Page 16 of Unforeseen Affairs
“Never… apologize?” he finally said, his thick brows drawn.
“Well,” Charlotte said, watching the approach of a young lady from the corner of her eye, “at any rate, never twice for the same transgression. It’s tiresome.”
The young woman drew up alongside Sir Colin and placed a hand upon his elbow, laughing.
“What transgression?” she asked.
It was her left hand upon his elbow; Charlotte noted she’d no ring on it.
“I beg your pardon, Miss Sedley, this is…” Sir Colin paused before finishing, “Miss Pearce. A good friend of my family.”
He moved to pat Miss Pearce’s hand, an uneasy gesture if ever there was one. But rather than break away, the girl laced her arm through his, grinning like a madwoman all the while.
“What transgression was Colin referring to, Miss Sedley?” Miss Pearce looked up at Sir Colin, still smiling.
It wasn’t that Charlotte disliked smiling. But she loathed dishonesty, and this expression was certainly counterfeit. Miss Pearce obviously suspected Charlotte of being flirtatious. She’d better make it plain that the idea of hooking a young naval officer was the furthest thing from her mind.
“He might tell you,” Charlotte answered, before abruptly brushing past the pair of them.
Mrs. Gearing and the fraudster Mr. Bass had moved on, and were now standing watch as his assistant, Mr. Trenwith, placed chairs around the large table in deliberate fashion. Mrs. Stone remained where they’d left her, her face cold and empty.
With nothing else for her to do, Charlotte went to stand beside her mentor and wait.
Chapter Five
Mr.Basshadbegunoffering seats to the attendees. He was clearly doing his best to appear solicitous, but Charlotte knew this to be another layer of deception. The most eager believers would flank him, while the most skeptical would no doubt be seated farthest away.
The anguish coming off Mrs. Stone was nearly unbearable; Charlotte felt the woman’s humiliation and despair as acutely as though it were her own.
Mrs. Gearing was already seated next to Mr. Bass, while Miss Pearce, having accepted the offer of the chair on his other side, made a show of sitting down bashfully. Knowing what Charlotte did of Mr. Bass, he’d likely flattered the girl to such heights that she’d never say a cross word about him for as long as she lived.
“We ought to leave,” Charlotte said.
“Such vanity. Such hubris,” Mrs. Stone whispered, her voice shaking. “It is all so unseemly.”
“Heischarming,” Charlotte observed flatly.
“He always has been,” Mrs. Stone groused.
Charlotte turned to look at Mrs. Stone, curious. Anyone running in spiritualist circles in London would know the name ofThaddeus Taggart Bass, the most renowned medium of the age. But something told Charlotte that Mrs. Stone was speaking from more personal experience. Could she have more of a history with Mr. Bass than she’d let on? Charlotte supposed anything could be possible. They were of an age with one another—similar to her own father, who was approaching fifty. The words of Lord Byron came to mind:’Tis strange—but true; for truth is always strange; Stranger than fiction; if it could be told.It was an aphorism Charlotte had held close to her heart, helping remind her to keep her eyes open to every wonderful possibility the world had to offer.
Yet Mrs. Stone’s face gave nothing away, and she made no move to further explain herself.
Charlotte decided to put that question aside for the moment, and she turned her attention to Mrs. Gearing, who sat looking beseechingly at Mr. Bass, desperate for some sort of miracle. It was difficult to reconcile the sweet, hopeful woman with her broken promise to Mrs. Stone. She wished with all her heart that Mrs. Gearing had not gone back on her word.
“Do not judge her too harshly, Miss Sedley,” Mrs. Stone said, guessing her thoughts. “It is her grief, thick and suffocating, that clouds her reasoning.”
Suddenly feeling choked herself, Charlotte looked away from the table.
Mr. Trenwith stood against the wall, with the plain black bag he’d gone to fetch tucked behind him. He caught Charlotte eyeing him, and his face hardened. Never one to be shamed by a glare, Charlotte stared him down. Finally Mr. Trenwith looked away, and a few moments later he pushed the bag farther behind him with one foot.
“We will stay,” Mrs. Stone declared.
Charlotte looked back to her, eyebrow raised. Mrs. Stone had regained her composure and returned to her usual placid, slightly distant self.
“It is not the first time I have arrived at a séance to find I would not be running it as had been previously agreed upon.”
Very well, Charlotte thought. If Mrs. Stone could swallow her pride, then so could she. The spiritualist community, for all its flowery language and lush descriptions of the Summerland, was just as disorganized and petty as the world at large. And just as in every other aspect of life, it did not serve one to dwell upon every minor dispute.
