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“And that in itself is suspicious,” Geraldine said. “Who in their right mind would leave London? It
is the very pearl of civilization.”
“Two daughters,” Emma said thoughtfully. “Did she mention them by name?”
But as Marjorie regretfully shook her head, the doorbell rang.
“Answer it, please, Emma,” Geraldine said. “Gage is in the kitchen.”
“You really must get him some help,” Tess said distractedly. “Your social life is a whirlwind, Gerry,
and it’s inhumane to expect that one poor man to handle it all. And whoever can that be at the door? I
thought our party was complete.”
“Not quite,” said Geraldine. “I invited Madame Renata.” As three questioning faces turned toward
her, she hastened to explain. “Oh, I know she can be quite odd and that some have found her séances
to be more… more theatrical than the occasion requires. But I believe she is a gifted medium, as
skilled at her profession as Trevor is at his. And Emma dear, you needn’t tell him I said that.”
“How much of the situation did you explain to Madame Renata?” Emma asked. “She will likely use
any information you told her in order to concoct exactly the sort of answers she knows we crave.
These people make their living by feeding on the false hopes of the desperate.”
“I told her nothing, except that we sought guidance in the matter of a young girl,” Geraldine said
briskly, “and please dear, wipe that outraged expression off your face and go open the door. We can’t
leave the poor woman standing in the frost all night.”
****
“We call upon the voices of all women,” Madame Renata intoned. “The women who were wronged,
betrayed, used for another’s selfish pleasures and then abandoned. The women who trusted unworthy
men and paid the price. We summon them all here, to make a protective circle around our table.”
“The room is likely to get rather crowded,” Emma whispered to Marjorie, who giggled. Geraldine
shot her a warning look across the table, before obediently bowing her head as if she were in church.
“Let us join hands, my sisters,” Madame Renata intoned. Her head was swathed in a bright colored
cloth that reminded Emma of the Caribbean women she sometimes saw in the marketplace and her
hands were encrusted with jewels of every hue. The rings were most likely fakes, just like their
owner, and the overall effect was more than a bit ridiculous. But she supposed at this point, they had
little to lose.
The five women sitting around the small oak table joined hands. The room was dark, save for a
single candle, and silent, save for the fact that Tess was already sobbing softly. Marjorie squeezed
her mother’s hand and closed her eyes.
“The women are with us,” Madame Renata said. “They have heard the cries of our hearts. They
come in their crowns, in their robes, in their scarlet capes…”
A sudden chill ran over Emma. Scarlet capes?
“They stand with us,” Madame Renata continued in her sing-song voice. “Mary, Anne…”