The Séance
A tale of high society...
Stanford sat with his elbow on the windowsill, staring out at his family’s perfectly manicured gardens. The dim gloaming, like a ravenous specter, fell upon the shrubs and trees and wormed its way into his heart. If he went to a neighboring town, or out to the country, he could use a false name to get arsenic at a pharmacy. Certainly it would be lovely to have it all over and done with.
In the parlor behind him, his elderly mother warbled mournfully to his elder brother’s timid piano playing. When the final notes gasped across the tinkling coda, their guests smiled approvingly and clapped with all the grace and polite restraint required. All this, of course, under his domineering and obscenely wealthy father’s ever watchful eye. Stanford gulped his brandy. Gratefully, his mother rarely had the energy for more than one song these days. And no one ever demanded an encore from his brother… not even the women angling for a proposal. There were a few of those here tonight. Casting villainous glances at each other when they thought no one was looking. But Stanford saw everything. He watched everything. If not to find something in his chickenhearted pater idolator of a brother’s character to warrant the attention, besides his status as heir, then to find a shred of humanity in anyone his mother paraded around the home.
Gulping brandy he turned away from the reflection in the window to the superficial scene under the flickering gaslights. Lords and ladies, old money and stale minds. New money lickspittles tonguing their way to homogeneity.
“Stanford, darling, stop being gloomy and come here.” His mother, a living dead thing, accusing him of being “gloomy” was certainly a laugh. Stanford was quite positive she had never once experienced joy. Satisfaction, yes. But anything approaching pleasure would be unseemly.
“Of course, Mother. My apologies, I don’t know what’s come over me. I do so enjoy the company of our friends.”
“Oh, Stanford,” she tisked disapprovingly at his dry monotone. “One never knows what to do with a morose child. Isn’t that right, Lady Wellingham?”
“Most certainly. My Geoffrey was a most melancholy young man. We tried every doctor in London. One day, Albert declared he couldn’t stand the sight of Geoffrey’s long face a single day more and enrolled him Sandhurst. He went from a long face to a hard face. Died in Crimea a man with purpose. Albert was quite proud. Perhaps Stanford would take to the military?”
Stanford would take a polished candelabra to the moldering old woman’s head if she didn’t quit giving his mother such ideas.
“Won’t hear of it,” his father cut in, “I’ve read first hand accounts of war and Stanford doesn’t have the constitution for it. He’s intelligent enough, but lacks any internal motivating force. He’d crumple under the pressure.”
“I am, indeed, completely useless, I’m afraid,” Stanford grabbed the gloved hand of Miss Emily Heathering as he came to a stop next to her and put his lips to it. “Please forgive me, Miss Emily, I’ve forgotten my manners. You look lovely this evening.”
“Such bad manners as these I wouldn’t mind, if they issued from the person of your father’s heir.” She pulled her hand from his grip and moved closer to Eberhart.
“From thence my gloom doth issue, methinks,” Stanford said, meeting his mother’s steely gaze. She opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment a velvet stage curtain that had been drawn across the room parted and a woman in an elegant green silk dress walked out into the room. She stood with her black hair in snaking twin braids, lips and eyes like velvet, and beaded bangles cascading from her delicate neckline and jangling at her wrists. Stanford had been waiting for her all night.
“Madame Janvier!” His mother chirped, pushing past him to take the woman by her elbow and lead her to the small, but anxious crowd. “My esteemed company, allow me to introduce our guest of honor tonight, Madame Alphonsine Janvier, lately of Paris, who has only recently come to London.” Stanford’s mother lowered her tone conspiratorially, “She’s a medium. And she’s here tonight to do a séance for us. It’s her first in London and I’m absolutely delighted to host it here.”