Haunted Hearts

7

A moment passed before they were allowed inside the room. Oil wall sconces hissed and sputtered from their perches, allowing only enough light to see Lord and Lady Whitlock sitting with two gentlemen, three other women, and three vacant chairs at a round table in the center of the room.

"Ah, the stragglers have arrived at last," Lord Whitlock said, standing to an awkward crouch as he motioned them forward and pointed to the empty seats, then sat once more with a humph. "If you would? We want to begin."

Elphi hurried and claimed the chair next to a middle-aged woman with kind eyes in a blue velvet gown, then bit back a groan when Rufus took the chair next to her instead of Roderick as she'd hoped.

Once everyone was seated, Lord Whitlock cleared his throat and glanced around the table. "Right, well, we have the pleasure of experiencing the varied talents of the...renowned...uh... medium Mrs. Lynch this evening, fresh from the wilds of the American Colonies."

The woman next to Elphi let out a little 'ahhh' at the news.

"I believe they won their independence a century ago and are referred to as the United States these days, Lord Whitlock," Roderick wryly murmured.

"If you look closely, you'll notice strong rope, which I tied myself, bind her hands and feet," Lord Whitlock continued, ignoring Roderick's interjection. "And Miss Welter has agreed to inspect Mrs. Lynch's garments to ensure she isn't hiding any devices that might produce ghostly effects, haven't you, Miss Welter?"

A young, pretty brunette woman sitting beside Lady Whitlock smiled and nodded before she walked to the woman sitting two chairs from her next to Lady Whitlock and one of the two other gentlemen in the room.

Mrs. Lynch, dressed in a black bombazine mourning gown with a black lace cap perched atop her gray coiffure, sat utterly still directly across from Roderick and looked straight ahead without flinching until Miss Welter resumed her seat.

"Is all in order?" Lord Whitlock asked.

Miss Welter nodded, "I found nothing out of the ordinary, my lord."

"Splendid," he grunted. "Mrs. Lynch, the time is now yours."

She slowly looked at everyone gathered around the table, "I sense already there are several powerful forces present tonight, wanting to communicate with us if you will but open your hearts and minds to what they choose to reveal. Now, please... all of you, place both palms flat on the tabletop." Nodding when everyone did as requested, she said, "Let us begin."

The footmen in the room further dimmed the lights, plunging the room into complete darkness, and Mrs. Lynch continued in a deep, dramatic voice, "Spirits beyond the veil of mortality, hear me...commune with me...give a sign you are with us."

There was nothing but silence and absolute stillness for several moments until suddenly, the table beneath Elphi's palms jerked.

The woman beside her let out a panicked gasp.

"Do not be frightened," Mrs. Lynch murmured. She paused, then lowered her voice once more to the deep dramatic tone of before, "Spirits... we beseech of you... muster the power I sense and lift this table off the floor as a sign you are here with us."

The table trembled beneath Elphi's palms, then slowly levitated a few inches off the rug before falling to the floor again.

"We thank you, spirits," Mrs. Lynch whispered, sounding breathless. She paused and cleared her throat, then continued, "I open my heart, mind, and body to you this night... that it may be a vessel should you wish to communicate with us in any manner you choose."

Rufus leaned close to Elphi and whispered low so only she could hear, "I believe we're seconds away from witnessing a possession."

Elphi fought against the shiver his voice sent racing across her skin, slightly vexed if not disappointed when Mrs. Lynch suddenly seemed to find herself possessed.

She announced the event in the only way the darkened room allowed, by way of strange moaning followed by the utterance in a deep, manly voice that said, "I accept your offer."

The woman at Elphi's left let out a strangled gasp and stammered, "Who are you?"

Mrs. Lynch hesitated before answering, "Napoleon Bonaparte, the great Emperor of France."

A stifled chuckle escaped Rufus.

Several male grumbles filled the air before the gentlemen across the table from Elphi said, "Why are you here?"

"To warn you of the perils awaiting those gathered tonight."

"If it's really Napoleon," Roderick loudly whispered with barely concealed amusement, "shouldn't he be speaking with a French accent and not a lisp?"

"I don't know what lisp you talk of," Mrs. Lynch murmured in a poor attempt at a French accent and thinly veiled irritation.

"What is it you wish to warn us of?" Lord Whitlock asked, his tone threaded with equal amounts of intrigue and disbelief.

Mrs. Lynch hesitated, and Elphi wondered if it was a hopeful attempt to build mystery or because she needed a moment or two to think of an exit strategy.

At last, Napoleon spoke, and Mrs. Lynch's lisping and miserable attempt at a French accent broke the silence, "Lady Matson."

Elphi arched a brow.

Had Lord or Lady Whitlock supplied Mrs. Lynch with the guest list beforehand? Given her vast experience with séances and everything that had occurred thus far in the darkened room, Elphi thought it highly likely rather than believe Mrs. Lynch was suddenly capable of communing with the dead. "Yes?"

"I have a warning for you specifically this night, My Lady. You above all."

"Me, sir?"

"Yes... er... oui, mademoiselle."

Elphi bit back a smile at Mrs. Lynch's struggle to use the French words. "Why me?"

"Because," Mrs. Lynch lispingly purred, "you remind me of my most beloved Josephine, my truest love."

"I seem to recall several paintings depicting Josephine as a brunette," the woman next to Elphi murmured. "Lady Matson's hair is dark auburn. Are spirits not able to tell the difference?"

"They are alike only in spirit, mademoiselle," Mrs. Lynch grumbled. "Hair color is irrelevant."

Elphi choked back a laugh and delicately cleared her throat, curious how far into the realm of the ridiculous the woman would take the whole audacious charade. "Very well, give your warning if you feel you must."

"What you fear most is true, My Lady."

"Indeed?" Elphi murmured. "And what is it you think I fear most, oh, Great Emperor Napoleon?"

"That you, Lady Melphia Matson, are cursed," Mrs. Lynch said, abandoning all attempts at maintaining her French accent.

Elphi stiffened in her chair and struggled to breathe. It was near impossible when this stranger—who was supposed to have been a fraud—had somehow reached inside the shadowed corners of her soul and exposed her deepest fear for the entire room to bear witness to.

Mrs. Lynch paused, allowing that single, awful word to reverberate within Elphi's skull until she thought she'd scream before declaring, "Cursed to spend the rest of your days exiled—not from the land of your birth as I was—but from love. You are doomed to wander this earth forever alone, leaving a trail of death in your wake made of the men foolish enough to dare love you."