Page 109 of When We Touch

“I’ll have to head back to the Mayfair house, find the wigs and disguises—”

“Yes, yes . . . wait! No.”

“Why not?”

“What if—what if Adrian Alexander is still out there, in disguise himself, starting over? What if he’s the spiritualist that she found?”

“There are hundreds of thousands of people out there, Maggie. If you’re in such a hurry, what do you suggest?”

She thought for a moment, then exclaimed. “Cecilia!”

“Who?”

“Cecilia, Lady de Burgh. Mireau, she’s at her town house. Go to her now, and tell her that we need something very different. And please, please, hurry. Get back here, for me, as soon as possible.”

* * *

Once upon a time, Arianna had thought that she knew misery. Her father’s death had been the greatest pain she had imagined possible.

Now, she knew that there could be worse things than hurting for the loss of a loved one. There could be living as she was now, and it had been just a matter of days, and already she had learned a bitter and sad lesson.

It went beyond the filth and the squalor of her living conditions. The lack of privacy. The fear that touched her heart constantly. It was in all that she was forced to see, and the realization that she had become a prisoner, and that if she ever lost her cover and bravado, even for an instant, she would know greater pain and humiliation, and then she would die.

It was true that Jeremiah Heath intended to go for the really large scams to be had; he used the poor people, easily pleased with some small trinket, to convince them that he had communicated with someone lost. The first few hours after her meager “poor” possessions had been taken from the room, she had been moved into a partitioned space in a small set of two rooms. She had protested her nearness to the seven men, and been ignored. Worse. She had seen the leers of the fellows in Jeremiah’s employ, and she knew that if she didn’t please Jeremiah at all times, she would be fair game for the fellows.

He warned her flatly that it would be so, and not so tragic, for if she didn’t perform as he required her to, she might as well learn the trade of obliging such blokes. She was to learn to be silent and regal, to talk to him, to “lead” him on a path to the dead. She did as he asked, and he seemed pleased, and informed her that their first séance was to be that night; they had been invited to the home of a factory owner whose wife was grieving; she had just lost a child. The “boys” were sent out to find out everything they could about the child, and they were also ordered to bring home some “handy cash” needed for the event.

They returned with wallets and reticules. One was covered in blood. And it was the sight of that blood that first made her realize just what kind of a situation she had gotten herself into. “Trouble?” Jeremiah asked simply.

And Matthew—it was Matthew, she believed—shrugged off-handedly. “He squealed a bit. Don’t worry, none, though. He was drunker than a swine . . . looks as if he fell off the stairs coming down from the pub.”

Jeremiah had nodded. And Arianna had felt sick.

“Dead?” Jeremiah asked.

“Stone cold,” Matthew assured him.

It was all she could do to keep from gagging, from passing out, and yet she knew that she could not. If she showed the slightest sign of weakness, she knew now, she would be killed, and somehow, her remains disposed of in a way that would make her demise appear accidental.

“Maybe we should be acquiring our cash from women only these days,” Matthew said. “If there’s an obvious sign on the body, we could just cut it up, make it appear that Jack the Ripper fellow has found himself another victim.”

“There’s thinking, my boy, but still, I’d prefer our petty needs not be obvious in any way. I keep telling you—we’re going for much bigger hauls. We’re starting small, I’ll warrant, but . . . we’ll bring in riches.”

They came back with cash, and information. Arianna discovered that she was to be dressed in simple black, but part of the cash went to buying her a strange red ring, which Jeremiah said she would use as part of her powers. “Now, bear in mind, hands are never to be released around the table. One or two of the boys will always be part of the “séance” goers, ready to strike down any troublemaker among the guests. But, my dear, you bear in mind, you must never let go of the hands!”

They had traveled on foot, in a pack, until they had neared the humble but respectable house. Then four of the fellows had broken off, and Arianna realized that they were to guard the entrances and watch for interference.

In the home, she met the grief-stricken mother, and two other women, both of whom had lost loved ones recently. It wasn’t necessary to reach all the loved ones, Jeremiah taught her. Just one convincing performance would bring others back, and spread the rumors of their true ability.

That first night, she conducted Jeremiah into his “trance.” The man was a true actor. Matthew acted as his control, standing alone in the darkened room, creating the smoke that appeared. But Jeremiah had eschewed the use of any real props for the event, speaking in a child’s voice, and, apparently, saying the right things.

He was rewarded with an exceptionally fine pocket watch, and they left with a few pocketsful of silver, as well.

That first night, it seemed, Jeremiah was well pleased with her. When Luke made a few comments that she could actually be useful in many ways, Jeremiah sharply told him that she was to be left alone—she was proving herself a fine addition to their group.

The next night, a sailor, a friend of one of the guests, had imbibed in a fair amount of his host’s wine before the affair. He mocked Jeremiah before the company, but Jeremiah never lost his pretense of being in a trance. With a deadpan expression, eyes rolled back, he warned the sailor that he was doomed to meet with an accident.

Which he did, as soon as he left the house, and was met by a number of the group’s thugs.