Newport: A Novel Page 4

  “I’m a houseguest,” she explained guilelessly, rounding Bennett’s wheelchair.

  Jim rose to his feet, accepting her hand before it could become obvious that Chloe and Nicholas were snubbing her. “Charmed, Miss Walsh,” he said. “James Reid—Jim—at your service.”

  “Any other houseguests, Father?” Nicholas asked. “Any chance we could buy some snake oil or swampland in Florida? Have you filled all of Liriodendron’s guest rooms with charlatans and frauds?”

  “Nicky!” Bennett Chapman frowned. “Curb your tongue or I’ll thrash you.”

  Nicholas turned from his father, apparently well used to the barbed words thrown his way. “Mr. de la Noye, need we say more? You may return to Boston at any time.”

  Adrian reached for his pocket watch. “We’ll leave either late this afternoon or tomorrow morning. It depends on how long it takes to complete your father’s will.”

  “But you can’t change the will.” Chloe’s words floated doubtfully out to sea on the wind. “Nicky says our father is crazy.” She crumpled against her brother as Bennett Chapman half stood, eyebrows lowered. Catharine placed a calming hand on his shoulder. He took the cue and settled back in his chair.

  “Handle the matter, Adrian,” he commanded.

  Adrian acknowledged the order with a curt nod. “I’m not convinced of that, Lady Dinwoodie,” he said.

  “How can you say that?” Nicholas asked. “I’m aware that your firm gains a great deal of profit through my father—I can see why you’d want to remain in his good graces. But the man actually believes everything these charlatans tell him. If that’s not insanity, I don’t know what is!”

  “This is America, Mr. Chapman. We’re allowed to believe as we choose.”

  “Have you ever attended a séance, Mr. de la Noye?”

  “No.”

  “I have. Knocks and whistles, disembodied voices . . . only the most gullible and unhinged could possibly believe that such communication is real. The very fact that my father trusts these quacks is proof of his incompetence.”

  “Your father is not a danger to himself or to others. He successfully manages both his business and his household. I see no signs of incompetence in that.”

  Nicholas took a slow, deliberate step away from his sister’s chair. “Perhaps you choose to misunderstand me, sir. I’ll speak plainly. You draft that will and I’ll contest it. Believe me, Mr. de la Noye, I have the connections to make you look as unbalanced as my father really is. By the time I’m through, you’ll be lucky if you can get a clerking position, let alone maintain a profitable law practice.”

  Adrian calmly returned his watch to his vest pocket. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Chapman?”

  “You may interpret my words however you wish.”

  “But what if it’s all true?” Jim’s comment sliced through the uncomfortable silence. “What if Elizabeth Chapman really has come to call?”

  Even the seagulls’ screeches overhead sounded incredulous.

  “I suggest you rein in your associate, Mr. de la Noye,” Nicholas Chapman said.

  Adrian dismissed his words with a raised hand. “Please, Mr. Reid, continue.”

  Jim shrugged. “My granny believed such things. Not a day went by that she didn’t pass on some pearl of wisdom she’d ‘heard’ from my departed grandad. And there was nobody more solid and down to earth than my granny, I can tell you that.”

  “I am not a quack,” Amy said in a clear little voice. “I am not something to belittle. I merely help Mrs. Chapman say what she can no longer say on her own.”

  “And how do you—” Adrian turned toward her, accidentally catching Catharine Walsh’s gaze along the way. That vulnerable curve of the neck . . . the way one of her eyeteeth slightly overlapped the tooth beside it . . . Somewhere in the distance he heard Jim Reid clear his throat, an obvious prompt for him to continue. But Catharine Walsh looked away, taking all his words with her.

  Jim filled the breach. “I’ve a proposition,” he said. “Mr. Chapman, am I correct in assuming that you and Lady Dinwoodie allege your father’s incompetence based on his willingness to believe the inconceivable?”

  “Of course. That shouldn’t require any further explanation.”

  “I am not a charlatan.” Amy’s pink cheeks made her appear even more doll-like than before.

  Jim studied her for one long moment before folding his arms across his chest. “I believe you have a right to prove that to us, Miss Walsh. I suggest a séance.”

  “Oh, dear God,” Nicholas Chapman started, reaching for the flask in Chloe’s hand.

  “A séance?” A broad smile lit Bennett Chapman’s face. “You mean . . . we would all be present for a conversation with Elizabeth? Splendid! How I’d like for you to meet her, Adrian!”

  Adrian forced himself back into the moment, quickly catching Jim’s intent. “An excellent plan, Mr. Reid, and, Mr. Chapman, one that I believe you and your sister may find more suitable than you think.”

  “Why would we acquiesce to this stupidity?” Nicholas demanded. Catharine winced as his hand slammed down onto the table.

  “Because it may prove the easiest way to get what you want,” Adrian said. “Here are the terms: if Miss Amy Walsh presents reasonable evidence that one could believe she communicates—”

  “Preposterous,” Nicholas snapped.

  “—with your mother—”

  “We could give it a whirl, Nicky,” Chloe said. “Séances are all the rage in New York.”

  “—then you must accept that your father is in his right mind.”

  Nicholas grunted.

  Adrian’s voice grew hard as steel. “If that is the case, you will allow me to draft his will in peace. There will be no public complaint on your part, no repercussions whatsoever against either myself or Mr. Reid.”

  “And? Do continue, Mr. de la Noye. Tell me the part I most wish to hear.”

  “If we deduce that Miss Walsh offers your father no reason at all to believe, then the will stands as is. Mr. Reid and I will pack our bags and return to Boston immediately.” He turned to the man in the wheelchair. “Mr. Chapman, you are my client. It’s your decision. Are you agreeable?”

  Bennett Chapman rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Oh, absolutely. I look forward to it.”

  “And you, sir?” Adrian faced Nicholas.

  Nicholas slowly withdrew a gold cigarette case from his pocket. He flipped it open with studied calm, examining the contents carefully before choosing a brown-papered cigarette. “The risk is more yours than mine. The agreement will be written and signed, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  The cigarette case slapped shut. “And, in the event fraud is uncovered, Miss Walsh shall be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

  Amy gasped. “I—”

  “Not you.” Nicholas pointed a long finger at Catharine Walsh. “Her.”

  Catharine drew herself up to her full height. A slight tremor ran down her left arm. She clenched her fist to stop it, but the gesture was not enough to curb her fury. Adrian watched her lips compress into a tight line and recognized the feverish glint in her eyes.

  His words tumbled out as if released from years of captivity. “I hardly think that necessary, Mr. Chapman.”

  “Oh, I think it very necessary indeed, Mr. de la Noye.” Nicholas delivered a smile stolen directly from the serpent in the Garden of Eden. “Those are the only terms I’ll accept. Otherwise, you go right ahead and draft that new will. And I’ll go right ahead and employ every contact I have to contest it. Win or lose, I’ll see to it that both you and Miss Walsh are dragged through the mud.”

  “Accept his terms, Adrian,” Catharine said quickly. An inadvertent hand flew to her mouth, partially concealing her bright red blush. Jim’s eyebrows rose above the wire frames of his spectacles.

  When she spoke again, her tone was cool. “I’ve nothing to hide, Mr. de la Noye. Accept his terms.”

  Adrian veiled his own sur
prise at her slip before turning toward Nicholas Chapman. “Very well, then. Mr. Reid will draft the paperwork. When do we meet?”

  Amy blinked. “Mrs. Chapman comes in her own time, not at my bidding. I can’t just command her to appear.”

  Nicholas reached for his cigarette lighter, flicking up the flame with one sharp motion. “Then I suggest you put in your request for her appearance now. Send her an invitation. A telegram. Do whatever it is you do to summon her, for we shall all be waiting with bated breath to see her after dinner tonight.”

  “Tonight?” Amy squeaked. “But—”

  “Splendid!” Bennett Chapman beamed. “Of course, Mr. de la Noye, you and Mr. Reid will remain at Liriodendron as our guests.”

  Chloe heaved herself up from the chair, catching her brother’s arm even though he’d failed to offer it. “I’m exhausted. Should you need to interrogate me more closely about any of this, Mr. de la Noye, you’ll find me in my room. Alone. Any time.”

  “Stop talking, Chloe,” Nicholas ordered, half dragging his sister across the flagstone patio to the French doors.

  Bennett Chapman waited until his children had gone. “Greedy little tyrants,” he said. “Have some coffee, Catharine, and maybe a scone. You missed breakfast this morning.”

  “No, thank you.” Catharine’s shoulders sagged. “If you’ll excuse me, my headache has returned. I need to lie down.”

  “If you say so. I’m feeling rather peaked myself. Damn those children of mine. They can make you old before your time. Roll me back to my room, Catharine, will you? Oh, I’m so looking forward to the séance! It brings me great comfort to see Elizabeth’s fondness for you.”

  Catharine Walsh didn’t answer. She merely gripped the wheelchair handles and pivoted Bennett Chapman to face the house.

  Jim turned toward Adrian, eyebrows raised in question, but Adrian was watching as Catharine pushed the chair toward the ballroom doors, her eyes straight ahead and her color high.

  “Come along, Mr. Reid,” Adrian finally said, snapping his attention back to Jim. “We’ve work to do.”

  CHAPTER

  6

  The séance would be held in the parlor, the Zeus statue presiding. Jim shoved his hands deep into his pockets and longed for the after-dinner brandy he’d just abandoned on Bennett Chapman’s library desk. He’d have preferred to stay in the plush library longer, enjoying both the contraband alcohol and the Gauloise cigarettes his host had provided the men after dinner. It didn’t matter that the air between Adrian and Nicholas Chapman crackled with mutual contempt; Jim had seen worse just strolling around the block in his neighborhood. Besides, the raised hackles in the library were far preferable to the tension they’d all endured at the dining room table earlier that evening, where men and women alike had sat at awkward attention beneath the salty language of Bennett Chapman’s incessant commentary.

  But all leisurely enjoyment of Liriodendron’s luxuries had vanished with Amy Walsh’s knock on the library door.

  “I’m ready,” she’d said, as cheerfully as if announcing a madcap game of charades.

  Bennett Chapman’s face had lit from within like a Chinese lantern. “Gentlemen, you’ve all finished your drinks, haven’t you?”

  And, as he’d watched Adrian drain the last of his brandy and set down the glass, Jim had known that, half-full glass or not, he had no choice but to follow their host out of the library and down the hall.

  Now Amy Walsh led the men from the library to the parlor, Bennett Chapman at her side. He’d eschewed the wheelchair this evening, choosing instead a fine wooden walking stick topped with an intricately carved ivory elephant. His step seemed sure as he crossed the parlor threshold.

  Seven chairs had been arranged in a loose circle about a round table. A candelabra with four lit tapers was set in the middle, placed atop a maroon cloth that covered the table from top to floor on all sides. Nicholas lifted the edge of the cloth and examined the space beneath the table before retreating to stand like a sullen sentinel beside the parlor door.

  Amy seated herself in the chair directly opposite the doorway, with Bennett on her right. Cool and composed, Catharine sank gracefully into the chair beside him.

  “Are we to sit in any special order?” Chloe’s brittle voice floated from her spot by the fireplace.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Amy started to say, then caught herself. “No, wait.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head. Jim exchanged a questioning glance with Adrian, who gave a slight shrug.

  “I guess it does matter tonight,” Amy said, eyes still closed. “Mr. Reid is to sit at my left. The younger Mr. Chapman is beside him, then Lady Dinwoodie and Mr. de la Noye. Aunt Catharine, you and Bennett may stay where you are.”

  Bennett leaned forward. “Is that Elizabeth who says so? Oh, she always did love arranging a good dinner party!”

  “I suspect it’s Mrs. Chapman.” Amy opened her eyes. “But it’s mostly just a feeling for now. No words.”

  “Perhaps the message is from your spirit guide.” Chloe drifted toward her assigned seat. She seemed particularly tired this evening, as if even lifting her fork at dinner had required too much effort. She hadn’t touched a drop of wine during the meal and had refused even the offer of an after-dinner cordial.

  “Spirit guide.” Nicholas almost spat the words.

  “I’m unfamiliar with that term.” Adrian slid Lady Dinwoodie’s chair out from beneath the table.

  She dropped into the offered seat. “To contact loved ones on the other side, most mediums rely on the aid of one who has already crossed over. Have you never heard of Florence Cook and her Katie King? Of Mrs. Piper and the Imperator?”

  “When did you become an expert on otherworldly communication?” Nicholas’s words frosted the air.

  Chloe’s chin quivered. “I’ve . . . had an interest in séances for quite some time now,” she said faintly.

  She brought to mind a cornered doe searching for an escape from the barrel of a hunter’s gun. Jim opened his mouth to save her, but Adrian spoke first.

  “I’m not at all surprised that Lady Dinwoodie has an interest in such things,” he said. “She is a sophisticated society woman, after all. It’s her responsibility to stay well informed about the current fads and fashions in entertainment.”

  He seated himself in the glow of Lady Dinwoodie’s grateful smile.

  “Please extinguish all lamps except for the small one on the bookcase by the door,” Amy said.

  “Allow me.” Nicholas Chapman strode through the parlor, turning off every lamp in his path. The room grew dimmer with each click. Amy’s wide eyes gleamed in the candlelight. Catharine flinched as Nicholas swept past her. She sat still as a stone, her face an unreadable blank. Lady Dinwoodie bit her lower lip as her brother extinguished the last light and took his place in the chair beside her.

  “Remember,” Amy said, “I’ve no guarantee that Mrs. Chapman will come.”

  “She’ll come.” The anxious note in Bennett Chapman’s voice made Jim turn his way. Understanding dawned as he took in the older man’s crisply creased black suit, expertly knotted tie, and freshly barbered hair. Bennett was seeking the approval of the woman he’d married decades before.

  “We must all hold hands,” Amy said.

  Jim reached for Nicholas’s hand on his left and Amy’s on his right. Her fingers fluttered so lightly in his grasp that he felt they might float away if he didn’t enclose them completely. Across the table, Catharine hesitated briefly before allowing her hand to rest against Adrian’s open palm. He acknowledged her touch with an expressionless nod but did not close his hand around hers.

  “Should we shut our eyes?” Chloe asked.

  “I have no intention of doing that,” Nicholas said. “I don’t plan to miss a thing.”

  An uncomfortable silence descended upon them as all attention turned toward Amy. She had already closed her eyes, her face in repose reminiscent of a Renaissance Madonna.

  “We have visitors toni
ght, Mrs. Chapman,” Amy said politely. “Won’t you join us?”

  Chloe squirmed in her chair. “Oh, dear. I do hope we needn’t worry about anything as odious as ectoplasm.”

  “Shhh!” Catharine frowned.

  Amy’s cheeks grew exceedingly rosy. Her small hand curled into a fist against Jim’s palm. He resisted the urge to slide his chair a little closer to hers.

  Seconds dragged into minutes. The grandfather clock in the entrance hall chimed the quarter hour, each toll an indictment. Outside, the sky darkened a shade.

  Nicholas’s chair creaked as he shifted position. “I’ll endure five more minutes of this nonsense. If nothing has happened by then, the matter is settled in my favor.”

  “There is no prescribed waiting time written in our agreement,” Adrian said.

  “Perhaps you have more hours than I to waste in the pursuit of folly, Mr. de la Noye. Five more minutes.”

  “Oh, I’m quite certain they won’t mind at all,” Amy said suddenly to no one in particular.

  Bennett Chapman leaned forward. “Is she here?”

  “She says that you should be able to sense that by now . . . that if you think about her, you’ll know exactly where she’s standing.”

  The candle flames wavered as Bennett obediently closed his eyes. A small smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “Why, of course. She’s near the fireplace.”

  “Very good indeed,” Amy said.

  “She’s wearing that blue gown I liked so well, the one she first wore to a ball at the White House. Rud Hayes and his wife, Lucy, were such splendid hosts, even if one had to resort to trickery to get a drop of liquor in their house; excellent practice for this wretched Prohibition, if I do say so myself. Good evening, my sweet Elizabeth.”

  “Oh, for the love of God.” Nicholas yanked his hand from Jim’s, slamming it hard on the table. “Are we to believe—”

  One candle blew out as a chill laced the room.

  “We must clasp hands,” Bennett said sharply.

  “This is stupidity!”

  “Do as he says, Nicky.” Illuminated by the remaining candles, Chloe’s anxious face resembled a pale, floating moon.