Chapter 8

eight

“ I like the blue gown but rather think this pink one does even more wonderful things for my complexion. Wouldn’t you agree?” Coco asked, pressing the satin skirt against her cheek for Daisy’s inspection.

“I do agree,” Daisy replied, and Trudy was duly impressed by the girl’s diplomatic patience.

The three of them, along with Lucy, were in the Hart family suite. While Trudy was trying valiantly to focus on her medical textbook and Lucy flipped through the pages of an astronomy journal, the two older sisters had exchanged frequent, exasperated glances brought on by Coco’s endless prattle about the upcoming dance and her relentless need for adoration. Even little Poppy demonstrated less self-absorption than Coco. It was exhausting.

“You’re right. I should wear the pink. Although your brother’s eyes are blue, so…” Coco giggled, and Daisy’s smile turned to bemusement.

“My brother’s eyes?”

“Mm, yes,” Lucy responded absently, flipping another page. “She’s intent upon marrying your brother. Hasn’t she told you? It’s all we’ve heard about for days.”

“Lucy!” exclaimed Coco. “That was private.”

Lucy snorted with amusement. “Hardly private, Coco. You squirm around like a puppy every time he’s near, and nearly fainted from distress yesterday when he fell from his bicycle.”

“Well, of course I was distressed,” Coco snapped. “Are you so heartless his accident didn’t upset you?”

Lucy shifted from a reclined position to sit up tall. “Of course it upset me, but Daisy is his own sister and even she didn’t make as much of a fuss as you did.”

“I did have a little tear in my eye,” Daisy said generously, patting Coco’s arm. “But I was so relieved your sister was there to take care of him, crying didn’t seem necessary.”

Coco glared over at Trudy, as if her treating Alex’s injuries was somehow a betrayal.

“Ah, yes,” Coco said dryly. “The doctor saves the day.”

“Yes, and thank goodness,” Daisy responded effusively, as if the sarcasm was lost on her. It wasn’t, though. Trudy could tell by the sympathetic gaze Daisy cast her way.

“But I rather think…” Daisy said, and then paused, twisting the fringe of her dress. “Well… Coco, if you hope to marry Alex, I think you’ll have to wait a good long time.”

“I’ll be eighteen this winter,” Coco replied.

“Um, yes, well… it’s not your age that may be the problem. I’m just not sure my brother is considering remarriage any time soon. His wife only died a few months ago.”

“And what a tragedy,” Coco replied with a practiced tremor of sympathy in her voice. “But how better to mend a broken heart than to find love again?”

Trudy scoffed. “Coco, let the man grieve properly. He’s in mourning. He doesn’t need to be tripping over you every time he steps from his room.”

“He doesn’t need to be tripping over you, either,” she replied tersely. “Since when does a spiritualist show make you lightheaded? You’ve never been lightheaded in your life and yet Mr. Bostwick suddenly had to escort you outside? In the rain?”

Daisy looked over at Trudy once more, her bemusement now laced with humor.

“It was stuffy in that theater,” Trudy responded. “And you’d insisted I tighten my laces that night so could barely breathe.”

“It was stuffy in the theater,” Lucy agreed. “And then when Lorna got so agitated? Well, I felt a little off kilter after that, as well. How is she, by the way?” She directed the question to Daisy.

“She’s fine. Entirely fine. She remembers going up on the stage, and then Mr. Gibson telling her they were all finished and that she should go sit back down.”

“She doesn’t recall anything that happened in between?” Trudy asked, glad the subject was no longer Alexander Bostwick and who might be tripping over whom.

“Nothing at all. In fact, when I told her what I’d seen, she didn’t believe me,” Daisy said.

“What a strange thing indeed,” Lucy murmured.

“She’s a little disappointed, if truth be told,” Daisy added. “She volunteered to participate and in a sense, she missed the first half of the show.”

“She should just be glad she got to see any of it,” Coco commented, and Daisy frowned.

“Why would you say that?”

“Well, I mean, because she’s your maid. I can’t think of any other lady’s maids who were allowed to attend. At least she got to see a bit.”

Daisy’s smile turned strained. “I suppose, but Lorna is my friend as much as she is my maid, and she knows far more about the supernatural than I do. She was so excited to meet Mr. Gibson, and now my mother has forbidden her to speak to any of the other occultists for the rest of the summer.”

“Why?” Lucy asked.

“It’s my fault, really,” Daisy said, turning forlorn. “I didn’t ask for permission before bringing Lorna to the theater. My mother was furious when she found out, especially the part about Lorna going up on stage.”

“How did your mother find out?” Lucy inquired.

“My cousin Ellis told her everything. He couldn’t very well avoid it. He was escorting Lorna back to her room after the show and Mother saw them. Naturally he had to explain why they were together. If he hadn’t, she would have made all sorts of uncharitable assumptions.”

“Hmm. So, should I wear the blue dress, then?” Coco asked, eager to bring the topic back to herself.

Trudy looked over at her sister and Daisy, two girls who, from all outward appearances, had much in common. They were both pretty and witty and full of vivacious energy, but Coco was like a simple watercolor. A splash of vibrant but translucent hues creating a picture you could absorb with a single glance while Daisy was a captivating Rococo full of bold, unexpected colors and rich contrasts. The kind of painting that revealed something new every time you looked at it. As disloyal as it might be to think, Daisy had a depth and maturity Coco lacked and would likely never develop.

“Wear the pink or the blue,” Daisy answered, standing up. “You’re sure to look lovely in either, but just so you know, I don’t think my brother will be at the dance tonight. His hand is bothering him. In fact, Trudy, I was wondering if you might check on him this afternoon to make sure it’s setting properly.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll just finish reading this article and go see him in a few minutes,” Trudy answered. She’d been planning to do that anyway but was glad to have Daisy’s endorsement. She didn’t want anyone to think she was stopping by his room for no good reason.

“Thank you. I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

Coco frowned as Daisy picked up the hat and gloves she’d been wearing when she arrived.

“Are you leaving? Already?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. My mother wants me to have tea with her and I’d like to finish some correspondence before that. I’ll see you all this evening at the dance, though, yes?” She smiled at each of them and after a chorus of goodbyes, made her exit.

Coco spun toward Lucy the moment the latch of the door clicked shut. “You didn’t need to tell her about me and Mr. Bostwick, Lucy.”

“I thought she knew.”

“Of course she didn’t know. He doesn’t even know. Not yet anyway, but he will soon enough.”

“Because you’ll be wearing a dress that matches his eyes?” Trudy asked dryly, prompting Lucy to giggle.

“Because I will charm him,” Coco replied defiantly. “And just because you two never put any thought into your appearance doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. This is the first dance of the season and it’s imperative we make good impressions. Mother is counting on us to secure proposals, and I intend to do just that!”

Trudy slammed her book shut but said nothing. Because there was nothing to say. Coco was determined to proceed with this ridiculous caper of finding a husband, but Trudy was not, and every time she thought about it, it rattled her senses.

How could their mother have sent them to Trillium Bay with such a preposterous goal without even discussing it with them? Especially knowing Trudy’s personal stance on matrimony? It made no sense, and she would not participate.

Dear Mother,

During our first week at the Imperial Hotel, Poppy has made several new friends, Asher has learned several inappropriate words, and Coco, who, as you well know, has never been bound by the tenants of good judgment, has made several overtures toward the one and only suitor Aunt Breezy deems wholly unacceptable.

Oh, and speaking of Aunt Breezy, she cannot keep a secret. She’s revealed your scheme, Mother, and I am not in favor of it. Therefore, please note, I will NOT be coming home with a proposal of marriage—while Coco may be coming home with one you cannot abide.

Trudy tamped down a sigh, wishing she could actually post such a letter. She could not, of course. But she wanted to.

“Ah, there you are,” Daisy said, rising from a bench in the hallway not too far from Alex’s hotel room door.

“Daisy?” Trudy asked. “Have you been waiting for me?”

“I have. I was hoping we might exchange a private word.”

“Of course, but should I check on your brother first? You said his hand was troubling him.”

Daisy waved her own hand dismissively. “Oh, I only said that so you’d come into the hallway, and I might see you. Forgive the subterfuge, but I think it’s imperative you and I have a conversation. Do you mind?”

Trudy would have chuckled at the ploy if not for Daisy’s solemn expression. “Of course I don’t mind.”

“Good. There’s a sitting room at the end of the hall. We’ll go there.”

Daisy looped her arm through Trudy’s, guiding her some distance away, to an alcove near the back staircase. Two upholstered chairs with matching tufted ottomans were tucked against the curve of the wall, creating an informal, inviting spot to linger.

“You’ve piqued my curiosity, Daisy. What’s on your mind?” Trudy asked, once they were settled.

Daisy fidgeted for a moment, plucking again at the fringed trim adorning the ruffles of her dress, prompting Trudy to wonder if this discussion might pertain to Coco’s infatuation with Alex, or perhaps a concern that Trudy had her eye on him as well. She didn’t, of course, but Daisy might think she did.

“What I have to say, I don’t say lightly,” Daisy said quietly. “But Alex told me you’re aware he’s being haunted by Isabella.”

Ah, so not about Coco, then.

Although given this as the alternative, the former may have been a simpler conversation since Trudy didn’t actually believe Alex was being haunted. If items were being placed in his path, it was undoubtedly the work of a living, breathing person, not the phantom of a deceased one.

“Alex has told me he’s come upon some of her personal belongings in peculiar places,” Trudy responded neutrally.

“Numerous personal items and very peculiar places,” Daisy replied, a worry line creasing her usually smooth forehead. “And I don’t think he’s told me everything that’s happened since she died. That’s why I’m so concerned about him.”

This was an uncharted voyage. Trudy had promised Alex confidentiality, a promise she intended to keep.

“I’m sure he appreciates your concern, Daisy, but I’m not comfortable discussing this without Alex’s permission. I’ve only just learned of the situation myself and anything I say would be pure speculation anyway.”

“I understand that, and please know I’m not trying to gossip about my brother behind his back,” Daisy assured her. “But he must trust you a great deal if he’s told you anything at all. I only want to help, and so I have to say this.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I don’t think they’re love tokens.”

Daisy’s hushed tone sent a ripple of curiosity through Trudy’s limbs. Perhaps she wasn’t the only skeptic. “You don’t?”

“No. I only said that to Alex because he’s so unsettled by these occurrences.” Daisy paused, and frowned, and twisted another tassel. “In fact, I think Isabella’s intentions are exactly the opposite of love.”

Oh. So not a skeptic then.

“What do you mean ‘the opposite of love?’”

“I think Isabella is angry. I don’t know many details, but I do know that whatever happened between her and my brother wasn’t good. Especially towards the end.”

Trudy’s curiosity shifted to discomfort. She had no business hearing about Alex’s marriage. Especially from someone other than him, but Daisy looked around furtively, as if she feared someone—or some thing —might be eavesdropping, and her voice dropped to the faintest of whispers.

“I blame Izzy for their discontent. Alex is no saint, mind you, but he has always been true to his own nature. He didn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t, but she certainly did.”

“How so?” Trudy could not resist asking.

“She was gracious at first and seemed genuinely enamored of my brother, but I always sensed that underneath her agreeable facade, she was actually quite dreadful. She reminded me of a beautiful, exotic flower but the kind that emanates poison. The better I got to know her, the more I noticed the calculating ways she manipulated things to satisfy her own whims. And although she was never directly unkind to me, I once saw her being very harsh with one of our staff.”

“Did anyone else notice this change in her demeanor?”

Daisy almost smiled but held it at bay. “Everyone noticed but noticing something and acknowledging it are two very different things in my family. I did tell my mother Izzy had been cruel to our butler, but other than that, no one ever spoke of it. She was Alex’s problem to deal with but given her propensity for nastiness, it does make me wonder…”

“Wonder what?” Trudy prompted at her hesitation.

Daisy leaned closer still, and whispered, “I wonder if Isabella is the angry spirit who tried to communicate through Lorna.”

Trudy attempted to school her expression—the way she’d learned to do when patients shared overly intimate yet irrelevant details she’d rather not hear. She nodded slowly at Daisy. Not in agreement, but rather in simple understanding because, at the moment, it didn’t matter what Trudy believed.

Eventually, of course, Trudy would have to find a way to differentiate the facts from the fantastical and was beginning to realize how difficult a task that may be since her two best suppliers of information—Alex and Daisy—were equally unreliable sources.

“I wouldn’t be too alarmed about that, Daisy. I don’t think that’s what happened,” Trudy said softly. “And it may not be in your brother’s best interest to suggest that to him. Unless you already have?”

Daisy shook her head. “No, I haven’t. It would only upset him. I let him think I’m just a silly girl who believes in romantic fairy tales the same way he tries to shield me from the misery of his marriage. He seems to forget we grew up in the same household, watching our parents be subtly despicable to one another. I know the signs.”

Daisy’s words tugged unexpectedly at Trudy’s heart. She was blessed with parents who loved and respected each other as individuals, and who somehow, when together, made one another better. Perhaps she’d taken that for granted. And perhaps that was, ironically, why she never planned to marry. Trudy had yet to meet a man who didn’t think making her better meant making her different.

“But why don’t you think it was Isabella trying to communicate through Lorna?” Daisy added.

Trudy carefully considered her words. She didn’t want to insult Daisy with her continued skepticism, nor did she want to be dishonest.

“Truthfully, I’m not convinced Mr. Gibson possesses the gifts he claims to have. All I witnessed during his performance was skillful hypnotism. I’ve said as much to your brother.”

“But didn’t you leave halfway through the show? You didn’t see the second half of Mr. Gibson’s demonstration.”

“That’s true, I didn’t.”

“He was quite amazing when it was just him on the stage. He revealed dozens of messages and even brought a few audience members to tears with what he shared. It was incredibly moving.”

“Perhaps he is more skilled than I give him credit for,” Trudy replied noncommittally.

“But you’re still dubious?” Daisy pressed.

“I am. You know I rely on proven facts and reliable evidence, and I’ve yet to see anything credible to convince me that Mr. Gibson, or anyone else for that matter, has the ability to converse with the departed. And even if there were such a skilled and gifted oracle, it seems highly unlikely they’d be spending their summer at the Imperial Hotel giving tarot card readings for one dollar a session.”

“What should they be doing?” Daisy asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If not visiting a resort full of guests interested in their talents, what should they be doing? Surely you’re aware many respected psychics and trance lecturers travel around the country giving demonstrations and offering readings so they can reach the people who need them.”

“I… have heard that, yes.”

Daisy smiled at her indulgently, as if sorry for Trudy’s lack of faith and imagination. “Perhaps Mr. Gibson is not who we need,” Daisy continued, “but what if you met a psychic medium who could convince you of her abilities? Would you consider the possibility that she was such an oracle?”

This question seemed like a trap. “I suppose I’d have to, if she could convince me.”

Daisy pondered this for a moment, her expression slowly shifting toward optimism. “I think may I know of someone.”

Trudy sincerely doubted it, but by God, Daisy Bostwick was a dog with a bone. “And who might that be?”

“Madame Moyen,” Daisy answered. “She’s already done a number of readings for guests at the hotel, and everyone says she’s extraordinary. Lorna heard from one of the other maids that she helped Mrs. Endicott communicate with her son who died last year, and Pearl Mahoney’s mother saw Madame Moyen and was left speechless. If you knew Pearl Mahoney’s mother you would understand how very remarkable that is.”

Trudy chuckled at the comment, but asked, “Why is it so important to you that I’m convinced?”

Daisy sat up tall. “Because…I think Madame Moyen could guide us in a séance.”

“A séance?” What a fascinating yet ludicrous suggestion.

“Yes, think of it. We could summon Isabella. If she has an opportunity to express whatever it is she’s been trying to tell Alex, perhaps she’d be satisfied and would finally leave him alone. With luck, he could say what he needs to say, too, and be free of all his misplaced guilt.”

Curiosity and caution clashed inside Trudy’s intellect. She did not believe séances could open a portal between the living and the dead. Participating in one would likely be a waste of time, not to mention potentially unsettling for everyone involved. And in the end, they’d be no closer to discovering who was leaving Isabella’s items for Alex to find. What would be the point?

And yet… what if she was wrong?

What if Trudy was doggedly clinging to a faulty conviction because of old beliefs? She knew science had its limits, and that there were a great many inexplicable things occurring and existing in the world that no amount of logic could currently explain. So, perhaps she had to at least contemplate the possibility of communication with other realms of consciousness.

But a séance? Good Lord.

“It’s an interesting idea, Daisy. Certainly, something to think about.”

“So, you’ll consider it?”

“I’ll consider considering it,” she replied slowly, smiling at Daisy’s eager expression.

“Do you think we should mention the idea to Alex?” Daisy asked.

“I do not,” Trudy responded quickly.

The thought of Alex telling a potential charlatan his wife was haunting him left Trudy feeling all sorts of uneasy. In fact, this entire conversation seemed far outside the sphere of her mission. She’d told Alex she enjoyed solving a riddle…and she did, but dabbling in the occult was another thing entirely. Things were spiraling in the wrong direction.

“You’re right, of course,” Daisy responded. “It’s too soon to include him, and I’m sorry to pull you into our current misfortune. It’s just that, other than me, you’re the first person Alex has shared this with and quite frankly, I’ve been bursting at the seams to discuss it with someone.”

“I’m sure it’s a heavy burden to shoulder alone, and I’ll help in whatever way I can. But for now, I do think the best thing I can do is go check on your brother’s hand.”