The Vital Principle

“Would you like to exchange seats?” Pru asked Miss Spencer, praying the young woman would be shy enough to stay where she was.

Miss Spencer nodded. “Yes, please. I’d sincerely appreciate it.”

“I'll trade seats with Miss Spencer,” Mr. Mark Jekyll offered in a bored voice.

“That will ruin the symmetry of the circle,” Mr. Gaunt said before Pru could reply. “It places three men together, Lord Crowley, Mr. Jekyll, and Mr. Denham. And next to them, three women, Mrs. Jekyll, Miss Spencer, and Mrs. Marley. Surely that would be infelicitous, Miss Barnard?”

She stifled the strong urge to slap him. “It's best to alternate ladies and gentlemen, but it would by no means ruin—”

“Nonsense,” he said helpfully. He clearly enjoyed Pru's discomfiture and had no qualms about prolonging it. “We want the best possible conditions to encourage the spirits. We can all simply shift two seats to the right.”

That would put Lord Crowley in Pru's chair with the bell hidden under the seat. And he was the one who had hired Mr. Gaunt to prove she was a charlatan.

“Or we could shift two seats to the left,” Pru suggested. That would place Miss Howard in Pru's seat, which was much less dangerous. Miss Howard had been quiet and agreeable all evening, seemingly content to shadow her mother, Lady Howard. And even more reassuring, Miss Howard was not nervous or restive enough to disturb the spirit bell.

Then Pru realized that moving to the left would place her in Miss Spencer's chair, with her back to the door. Despite her common sense, she couldn't help feeling uncomfortable at that thought, although she’d never considered herself nervous. She looked up to find Mr. Gaunt watching her, his wide mouth quirked into a lopsided grin.

She blushed. A shiver slid down her back like a cold draft from the door.

“I applaud your boldness,” Mr. Gaunt said. He rose, waiting for the others to follow suit.

“I have no objections to exchanging seats,” Mrs. Jekyll said, her voice low and melodic with a soft, Surrey accent. “I've no worries, leastways, not of closed doors.”

Pru looked at the older woman in surprise and was granted a small, tired smile. Pru nodded, grateful for the unexpectedly generous offer of support, even if it did result in Lord Crowley sitting in the chair provisioned with the spirit bell.

Exhibiting varying degrees of impatience and irritation, the eleven guests, Lord Crowley and the dowager, Lady Crowley, pushed their chairs back. The grace of their initial movements rapidly disintegrated into a tangle as everyone tried to trade seats without stepping on their neighbor's feet or tearing hems. No one wanted to venture far from the small circle of light radiating from the single candle on the table.

When they finally reseated themselves, Pru cleared her mind and stared at the pale flame of the candle. She frowned, trying desperately to recreate an atmosphere rich with eerie potential and yet not terrifying enough to cause another over-wrought interruption.

It was not an easy task.

The more she concentrated, the more her spirits sank. Ever since her father’s death a year ago, she’d suffered from the lowering notion that she was doomed to continue these nonsensical sessions until she withered into a wispy gray apparition herself. But as a lady of extremely modest means, she couldn’t afford to refuse a request from her hostess to summon her dead husband if at all possible. It was Lady Crowley’s reason for inviting Pru to join this select house party and it meant a room and meals at nearly no expense to Pru except for the occasional tip to the servants.