The exchange with Finn has left her feeling restless. She waits until he sleeps before she prepares the parlour. When everything is in place she summons Willa.
‘I am ready for you.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
Willa sits and immediately thrusts her hand into her pocket to clasp her tokens of comfort.
Clovis studies the porcelain head that sits on a pedestal, its mysteries mapped out in shiny lines and sections. Her finger traces the black marking of the line from the centre of the forehead, all the way to the top of the head where she stops at the benevolence organ. She calculates and memorizes the trajectory, mentally tracing it on the head of her servant who sits nervously in the chair.
Willa fingers a miniature heart-shaped pin cushion in her right hand. The soft, blue velvet calms her. What will Mistress make her do this time? She wonders as she traces the threads of the embroidered horseshoe in the centre of the cushion that she stitched in so expert a fashion.
‘Close your eyes.’ Clovis instructs.
Willa obeys, and after a moment’s pause Clovis passes her hands over the girl’s head.
The fire needs stoking, but neither of them will attend it now. There is a pause in the bustle of commerce outside in the street. Clovis chooses the quiet of this moment to apply firm pressure to the end of Willa’s little finger, progressing slowly to the root of her nail. This she does patiently, methodically with each of the girl’s fingers.
The amulet falls from Willa’s other hand, her head lolls. Clovis stifles a gasp. She has commanded a hypnotic state in a few efficient movements. But now she must recall exactly what she witnessed on the stage and also the instructions in the pamphlet.
‘Willa.’ Clovis uses an unhesitating and positive tone. ‘Remain asleep. Lift your head, keep your eyes closed.’
The girl slowly raises her head. She appears comfortable, calm and restful.
Clovis begins the next procedure. It is her first effort to test her ability to affect the organs of the brain. Calling upon her excellent memory she imagines her idol in her mind’s eye. She sees the great mesmerist before her and the way in which he magnetized the entire lecture hall. She glances once more at the porcelain head gleaming in the darkening room that grows colder by the minute.
Clovis locates the spot easily enough and wills herself to feel supreme confidence as she places her finger on the organ of benevolence on Willa’s head. After a short time, the girl’s face undergoes a remarkable change. Her sleepy expression transforms to one of such intense pity that Clovis takes a step back.
Willa still sleeps, and apparently with no awareness of the continued pressure of Clovis’s finger, she reaches into her pockets and produces an array of amulets and charms, bits of thread and ribbons, until her pockets are empty. She then holds these pitiful offerings in her palms, as if to give them all away.
Willa stands and takes a few steps forward. Her palms face up as she moves slowly to and fro, as if searching for someone to receive her treasures. Clovis quickly adjusts her position to accommodate the roaming girl and takes the bits from her, while her other finger remains on the girl’s head. Willa is aware that her hands are empty and relaxes again.
The drawing room, normally cosy from the heat of a substantial fire is now chilled, which makes the girl’s next movements even more remarkable. She begins to undress. Clovis stands transfixed as first one item of clothing then another falls to the floor, until the thin skeleton of Willa Robinson stands completely naked.
Clovis does nothing to protect the poor girl’s modesty. Her heart is close to bursting, pounding with excitement. This unbridled joy cares not for the shame and embarrassment should someone happen upon this scene. Willa is a tool, her subject, and nothing more. Clovis Fowler swells with a new-found power.
Now shivering, Willa gathers all of her clothing into a neat, folded bundle and offers the square to Clovis. Benevolence. Charity. Humanity. Clovis removes her finger from the spot, and with that simple act, Willa sits in the chair again.
‘Dress yourself,’ Clovis orders.
Willa stands again and in a dream-like state she slowly dresses as Clovis provides her clothes item by item. Clovis now looks for a false moment, or for a break in the trance. But Willa shows no sign of faltering, even when she begins the intricate task of lacing her stays. Her hands work fastidiously, while her gaze seems absorbed entirely on a different plane.
‘Sit,’ Clovis commands, when the girl is fully clothed.
Clovis reaches into her pocket and produces a handkerchief. It billows out with a few shakes, and with it she fans Willa’s face and head. There is no immediate reaction. She commands herself to remain calm, passes her hands over Willa’s head three times, and continues to fan for another minute or so. Willa begins to stir. Quickly, Clovis retrieves the pincushion and places it in Willa’s hand. She fills her servant’s pockets with the trinkets.
The girl wakes at Clovis’s instruction.
‘Willa?’ Clovis asks in her kindest voice. ‘How do you feel?’
Willa glances at her mistress and then surveys the room as if she sees it for the first time.
‘’Tis so cold, mistress, I should tend the fire.’
Willa makes an effort to stand, but Clovis places her hands on her shoulder and presses her down.
Willa shrinks from her, disoriented that her mistress would touch her.
‘I have a question first.’
‘Yes, mistress.’
‘What do you remember of our session today?’
Willa’s large, green eyes narrow as she tries to remember her actions since she first stepped into the room.
‘Well, mistress, I came into the room … and … well, I think you told me to sit in this chair … and … then, nothing. It is cold.’
‘Is there anything else? You must be forthright, Willa.’
‘Nothing at all, mistress. Well, there is one thing. I might be a bit more …’ She searches for an inspired word.
‘More what? ’
‘Calm.’
‘Do you remember our conversation when we first met? That I could help you?’
‘Why yes, mistress, I certainly do.’ She is awed by the kept promise.
‘You may fetch more coal now.’