The Visionist: A Novel

by Rachel Urquhart

  Elder Sister Agnes rose from her chair and walked slowly to a tall cupboard built into the wall and fastened shut. She paused before opening it and taking out a brown leather-bound book, which she clutched to her chest as she turned and walked back towards Polly.

  “You have heard tell of the Book of Secrets?” she asked. “That is its common name. It is a sacred text to any believer who knows of it—the story of Mother Ann’s life and beliefs as remembered by those who knew her. When I was a younger sister, we read it freely so that we might learn from her greatness. But it was decided, after some years, that should the book find its way into the hands of the World’s people, its tales of purity and redemption might be misread. Out of fear that the book might cloud our mission, every copy in existence was collected and guarded by the elders of the communities. No one in The City of Hope has seen this book for many a year. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” Polly answered faintly. “I have only heard believers whisper its name. I do not know what it says.”

  The eldress paused before speaking again. “Well, you shall now be allowed to see why your most recent Vision has startled me so.” Sighing, she turned the printed pages, edged brown with age, until she found the passage she was searching for. She looked up sharply and pushed the open book at Polly.

  “Read,” she ordered.

  And James Whittaker sat down by the roadside in darkness to eat his victuals and saw America as a large tree, and every leaf thereof shone with such brightness as made it appear like a burning torch, representing the church of Christ, which will yet be established in this land.

  Polly looked up from her recitation. “I don’t…”

  “You don’t understand?” asked Elder Sister Agnes briskly. “Nor, I must say, do I. There is something about the way that you came to us that keeps troubling me. It was hardly unusual, at least on its surface. I myself was a refugee from the World’s cruelty, though that’s of little consequence here. There was a fire, that much you—and the investigator, of course—have told me.”

  Polly’s hands slipped again as she tried to bend the wooden strips to fit the basket form. What else had the investigator said? She tensed in her chair.

  “You are hiding something from me,” Elder Sister Agnes continued. “I warned you, when you arrived and impressed the believers so deeply with your first Vision, that their faith in you carried with it responsibility. Now that I have watched you embrace their trust so fully, I wonder how great your past sins would have to be to justify my crushing of their adoration. Perhaps it would be simpler if I just gave up my doubts and joined them?”

  Polly felt the color drain from her face. Confess, confess, confess. Those were the only words she could hear inside her head. But she shook off the temptation to speak. If she could hold on for just a bit longer, perhaps she could devise a better plan.

  “We have been a comfort to you, Sister Polly, have we not?”

  The question was so simple, it stunned Polly. “Yes, of…of course,” she stammered.

  “And to your brother as well?”

  Polly thought back on how clearly he had shown his hatred of her. Still, she could not help admitting that yes, he too had benefitted from his time with the believers.

  The elder sister smiled. “I think Benjamin is a true Shaker. You, however, do not appear to be as taken with our ways. Would you say that I have described the situation correctly?”

  “I would say that Ben is a child, Eldress,” Polly answered, more quickly than she intended. She knew that she had to mind her every word. “By that, I mean that it is difficult to determine one’s faith at so young an age.”

  “Ah, but I cannot agree. Your own dear Sister Charity became a devout believer when she was younger by far than Benjamin.”

  “Yes, but—begging your pardon, Eldress—she was as good as born here, with no one else but you and the believers to love and feed and teach her. Ben has a real family. A mother and a sister…”

  “Yes,” the eldress said, pushing hard at a particularly thick shaving, one that refused to fall into the weave. “Once, he had a flesh family like the one you describe, though I am struck by the person you choose to leave out. A father.”

  “No,” Polly said, feeling dizzy as she answered. “I mean, yes, a father. It was unintentional…that I left him unnamed.”

  Elder Sister Agnes was quiet a moment. Polly’s hands hurt, the air inside the room felt warm and close, she did not know if she could hold up much longer before spilling the whole truth.

  “I am curious about the circumstances surrounding Benjamin’s birth,” she said, her manner strangely coy all of a sudden. Polly felt unnerved by the agility with which she seemed to flit from subject to subject. “He was fully your brother, yes?”

  “Is fully my brother, Eldress,” she answered. “Yes.”

  “Is he recognized as such?”

  Polly stared at her. “You would have to ask my mother about that. I imagine that he would have been treated like any child who comes into this world.”

  “Surely,” the eldress continued, “there was a doctor present. You would have remembered that. Did he not ask your mother and father to sign your brother’s name into some sort of record?”

  “I remember no such person,” Polly answered, though she was lying. “Many a baby is born without the aid of a doctor. I’m sure you’ve delivered your share even here.” Polly lost herself in memory. What had his name been? He had helped Mama, hadn’t he? And then later, when Ben had almost drowned, he’d come again.

  She looked up and saw that the eldress’s face was dark with anger. Polly had known that births taking place within the settlement were not something Elder Sister Agnes would wish to discuss, but she did not want to go on talking about the day Ben was born. And anyway, Polly had heard stories. Whether they arrived in The City of Hope already with child or found themselves in that position after some time here—desire will out in the coldest of climes—at least a few young girls had come to the eldress in search of aid. Polly might have done so herself had her circumstances not been so complicated.

  “Do you take me for a midwife, Sister?” Elder Sister Agnes asked, her blue eyes glinting.

  “I…I meant nothing of the sort,” Polly answered. “Only that you are respected and possess knowledge when it comes to healing that no one else—not even Sister Charity—can claim. Why wouldn’t any sister who found herself in trouble seek you out? To birth her baby, if it was not conceived in…” Polly was treading on slippery ground, but she forged ahead. “And if she showed genuine contrition, she would know that you have the capacity to forgive and teach the moral path through compassion, as you are so often called upon to do concerning matters of a different sort.”

  Elder Sister Agnes rose from her chair and walked to the window. “You show an impressive knowledge of such things for one esteemed by so many for her purity. I believe that you are quite a different sort of girl than the Visionist you are thought to be. I have suspected it from the first. But tell me, Sister Polly, how badly do you want to leave us?”

  Polly felt the floor drop from beneath her feet. “I…I don’t understand why you would think such a thing. I…”

  The eldress held up her hand. “Hush, child. Hear me through. You are ill, that is no secret. ’Tis true, you may be suffering from some sort of ague, but I know that there are many things that sicken both body and soul. Secrets, for example.” She turned to face Polly, but Polly stared at her feet waiting to hear what Elder Sister Agnes would say next.

  “I have an idea—one that might serve everyone, even those who know nothing of the real truth. Even myself, who knows only that there is more to know. You say that your mother is the only person who could tell me what I seek to understand about Benjamin’s birth. If I could speak to her, then I could see my way to helping you leave with her. You met the fire inspector, Mister Simon Pryor. Indeed I believe he caused you some alarm. He has asked to meet with you privately, you know.” She paused, the better
to gauge Polly’s reaction. “I have, against all of our rules, accepted—on the condition that he bring your mother to me.”

  Polly’s mind raced. She could leave without having to run. But what awaited her outside The City of Hope? How she wished she could be free. She longed to see Mama again. She would be allowed to slip away from this place without a fuss. By some miracle, would she be able to persuade the inspector to let her disappear? Perhaps then she could begin anew. Such a dream was barely conceivable. She looked the eldress in the eye.

  “I will meet with the inspector,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “And I will leave quietly with him and my mother.”

  Elder Sister Agnes could not hide her satisfaction. She brushed her hands briskly down her skirt. “You will doubtless be missed,” she said, “but the actions of the Divine are impossible for mere mortals to comprehend, and every believer here in The City of Hope understands that. Just as you appeared out of nowhere, you will vanish. There is a certain Heavenly symmetry to it all, is there not?”

  Polly nodded. The eldress had laid out her plan with such calm, it was as though she had been thinking it over for weeks. But there was one more detail to discuss. “Ben,” she said. “He would have to leave with us.”

  “Ah,” said Elder Sister Agnes. “There you are mistaken. When I said that Benjamin was a true Shaker, I did not speak idly. Look,” she said, turning to her writing desk and taking a sheet of paper from one of the drawers. “It is true, we do not normally invite so young a believer to commit himself to us fully, but he is…a simple soul. And a gifted one. We saw fit to make an exception, and he has quite happily joined us in law as well as spirit. You see? He made the mark of an X beside his name in our Covenant just yesterday.”

  Polly stared at the paper, then looked up.

  “But he is a child,” she said fiercely. “He knows only that he has been fed and kept warm and not had to live in fear.” She stopped, afraid that she had revealed more about their other life than was prudent. “He has been shown kindness at the expense of the love of his own mother. He understands nothing of covenants. He could not even write his own name! You wonder if he exists in the eyes of the world? How can you claim that such a mark as this means that he exists as a ‘true Shaker’?” She had run out of words. Was life nothing but loss upon loss? “You cannot have my brother,” she said firmly. “I will leave if that is what you want. But you will not take him from his own mother, from me. He will leave with us.”

  The eldress’s voice was soft. “I do not believe that he will, do you? Am I alone in noticing how he behaves when he sees you? Do you think that I was not informed as to what happened when you tried to speak to him?” She paused to let her words sink in.

  Sounds began to fill Polly’s head. Of children singing so loudly, she had to raise her hands to her ears to block them out. It was a song she’d heard coming from the schoolhouse one day during her first weeks, and it had haunted her since.

  Of all the good friends that I ever possess

  I certainly love good believers the best:

  So good and so pretty, so clever they feel

  To see them and love them increases my zeal.

  O how pretty they look

  How pretty they look!

  How clever they feel!

  Of all the relations that I ever see

  My old fleshly kindred are furthest from me:

  So bad and so ugly, so hateful they feel

  To see them and hate them increases my zeal.

  O how ugly they look!

  How ugly they look!

  How nasty they feel!

  It took all her strength, but she drew herself up to face the eldress. There could be only one reason that Elder Sister Agnes cared so vehemently that Ben stay behind. Silas was dead, isn’t that what the eldress had told her? So Mama would inherit the land. And if the land was Mama’s, she would leave part of it to Ben.

  Elder Sister Agnes did not simply want to take her brother from her; she wanted his share of the farm as well. Poor Ben. Whether as an X on the Shakers’ Covenant or a blank entry in the town rolls, his existence—or apparent absence—meant only one thing to everyone except Mama and Polly. Land. He’d nearly been killed for it; now he was to be stolen. Polly felt sick.

  “You think that if you keep my brother here, it entitles you to take the farm,” she said. “You think that if you can get my mother to prove that Ben is her son, then you can present him—a true Shaker—as the eventual heir to at least half of the property. Is that the reason you are so intent on keeping him?”

  “Yes,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Benjamin’s gifts are many, as I have said, but one of them is the land he brings with him. You needn’t make me out to be a thief. We have the means to bring back your farm. Whatever you may think of me, I have no interest in hurting you. I seek the betterment of all believers, and as such, I have thought long and hard about your future. I offer you mercy, do you not see that?”

  “Mercy?” Polly said. “Taking a child from his mother? Taking my brother from me? Is that what you call mercy?”

  Elder Sister Agnes’s eyes hardened as she lost her patience. “Do you not remember the morning you arrived? Your mother gave you and your brother to us. She signed papers of indenture. You are lucky that I am so lenient as to consider breaking that pact where you are concerned. I do so only because I sense that it will be best for my fellow believers.”

  She stopped herself, took a breath, and stood down. “You hate me now, Sister Polly,” she said, sitting and taking up her basket once again. “But someday you will see that I was right. I will come and find you when the inspector brings your mother to me. Please take heart in the thought of that reunion.” She looked up. “Now, go.”

  Polly wanted to say so much more—she owed it to Ben—but she could not find the strength. She halted before opening the door to leave.

  “Elder Sister Agnes,” she said. “How did you come to be a believer?”

  The eldress looked up, startled. Then, evenly and clearly, she spoke.

  “I was not wanted elsewhere, child. I arrived barren, beaten, and of no use to a single soul in the world. That is how I came to be a believer. Does that answer your question? You see, I hide nothing from you. I am not afraid of the past.”

  Polly looked down at the floor and nodded. Her shame was complete.

  Simon Pryor

  AFTER MY REVELATORY conversation with Cramby, I set out to find an errand boy to deliver my letter and went in search of Barnabas Trask, his signature as emblazoned on my mind as it was on the papers I carried. I did not know if he would continue to try to mislead me as to his interest in the property, just as I did not know how he would greet the news that I was aware of his association with May Kimball. I expected to discover yet another worm in the wood. After all, even the Shaker sister had proved more manipulative than her humble trappings would have led one to suspect. So much for spiritual purity.

  “Ah, Mister Pryor,” Trask said as he opened the door, a look of surprise on his face. “I knew you were a diligent man, but I should never have expected you to deliver your reports in person. Come in, come in.”

  I thanked him for the invitation and apologized for startling him. “I’ve a matter of some importance to discuss with you, and I’m afraid that I did not think it wise to wait for a formal appointment.”

  His smile did not waver as he took my coat, but as he hung it on a rack in the hall, I noticed that confusion had darkened his brown eyes. Looking round, I saw that his study was not so very different from my own, though the leather and dark polished wood of the desk lent it an air of propriety distinctly lacking in my jumbled library. The place was dark and warm and woody with paneling, but as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I saw that the furniture had become rather threadbare—the leather armchair cracked and scarred; the desk full of gouges that had never been attended to; the dark red carpet worn in a track from the door to the fire to the desk and back again. Pe
rhaps, I thought, the place had once contained the offices of an older and more successful solicitor.

  Yet Trask’s surroundings suited him—a country lawyer, seemingly honest, hardworking, with never enough cases to allow him to become lazy. Seating myself opposite him by the fire, I stared into his face and saw a man not so very different from the person I had once hoped to be. Then I reminded myself that I had good reason not to trust him; perhaps Trask and I had followed more similar paths after all.

  I dispensed with pretending to believe in the character he had initially presented. The signature on May’s papers had been straightforward enough. Why not let it do the work? I took the envelope from my pocket and held it out.

  “Are you familiar with this, sir?”

  His was not a gambler’s face. When he glanced down at what I held in my hand, his cheeks reddened and his eyes opened wide beneath his furrowed brow. He drew a sharp breath and, for a moment, seemed unable to find his voice. He knew precisely what the packet was about, and I was glad for it.

  “However did you come by it?” he asked, as wary as I had been bold. “May I look?”

  I handed the sheaf to him. He studied it, turning the envelope over in trembling hands.

  “Benjamin Briggs’s seal,” he said, almost as though he were speaking to himself. “After all this time, who would think the wax would have stuck?”

  “It is indeed a wonder, sir,” I said. “Now, if you don’t mind, please enlighten me.”

  He eyed me from head to toe, no doubt curious as to what my interest was beyond seeking to advance my case. “Can I ask you first,” he said, “whether this means that May and her children are safe?”

  “I’ll tell you soon enough,” I answered. “It’s complicated. Please, sir. Indulge me.”

  He heaved a sigh. “By now, you’ve no doubt come to the realization that I knew the Kimball family—I’m sorry to have concealed my connection from you. I didn’t see another way to…well, as I knew for whom you usually work, I wasn’t sure whether or not I could trust you.”