Page 71 of Captivating the Countess
Before Rain even stopped explaining what they meant to do this evening, Dru’s small voice piped up. “Look, the lady is up there!”
Bell heard the creaking of the enormous crystal chandelier—the one Rain’s grandmother had brought with her when she married—perhaps confirmation that the “lady” was the deceased duchess? Swallowing hard, she glanced up with everyone else in the room. The crystals quivered.
Lady Dalrymple turned pale and tried to rise, but Salina curtly gestured for her to remained seated.
“Your Grace.” Bell spoke deferentially to an entity she couldn’t see. “I thank you for all you’ve done to help this household.”
The crystals tinkled nicely, as they may have when the candles were lit and the glass heated. Except they weren’t lit this evening.
Ignoring the other guests, Bell focused on Dru. When the child said no more, but merely watched the swaying fixture with fascination, she forced herself to speak again. How did one order about a dead duchess?
“Your Grace, you said I was pushed. Could you tell us who did it?” She couldn’t be any more plain than that.
A gasp and murmur of alarm swept the room. Bell returned her attention to the main suspects at the tarot table. Lady Dalrymple seemed fretful, darting looks to her daughter. The actress merely turned over the next card for Sal to interpret.
Even if the ghost designated a murderer, they had no proof. Rainford had pointed that out, but he didn’t speak now, merely stood protectively behind her.
Sal abruptly sat back, letting out a little yip of surprise. The tarot layout she’d been working on scattered across the table, as if by an unseen hand.
Bell tensed, scanning the room for anything resembling a guilty reaction. But everyone was mesmerized by a card lifting of its own accord—to fall down in front of Sal. The two ladies with her uneasily pushed away from the table.
“The Justice card!” Sal cried, just as another card fell down in front of her. “And the Seven of Swords. I didn’t do that.”
Bell didn’t know the tarot, but flying cards were enough to cause consternation. Justice card? She liked the sound of that, but she knew the cards weren’t that simple.
“The lady did that!” Drucilla cried. “She wants to play cards.”
“Salina, do you know what Her Grace is telling us?” Bell didn’t know what else to say.
Sal looked reluctant to speak, but glancing at Rainford, she took a deep breath. “I cannot explain how the tarot works if you don’t already know. It depends on the person turning the cards, the question being asked, and my own interpretation, which is related to my gift for reading people. I have never tried to read a ghost. But in the position these cards fell, they’re negative. There is resistance to change, ambition, betrayal, deception, unfairness, dishonesty... I would not trust the person who had these cards.”
“I cannot imagine ghosts are trustworthy.” Lady Pamela drew away from the table. “This farce is almost as juvenile as the script Lady Alicia wrote.”
“Only because you’re not starring in it.” Sitting close to Bell, Alicia added her crystal to the small tea table in front of Bell. “Try concentrating on this. It’s easier to look at than people.”
Bell preferred to look at people. She wished she could see the ghost.
“It’s positively icy in here, Theodore.” Lady Pamela pulled her shawl over her nearly bare bosom and stood up. “I’m as likely to die of the cold as the boredom. I’d like to retire for the evening.”
“You’ll walk through the lady!” Drucilla cried. “She doesn’t want you to leave.”
Lady Pamela hesitated a fraction, long enough for Rain to signal the butler he’d assigned to the door. Franklin closed it and blocked the exit with his bulky frame.
If Lady Pamela was guilty, as they suspected, Bell really wanted to know why she’d earned the actress’s spite. She had to continue and hope to draw her out.
“This may be an unorthodox means of detection, but it’s better than throwing everyone out of the house. Lady Pamela, if you’ll take your seat again, please, we’ll continue.” Rain’s voice rang with authority.
The actress shot him a glare, glanced around, and finding no support even from Teddy, who was still sketching madly, she grudgingly removed herself to a place near the door, prepared to depart the moment it was allowed.
Bell took a deep breath and reminded herself why she was making a fool of herself—for Rain and his family and to be able to stay here. “Dru, is the lady still near the cards?”
Wide-eyed, Dru shook her head. “She followed the pretty lady to the door.”
Wishing she had a better understanding so she could form better questions, Bell addressed the apparition again. “Your Grace, the lady by the door is Lady Pamela, your grandson’s model. Is she the one to whom your cards refer?”
If it was possible for cards to be thrown derisively, the ghost accomplished it. The deck rose from the table and flew at the actress. Lady Pamela looked startled. Murmurs whispered around the room. But everyone knew séances were dramatic performances and not real. No one appeared unduly alarmed. A few of the men began examining the cards to see how the trick was accomplished.
Bell rubbed her temples. Card flinging did not help. She had achieved nothing. She needed facts, not dramatics. Séances were meant for actresses like Lady Pamela.
