THE FINAL SEANCE

The Victoria Coffee Palace hotel was easy to find, tucked in beside the Melbourne Town Hall on Little Collins Street. It was tall and solid, with four storeys marked by rounded arch windows set into a row of rectangular columns, and would not have stood out at all from the buildings surrounding if not for a three-tiered veranda that projected into the street: an airy, whimsical construction decorated with intricate iron lace. The overall impression was of charm rather than grandeur, but it was far from the dilapidated hovel that Ellen had imagined in her lowest moments.

She assumed that Caroline and Grace were living here and not merely using it as a convenient location for private meetings. They had spent years living in hotels in Sydney and, before Margaret Plumstead, in Melbourne too. It still seemed strange to Ellen that they had left the house in favour of such insecure lodgings. Margaret had been wrong in her actions—there was no denying it—but Ellen had thought her devotion to Caroline would count for more than it evidently had.

When she arrived, Ellen realised she didn’t know whether Caroline was accepting seance guests in her own hotel room, or if she rented a public area for this purpose. Rather self-consciously, she asked the concierge for directions, but he knew immediately what Ellen was speaking of and directed her without so much as a raised eyebrow to a small room off the hotel foyer.

She stood at the doorway for a minute, composing herself, then squared her shoulders and walked briskly into the room. Whatever she might find in there, she intended to face it with dignity. If Caroline should ask her to leave—or worse, if Grace did—she would do as requested and hold her disappointment inside her until she could deal with it in private. It would hurt, and a part of her wanted to walk away without taking the chance, but no. Leaving now might mean she never had the opportunity to make things right.

The light in the private room was much dimmer than in the foyer. Ellen’s eyes took a moment to adjust. There was no window, so the only illumination came from the round glass lamps fixed high on each wall. Electric lamps, Ellen realised with great interest. More and more buildings in Melbourne were replacing their old gas fixtures, but there was something comforting about the flicker of gaslight. She would feel rather sorry if it were lost to her in the world’s eternal quest for change.

Once her eyes adapted, Ellen could see the round table that stood towards the back of the room, surrounded by eight chairs, five of which were occupied already. The two sitters facing the doorway were strangers to her, but as she stepped forward, she felt her pulse quicken. There was the familiar line of Caroline’s shoulders. The grey-streaked brown of her hair, pinned neatly beneath a modest black bonnet. ‘Caroline!’ she exclaimed without thinking, and the speed at which the medium turned to her suggested that she had recognised Ellen’s voice.

‘Ellen? Is it really you?’

She stepped forward to take Caroline’s outstretched hands. ‘I tried to find you earlier, but there was no one at the house.’

‘No,’ Caroline said, glancing at the others. ‘It didn’t feel right to remain there without Margaret.’

Ellen wanted to ask what had happened to Margaret, but knew that now was not the time. ‘I saw your advertisement in the Argus . I’d have come sooner if I’d known you were here.’

‘Grace will be very pleased to see you, I’m sure.’

‘I…don’t know if that’s the case.’ Ellen lowered her voice. ‘We parted on bad terms.’

‘And now you’re back. Will you join us in the circle?’

‘I’m not sure that—’

‘The spirits don’t care whether you believe in them, my dear, and neither do I.’ Caroline smiled. ‘But I always felt more powerful with you at my side.’

Would it be wrong? Caroline seemed to realise that Ellen didn’t believe, and wanted her in the circle anyway. One last seance couldn’t hurt…

‘I’d be glad to.’ She would do it as a gesture of support for a friend; the happiness in Caroline’s smile confirmed that she had made the right choice. The medium patted the empty seat beside her, and Ellen took her place.

‘It looks like we’ll only be six today,’ Caroline said to the other sitters. ‘But with Miss Whitfield here, that will be more than enough. Shall we begin?’

There was only one man in the circle: an elderly gentleman of significant means, judging by his finely tailored clothing and haughty bearing. The others were all women. The one to Ellen’s left looked to be about Grace’s age; the remaining sitters were grey-haired and matronly. All appeared as though Caroline’s fee for the seance would be of little consequence to them, which made her feel less guilty.

Ellen expected that the seance would proceed differently here, where Caroline was less a minister than a merchant; nonetheless she retained the solemnity and intensity that had proved to be so convincing in the house. There was no piano in the room, but once the members of the circle had linked hands, Caroline proposed that the group should sing a hymn unaccompanied, to create an atmosphere conducive to Christian communion with the spirits. The young woman suggested ‘To God Be the Glory’, which was familiar to everyone, and they managed a reasonable attempt at the verses and an enthusiastic rendition of the refrain. When they finished, Caroline said a prayer much like those that began every seance in the house, asking God to grant them the gift of communication with the dead.

It was at this point that the seance began to diverge from what Ellen had known. Without the various mechanisms Margaret had used to create physical manifestations, Caroline had only her conviction to draw upon. The electric lights could not flicker like candles, and the eerie noises of the decaying house had been replaced by the mundane sounds of a busy hotel. Still, Ellen could feel the tension building. The air seemed thicker, somehow, and the scent of wood polish that had been overwhelming when she entered the room faded, replaced by a faint flowery perfume. If she were not so certain that spirits were just a wishful fantasy, Ellen thought perhaps this alone would be enough to convince her that some kind of supernatural force was active in the room.

Just when the wait was becoming painful, Caroline spoke. ‘Spirits, we welcome you,’ she said, her words clear and resonant. ‘If you have messages to convey to those who are present, come forward so that I can better see you.’

‘Is my husband here?’ one of the older women asked, her tone making the question sound like a demand. ‘I need to speak to him.’

‘A man draws near to you,’ Caroline told her. ‘He looks worried.’

‘That’ll be him, all right. He always was a coward.’

‘What do you wish to ask him?’

‘Ask? Nothing. I want to tell him he’s a scoundrel and I’m much happier now he’s gone.’

Caroline cocked her head slightly, as if listening to an unseen speaker. ‘He says he’s sorry,’ she said, ‘and that he’d do things differently if he had his time again.’

The woman made a disbelieving sound, but some of the pain had left her eyes. ‘Well, good,’ she said and nodded. ‘He’ll have plenty of time to miss me now he’s dead.’

Ellen had to bite her lip to hide a smile.

The rest of the seance was much less amusing. She still hated to witness other people’s grief, but it was unavoidable when great loss was the thing that drew men and women to mediums like Caroline. Even the misery of strangers was difficult to hold at a distance.

She was glad, then, when Caroline emerged from her trance and concluded the seance with a prayer, her exhaustion clear from her halting delivery and rapidly sagging posture. She maintained her professional air of hospitality until the last of the sitters had departed, then slumped forward onto the table, her head resting upon her folded arms.

‘What can I do?’ Ellen asked.

‘Grace,’ Caroline mumbled. ‘Third floor. Room thirty-two.’

Ellen’s breath caught in her throat. ‘I’m not sure…’

‘Please.’

She looked at Caroline’s white face and saw the dull glaze of her eyes, and knew she had no choice.

Ellen could hear no footsteps or other signs of movement behind the door of room thirty-two. Should she knock a second time, or go back downstairs to tend to Caroline herself? A second attempt might make her seem over-eager, but the thought of being so close to seeing Grace again and failing to do so was unbearable. After a few moments of dithering, she raised her hand to knock again—just as there came the muffled sound of someone approaching the door from the other side.

She had rehearsed several explanations on her way upstairs, but all of them fell from her mind the instant Grace opened the door. She could see exactly the moment Grace recognised her, a polite expression of greeting shifting into something far more complicated, passing through what looked to be surprise, joy and anger, before settling into the familiar blank mask.

Ellen had pictured this face often over the past few weeks: the pink of her lips against her snowy skin; the rich dark colour of her intelligent eyes. Now she realised how inadequate her memories had been. How had she forgotten the proud line of Grace’s nose and the delicate curve of her jaw? She had remembered the ashy colour of Grace’s hair and the way it fell about her shoulders, but not its lustre or gentle waves. It seemed unimaginable that there had been a time when Ellen had not considered her beautiful.

‘What are you doing here?’ Grace asked when Ellen failed to do anything more than stare.

The chill in her words was enough to shake Ellen from her daze. ‘Your mother needs you,’ she said. ‘She asked me to bring you downstairs.’

‘I told her she wasn’t well enough today,’ Grace muttered, then left Ellen standing awkwardly in the hallway for several minutes.

When she returned, she was carrying a shawl Ellen knew belonged to Caroline. She had twisted her hair into a rough plait and donned a pair of worn shoes in deference to the social expectations she despised. After locking the door and pocketing the large brass key, she set off for the staircase without speaking, careless of whether Ellen followed her or not. When Ellen fell into step close beside her, however, she made no attempt to move away.

‘You didn’t fully answer my question,’ she said. ‘You came to my room at my mother’s request, but that doesn’t explain why you were here in the first place. It seems an odd coincidence.’

‘It wasn’t,’ Ellen said. ‘A coincidence, that is. I saw your mother’s advertisement in the Argus .’

‘And you wanted to warn her customers? Prevent the seance taking place?’

‘No!’ Ellen knew she had no right to feel hurt at Grace’s words, but logic held little sway here. Despite everything, she cared too much for Caroline to expose her, especially now that it seemed she once again needed to hold seances to survive. She wouldn’t do that to Caroline and, more to the point, she wouldn’t do it to Grace. ‘It was the only way I knew to find you. I went to the house, but it was empty. I thought I’d lost you forever until I saw that notice in the paper.’

Grace let out a huff of derision. ‘You made it very clear that you had no interest in seeing me or Mam again. I’d have thought you’d be glad to lose us.’

‘I was angry.’ Ellen paused to let another guest pass them on the stairs. ‘Angry, heartsick…and a fool.’

‘I shan’t argue with the last part.’

‘Don’t, because it’s the truth. I blamed you for things that were my own doing. It wasn’t your fault I believed the things I saw.’

Grace seemed surprised by this admission. ‘Even with what I knew?’

‘You told me not to believe the manifestations. Any more than that and you’d have been endangering your mother. You didn’t know you could trust me not to expose the truth.’

‘Although I could, as it turns out.’

They had reached the foyer. Ellen caught Grace’s arm before she could continue on into the seance room. ‘You can now,’ she said, ‘but in the beginning I was keeping secrets too. It was wrong of me to condemn you for looking after Caroline when I behaved no differently in trying to protect Harriet and Will.’

‘It was wrong of you.’ For the first time, Grace looked Ellen in the eyes. ‘But you’re not telling me anything that wasn’t completely obvious from the first day you walked into the house.’

‘But you…’ Ellen left the sentence unfinished, unsure what she was trying to say.

‘Didn’t have you thrown out of the house? Mam liked you and I found you…pleasant to look at. There seemed no harm.’

‘You say it so lightly!’

‘How else should I say it?’ Grace’s gaze was steady, but there was no light—no life—in her eyes. ‘It was all a trivial diversion, was it not?’

This was not how Ellen had imagined their reunion. She had expected Grace to be guarded, perhaps even angry, but not to diminish all that had passed between them. Was she wrong to think her feelings of affection, even love, were felt by Grace as well? ‘To you, perhaps,’ she answered, a quiver in her voice. ‘If it was a diversion to me, I wouldn’t be here now, telling you I was wrong.’

Grace watched her for a moment without speaking, her eyes slightly narrowed as if she was trying to judge the truth of what Ellen had said. ‘We can talk later, if you like,’ she said finally, ‘but now I need to see to my mother.’

‘Of course.’ Ellen motioned to the room in which Caroline was awaiting them. ‘I’ll stay, if you don’t mind. In case she needs my help.’

Once Caroline had been half-carried upstairs and tucked into bed with stern instructions from Grace to stay there, Ellen assumed that Grace would ask her to leave. Instead, she peered out the window for several seconds, then turned to Ellen and said, ‘It looks quite pleasant outside. Shall we take a walk?’

There was no indication in her voice that she had forgiven Ellen’s hypocrisy, nor even that she might do so in the future. Still, Ellen thought, she could endure hours of uninterrupted scolding if it meant spending that time in Grace’s company. As she watched Grace tending to her mother, Ellen had faced the knowledge that she would probably never feel the same intensity of yearning and admiration for anyone else. If there was a chance of forgiveness, she would do any penance Grace should mete out.

‘If you’re sure Caroline will be all right on her own?’

‘Go,’ Caroline ordered from the bed, her voice still slurred and weary. ‘I’ll be perfectly fine.’

‘You don’t have to do this,’ Ellen said when they were beyond Caroline’s hearing. ‘I can’t promise not to keep trying, but I don’t expect you to be courteous today.’

‘Did you really expect me to be polite just for the sake of it?’

‘Well, no.’ Ellen risked a smile. ‘It’s one of the things I like about you.’

It was, indeed, a pleasant day outside. The sky was a clear, pale shade of blue, spotted with a few wispy clouds. There had been no rain, so the streets were unusually clear of puddles, but it was not yet hot enough to turn the clay and horse muck into clinging dust. Swanston Street was crowded with shoppers and ambling couples making the most of the fine weather. Ellen didn’t fancy the thought of joining the bustle and was glad when Grace turned in the opposite direction. Little Collins Street was far from empty, but there were fewer carts and carriages, and no need to raise their voices.

‘I missed you,’ Ellen said, when it became clear that Grace had no intention of making small talk.

‘Me,’ Grace asked, ‘or the woman you thought I was?’

‘You.’ Ellen did not have to think about her answer. ‘Although there’s not much difference between them.’

‘I thought I’d misjudged you terribly. Still, you’re here, I suppose…’

Ellen glanced across at her; Grace’s gaze was fixed on the way ahead.

It was tempting to say whatever seemed necessary to regain her favour. But deceptions and half-truths were what had led them here. ‘You had no hope of judging me correctly,’ she admitted. ‘There were things I didn’t tell you—things I didn’t even acknowledge to myself.’

‘You’ve said you intended to expose my mother. What else?’

‘Bella.’

‘I knew about her. We all did.’

‘I don’t mean the fact that she existed. Rather how her death affected me. In ways I’m only beginning to understand.’

‘I knew that, too.’ Grace finally looked at Ellen. ‘I’m glad you’re starting to see it for yourself.’

‘All these things our families do to us. And the things we do in return.’ If Ellen thought too much about it, she would become melancholy, so she quickly changed the subject. ‘I joined the circle earlier, did you know? I wasn’t sure I should, all things considered, but Caroline said she knew I didn’t believe and asked me to join them anyway. There seemed no real harm in it; the other sitters could clearly spare a sovereign or two.’

‘That surprises me,’ Grace admitted.

‘It surprised me, too. But your mother is very persuasive.’

‘Oh, I know.’

Ellen hated to risk the tentative accord between them, but something had been bothering her. ‘Why did you leave the house? There was no mention of a trial in the papers, but when I went there, it looked like it had been empty for weeks. What happened to Margaret? I felt so sure Caroline would forgive her.’

‘I thought you knew—that someone would have told you. Margaret’s gone. They threw her in the Bend.’

‘The Bend?’

‘Yarra Bend. The madhouse. All these years I’ve been trying to keep Mam clear of it, and they go and put Margaret in there instead.’

Ellen stared at Grace, trying to make sense of what she’d told her. ‘But she’s as sane as we are.’

‘The police didn’t think so, and nor did the doctors they called. All the talk of spirits, and her fear of losing everyone… She was quite hysterical when they took her to the watch house.’ Grace shrugged. ‘It’s better than the alternative.’

‘Is it?’ The mere thought of being locked in a lunatic asylum made Ellen shudder.

‘If they’d tried her for Sarah’s death, she might have ended up in prison.’

‘But an asylum…’ Ellen ached for her; the bleakness of her fate.

‘Mam’s been to see her twice, despite my efforts to keep her away. No,’ she added, seeing Ellen’s expression, ‘not because of Margaret. Because the last place she needs to be is somewhere she’ll have mad-doctors watching her every move. She’s said she’ll be careful, but…’

They had almost reached the end of the street and the elegant columns and Grecian friezes of Parliament House lay before them, the road in front of it busy with horse-traffic. If they turned to the left, they would join the crowds heading towards the Centennial Exhibition. So much had changed since their disastrous excursion that it seemed quite bizarre to see the exhibition was still open. Ellen was glad when Grace led her in the opposite direction: away from the past and towards the Old Treasury, and the Treasury Gardens beyond it.

‘Shall we find somewhere to sit?’

They waited for a break in the traffic and dashed across the road, narrowly avoiding an oncoming cab. Ellen’s heart didn’t stop pounding until they were some way into the gardens and the noise of the street began to fade.

The first two benches they came to were occupied: a nursemaid dozing beside a large perambulator; a man and a woman who were either courting or newlyweds, judging by their blushes and sighs. As Ellen hurried past she was acutely aware of Grace walking less than two feet away.

The third bench was empty, and Ellen sank onto it like a woman three times her age. Grace sat at a finely judged distance: not close enough for their shoulders to touch, nor as far away as possible. Ellen hoped that was a positive sign.

‘Was it your choice to leave the house?’

‘And go back to hotel rooms?’ Grace, watching a family of wood ducks that had congregated in the grass, did not turn as she spoke. ‘No, we had to leave. Mam would never have left Margaret, not after all she did for us—even if she’d pushed Sarah out that window, I think she’d still have forgiven her. But without Margaret we had no real right to live there. The police said the asylum people would sell the house, if that’s what was needed to pay for Margaret’s care.’

‘What about the others?’

‘Back to their families, back to their own homes. I think Frances has gone to stay with Annie.’

‘That’s good; but you and Caroline? You should have something more permanent. There’s no room at the cottage but perhaps Harriet—’

‘No,’ Grace jumped in. ‘It wouldn’t be right. Not after the church came between Harriet and your brother.’

‘That’s all in the past. I expect they’ll announce a new engagement any day now.’

Grace looked surprised. ‘Your brother must be a very forgiving man.’

‘Well, yes; but even if he wasn’t he’d have been a fool not to take her back. He’d be punishing himself as much as Harriet.’

Grace looked up for the first time. She held Ellen’s gaze, her eyes dark and unreadable. ‘Is that why you came? Why you chose to forgive me for all the things I kept from you?’

It felt like everything had led up to this moment, and all that came after it would be decided by what Ellen said next.

She was tired of pretending; of silences and half-truths. And yet to say what she felt…The very thought made her feel raw.

She paused. Took a moment to marshal her courage.

‘Grace,’ she said at length. ‘No hurt you caused could be worse than not having you in my life.’

Grace closed her eyes and took a sharp breath. ‘These past few weeks have been terrible.’

Ellen could feel hope rising within her. She trod carefully. ‘I kept thinking of things I wanted to tell you, then realising that I couldn’t.’

‘Yes. Just that.’ Grace nodded.

‘Does that mean…Does it mean you forgive me?’

‘Oh you fool.’ Grace gave a laugh that was almost a sob. ‘I forgave you the moment I opened the hotel-room door.’

Heedless of the people nearby, Ellen leaned across the space between them to enfold Grace in her arms, and Grace, after a few seconds during which her body remained stiff and unyielding, softened and wrapped her own arms around Ellen’s waist.

‘If we were alone, I’d ask if I might kiss you,’ Ellen murmured into the stiff silk of Grace’s dress.

‘If we were alone, I’d likely say yes.’

Ellen released her, although she slid a little closer on the bench. ‘You must come to the cottage,’ she said, then blushed. ‘Not for that. I want you to meet William.’

‘I can’t imagine he’d welcome me. Not after everything…’

Ellen shook her head. ‘He knows what you mean to me.’

‘And he would have me in his home?’

‘We’ve never been a very normal family.’

‘One of many things we have in common,’ Grace said lightly, but there was something in her smile that sent sparks shooting through Ellen’s core. ‘Which reminds me—I should check on my mam.’

‘May I walk you back to the hotel?’ Ellen stood and reached a hand down to her. Grace’s fingers were as cool as she remembered. She looked into that strange, beautiful, remarkable face, and felt the wonder of being near to her.

And when Grace pressed her fingers, and took the arm she offered, Ellen felt as if she had finally come home.