She went past the door and on down the hall. When she reached Mrs. Fordham’s office she raised her hand to knock. For a few seconds she hesitated. What would she say to the sister she had never met?
Before she could come up with an answer, Jasper Welch opened the door of the neighboring office.
“There you are, Miss Dean,” Welch said. He was a serious, scholarly looking man in his early thirties with nondescript light brown hair that was starting to thin. He peered at her through his spectacles. “I see you got the message. Mrs. Fordham tells me the young lady is most eager to speak to you.”
“I must thank Mrs. Fordham for being so prompt,” Virginia said.
Welch lowered his voice and cast a meaningful glance at the closed door of his assistant’s office. “Mrs. Fordham informs me that the young lady is obviously very well bred. The girl wouldn’t give her name, but Mrs. Fordham suspects she is the daughter of a very fine family. Just the sort of people Mr. Leybrook likes to encourage as clients, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, Mr. Welch, I know what you mean. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course, of course. See you at the reception tomorrow evening.”
“Certainly.”
Welch popped back into his office and closed the door.
Virginia took a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in,” Mrs. Fordham called, her crisp, no-nonsense voice tinged with impatience.
Virginia opened the door. Mrs. Fordham was at her desk. She was a woman of a certain age, prim, gray-haired and a model of painfully erect posture. She regarded Virginia with sharp, birdlike eyes.
“Miss Dean,” she said crisply. “This is the young lady who is asking for you.”
She inclined her head toward the girl, who sat, stiff and uncertain, in a wooden chair.
“Miss Dean?” Elizabeth asked with an air of barely suppressed hope. “I am Elizabeth.”
My sister, Virginia thought.
“Hello, Elizabeth,” she said quietly. “Your mother has been very worried about you.”
Elizabeth blinked, startled. “She spoke with you?”
“Yes.”
“I did not want to alarm her. But I had to meet you, and I knew that she would never approve.”
“I am aware of that, but I must tell you that I sent word to her when I learned that you were here. She is no doubt on her way to collect you.”
Tears glittered in Elizabeth’s eyes. “But I must talk to you, Miss Dean. I do not know where else to turn.”
“Why don’t we go downstairs and have some tea while we wait for your mother?”
The tearoom was located on the ground floor of the Institute. The high Palladian windows looked out onto a large garden planted with a wide variety of herbs and plants reputed to have psychical properties.
Virginia and Elizabeth sat at a small table, cups and saucers, a pot of oolong and a plate of small, dainty cakes between them. The room was lightly crowded with a mix of outsiders who had come to attend the lectures and demonstrations, as well as a scattering of practitioners and researchers.
“When I first began seeing lights around people, I thought it was rather entertaining,” Elizabeth said. She munched a bite of cake. “But Mama got upset when I told her about it. She said I must not tell anyone what I could see. Her reaction frightened me. I tried to stop seeing the lights.”
“But you could not stop perceiving the auras,” Virginia said.
“Well, I could stifle the urge for a time, but it was like closing my eyes or holding my breath. After a while I just had to look.”
“That is because using your talent is as natural and intuitive as using any of your other senses, like vision or hearing or touch. It must have been very difficult for you, coming into your new senses with no one to guide you.”
“Mama said it was just my imagination. She said that if I told other people, everyone would think that I was mentally unbalanced.”
Virginia picked up her cup. “You wondered if that might be true.”
“Yes. For Mama’s sake I tried to pretend that I was no longer using my other sight, but on a couple of occasions I felt I absolutely had to tell her what I had seen.”
Virginia sipped some tea and lowered the cup. “Your talent is a form of intuition that allows you to tell a great deal about another person’s character.”
“Yes, exactly,” Elizabeth said eagerly. “For example, a couple of months ago I was visiting a friend, Sophy Wheeler, when her elder sister’s fiancé arrived at the house. He was shown into the library to discuss the marriage settlements with Mr. Wheeler. Before they closed the door I saw the two men talking. I opened my other senses, and I knew at once that the fiancé was lying about the state of his finances.”
“What did you do?”
“I did not say anything to Sophy, but when I went home, I told Mama. At first she said it was none of our affair. But I knew she was concerned. The next day she went to see Mrs. Wheeler. She told her that she’d heard rumors about the fiancé’s finances and that it might be wise to make a few inquiries. The next thing we knew, Mr. Wheeler announced that the fiancé was nothing but a fortune hunter. The marriage was called off. After that, Mama has paid more attention to my warnings. But she still insists that I not talk about my abilities with others.”
“I must tell you that I think your mother’s advice is sound,” Virginia said. “Generally speaking, unless one is in the business, as I am, it is not a good idea to talk about one’s paranormal senses with those who do not possess them. People are likely to think that you are odd, to say the least.”
“But the public is fascinated with the paranormal,” Elizabeth insisted. “They come to hear lectures here at the Institute and to watch practitioners give demonstrations. They hire consultants like you.”
“Just because people are fascinated with the paranormal, it does not follow that they accept it as normal, if you see what I mean. People in your world will look at you askance if you claim to have psychical abilities. At best you will be considered eccentric, and that is not a good thing for a young lady of your rank and station.”
Elizabeth flushed a deep red. “Forgive me. I never meant to bring up such a delicate subject.”
“I was merely stating a fact. That does not mean that there are not a number of psychically talented people who move in your world, just as your father did. But they tend to keep quiet about their abilities. Some of them belong to a very respectable but secretive organization known as the Arcane Society, however.”
“I have never heard of it.”
“It maintains museums and conducts serious research into the paranormal.”
“How does it differ from this Institute?” Elizabeth asked.
“Arcane is considerably more exclusive in the sense that all of their members actually possess genuine talents. I’m afraid the same cannot be said for many of my colleagues here at the Institute.”
Elizabeth looked troubled. “But your talent is real. Why don’t you join Arcane?”
“The Society frowns on those of us who must use our abilities to make a living. They believe we give the public a poor impression of the paranormal because there are so many frauds in our ranks.”
“For my part, I am very happy to discover that I have a sister who also possesses a psychical talent,” Elizabeth said. “I have felt so very alone.”
“I remember how hard it was for me after Mama and Papa were killed. I was sent away to boarding school. It was a very good school, and everyone was quite pleasant, but none of the teachers took the paranormal seriously. I felt that I had to keep my own abilities secret.”
“You must have been very lonely,” Elizabeth said.
“That was the year that I came into my own talent. I had no one I could talk to about the things I was seeing in mirrors, but at least I knew something of what to expect because Mama and Papa had prepared me. I am sorry that you had no one you could talk to this past year.”