‘Do you think it was your mother who spoke? Do you think the warning was for you, Mrs Avery?’ she whispers, eyes wide in her face.
‘I shall certainly be on my guard if I receive any unexpected house guests.’
‘I think we all owe Mrs Dunthorpe our thanks for such a compelling display of her psychic abilities,’ Hester says, suddenly desperate for the lights to be switched back on and the shadows chased from the corners of the room.
‘Oh, yes! It was quite remarkable!’ Esme agrees, her colour returning.
Gradually, the atmosphere in the room eases, and conversation rises again as each compares her experience of the visitation with her neighbour. They sip their brandy and eat crystallised fruit, and swap polite gossip.
‘Mrs Canning, I hear tell you have a new maid of all work, come down from London,’ says Mrs Avery, cutting across the circle to Hester. It is not a question.
‘That’s correct, Mrs Avery. Cat Morley is her name. She’s beginning to settle in, although she’s not quite as quick about her work as I would have expected for one trained in a grand house,’ Hester replies.
‘I heard that she had been imprisoned until lately. Is this true?’ their hostess asks, her face pressed into flat lines of disapproval. Hester feels the blood rush to her cheeks. How on earth has it got about? Only from Sophie Bell, and Hester asked her most explicitly not to speak of it to anyone.
‘Well, I … ah …’ Hester stammers.
‘Well, was she or wasn’t she?’
‘Indeed, most unfortunately, she was, it is true … not for very long, I understand … a short sentence …’
‘And you are happy to have a felon living under your own roof with you? Is that wise?’ Mrs Avery asks, peering along her nose, pinning Hester with the question.
‘My … my husband and I thought it an act of charity to give the girl a livelihood, and a chance to regain a place in society … After all, she has repaid her debt, in the eyes of the law,’ Hester manages.
Mrs Avery grunts, twitches the ends of her shawl into a neater shape, tucks her chin into her chest. The light shines from the iron-grey swathe of her hair. ‘Indeed. That may be the case. Very commendable, I am sure; and the least one should expect from the household of a clergyman, I suppose. Tell me, what was her crime?’ she asks.
‘That … that is … the details are known only to the girl … to Cat Morley. I have not pressed her for the particulars. I thought it better to let—’
‘Oh, come now! I won’t have it – you must have known what crime she committed before you took her on! No one but a fool would not have found it out! What if she were a murderer?’
‘If she was a murderer, her sentence would have been very long indeed, and she would hardly have come out of it still young enough to come here to the vicar’s house,’ says Sarah Vickers, sensing Hester’s unease.
‘I … I have undertaken not to speak of it. I do apologise, Mrs Avery,’ Hester says, her pulse racing and her cheeks flaming crimson. She squirms a little, longing for the woman’s spotlight glare to move away from her. ‘Whatever she did, it is between her and God. I hope that … by coming here she is able to leave it all behind her.’
Mrs Avery’s eyebrows arch coldly, her mouth flattens even further. ‘Commendable discretion, I’m sure,’ she says, the words like a whip cracking.
Suddenly, Esme Bullington gasps, her hand flying to her mouth.
‘Mrs Canning! What if the warning was for you? What if this new girl of yours is the one the spirit meant – the source of evil that has entered your home?’ she asks, grasping Hester’s arm with her short, bony fingers.
‘Oh! Surely not … I’m sure the spirit can’t have meant Cat …’ Hester smiles uneasily.
‘Have you any elderly female relatives, recently crossed over?’ Mrs Dunthorpe asks her seriously. The eyes of all twelve women fix upon Hester.
‘Well … my great aunt Eliza, I suppose … She passed away four years ago, of the palsy,’ Hester admits.
‘That’s it, then! That was her – it must have been!’ Esme cries. ‘Oh, Mrs Canning! Do be careful – do heed what was said, won’t you? That a source of evil has entered your house, and will bring dark times upon you … Poor Mrs Canning! Do be careful!’
‘Now, now, Esme. Calm yourself,’ Mrs Avery admonishes the woman, who is dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her handkerchief. ‘I am quite sure that nothing truly evil would take root in the house of a man of God. Isn’t that right, Mrs Canning?’