself on the head.

  “Get out! Get out!” the girl screamed. She dug into her scalp trying to tear out her hair.

  Did the girl sense Elizabeth’s presence, or was it something else? Elizabeth winced inwardly at every stroke as if she was assaulting herself. She cried out to the girl, “Stop it! Stop hurting yourself!” even though she knew the girl could not hear her. She tried to force herself to wake up so the girl would stop torturing herself, but it was no use. Something was holding her back. It felt like another presence, but how could that be?

  Through the girl’s tears, Elizabeth noticed the door opening. The glare of the light blinded her as a blast of heat washed over her body. A tear streamed down her face it was so intense, but she forced herself to try to see what lay beyond the door. The outline of a person formed in its aurora; its features were fuzzy and indistinct. She was trying to make out who or what it was when someone or something tugged at her.

  “Let me go!” Elizabeth shrieked.

  “Elizabeth!” Samuel yelled. “Wake up!”

  She opened her eyes to see her husband sitting on top of her and holding her arms down. “Samuel?”

  The fear and worry on his face told her what had happened. Not only were her visions back, but they were obviously stronger and even more visceral than before.

  “Thank God!” He hugged her to him like he was never going to let her go. When he finally did, the detective part of him took over. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m so sorry, Samuel.” She shuddered. “I thought the visions had stopped.”

  “It’s not your fault.” He got off of her and held her in his arms. “But there must be a reason you had one now. Tell me what you saw.”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath and told him about what she’d thought was at first a dream about being at the Gardner party, then how it switched into a vision and how she’d had the sensation that the girl may have sensed her presence.

  “Is that even possible?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  “Too many questions that neither of us can answer, I’m afraid.” He kissed the top of her head. “We need to go to someone who can.”

  “My father will never allow it.”

  “It’s not up to him, Elizabeth,” Samuel declared. “You have to learn how to handle your gift, and the only people I know who can do that are the South Side Irish.”

  She shook her head as she pulled away from him.

  “We don’t need to tell him. Not everything we do is your father’s business.”

  “Yes, it is.” Elizabeth sighed. “I’m heir to House Weldsmore. Everything I do is his business. You must accept that. Besides, I’m not going to lie to Father. Not anymore.”

  “There’s something else.” He handed her a glass of water.

  Elizabeth took it as she sat up on the edge of their bed. “What?”

  “Look in the mirror.”

  She stood up and faced her full-length mirror. She did not notice when she dropped her water glass. All of her exposed skin was sunburned. Not badly, but pink enough to give the impression she had been out in the sun a touch too long. She approached the mirror and reached up and touched her cheek with one finger, pressing on it to see the skin turn white then pink again.

  “How can this be?”

  Samuel walked up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “We have to find out.”

  She nodded then turned to hug him. “Let me tell him. It will be better that way.”

  ***

  Jonathan ate his breakfast quickly the next morning and head
ed to his study. Sampson had already delivered the telegrams that had come in overnight and hovered over Jonathan waiting for the various responses that had to be sent out as soon as possible.

  “Will Mr. Evans be coming to the house today, sir?” Sampson asked.

  “No, he has too much to do at the office, but I’ll go in later.” Jonathan wrote a series of missives and handed them to Sampson. “Send these out now.”

  Like most Great Houses, they had their own telegraph machine, and other than Jonathan, only Sampson and one other underbutler were trained on how to use it. However, the house manager was tasked to handle the more sensitive messages. It was a habit Jonathan had started not long after his grandmother had died and he had taken over the business.

  “Another one came in.” Sampson handed him the telegram but didn’t immediately let go of it.

  Jonathan frowned. “What is it?”

  “The shipping yards in Glasgow and Brest have been destroyed. And a small workshop in Aumund, Germany.”

  “What?” Jonathan yanked the telegram out of his hand and read it several times before putting it down. “Tillenghast didn’t waste any time, did he? Even creating rumors that there was something supernatural about the attacks.”

  “You can’t really believe that demons had anything to do with it?” Sampson asked.

  “Rumors and innuendos followed by violence will distract people from figuring out what House Tillenghast is really doing.” Jonathan gathered up his briefcase and the rest of the telegrams. “Tell Brendan to bring the car around and get my guardsmen in here. I want security doubled at the house and the shipping yards.”

  Sampson gave him a slight bow and passed Samuel and Elizabeth as he hurried out.

  Jonathan noticed them as he stood up to leave. “Whatever you need, it’ll have to wait until later.”

  “No, Father. We have to talk now.” Elizabeth raised her hand and motioned to the guardsmen to close the massive doors to her father’s study.

  Stunned, the guardsmen did not react until Jonathan yelled at them. “Close it!”

  Jonathan said nothing else until the heavy doors shut with a heavy thud. “This had better be important.” He put his briefcase down and crossed his arms across his chest. He only then realized Elizabeth was sunburnt. “What’s happened?”

  She took a deep breath, then spoke. “My visions are back.”

  “Last night?”

  “Yes.”

  Jonathan uncrossed his arms and sat down in his chair. “You were there?” he asked, staring at Samuel.

  His son-in-law nodded. “It took me five minutes to wake her up.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t just a nightmare?”

  Elizabeth thrust her sunburnt arms forward. “I certainly didn’t get this at the Gardner party.”

  “How is this even possible?”

  “I don’t know, which is why I need help in understanding this ‘gift’ I have.” Elizabeth squeezed her husband’s hand. “Samuel knows people among the Irish who can teach me how to deal with it.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “No. I forbid it.”

  “Look at her!” Samuel yelled. “This has gone far beyond what she has ever experienced before. It affected her directly. What if next time it does her even more harm?”

  “Father.” Elizabeth’s voice was slow and steady. “I’m going to do this whether you approve of it or not. I refuse to wallow in ignorance.”

  Jonathan sat lost in thought. He could feel Samuel and Elizabeth’s eyes on him as he weighed what to do. Finally, he spoke. “All right. But you must have my guardsmen with you at all times.”

  Samuel shook his head. “That will never work. They’d be spotted instantly on the South Side.”

  “That’s the point,” Jonathan snapped at him. “They are a deterrent.”

  His son-in-law sneered at him. “If I show up with two Great House henchmen at my back, anyone who might help us will disappear like that.” Samuel snapped his fingers.

  Jonathan grimaced. “Point taken.” He leaned back in his chair, pondering what to do. “Can you guarantee her safety?”

  Elizabeth stepped between Samuel and Jonathan. “No one can do that, Father. Especially since my visions have changed. I need to do this. For myself and House Weldsmore.”

  “Very well.” Jonathan pressed the button on the desk to signal his guardsmen to open the doors. “But don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

  “As if I would allow that to happen,” Samuel said as he offered his arm to his wife. The two of them walked out of the study as soon as the doors were wide enough.

  As Jonathan watched them leave, the sorrow of Adaline’s death encased him like an invisible cocoon. He had hoped that Elizabeth’s joy in her new marriage would let him break free, but it hadn’t. He was afraid. Jonathan realized Samuel was more than capable of protecting his daughter, but he hated feeling helpless. Or worse—irrelevant.

  Now he had no choice but to hand over the one thing that brought him happiness to a man he barely trusted.

  8

  It took Samuel a few days to reach his contacts on the South Side. In the meantime, he and Elizabeth continued planning out the details for their office on the wharf. Elizabeth dove into organizing their new business endeavor with such ferociousness he had to remind her to eat. It was obvious she was trying to shove her vision, and all its implications, out of her mind. He wasn’t sure how to cheer her up other than to support her efforts to redesign the interior of the warehouse. It turned out to be fun, and she had a flare for it. Samuel had been working on his own for so long he had forgotten how nice it was to have a partner.

  After three days, he received a note from an old informant telling him he had found a medium willing to meet with them. When he told Elizabeth, she bit her lip then nodded.

  “When do we leave?” she asked.

  “This evening. Right before sundown. You’ll need to wear something less . . . opulent.” Samuel informed her. “In fact. You should dress as a Middle District lady. Not only there, but when we go to the warehouse as well. They come and go on the South Side with more frequency than, say, Elizabeth Weldsmore Hunter of House Weldsmore. And it’ll be easier not to constantly hide from the house staff when we go there.”

  “Mrs. Owen should be able to help me find appropriate attire,” Elizabeth remarked.

  Samuel frowned. “I know you love her dearly, but can you trust her not to talk about it?”

  “Absolutely. There is no way she’d endanger my life. But . . .” Elizabeth pondered for a moment. “I’ll need to send Sally on an errand. She’s a good girl, but might accidentally say something.”

  “While you deal with that, I’ll inform your father.”

  Elizabeth leaned in and kissed him. “That’s for luck.”

  Though Jonathan had agreed to their plan earlier, Samuel knew he would change his mind—and he did.

  “I don’t like it.” His father-in-law paced behind his desk in the study. “I want guards with you.”

  Samuel shook his head. “They’d be spotted. I have a better idea. Let me hire some local talent on the South Side to use as bodyguards. I won’t tell them who Elizabeth is, but say a lady needs to call upon one of their own and is nervous about being there. It wouldn’t be the first time a Middle District woman went to the South Side to have her fortune read or get a love charm.”

  Jonathan stopped pacing and looked shocked. “Are you serious? Middle District women do such idiotic things?”

  Samuel shrugged. “I imagine some of the ladies, and a few gentlemen, who attended the Gardner party, have indulged themselves.”

  Jonathan dismissed Samuel with a wave of his hand. “Fine. Take care of it. I’ll tell Sampson to keep the staff preoccupied later. No need anyone seeing Elizabeth not dressed in her usual attire.”

  “Elizabeth and I have already done that.”

  Annoyed at Samuel for thinking ahead of him, Jonathan scowled.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something,
sir?” A voice boomed behind him. “Something Mr. Hunter should be aware of?”

  Startled, Samuel whirled around to see the house manager standing nearby. “My God, Sampson, how do you do that?”

  “One learns how to tread lightly in the household of Beatrice Weldsmore.” The house manager gave him a slight but knowing smile.

  “What am I forgetting?” Jonathan asked, not wanting to know the answer.

  “The . . . ‘car accident,’ sir.”

  Samuel’s face changed from puzzlement to realization. “It was an assassination attempt.”

  “A failed one.”

  “That’s why you’ve been hypervigilant.” Samuel marched over to Jonathan, so close to him that he could smell his breath. “Do not ever withhold vital information that could affect my wife’s safety again. Are we clear?”

  Jonathan took a step back, nodded. “Perfectly.”

  ***

  Sampson waited until Samuel had left the room before he spoke again. “You must trust in him, sir.”

  “It seems I don’t I have a choice. Elizabeth is as stubborn and as smart as her mother was. She’s going to do this thing whether I like it or not.” Jonathan sat down. “I still worry that whoever is behind the assassination attempt will come after her.”

  Sampson shook his head. “Even Alfred Tillenghast would not cross that line. Besides, Mr. Hunter wouldn’t have survived this long without knowing how to deal with unsavory characters.” Sampson stepped closer to the desk. “If I might be so bold?”

  Jonathan peered at the older man. “You usually aren’t so reticent about voicing your opinions in private, Sampson. Why do it now?”

  Sampson held a special position within the Weldsmore household, but he also knew it was possible to overstep his bounds. He had known Jonathan Weldsmore since he was a boy, and the man felt things very deeply even if he did not acknowledge it anymore. Sampson took a deep breath. “You must learn how to let her go, sir. She’s a grown woman and married.”

  “I know that, Sampson.”

  “Yes, sir. In your head, but not your heart.”