Whispers of Warning

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by Jessica Estevao


  “I’m sure Chief Hurley is just saying that to get away with working the officers extra hours with no pay. After all, what could possibly overshadow something as exciting as the opening of the world’s longest pleasure pier?” Lucy reached for another sandwich and took a bite.

  Now seemed the perfect moment to share Sophronia’s invitation. “I’m thinking of something that might overshadow the pier as far as you’re concerned. At least for today,” I said. Lucy stopped chewing “Do you have any plans for dinner this evening?”

  She swallowed slowly. “No, not this evening. Why do you ask?”

  “Sophronia has expressed a desire to meet you.” Lucy dropped what remained of the sandwich right into her lap.

  “It isn’t kind to tease so,” she said, a spot of color coming to each of her smooth cheeks. “You know how much her visit means to me.”

  “I would not think of making up such a thing. She really does want to meet you. She has a proposition she would like to discuss with you over dinner.”

  Lucy’s jaw flapped open and a strangled little gargle slipped out. But she recovered quickly and looked to me with her eyebrow raised before speaking. “Did she say what kind of proposition?”

  “She did indeed. What would you say if I told you she wants you to act as her personal secretary while she is here in Old Orchard?”

  “I would say I never would have expected such an opportunity as that.” Lucy’s eyes shone bright with suppressed excitement. “Do you really think I am the one for the job? There must be many women who would be overjoyed to have the chance to work with Miss Foster Eldridge.”

  “Well, they aren’t going to get the chance. I already told her you were sure to accept her offer.” Lucy sat stock-still, her face frozen in surprise.

  “What if when she meets me she doesn’t like me?” Lucy asked. “What if I’m so nervous I say entirely the wrong thing or spill my dinner all over myself?”

  “That won’t happen. I’ve never seen you put a foot wrong.”

  “But why would she think I was qualified for the role?”

  “Honoria and I both recommended you. We said you were the most passionate and energetic suffragist in town and that there was nothing you would like more than the vote for women,” I said, bringing an even deeper blush to Lucy’s cheeks. “I also said you already possessed some useful secretarial skills.”

  “Well, I can take notes, and for Christmas two years ago Warren bought me a typewriting machine. I’ve become quite adept at using it.”

  “I told her you could type. She seemed very pleased that you have practical skills to bring to the arrangement.”

  “A letter of reference from Sophronia might come in quite handy if I decide I would like to try my hand at being the sort of modern woman who goes out to a job. I could even move to Portland and work in an office one day.”

  “I didn’t know you were considering such a thing.” I had the disloyal thought that I regretted helping Lucy to have the means to leave Old Orchard. I valued her friendship too much to consider the possibility she might leave town. Lucy and Millie were my first real friends and I was enjoying the experience of having other women my age to count as such. Adults had staffed the medicine show almost entirely and I had spent my early years mostly devoid of the companionship of other children. My father and I moved far too frequently to establish relationships with the people in the towns we visited.

  Besides, if the business you conduct requires you to take advantage of others, the situation does not foster amiable sentiments. Those few times we had not snuck out of town under the cover of the stars we were run off by angry mobs demanding their money back. Should I have had the great fortune to strike up a friendship with another girl it would have been impossible to maintain.

  “I shouldn’t have said it was a goal but it may be what things come to if I don’t want to marry. After all, Mother won’t live forever and I would hate to impose on whichever woman could put up with my brother when he finally decides to settle down.” I fought down an urge to defend Officer Yancey. Lucy had the right to her opinion but I could not say I agreed with her estimation of her brother’s charms. While he could be exasperating he was also a good man with a steady character. Many women likely found him quite appealing. Still, I could understand her reluctance to depend on the welcome of such an unknown quantity as a future sister-in-law. “Now, if I already knew and liked the lady in question it would be another matter entirely.” She gave me an exaggerated and disconcerting wink. I decided it was time to head back to the Belden before she could expand on any matchmaking notions.

  “If you are to have time to return home and to prepare yourself for dinner we best pack up.” Lucy nodded and drained her tin cup before replacing it in the hamper. I brushed a few stray breadcrumbs from my knickerbockers and began gathering up the remains of the lunch.

  Chapter Six

  I parted company with Lucy near her house and then continued on my own toward home. I cycled slowly to a stop in front of the Hotel Belden. As brave as I felt moving forward on two wheels, I had to admit, if only in the privacy of my own mind, that stopping was an entirely different matter. Not long after I had learned to balance, Amanda Howell had informed me that there was a real risk of being thrown over the handlebars and being left in a vegetative state if one braked too quickly.

  I had not wanted to believe her but after confirming her story with several knowledgeable cyclists I could never brake without feeling a tightening in my stomach and a nagging suspicion that I might be experiencing my last conscious moment. Unfortunately, Amanda was walking to the front of the hotel at exactly the same moment I arrived. If there was one person in the world I would not enjoy seeing me disgrace myself on my bicycle, it would be her.

  Amanda had done little to endear herself to me since my arrival at the Belden. She had made every effort to make me feel unwelcome from the moment we met and little had changed in the intervening weeks.

  It was obvious that the source of her loathing was twofold. Firstly, I believe she had cherished hope that Honoria would take her under her wing as a protégée when Amanda realized Honoria had no children of her own. My arrival could be seen as the thing that dashed those hopes.

  Perhaps even more important, I was the only other young and unattached woman at the hotel. Well, that is if you did not count the maids or serving girls whom I was certain Amanda would never consider. Amanda appeared to be constantly searching the environment for eligible gentlemen with whom to make a permanent match and she viewed me as the competition.

  Her object of greatest attention was Ned, the hotel numerologist. Ned was a likable young man who appeared oblivious to Amanda’s advances. Either that or he was doing a bang-up job of appearing to not notice them every time I was in the same room with the pair. No matter how I tried to avoid inflaming her jealously, it was impossible to avoid in a hotel so small.

  I stretched my toe toward the ground and dismounted as gracefully as I knew how. My new cycling costume had made such a maneuver ever so much more possible. I was sorely tempted to take to wearing it day in and day out. I felt exhilaratingly liberated by the freedom my legs had to move about athletically. I felt quite sorry for Amanda as I noticed her working to hold her gown up off the dirt of the street. But my generosity of spirit evaporated as soon as she spoke, as was generally the case during our interactions.

  “Really, Miss Proulx, how could you allow yourself to be seen out in public in such an outrageously unladylike thing as that?” She slowly moved her gaze down my frame, lingering at my ankles in their neat leather boots before sliding back up to scowl in my face. “Does Honoria have any idea of the damage you are doing to the reputation of the hotel?”

  “I think it hardly needs mentioning that we have vastly differing opinions about what constitutes ladylike behavior,” I said. “I was raised to understand a lady would keep such unsolicited opinions to her
self.”

  “That just goes to show your upbringing is decidedly against you in this regard. And likely most others.” Amanda rolled her eyes at me.

  “After spending the day in this ensemble I predict that intelligent and stylish women from all walks of life will one day wear trousers more often than not.” I wasn’t just trying to get a rise out of her. I truly believed once more women tried outfits like my own they would not be content to be hobbled by gowns for the rest of their lives.

  “I cannot imagine how you could possibly make such a preposterous prediction.”

  “I expect it has something to do with my tarot card reading and mediumship. Predictions are my specialty.” That remark had been beneath me, and as soon as I said it I regretted doing so. Amanda’s psychic discipline involved psychometry, reading the energy of objects. She truly seemed able to pick up a personal belonging and to know surprisingly accurate details about the owner. Not just physical descriptions, either. She could reveal the state of mind or the overall character of the person.

  As impressive as her gift was it had proven far less popular with the guests than had disciplines involving the future or contacting those who had passed into spirit. Day after day, sessions with Nell, the palm reader, Cecelia, the astrologer, and even with me were completely booked. Amanda had days with only a client or two scheduled for appointments. I wasn’t at all sure that Honoria would engage her for the following summer.

  I leaned my bicycle against the front porch railing and mounted the steps with Amanda close on my heels. I shoved open the door with a bit more gusto than strictly necessary, considering the hinges were always kept faultlessly well oiled.

  “I predict I would never be seen in such a vulgar thing as you are wearing. Nor will I choose to associate with the sort of woman who would.” Amanda wrinkled her nose as though she smelled a dead mouse in the walls.

  The porch door of the Hotel Belden opens directly onto the lobby. Ben, Honoria’s faithful man of all work, stood as silently as ever behind the gleaming walnut reception desk attending to a lady who appeared to be checking in, if the small trunk on the floor by her feet was any indication. The woman turned and looked at us as we entered. She was athletically built, and of above average height. I was surprised and gratified to see she was clad in a bicycling costume even more daringly cut than my own.

  “Hello,” I said. “I’m Ruby Proulx, the proprietress’s niece. You must be one of our new arrivals?”

  “I am Miss Theda Rice. I wrote some weeks ago requesting a reservation.” The woman used a tone of voice that suggested she habitually expected to encounter problems. I wished Honoria were there to greet her instead of me. She was gifted at pleasing guests no matter how determined they were to be unsatisfied. Maybe in time I would possess some of her skill but for now I fell back on my medicine show experience and relied on a bright smile.

  “We have been eagerly awaiting you,” I said, hoping I sounded genuinely like I had heard of her before that very moment. “We hope that you will enjoy all the services and opportunities the Belden has to offer.”

  “Perhaps I will do so,” Miss Rice said, peering down through her wired spectacles at me. Behind me Amanda cleared her throat. She never missed an opportunity to advertise her services.

  “May I present the hotel psychometrist, Miss Howell.” I turned to Amanda, who wore an even showier smile than my own. She took a step forward and angled herself just enough in front of me for the movement to be taken for the slight I guessed she meant it to be.

  “You needn’t bother with introductions. I overheard your conversation. As I am so vulgarly dressed, surely that one will not wish to make my acquaintance.” Miss Rice gave Amanda a crushing scowl and waved her away with the flick of her hand. Amanda had the good grace to blush before she scurried off down the hall.

  I wish I could say I had such fine character as to not have enjoyed seeing her get her comeuppance but in truth, I enjoyed it immensely. “That girl is exactly what is wrong with this country,” Miss Rice said, shaking her head as she watched Amanda’s retreat. “I see I have my work cut out for me here.”

  “Are you engaged in some sort of work that brings you to Old Orchard?” I asked, hoping to distract Miss Rice from Amanda’s gaffe.

  “I am a suffragist and I intend to take advantage of the masses who will be assembling here for the opening of your new pier and pass out leaflets to the crowds.”

  “What a coincidence,” I said. “Do you perhaps know Miss Foster Eldridge? She is staying here as well.”

  “It is my privilege to call her my dearest friend,” Miss Rice said. “She’s the reason I’ve come to Old Orchard. My intuition told me she would be in need of my support.” Miss Rice’s pasty cheeks dotted with red and she pressed the corner of her eye with a plain white handkerchief. Her words were similar to those of many of the guests at the Belden.

  I had learned almost upon their arrival that this was a group led by impressions and intuitions more than any other I had ever encountered. As I was still learning to acknowledge my own metaphysical abilities, sometimes I was uncomfortable with the enthusiastic professions of others. I wished again that Honoria had been the one to greet Miss Rice. I asked for guidance but even the voice was silent. I decided to fall back on a stock welcome.

  “Then you will feel quite at home here. I am sure that you will find the hotel to your liking and hope that your stay will be a long one,” I said.

  “You can rest assured that as long as Sophronia is here representing the cause of women’s suffrage I will be here, too, to support her.” Miss Rice turned toward the door. “Clearly there is much work to do if we are to overcome the attitudes of people like that young woman you came in with.” I did not feel I was successfully smoothing Miss Rice’s feathers. Perhaps an apology might be the right approach.

  “I am so very sorry for you to have had such a poor welcome. I can only imagine what you must think of us.” I looked to Ben for some sign of encouragement but he stood silent as ever behind the desk.

  “When one works tirelessly for a cause as reviled as suffrage one becomes accustomed to feeling unwelcome.” She gestured to my outfit. “Still, now and again one has cause to be hopeful for the future.” With that, she strode out of the room.

  Chapter Seven

  As soon as Miss Rice was out of sight I raced up the back stairs and thumped on Honoria’s bedroom door. I was certain she would wish to know Miss Rice had arrived. As I stood in front of her door awaiting an answer I considered how odd it was for her not to have been in the lobby to greet Miss Rice personally. It was her habit to be on hand to meet guests herself when they checked in to the hotel. One of the ways the Belden distinguished itself in a resort town was by providing just that sort of attentive, personal service.

  When she did not immediately answer I knocked again. After a long moment I heard shuffling in her room and when she opened the door I could see her hair was mussed and her eyes clouded with sleep.

  “Please tell me nothing has gone terribly wrong?” she asked, pulling me into her room and shutting the door firmly behind me.

  “Not at all. I’ve just come to let you know Miss Theda Rice has arrived and Ben has ensconced her safely in her room,” I said.

  “What a relief.” Honoria looked around the room as if she were looking at it for the first time. “I am so pleased I can count on you to assist with the guests.” Honoria passed a hand over her hair to smooth it into place. It proved a futile effort. She looked so out of sorts I thought it best to sound reassuring. I also decided not to apprise her of the unpleasantness between Miss Rice and Amanda.

  Honoria let out an enormous yawn. I looked past her to the high, four-poster bed at the far end of the room. The coverlet was rumpled and the pillow showed a head-size dent. Millie would never have left a room in such a state. I was dumbfounded. Honoria was such a whirlwind of energy it was difficult to imagine
her sleeping at night, let alone in the day.

  “Did I wake you?” I asked, hoping she was not becoming ill. The thought of an illness sweeping through the hotel was not something I wished to consider. I had seen the effects of sickness in close quarters too many times on the medicine shows not to experience a horror at the mere thought of it.

  “I’m afraid you did. But not because I was tired. Rather, I was completely overcome by a dream.”

  When I first arrived at the Belden, Honoria had mentioned her unusual dreams to me. She claimed she had known about my mother’s death through a dream as well as a myriad of other events that had come to pass. But she had not had one since I had been living at the hotel. I wasn’t sure how to react or whether or not to show enthusiasm.

  I was still not sure how much to credit my own psychic experiences. It was even more difficult to understand those of another. I wasn’t sure what to say, as I had no desire to offend her. Honoria was a true believer and she had never expressed the doubts that assailed me. She appeared to have complete faith in the metaphysical, no matter which form it took.

  When I had worked the medicine shows with my father we had built a business on the true believers. They were amongst the quickest to part with their pennies and also the most faithful in their attendance at any given show. They were also the most notional as to how the spirit world and the manifestation of miracles were supposed to occur.

  As a result they were hard to please. I had learned, to my peril, that you needed to discover their expectations for a spiritual experience before you attempted to provide them with one. Since I had no background in psychic dreams I decided the best course would be to simply ask questions.

  “You experienced one of your prophetic dreams?”

 

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