Page 24 of Unforeseen Affairs
“Who?” Colin asked, his mind galloping far into the future, where the consequences of the cursed spirit circle could impact his plans for his own life.
“My mother,” Beaky sighed.
“Ah—I think she’ll be sound, in time. My mother and…” Colin paused, thinking woefully of how pretty Alice had looked in her dress. “She and your sister are tending to her.”
“She’ll never forgive me,” Beaky moaned, a hand covering his eyes. “Though I daresay it’s her own fault, dabbling in this spiritualist nonsense. It’s a joke of the lowest order, is what it is.”
Colin didn’t want to think of Mrs. Pearce. Or even, to his shame, of his best friend languishing in a moment of dire need, his reputation hideously slandered. And under Colin’s own roof, no less.
No, Colin only wished to think of Alice.
He’d meant to marry her. Not now, of course, nor even anytime soon. There’d been no promise, nor even any kisses beyond a few innocent, childish pecks. But it was an unspoken understanding. An eventuality.
Eventualities had ruled Colin’s life from the moment he’d received his first toy boat.
But if Beaky truly had fathered—and abandoned—a child somewhere in the Mediterranean, then Colin would be forced to give up his expectation of taking Alice as his bride. His mother would never allow it, to say nothing of his father. Colin swallowed at the mere thought of what the commodore might do, were he to offer for the sister of someone with such a blighted reputation.
A massive sigh from the armchair indicated that Beaky had been thinking along similar lines.
“What am I to do?” he said, his voice laced with anguish. “If word gets out, I’ll be snubbed from all corners!”
“No, I’m certain that…” Colin started, but he did not believe his own lie enough to bother completing it.
Beaky looked up at him suspiciously.
“Why, you’re already scheming on how to extricate yourself from our friendship, aren’t you?”
“No!” said Colin emphatically, horrified at the charge. “I would never!”
“I’d never before wished I was Kettlewell,” muttered Beaky, staring into his nearly empty tumbler. “What I’d give to be put to sea just now.”
Colin watched his friend drain the remnants of his gin, unraveling by the moment as the liquor took hold. Beaky looked up, his eyes already glassy.
“My life, it’s been smashed to pieces in a matter of minutes. And for what? Nothing… merely the whims of some arrogant scoundrel!” He stared at Colin, his face wretchedly contorted. “You’ve got to help me.”
Colin set his jaw. He thought of Alice. He thought of his mother’s face, strained and disappointed. He thought of his father, as hard and unyielding as a slab of granite.
No, he couldn’t allow this to happen. A heavy weight settled upon his shoulders; a worrying tightness pulled behind his eyes.
Very well.
“I will.”
Chapter Seven
Intheweeksfollowingthe fateful spirit circle, Mrs. Stone received no further invitations for sittings, nor any offers to join—or rejoin—any of the notable spiritualist societies. This silence seeped into Mrs. Stone’s own perceptive abilities, and her visions and prognostications subsequently became few and far between.
It frustrated Charlotte.
After the Thaddeus Taggart Bass debacle, she’d pressed Mrs. Stone, desperate to know the exact nature of her mentor’s former association with the famed conjurer. Mrs. Stone, though, sealed her lips tighter than a sarcophagus. For the next several days she refused to leave her bed, and the shop was closed.
So Charlotte decided to resolve the matter on her own.
Sitting in the back row of the Egyptian Hall for the fourth time in a fortnight, she stifled a yawn.
One might think that Mr. Bass, for the final show of his London engagement, would shuffle up his so-called “amazing” feats, in an effort to create a special grand finale. But no; with only minutes left before the show would end—to raucousapplause, no doubt—he had begun performing the same trick that Charlotte had seen thrice before—a “daring mid-air extravaganza,” per the program.
Mr. Bass’s body elevated above the stage in a wobbly, haphazard ascent. The audience gasped, though it was barely audible above the loud strains of the orchestra.
