Page 9 of Four Promises to Love

“I am here, Eleanor.”

“Oh, G-Gerald.” Mrs. Elmwood’s voice hitched. “Is that you?”

“Yes, my darling. It is me, Gerald. Your departed husband.”

“My darling was his endearment for me,” Mrs. Elmwood breathed. “It is you, Gerald. Oh, how I have missed you!”

“And I you, my darling.”

“Tell me, my dear, are you content where you are?”

“As content as I may be without you.”

“You left so suddenly,” Mrs. Elmwood said in a broken whisper. “Is there anything you wish to tell me?”

“Nothing you do not already know. You hold my heart, Eleanor, and always will. Take care of yourself…and our cat Fenny.”

“Fenny.” Mrs. Elmwood clutched her hands to her breast, her eyes overflowing. “That was your pet name for Fenwyck.”

“Aye, keep an eye on Fenny,” the medium intoned. “For he is digging up gardens when you turn your back.”

“I will,” she said reverently. “You needn’t worry about Fenny—or me, my dear husband.”

The medium clenched her jaw. “I cannot keep the channel open much longer,” she bit out in her own voice. “Make your farewells.”

“Goodbye, Gerald,” Mrs. Elmwood said. “Rest in peace until we meet again.”

Madame Seraphina suddenly convulsed. The handkerchief fluttered onto the table as she fell back against her chair in a graceful swoon. Caleb and Tansy rushed to her.

Mrs. Elmwood shot to her feet. “Is she all right?”

“The communion drained her vital energy,” Caleb said. “She must recover.”

Tansy waved a vial of smelling salts beneath the veil, and the medium stirred.

“The spirits,” she said faintly. “They are gone.”

“I don’t know how to repay you, Madame Seraphina.” Mrs. Elmwood’s smile was tremulous. “For the peace you have given me this day.”

“It is my gift.” Flanked by her assistants, the medium rose slowly. “And my burden.”

“Please, you must accept a donation⁠—”

“Speak to Nell. She deals with such material matters.”

Madame Seraphina gestured wearily at the young woman who had entered the room. She was bespectacled, with a pleasantly square face. Her straight brows added to her studious air.

“Now I must go—” the medium said.

“If you could wait a moment, Madame!”

Gigi’s skirts swished as she hurried over, followed by Xenia and Evie.

Owen caught up to them as Gigi made the introductions.

“I am honored to make your acquaintance, my ladies,” the spiritualist murmured.

Despite her apparently spent state, her curtsy was deep and elegant.