Newport: A Novel Read online

  Meet Jill Morrow

  About the book

  * * *

  An Essay: The Lure of the Séance

  The Four Hundred: An Aspirant Inquires

  Reading Group Guide

  Read on

  * * *

  Further Reading

  About the author

  Meet Jill Morrow

  Photo by Joe Portolano

  JILL MORROW has enjoyed a wide spectrum of careers, from practicing law to singing with local bands. She holds a bachelor’s degree in history from Towson University and a JD from the University of Baltimore School of Law. The author of Angel Cafe and The Open Channel, she lives in Baltimore.

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  About the book

  An Essay: The Lure of the Séance

  ONCE, MANY YEARS AGO, I attended a séance. The medium, Mrs. B, had since childhood been talking to people nobody else could see. In her eighties when I met her, she’d been a minister in the Spiritualist church for years. Turns out she was part of a long tradition.

  The modern American Spiritualist movement dates back to 1848, when the Fox sisters of upstate New York convinced the world that the mysterious raps heard in answer to their many questions were responses from unseen spirits. Of course, people throughout the ages had longed to cross the borders to the afterlife, if only to know more about what awaited them beyond death. But with the evangelical Second Great Awakening challenging traditional Calvinist beliefs, the mid-nineteenth century offered particularly fertile ground for an emotional religious revival that spawned trance lecturers and camp meetings. More than ever there were séances, meetings where people gathered to receive messages from the spirit world delivered through a medium who claimed to be in touch with the dead.

  Anyone could make money as a medium, and anyone did. Séances and readings proliferated as newly minted mediums—usually women—contacted the spirit world via spirit guides (discarnate entities relied upon for spiritual guidance) or the deceased themselves. But alongside those willing to believe sat the skeptics. It was easy enough to expose fraud. Close observation revealed levitating objects suspended by string and tables tilted by nothing more “spirited” than the medium’s knee. Supernatural “manifestations” by spirit guides turned out to be dolls, while plaster casts served as “materialized” ghostly hands. Yet after even the Fox sisters admitted in 1888 that their spirit rapping had been the result of cracking toe joints, people continued to believe. By the turn of the twentieth century, Spiritualism had more than eight million followers in the United States and Europe. And despite the movement’s glaring lack of credibility, there was more to come.

  As the 1920s dawned, the world struggled to recover from the one-two punch of the Great War and the 1918 influenza pandemic. Nearly 120,000 Americans died in World War I. The flu surpassed that figure, sweeping across the landscape in 1918–1919 and taking approximately 500,000 to 675,000 American souls with it. Almost everyone lost someone dear to them, taken suddenly and with little warning. Not surprisingly, Spiritualism experienced a new surge of popularity as, fueled by sorrow and desperation, people flocked to séance tables in search of closure.

  As before, fraudulent practices flourished. Mediums continued to glean their information about the deceased from the words and descriptions of those trying to contact them. There was ectoplasm made of butter, muslin, gauze, chewed paper, or sheep’s lung. Materialized spirits (including Woodrow Wilson and King Ferdinand of Bulgaria) turned out to be cut-out faces clipped from magazines. Spirit photography—photographs of living sitters with images of their beloved deceased floating around them—was revealed to be nothing more than double exposures. The deceptions seemed so clumsy and obvious, yet still people flocked to séance tables, longing for answers and comfort that traditional religion and modern science could not provide.

  Mrs. B’s “circles of enlightenment” were held at her home, in a room set aside as a chapel. A little altar with a cross atop it sat on one side of the room; Mrs. B identified herself as a devout Christian. Instead of the expected round table, there was a circle of chairs. Spirit pictures—pastel portraits of Mrs. B’s spirit guides—lined the walls. Quartz crystals and religious artifacts were set on side tables, while bookshelves held Bibles, metaphysical books, and Spiritualist pamphlets. The air was dense, as if walking to one’s seat involved passing through several sets of velvet curtains.

  Six of us settled into our chairs. Mrs. B reached for the light switch. As total darkness settled around us, she asked if anybody in the room saw “anyone.” Nobody did. She herself saw points of light, which she identified as spirits. She received information from several spirit guides who had been with her for decades. Frequently she spoke in one-size-fits-all generalities that invited personalized interpretation. Some of her pronouncements seemed like obvious follow-up statements to information gleaned from a participant’s question. Nothing “appeared,” thank heavens: no ectoplasm, thumps, or unusual noises announced otherworldly guests.

  I started wondering if anyone else in the room had noticed that, except for changes in hairstyle and clothing, all the spirit pictures on the wall looked exactly the same. And did anyone really believe that the beautiful rose quartz necklace Mrs. B wore had been materialized long ago as a gift from a spirit guide?

  Mrs. B thoroughly believed in her own ability to communicate with spirits and didn’t care whether other people thought her legitimate or not. Neither did the couple she comforted with words from their deceased teenage son. Nor did the woman who had come that evening to ask her late husband for a little guidance about where he’d left his will. Mrs. B listened to a voice none of us could hear and repeated what she heard. I later learned that, based on that information, the woman did indeed locate the will.

  Perhaps this is the fundamental reason why belief in Spiritualism continues. For each uncovered act of fraud, there are stories that cannot be explained in logical terms.

  Our world moves forward in a steady flow of scientific and medical advances. Technology allows us to be in nearly constant contact with each other, no matter where on (or off ) the planet we may be. But despite these changes, people today experience the same curiosity and emptiness as did those so willing to believe the Fox sisters back in 1848 or to once again touch the loved ones lost in the Great War.

  For those who yearn for something “more,” Spiritualism will always offer hope.

  The Four Hundred: An Aspirant Inquires

  The Four Hundred? What exactly is that?

  Oh, my dear. You don’t know? It’s only the annual list of New York City’s social elite. The crème de la crème of society. It’s . . . well, who’s in and who’s out. It’s everyone who’s anyone.

  How did it start?

  If you have to ask, then you probably aren’t on the list.

  The list was started by the Mrs. Astor. (I shall require my smelling salts if you ask which one. It’s Mrs. William Backhouse Astor Jr., of course.) Mrs. Astor—the former Caroline Webster Schermerhorn—is the perfect gatekeeper of old money and tradition. She’s not only an Astor through marriage, she’s descended from New York City’s original Dutch settlers. But the Four Hundred isn’t her work alone. It’s actually the notion of her protégé, Samuel Ward McAllister.

  Please, dear, close your mouth. No need to advertise your ignorance.

  Ward McAllister arrived in New York City from Savannah, Georgia, in 1872. Using his wife’s wealth (he married an heiress) and his own family connections (he is a distant cousin by marriage of Mrs. Astor), he crowned himself the expert in all things related to high society.

  How is the list compiled?

  You must understand that Mrs. Astor acts only for the good of society (and perhaps her own social standing). Since the end of the War of the Rebellion, there are entirely too many new millionaires crawling around New York. (You didn’t hear it from me, dear, but some of them are worth more than, well, Mrs. Astor.) Still, the no
uveau riche can be so vulgar. Just because one has a fortune does not ensure acceptance by the fashionable elite.

  Mr. McAllister once declared that amongst the wealthy families of New York City, there are only about four hundred who matter in society. He devised a plan to appoint twenty-five “patriarchs” chosen from the New York Knickerbocracy. Each of those patriarchs would then select four ladies and five gentlemen (of pure bloodlines, of course) to receive invitations to Mrs. Astor’s famed Patriarchs’ Ball. The list of invitees, compiled in the winter season and kept absolutely secret, forms the society guest list for the New York social season.

  (Well, it wouldn’t do to let everybody in, dear. Besides, we’ve left a bit of room for important people, visiting dignitaries, and a handful of debutantes.)

  Mrs. Astor wants only the cream. Are you perhaps descended from an old merchant family that can trace its lineage back to colonial New Amsterdam? No? Hmm. Pity.

  What good is this list of Four Hundred? Why should I want to be on it?

  I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, dear.

  Do you ever want to attend another society party or ball in New York City again? Mrs. Astor’s Patriarchs’ Ball launches the social season! Once invited, you are assured a year’s worth of invitations to other balls and events given by the patriarchs. (Even then you’ll be vetted to make sure you remain worthy of the next round of invitations.)

  But not so fast . . . You can’t attend any Astor event unless you receive a calling card from the Mrs. Astor herself, and I wouldn’t count on that unless she deems you worthy of the Four Hundred.

  Who’s already on the list?

  As the New York Times noted in 1880, “The [Patriarchs’] society . . . was originally founded for the purpose of giving social entertainments of undoubted tone and exclusiveness . . .” It should be abundantly clear that those selected as patriarchs must be leaders, both socially and financially.

  The names may vary somewhat from year to year, but one is always safe expecting to see Messrs. Belmont, Schuyler, Howland, Kane, Schermerhorn, Livingston, Forbes, Bliss, Rutherford, Winthrop, Irving, Stuyvesant. You may also expect Mr. Royal Phelps, William Butler Duncan, William R. Travers, Archibald Gracie King, and William Langdon Jr.

  By the way, dear, pay no attention to the fact that the list actually falls short of four hundred names. Nobody cares.

  What if I’m not in?

  You probably aren’t. The push to be included is simply crushing. You wouldn’t believe the gambits people employ to join our ranks!

  Or perhaps you would. Lean in closer, dear. I’ll tell you of a manipulation that worked.

  I’m sure you know that the Vanderbilts were exactly what Mrs. Astor didn’t have in mind for the Four Hundred. They are out and about in New York, of course, but, my dear, they have earned their money rather than inherited it. And Cornelius Vanderbilt . . . so uncouth. Mrs. Astor refused to call on anyone in the family, which meant they simply hadn’t arrived. Cornelius’s granddaughter-in-law, Alva, refused to accept the snub. She built a magnificent mansion at Fifth and Fifty-Second, then planned an opulent costume ball as a housewarming for it. She invited the press in to admire the extravagant party preparations, thus ensuring enough publicity that everyone wanted an invitation. Then . . . she did not invite Mrs. Astor’s daughter! Inquiries, of course, were made. Alva said (regretfully!) that proper etiquette did not allow her to invite strangers who had never called upon her socially. Mrs. Astor had no choice; she dropped off her visiting card at the Vanderbilts’ new home, thus formally acknowledging them as socially acceptable. Young Caroline Astor got her invitation, and Alva Vanderbilt broke into the Four Hundred.

  So, dear, there you have it. Good luck. I’m sure you’ll find something to do should you fall short this year . . . some dreary little party or other, perhaps, or a dismal dinner filled with others who are not quite up to snuff. Chin up. There will be . . . something.

  And do let me know how you fare so that I’ll know if I’m ever to call upon you again.

  Reading Group Guide

  1. At the beginning of the novel, Adrian keeps tight control over his passions and emotions. Why does he do this, and what allows him to finally let those defenses fall?

  2. Catharine leaves Adrian as an act of love. Had she stayed, do you think their marriage would have been successful? Would they have been happy with each other?

  3. What might Jim’s life have been like had Adrian not stepped in to help fund and mold his future?

  4. Bennett Chapman has been belligerent, self-centered, and ill-behaved throughout most of his life. Why, then, is he so willing to believe that his wife, Elizabeth, has come back from the dead to contact him via séance? Why is he determined to follow her directives?

  5. As you read, did you believe that Mrs. Chapman was indeed appearing in spirit, or were you skeptical? At what point did you feel that perhaps this was real? Or did you still have doubts at the end?

  6. Catharine’s plan to quickly snag a wealthy husband in Newport seems rather a long shot. What compels her to try it? What other choices were open to a woman of her social status in her situation? What were the potential outcomes to those choices?

  7. Catharine obtains the key to Nicholas’s incriminating documents through uncharacteristic physical contact with him after her wedding ceremony. Do you think Adrian knew of her plan?

  8. Have you ever attended a séance or received a psychic reading? If yes, what made you go and what was the experience like? If no, is this something you would ever want to do? Why or why not?

  Read on

  Further Reading

  Currently on my nightstand . . .

  I read without rhyme or reason and love having a stack of books waiting for me. Already read or about to be read, this is what’s currently stacked within easy reach:

  A Hundred Summers by Beatriz Williams

  97 Orchard: An Edible History of Five Immigrant Families in One New York Tenement by Jane Ziegelman

  Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline

  Miss Manners’ Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior by Judith Martin

  Garment of Shadows by Laurie R. King

  Praise for Newport

  “Newport has it all: intrigue, scandal, and séances to summon a spirit that will not rest. The slow unraveling of tangled secrets will keep you turning pages long into the night.”

  —Deanna Raybourn, New York Times bestselling author

  “Jill Morrow’s Newport is a portrait of a long-lost era, a sophisticated drama, and a gripping mystery all in one. Full of delicious prose and surprising twists, this book is a delight, an engrossing read that goes down like a glass of the finest champagne.”

  —Simone St. James, author of The Other Side of Midnight

  “Past and present collide in 1920s Rhode Island as long-buried secrets begin to come to light in this mesmerizing novel of love, loss, and redemption. Beautifully written and vividly detailed, Newport is an elegant and mysterious tale that will keep you entranced from beginning to end.”

  —Ashley Weaver, Edgar Award–nominated author of Murder at the Brightwell

  “A delicious plunge into the gilded lives and mansions of another era, Newport sends you swimming through an intricate mystery involving money, tragedy, bittersweet love affairs, and voices from the beyond, until you arrive at the whirlwind ending. It’s everything you need for literary escape: a ripping good read.”

  —Beatriz Williams, New York Times bestselling author

  Also by Jill Morrow

  The Open Channel

  Angel Café

  Credits

  Cover design by Amanda Kain

  Cover photographs: © Peter Zelei / Getty Images; © Shutterstock (border)

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, li
ving or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  P.S.™ is a trademark of HarperCollins Publishers.

  NEWPORT. Copyright © 2015 by Jill Morrow. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  FIRST EDITION

  ISBN 978-0-06-237585-8

  EPub Edition July 2015 ISBN: 9780062375872

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