CHAPTER 19

I had never noticed before how sharp sunlight could be.

It was like little spears and arrows shooting into my bruised eye. I groaned and buried my head under my pillow.

“Marjie,” I muttered. “Could you close the curtains?”

The light remained persistent.

“Marjie,” I moaned, lifting my head gingerly. Surely I’d just come to bed. It couldn’t be time to get up yet.

My mother stood at the side of my bed in a lavender day dress. She was smiling. I didn’t trust it one bit.

“Up you get, Violet,” she said pleasantly. She pointed to the tray on the table. It held a pot of tea and some kind of juice. “Drink. It will help.”

Not a word of apology about what she’d done to me the day before. She must see the bruises. I could certainly feel them. “I just want to sleep.”

“Too much to do, I’m afraid. Up you get.”

I frowned. “What do we have to do? We’re social pariahs. I could sleep all week and no one would notice.”

“Not anymore, my girl.” She pulled the covers away briskly. “Wash up and wear something pretty, perhaps the striped dress. I’ve just had Mrs. Bradley for a call.”

“Mrs. Bradley?” I echoed peevishly. “Whyever for? She’s the most dedicated of all the gossipmongers.”

“Precisely. We have good news and it needs to travel quickly to all the right ears.”

I was having a hard time following her reasoning. Besides, I was more interested in finding out where Mr. Rochester had gone. Although, that was certainly one good thing about spirit dogs: they didn’t leave messes on the carpet.

“Keep up, old girl,” she said, clapping her hands. “I have lost my gifts, lamentably, in a tragic and abrupt manner; but as a mother I am so very gratified to know it was for a good cause: the awakening of my own daughter’s psychical talents.”

I shot straight up, headache be damned. “What? What?”

“It’s perfect, darling. It will wash the scandal clean away.”

“B-but …!” I sputtered, horrified. “I don’t want to be a medium.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m hardly asking for much. You hate to lie and now you don’t have to. You truly have the gift and you’re going to use it. You owe me, Violet,” she added. “I’ve fed and clothed you for sixteen years. Now it’s time for you to do your part.” She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Enough of this foolishness, now.”

She left me sitting on the rumpled bed, stunned.

The day went by in a sort of haze. Mother whisked me out of the house before my stomach had settled or I’d even had a chance to see Colin. Once out, she dragged me back and forth over the busiest streets, looking at bonnets and ribbons, stopping for ices, and once even to browse a bookshop because she thought she saw someone of quality go inside. By the time my feet ached almost as much as my eye, which was carefully concealed with rice powder, I realized there was no clear purpose to our running around other than to attract attention. Seeing as no one tossed overripe onions at us or crossed the street to avoid our company, the rumors of Mother’s talents defecting to her only daughter had already run the general circuit. Every time I tried to hide behind some portly gentleman or some woman’s unfortunate hat, Mother pulled me out again, as unrelenting as the tide bringing flotsam to the shore.

We even stopped at Mr. Hudson’s studio on Holloway Road, where she parted with her precious money to purchase a photograph of me. Mr. Hudson was known for using scientific techniques in his photography to show the spirit world.

I sighed with ill-disguised annoyance and relief when we turned onto a familiar corner, filled with smartly painted row houses. We were so close to home now, I would have tripped an old woman with a cane if she’d stood in the way of the first available chair. In fact, I nearly flattened Marjorie when I burst through our freshly washed front door.

“Tea,” I croaked. “For the love of God, Marjie, tea.”

Colin wasn’t around; he was tending to the errands that actually required running. The furniture in the drawing room had all been set to rights, and the few figurines and accents left in the rest of the house had been pillaged for its decoration. I wasn’t halfway through my cup when Mother stared pointedly at it.

“Come along, Violet. Don’t dawdle.”

I cradled my cup possessively. “I haven’t finished.”

“I’ll have Marjorie bring you up a tray. You must change.”

I really didn’t like the sound of that. “Whatever for?” I asked suspiciously.

“We have guests coming for a sitting. You have to be at your best, dear girl. Everything rides on this.”

“What?” I stood so quickly the tea sloshed over the rim and onto my hem. “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I am. It’s up to you now to reverse our fortune.”

“But I don’t know anything about being a medium! I didn’t even believe in ghosts until last week.” Mr. Rochester appeared to nudge my ankle comfortingly. His backside was lodged in the couch, only half-materialized.

Mother eyed me curiously. “So you really do have the gift then. That will make everything easier, to be sure.”

I rubbed at my face. “Mother, please.”

Her mouth hardened. “None of your dramatics now. Save it for this evening. Go on upstairs and get ready. It won’t do to be late—you haven’t the following or the presence.”