THIRTY-SEVEN
The Institute was humming with activity when Virginia and Matt arrived. Practitioners, researchers and clients mingled in the halls and lounged in the tearoom.
Matt looked around with interest while Virginia handed her umbrella and rain-spattered cloak to the porter.
“So this is the Leybrook Institute,” Matt said. “It’s not quite what I expected.”
“What, exactly, were you expecting?” Virginia asked coolly.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Everyone in my family assumes that most people who call themselves practitioners are charlatans and frauds. I didn’t think this establishment would have such an academic atmosphere.”
“Leybrook and everyone else connected to the Institute work very hard to create that atmosphere,” she said stiffly.
Matt flushed a dull red. “My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t mean to imply that you are a charlatan. Of course I understand that some practitioners are genuine talents. And it certainly seems reasonable that they would congregate in professional surroundings like this.”
Virginia waved his protests aside with an impatient gesture. “My office is upstairs.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Matt said. He followed her meekly across the grand front hall.
Welch’s voice stopped her just as she was about to lead the way up the staircase.
“Good morning, Miss Dean,” he called. He hurried toward her. “I’ve been waiting for you. I was about to ask Mrs. Fordham to send a note around to your address.”
“Good morning, Mr. Welch,” she said. “I’d like you to meet my new assistant, Mr. Kern.”
“New assistant, eh?” Welch gave Matt a swift, critical appraisal and then nodded approvingly. “You look quite presentable, young man. That’s important here at the Institute. We have an image to maintain, you know. Mr. Leybrook is very insistent on that point.”
“Yes, sir,” Matt said politely. “I look forward to assisting Miss Dean.”
Welch turned eagerly to Virginia. “I have excellent news, Miss Dean. I am delighted to inform you that I have just received a request for a private consultation with you from a new client. A most exclusive new client, I might add. Mr. Leybrook will be very pleased.”
“Who is the new client?”
“Lady Mansfield.”
Virginia’s stomach fluttered. She knew that the attack of nerves was fueled by the rush of mixed emotions. Uncertainty, curiosity and a deep longing to see her half-sister again swept through her. But common sense told her that any attempt to forge a bond with Elizabeth would be a mistake. It was not in the girl’s best interests to maintain a personal relationship with an illegitimate half-sister, a sister who occupied a very different rung on the social ladder. Such an association could damage Elizabeth’s reputation and even affect her marriage prospects when she got older.
Those who moved in elevated circles were far from naive. They were aware of the facts of life. It was not uncommon for gentlemen to produce bastard offspring. But society and the members of the gentleman’s legitimate family never acknowledged such offspring socially.
“I’m a little busy at the moment,” Virginia said weakly.
“Yes, yes, I know, but this is Lady Mansfield,” Welch said. “Mr. Leybrook likes to encourage that sort of high-flyer.”
“There are other glass-readers here at the Institute.”
“Lady Mansfield was quite insistent. In her note she said that she wanted an appointment with you.”
“I generally meet new clients here at the Institute for the initial meeting.”
Welch gave her a reproving look. “You cannot expect a person of Lady Mansfield’s consequence to come to you for a meeting. You must go to her. Naturally I told Mrs. Fordham to schedule the consultation.”
Virginia sighed. “Naturally.”
“It is for this Thursday afternoon at three.” Welch smiled benignly. “In her note Lady Mansfield very graciously said that she would send her carriage to your address to convey you to the appointment. Just think, Miss Dean, you will not be obliged to hire a public cab. Isn’t that splendidly generous of the client?”
“Splendidly generous, Mr. Welch. Thank you.”
“Indeed, you’re quite welcome. I can’t wait to inform Mr. Leybrook.”
Welch scurried away.
Virginia continued up the stairs, Matt at her heels.
What was Helen thinking? Virginia wondered. She was surely aware of the risks involved in promoting a connection between her daughter and her dead husband’s illegitimate offspring. On the other hand, it was obvious that Helen genuinely cared for Elizabeth. Perhaps she had concluded that it would be best if Elizabeth were given some practical advice in regard to managing her talent.
At the top of the stairs Virginia led Matt along the hall to the door of her small office. She opened the small chatelaine purse that dangled from her belt and took out her key. Her fingers brushed against the lock pick. She smiled. Most gentlemen gave their lovers jewelry. The Sweetwater men were more original when it came to tokens of affection. After two hours of intense instruction and practice on every lock in the house, Matt had pronounced her quite adept at lock-picking. You would have made a very good burglar, Miss Dean, he’d said.
She opened the door of the office. Matt followed her into the small space.
“Leave the door open,” she said in a low voice. “Our goal is to try to gain some information from my colleagues. The easiest way to do that is with casual conversation, and the quickest route to that end is an open door.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“There is no reason for you to stand around. Take one of the client chairs. I have a copy of the most recent edition of the Institute’s Journal that you might like to examine.”
“Thanks.”
She sat behind the tidy little desk and plucked the copy of the Leybrook Journal off a nearby bookshelf. Matt took it from her and studied the cover with great interest.
“It looks very much like a copy of Arcane’s Journal of Paranormal and Psychical Research,” he said.
Virginia smiled wryly. “I believe Mr. Leybrook deliberately patterned it after the Society’s publication. I told you, he is intent on establishing the credibility of the Institute.”
Matt opened the journal and glanced at the table of contents. He grinned and read aloud, “An Investigation of Automatic Writing as a Method for Relaying Messages from the Other Side.” He looked up. “The Leybrook Journal may look like an Arcane publication, but I can assure you that no self-respecting member of the Society believes that spirits communicate through mediums who transmit their messages with automatic writing.”
“I’m aware of that,” she said. “Leybrook doesn’t believe in visitations from the Other Side, either, but he says that is the sort of paranormal investigation that intrigues the public.”
“And sells a great many copies of his Journal.”
“Yes.” She reached for her appointment book.
She heard Gilmore Leybrook’s confident footsteps in the hall outside her door just as she opened the book. He paused in the doorway. Matt got to his feet.
“Good morning, Virginia,” Gilmore said. “Welch told me that you had arrived.” He gave Matt a speculative survey. “He also mentioned that you have acquired a new assistant.”
“I decided to follow your example, Mr. Leybrook,” she said smoothly. “You have told me on more than one occasion that clients are always impressed by a practitioner who employs an assistant. Mr. Kern has accepted a position with me.”
“I see.” Gilmore did not look pleased. He ignored Matt and glanced at the open appointment book. “Busy day?” he said to Virginia.
“Not especially,” she said. She was careful, as she always was with Leybrook, to use her most exquisitely professional tones. “I have an appointment for a consultation later this afternoon but no readings tonight.”