Celine ignored her. She had a gift for focusing only on the believers and entering into their world. Everyone else ceased to exist for her.
“She is near,” Celine said. “I feel her. She misses you.”
“And I miss her,” Coralie said in a near whisper. “Can you tell her? Please?”
The poor woman was starved for love. Violet watched the family from under her veils, seeing contempt from old Madame Lanier and bare tolerance from the husband.
Violet knew exactly what Coralie felt. Spending the day and night and another day with Daniel had been like being given a taste of a feast she hadn’t been invited to partake of. The trouble was, the taste made Violet crave the feast all the more.
“You may tell her yourself,” Celine said to Coralie. “Let us turn the lights low and see if the spirits will let us through.”
Violet moved to the wall and turned down the gas to the chandelier. Once the room had dimmed, Violet lit the candles in the silver candelabra they’d brought with them. While Madame Lanier went on about how ridiculous it all was—How are we to see whether they trick us in the dark?—Celine closed her eyes, joined hands with Coralie, and sent out her supplication to the spirits.
Violet sat down at the table this time, pulling on gloves as she took a place between her mother and the older Madame Lanier. She had few tricks to employ when she couldn’t set up a house or theatre beforehand, but she had already pressed her bare palm, coated with phosphor-luminescent paint, onto a wall when she busied herself turning out the lights. Behind Celine, a handprint began to glow in the dark.
Coralie gasped, then gasped again when a loud rap broke the stillness.
“Ah,” Celine said, her eyes closed, hands rigid. “Are you there?”
One loud rap indicated Yes.
“She’s here,” Coralie said excitedly. “Maman?”
“Of course she isn’t here,” Madame Lanier said. “The girl in the veils is knocking on the table.”
Violet took her gloved hands from her lap and laid them on the table just as the spirit gave a decided double rap. She always enjoyed employing her tricks right in front of the most skeptical. Misdirection was the key. Make them doubt their own doubts.
“Two knocks mean no,” Celine said. “Are you still there, Spirit?”
One hard knock. Violet lifted her foot carefully from the small pedal she’d dropped on the soft carpet under the table. It connected with a little drum with a speaking tube attached, which she’d found at a market in Paris. The contraption made a considerable noise but was small enough to tuck into the box with her matches and extra candles, or slip into her pocket in a pinch.
“Can you open the veil?” Celine asked the air. “Let me through? We are looking for Madame Saint-Vincent. Seraphine Louise Saint-Vincent.”
Coralie gasped again. “How did you know her name? I never said.”
Celine knew because Mary had gathered every bit of information on the client she could beforehand. Violet usually helped her, but Mary was an expert. Few noticed a maid running an errand on the street, and servants were happy to stop and pass the time in gossip. Mary was open and friendly with women, coy and cheeky with the men, and fluent in several languages.
“She knows,” Celine said. “I shall try to find my guide now. Hush. I need quiet.”
While Celine sat still, preparing for her trance, Violet’s thoughts wandered.
Daniel had not come today. And why should he? Violet had no business putting on her best dress and waiting for him like a love-struck schoolgirl. Daniel didn’t owe her a call. He had things to do, people to see, engines to invent. He might have gone back to visit Monsieur Dupuis, to talk about the balloon adventure, or about propulsion and internal combustion, things of that nature.
Or Daniel was busy being a wealthy man-about-town. This was the south of France in the winter season, and Daniel must know people in the highest circles. He might even now be drinking wine with a count, smoking with a duke, dancing with a duchess. Or planning to move on to Nice and Cannes, or Monte Carlo, where the lovely young butterflies in the Casino would touch their fingers to his arm, and smile at him, and entice . . .
Violet’s heart stung, and her foot slipped. A loud knock burst through just as Celine began speaking as Adelaide, the Parisian girl.
“Oh,” Celine shrieked in her little-girl voice. “She is here!” In the pause, Violet gently moved the drum and pedal back under her skirts.
Celine’s voice changed again, taking on a lower note and a scratchy tone. “Coralie, my love, is that you?”
“Yes!” Coralie’s eyes swam with tears. “Yes, Maman, I’m here.”
“Are you well, petite?”
“I think so, Maman. I had that awful cold, but it’s been gone weeks now.”
“But are you happy, child?” the voice of Madame Saint-Vincent went on. “It is a different thing. Your husband, he means well, but perhaps he is not as attentive as he ought to be.”
Coralie shot a look at her husband, whose brows drew down. Monsieur Lanier was a well-fed man, not quite fat, with soft hands and an expensive suit. If he kept eating his cook’s fine cakes, he would become portly later in life, not having the height to carry weight well. He had all his hair, though, thick waves of it slicked with pomade. He pomaded his chestnut brown moustache as well.
“Oh no,” Coralie said nervously. “He is . . . a very good husband.”
“I never liked him,” said Celine as Madame Saint-Vincent. “Perhaps he will grow kinder when his goat of a mother is no longer there to command him.”
“Oh . . .” Coralie’s cheeks went red as she flashed a glance at her outraged mother-in-law.
Celine went on, still in the scratchy voice. “If his mother is here, tell her I am watching her. I will know if she is not kind to you, and I will take steps.”
“No, no, Maman. No need. Madame Lanier is quite kind to me.”
“Ha!” The sound rang through the room. “The lie becomes you, my darling. You are so angelic, little Coralie. But beware. Treachery surrounds you.” The table shook and shook hard. “I will look out for you, but you must beware.”
“Stop!” The elder Madame Lanier sprang from her chair, her face dark with anger. She pointed at Celine. “This woman is a liar and a fraud. And that one . . .” She swung her rigid finger to Violet. “She has a device under the table that is making noises and moving it.”