Newport: A Novel by Jill Morrow Read Free Book Online Page B

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.
    “Mrs. Chapman is approaching the table,” Amy said calmly. “She is very pleased to see you all here tonight.”
    Jim’s mind raced in an effort to organize this new influx of information. Granny Cullen had certainly never relied on eerie effects or rituals to dole out the comments she claimed came straight from his grandfather. He remembered her standing in the bright light of the kitchen, paring knife pointed in his direction: “Your Gran’da says you’re to cut your hair and straighten your spine. Stand proud, young man!” He’d grown used to receiving pithy commands from the beyond delivered in the midst of whatever mundane chore Granny happened to be doing at the moment. He’d believed them, too: why doubt when Granny’s pronouncements were nearly always right?
    But he’d expected more here—instruments for the spirits to play, perhaps, or the adoption of strange voices and mannerisms as “Mrs. Chapman” spoke. Instead there was simply Amy, looking lovely but ordinary as she sat in her chair with her eyes closed, speaking in herusual tone of voice while delivering words she claimed belonged to someone else.
    “Is this all that happens?” Nicholas demanded.
    “Of course not,” his father said. “We talk about old times. And your mother offers the advice she’s been robbed of giving in physical form. You may ask her anything you wish.”
    “Ask who anything I wish? There’s nobody here. Mr. de la Noye, I implore you to halt this travesty now.”
    Adrian sighed. “I’d like to hear more, Mr. Chapman.”
    “Your mother regrets that she wasn’t present to temper your rash disposition while you were growing up, sir,” Amy said, and a murmur of agreement from Catharine underscored her words. “She would have remained on this earth longer had she been given the choice.”
    “Don’t fret, Elizabeth,” Bennett whispered. “We all understand.”
    Amy’s voice softened. “Lady Dinwoodie, your mother brings words meant for you tonight. She recognizes your sorrow and longs to share the burden. She has a message from someone you miss very much.”
    Chloe wrenched her hand from Adrian’s, but not in time to cover the gasp that escaped her mouth.
    Nicholas half rose in his chair. “Mr. de la Noye. You must stop this at once.”
    “No, Nicky. Wait.” His sister struggled to her feet, each tendon in her neck taut. “Please, continue.”
    Adrian placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and guided her back into her chair. “Lady Dinwoodie, there is much resting on this session tonight, and it’s necessary to ensure that justice is served. Will you allow me to ask the questions?”
    She slumped against the back of her chair, too distracted to return her hand to his. “Please do. I’m not sure I can.”
    He turned toward Bennett Chapman. “And you, sir—may I respectfully ask that you remain silent as well?”
    “Indeed.” The old man’s eyes shone. “I am content simply to bask in Elizabeth’s presence.”
    Adrian faced Amy, who sat quite still with her eyes closed and a sweet smile on her face. “Am I speaking to Mrs. Chapman?”
    “You are speaking to Amy Walsh,” Amy said. “But I hear Mrs. Chapman and deliver her words.”
    “I’ve heard that some . . . spirits . . . speak through their mediums. You don’t do this?”
    Amy gave a slight shudder. “How ghastly. No, Mr. de la Noye. I don’t choose to give myself over to something I can neither see nor control.”
    “So, if I ask a question of Mrs. Chapman, you will give me her response.”
    “If she so directs, yes.”
    “Very well. Mrs. Chapman says she has a message for Lady Dinwoodie. Who is it