A Dreadful Splendor (25)

“What’s that, then?” Flora asked.

I closed the doors of the wardrobe and turned to her. “Mr. Lockhart was kind enough to have a few dresses delivered,” I said.

An expression of whimsy lit Flora’s rounded features. “Lady Audra was kind like that too. She lent Maisie and me two of her old dresses to wear at the ball.” She smiled weakly, the happy memory tinged with loss and grief, my constant companions.

She continued, “Mine had to be shortened and let out a bit at the waist. Maisie’s fit perfect, though—she was the same size as Lady Audra, same hair too. They could almost be sisters.” Flora’s smile slipped away. “Maisie looked perfect in her dress.”

I let the silence linger, sensing Flora needed to be coaxed carefully. I didn’t want to scare her away. “I’m sure you both looked as pretty as a painting at the ball,” I prompted.

“No.” Flora sniffed. “Although Maisie got to wear the dress one last time. They buried her in it.”

I nodded and put a hand on her shoulder. She moved her gaze, and it settled on my bed, where the ghost book lay closed.

“It allows the spirits to write a message to this world,” I told her softly.

She went to the edge of the bed and reached out to touch the cover. “Maisie loved to dance,” she said. “And she had the most beautiful blond hair. She could do any kind of braid.” Flora dabbed her eyes with her sleeve.

“If you could talk to Maisie again, would you like that?” I asked. I could feel Flora putting more and more trust in me.

The room continued to darken. The few candles Flora had lit brought a new atmosphere to the room. I wouldn’t have to do very much to convince her Maisie was in the room with us. All she needed was a small token, a sign from the other side. I lit the candle on the dresser and put the protective chimney back in place.

“Maisie was afraid of the dark,” Flora whispered.

“It’s not dark for her,” I answered. “Spirits are drawn to the flame of a candle.”

What people don’t see with their eyes, they fill in with their hearts.

The heart sees.

I picked up the ghost book and remembered Mrs. Hartford’s card was still inside. I took another approach. “Normally I ask someone to write a message on a card and then slip it into these pages, and when I open it again, there is the answer from the other side.”

Flora’s bottom lip stuck out a bit. “I don’t write too well.”

“Not to worry.” I smiled. “Remember how I told you the spirit was strong with you? It’s very rare. In your case, all you need is to put your hand on the cover and think about your question. Would you like to see if Maisie has an answer for you?” I held the book closer to her.

With a shaking hand, Flora laid her palm on the cover. Then she closed her eyes tight. Her lips moved in an indistinguishable whisper.

There was no need to write a new message in the ghost book. The one from Mr. Hartford’s séance was still there. And knowing Maisie was at peace might help bring Flora into my confidence. I envisioned the two of us breaking into Audra’s room that very night.

Flora opened her eyes and briefly nodded.

I then placed my hand over hers. I was purely making the mannerisms up on the spot. “Is there anyone who wishes to speak with us?” I asked. I let the wind outside fill in the silence. “Is Maisie here? Maisie, do you wish to speak to Flora?”

The candle on top of the vanity went out.

Flora gasped. As if nature were in on my plan, the wind picked up, rattling the panes fiercely. “Maisie’s mad,” she said.

“She’s not mad,” I soothed. “She’s just excited. Sometimes ghosts don’t know how to control the energy around them.”

Flora screamed and pulled her hand away from the book. “It burned me!” The ghost book fell to the rug with a thud. I watched as her silhouette stumbled toward my door. “Sorry, miss—I mean Jenny—but I can’t face Maisie!”

Her running footsteps faded down the hallway. I slouched in failure. Flora was probably too spooked to ever come within spitting distance of me again. The wind suddenly calmed. The ghost book had fallen open to the secret page.

I had to blink a few times, unsure of what I was seeing. The pit of my stomach dropped. Instead of Mr. Hartford’s message of peace in my handwriting, there was an elegant new script. It was only two words, but they were written repeatedly, the small penmanship filling both pages. It started out legible, then became severely messy, as if the writer had grown increasingly panicked by the end.

Only two words, over and over.

Help me.





Chapter Fifteen




Lady Audra Linwood Diary Entry Somerset Park, November 25, 1851

Dearest,

Even after two bloodletting treatments, Father’s health is rapidly declining. Several times now he has left his room in the night, only to be discovered roaming the cliffs. We’ve had no choice but to lock his door and keep someone posted by his bedside. I try to stay with him as much as I can, but witnessing his achingly frail state erodes my heart like saltwater pounding against a bluff. I could drown in this sorrow.

Dr. Mayhew paid us a visit this afternoon. After examining Father, he pulled me aside and told me that he has done everything he can. All we can do now is wait.