Thursday October 31, 2024

Uneasy Spirits: Chapter 12 (last excerpt)

Welcome, I’m Mary Louisa Locke, the author of the USA Today best-selling Victorian San Francisco Mystery series and the Caelestis Science Fiction series. In this daily newsletter, I reflect on my life as an indie author trying to age gracefully, including my struggles to maintain a balanced life, what I listen to, read, and watch for entertainment, and occasional bits of information I’ve gleaned from doing the research for my novels.

In addition, now and again I will provide some of my fiction to read, for free, on this newsletter. Everything is available to anyone who subscribes, but I am always pleased when someone shows their appreciation for the newsletter by upgrading to paid.

Daily Diary, Day 1520: Happy Halloween!

As promised, I have been posting the first chapters of Uneasy Spirits, my rather spooky, second book in the Victorian San Francisco mystery series. After giving you the prologue through chapter 4, today, for my last excerpt, I have excerpted chapter 12 because it gives the first detailed description of a séance. I did a lot of research for this book, reading both primary sources, usually newspaper descriptions of spiritualists, and secondary sources, like books about the Fox sisters, who are seen as first spiritualists in the US, and Victoria Woodhull, who started out as a traveling spiritualist and ended up running for US president. Hope you enjoy (and are prompted to go out and reread or buy it if you haven’t read it yet!

Uneasy Spirits
By M. Louisa Locke
Copyright 2011

Chapter Twelve

“Carrie M. Sawyer. Materializing and physical medium. 115 Eddy. Séances every evening except Saturday.”
—San Francisco Chronicle, 1879

Albert extinguished the lamp on the small parlor mantel, plunging both rooms into semi-darkness. He then went into the hallway, causing a brief flash of light as the door from the smaller parlor to the hallway opened and closed.

No longer being able to see the girl or the cabinet, Annie turned back around, relieved when Simon Frampton claimed her attention by saying, “My dear Mrs. Fuller, it is now time for you to take my hand and join the circle.”

Listening to the rustling of the other people around the table and the hiss of embers in the fireplace, she thought how effective séances were in establishing an atmosphere of anticipation. Annie had attended several in her days in Boston as Lottie’s companion, and she realized now that she had copied a number of their elements when she set up Madam Sibyl’s parlor. While she didn’t turn out all the lights, she did keep the windows closed and curtains pulled, creating a profound silence in the room; and she placed the lamps around the room so their light left her, as Madam Sibyl, in shadow. This arrangement forced clients to focus on Madam Sibyl’s hands, making it difficult for them to see the way that a wig and make-up obscured Annie’s true features.

She had even, albeit briefly, fooled Nate Dawson in this way. She smiled at the memory, then had her thoughts wrenched back to the séance at hand when Mr. Ruckner spasmodically squeezed her left hand. She looked over and realized that all she could make out was a blurry sketch of his features within the pale oval of his face and his white shirtfront. This pattern was repeated around the table for each of the participants, except Arabella Frampton, whose pale green gown glowed in the semi-darkness.

How odd, I felt sure she would wear black, Annie thought. This must mean she has no intention of breaking away from the circle to skip around in the dark. And with Simon holding my hand, I should be able to determine if he is up to anything.

Annie peered across the table at the silhouette of Arabella, who sat very still, head held high. The room was so quiet that Annie found herself aware of her own breathing. Ruckner sighed, and she thought a resulting sound was Mrs. Larkson fidgeting somewhere down the table. Annie knew they had been sitting only a few minutes, but it seemed much longer. Her arms were already tired from clasping hands with the men on either side, so she slowly lowered them to the cloth-covered table. Instantly, she became aware that the table surface was vibrating. She looked to her left to see if Ruckner was reacting to this phenomenon, but beyond the frown that seemed habitual with him, she couldn’t see any expression of surprise.

Annie began to move her left foot, trying to find the table leg. She devoutly hoped she would hit the table leg before running into Mr. Ruckner’s foot and silently gave thanks when she encountered a solid object, which with some slight maneuvering she determined was a table leg about two inches square. This felt too solid, as did the table top under her arms, to be shaken by the jiggling, accidental or intentional, of one of the circle members. However, Annie knew that rigging séance tables so that they would rise, tip, or spin, was one of the oldest tricks of the trade among fraudulent mediums, along with the raps made famous by the Fox sisters. She would just have to find a way to examine the table at some point to see how the movement was accomplished. Since no one else seemed to remark on the odd effect, she assumed it was a normal part of the séance.

A piano began to play, so faint that it appeared to come from far away. Celestial music. What a nice touch. I wonder how they do that? The piano must be in another room, but then, who is the musician? Annie glanced around the table again, counting, making sure that no one had slipped away from the circle. The idea of broad-shouldered Albert playing away rather tickled her, but she realized she was also feeling disappointed, thinking that all this seemed rather tame.

Then all hell broke loose.

Arabella Frampton suddenly raised her hands and began to utter deep guttural noises, so loud that they competed with the drum and tambourine that had joined the piano. Simultaneously, the table began to rock, painfully banging Annie’s elbows.

Just as swiftly all noise and movement stopped, and, in the silence, Annie heard Sweeter say, “Sweet Jesus. You would think I would be used to this by now.”

Mrs. Larkson nervously whispered, “Oh Jack, don’t swear like that.”

Annie stifled her own nervous desire to laugh at the interchange.

Arabella began to sway back and forth, making soft moaning sounds. Then she proclaimed, “Oh, spirits, come to us tonight. Bring your wisdom, shed your light on a dark world, and comfort those of us you have left behind. Tell us with whom you wish to speak.”

Annie felt Ruckner jerk when Arabella began to speak in a high musical voice, entirely devoid of her English accent.

“Abraham, dearest, I am here. I miss you and the children so. Please tell me how they are.”

Ruckner cried out in response, “Jennie! I don’t know what to do. I’ve told them and told them you went to heaven, but they just don’t understand. Little Susanna keeps crying, and that stupid girl I hired left without giving notice, and James got in a fight at school; he refuses to obey me, no matter what I try. I don’t know how much longer I can go on. I need to have my wits about me as we go into the next quarter. The bank . . . well I don’t need to tell you . . . oh Jennie, please tell me what to do.”

Ruckner leaned forward, pulling her hand with his as he stretched towards Arabella, as if trying to touch her. The desperation in his voice twisted her heart, shaming her for her earlier lighthearted reactions to the séance.

The musical voice coming from Arabella answered, “Dearest Abe, you must have patience. The children will heal in time. Tell them to pray to me; I will hear them. Tell them I live in this lovely garden, and someday they will join me. And please write to Mama; ask her to come. I know you didn’t get along with her, but she will know what to do for the children. She needs something to do with her grief, and she can run the house while you take care of the business. Please Abe, do as I ask, and come back and tell me what she said. I miss you all so.”

There was a pause. Then Arabella slumped in her chair and the room became silent, except for Ruckner’s soft sobbing. The raw emotion of the interchange left Annie wishing she could find a way to comfort the poor man. Before this thought went any further, the piano playing resumed, and Arabella sat up and in her own voice said, “Mr. Sweeter, I believe you also have a request of the spirit world.”

Mrs. Larkson giggled and said, “Why Jack, who do you want to talk to who has died? Surely you don’t want to talk to Great-grandpa Foster?”

Annie could barely hear Mr. Sweeter’s response; although his tone made it clear he wasn’t pleased with Mrs. Larkson’s teasing. Sweeter and Mrs. Larkson were obviously related in some fashion. A common great-grandfather suggested they were second cousins. Perhaps Annie had mistaken the familiarity of a family connection for flirtation. This would explain why Mr. Larkson wouldn’t feel the need to attend these séances since there was a male relative to keep his young wife out of trouble.

Arabella repeated Sweeter’s last words more loudly, saying, “Oh, spirits, this young man wants to know when he is going to get his chance in life. He is troubled about his future. He has no job, no money, and no home of his own. He needs guidance from his ancestors. Will you help him?”

Mrs. Larkson broke out, saying, “Well, I never. Jack . . . I told you!” The thump of the drum and the jangle of tambourine drowned out her next words. Arabella again raised her hands, the music died down, and this time a large male voice boomed forth as the table resumed its violent shaking. Annie could see Arabella’s mouth moving in the dim light, but the voice itself seemed to come from above, and it kept repeating the phrase, “Blood is thicker than water,” over and over.

Annie was just trying to figure out how this was the answer to Jack Sweeter’s question, when Mrs. Mott shouted out, “Uncle Zachary, is that you? Gracious me, don’t I just remember you saying that when Petunia and I had an argument. My, that takes me back. Tell me, have you seen Petunia on the other side? And Aunty Grace, is she with you? Tell her how much I miss her rhubarb pie. Haven’t had one as good in I don’t know how long.”

Annie had the impression that Daisy Mott’s enthusiasm was not entirely welcomed by the spirit of Uncle Zachary, since the male voice continued in a quieter but monotonous tone to repeat the admonition about blood being thicker than water, even as Mrs. Mott peppered the supposed spirit with a stream of questions about various dead relatives. Annie thought she heard a whispered exchange between Mrs. Larkson and Mr. Sweeter, who seemed to be insisting that the repeated message was for him, not Mrs. Mott. Annie leaned forward, trying to hear better, finding the multiple voices confusing in the limited light.

“Mrs. Mott, I do believe you might consider leaving your uncle’s spirit some time to answer your questions,” said Simon Frampton, startling Annie, who had almost forgotten the man sitting on her right. So far, this had clearly been Arabella’s show, but now Arabella’s husband seemed to take the reins, continuing, “Better yet, why don’t we give my wife a little time to gather her strength while we sing ‘On the Other Side of Jordon.’ The spirits enjoy it so.”

On cue, the spirit of “Uncle Zachary” became silent, Arabella again slumped in her chair, eyes closed, and the piano music began to play a rollicking version of the old hymn. The ready acquiescence of Mrs. Mott, who immediately raised her voice in song, and the fact that she was joined by at least one or two of the other members of the circle, including the banker, told Annie that this was a common method of settling things down. She began to sing, not wanting to stand out, but she also looked around, trying to see which other members of the circle were singing. As she did so, she realized she was now able to see better, well enough, in fact, to see that Judge Babcock was looking at her with fierce concentration.

No, he isn’t looking at me; he is looking over my shoulder at the girl in the cabinet, and that must be where the light is coming from. For some reason, the idea that the young medium might be still staring at her made Annie feel very uncomfortable, but she fought the desire to check, not wanting to alert Simon of her curiosity.

Just as the tension became unbearable, Simon himself looked behind them, letting go of Annie’s hand to point at the girl sitting in the cabinet, saying, “Behold, the spirits have chosen to visit our young friend.”

Annie, now released from Simon’s grip, twisted around and was astonished to see that the source of the light behind her was not the lamp on the mantel but instead a faint beam, evidently emanating from somewhere above, that revealed the young girl still sitting, immobile, within the cabinet.

Simon continued, his voice deepening. “Departed ones, judge not our follies and our fears, but speak to us.”

Annie watched as the young medium gave a start and stood up in the beam of light, which had strengthened. The girl then produced an exceedingly sweet smile, reaching out both of her hands in a form of supplication, saying, “Oh, Father, you’re back. The nights are so long here. I was afraid you weren’t coming. Do sit with me awhile.”

The long moan that emanated from Judge Babcock left Annie in no doubt about whom “Father” was, and she watched in horror as the old man made an undignified scramble around the table and into the small parlor to clutch the girl to his breast. He then kissed the top of her head, dragged her into the cabinet, and pulled a set of curtains across to hide himself and the girl from sight.

This year I have discounted the audiobook edition to $2.99 on Chirp, Apple, Nook, Spotify. (The ebook version is only $5.99 on all retailers.)

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Brief check-in: Yesterday, I got the manuscript formatted and sent off to four of my beta readers, finished the laundry, made an appointment to have the dryer given a maintenance check now that the dryer vent is clean, and scheduled a professional housecleaner for the day before my surgery, since I won’t be up for my daily cleaning for a week or so. Today is regular noon zoom call, plus scheduled call afterwards.

For all you enjoy the celebrations this time of year, happy Halloween! I have decided that ghosts are my favorite decorations, so here are a few for you!

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