Saturday, April 13, 7:00 p.m.
Charlie sat on the side of the ballroom, near the back. I sat in the third row.
I knew most of the people who’d gathered, although a few, like the heavy, bearded man sitting in the first row, were strangers. The townspeople looked at each other self-consciously as they came in and found seats. Death was a mystery, and they were here to find out whether Nell was able to communicate with those behind its curtain.
I pulled out my paper and pen in case I wanted to take notes.
Charlie might be right about Nell’s being a fraud, or he might be wrong, but I was sure Nell’s uncle was controlling her. Maybe even making her ill. I’d printed an antislavery lecture for Reverend Merrill in January which said no man should have power over another. Nell wasn’t being allowed to make decisions about her own life.
But could a twelve-year-old girl know what was right for her? Wasn’t that the responsibility of the adults in her family—especially the adult men? On the other hand, would a responsible uncle make Nell support him?
I was trying to figger it out when Nell’s uncle entered the room and placed a basket on the front table. He introduced himself to those of us who were already seated, shaking the hands of the men and nodding politely at the ladies. As he spoke with each person in the audience, he handed them a sheet of paper.
When the room was full Mr. Allen raised his hands for attention. “Good evening! Miss Gramercy and my wife and I have been enjoying our stay in your fine village, and have been honored to meet so many of you during the past week.”
People in the audience nodded and smiled or looked at each other as if to say Yes, that’s us he’s talking about. We’ve met Nell and Mr. Allen. How many spirit sessions had Nell held in the past week? She might well have seen most of these people in separate or small group sessions already. That would mean she already knew their interests and concerns and what their questions might be. Or had Mr. Allen met these people at the tavern—or at least heard some local gossip there?
“This evening’s session is one for questions and answers. Miss Gramercy will be unable to spend a great deal of time on any one question, but she’s prepared to continue as long as her strength holds up. These sessions, as many of you already know, are very exhausting for Nell. She’s only twelve years old, and of the weaker sex. Communicating with those in another world drains her energy.”
Mr. Allen picked up the basket from Nell’s table. “If you have questions you would like her to answer, she asks that you write them down, fold your sheet of paper twice, and place it in this basket as I walk among you. When I’ve gathered all your questions, she will join us.”
Everyone set to writing. I hesitated, and then wrote, Nell, why does your uncle control your life? on my sheet and placed it in the basket as Mr. Allen passed. As the last questions were collected, Nell entered the room, dressed, as always, in white.
She was pale. How much did her head ache? I hoped the medicine her aunt had given her had helped.
“Good evening.” She smiled and sat in her chair at the front of the room. “I’m pleased to see among you many I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with more intimately in the past week.” Her eyes went from one person in the audience to another. It seemed like she smiled particularly at me, but she might have been smiling at everyone. Or just being “charming,” as her uncle had directed her to be.
“My uncle is holding the questions you’ve written, but I know that many of you have questions you have not placed in the basket. Many of you have wondered how I communicate with the spirit world, and whether or not I am doing so legitimately. So, before I begin, let me tell you a little about myself.”
People around me leaned forward in their seats. They didn’t want to miss a word of what Nell had to say.
“Since I was a young child, I’ve been blessed with the gift of sensing the presence of those in another world. I cannot always hear their words distinctly, or see the physical bodies of those who speak to me. But something in me resonates, like a fine wire being tuned, and what is in their mind enters mine. I do not always know the meaning of what I sense. It is often up to those for whom the messages are intended to interpret their meaning.” She paused.
“Tonight, instead of simply reading the questions you have asked and answering them, I will try to enter your consciousness, and those of the spirits you wish to contact, and match your questions with answers. Please be patient with me. Often I cannot work quickly. I will open and read your questions aloud only after the spirits have given me their answers.”
What she was promising to do sounded impossible. I saw other people in the audience shake their heads, or whisper to each other in doubt. How could Nell or her spirits answer questions without knowing what the questions were?
Nell raised her hands. “Please help me concentrate by keeping silent.” She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them, staring into the distance.
“She isn’t blinking!” whispered Mrs. Evans, who was sitting in front of me.
“Shhh!” said her husband.
What was Nell seeing? She became paler, and her eyes held the startled look I’d once seen on an owl sitting on a pine branch. When she spoke her words didn’t vary in tone. She sounded as though she was repeating something she’d heard.
“Amy sends her love, and hopes her son and the young woman he has chosen will be married soon.”
The bearded man in the front row jumped up, startling everyone. “That’s my ma—Amy! And I’m about to ask Jenny, my girl, to be my wife! See? Here!” The man pulled a small red velvet sack from his jacket pocket and emptied it into his other hand, displaying the shiny ring inside to the audience. “I’m headin’ for Belfast and the woman of my dreams tomorrow. Thank you, Ma! Miss Gramercy, thank you!”
The man walked quickly to the door, waving the ring as he went. “She can do it! She tells the truth!”
Others in the audience shifted in their seats. Who was that man? Whoever he was, he was certainly pleased with Nell’s message.
Nell pulled a paper out of the basket and read it out loud: “Shall I propose marriage to Miss Jenny Holden?”
She had certainly answered the bearded man’s question.
Nell waited for silence and then went back into her trance-like state again. Her next words were, “Robert and Lizzie are safe and happy, and wish their mother to know that.”
Mrs. Smith, in the third row, burst into tears. “My babies! My dear babies!”
Nell chose another folded paper. “Are my children well in Heaven?”
Throughout the room people leaned forward, amazed at what Nell was doing, and the responses she was getting.
Her voice was strained this time. “Your time for childbearing is not over. Your son will have another brother.”
Mrs. Bascomb, Owen’s mother, gasped and grabbed her husband’s hand.
Nell read from another folded paper: “Is my son fated to be an only child?”
Thank goodness Owen had not come! Nell had brought a very personal message to his parents. Mr. and Mrs. Bascomb were not a young couple. Would Owen really have another brother? Only time could prove Nell wrong or right, but tonight, his parents were clearly thrilled.
Then Nell paused and seemed to look right at me. “No one living person controls a life. Only the spirits know what shall be.”
That had to be Nell’s answer to my question.
She raised a folded sheet of paper. “Why does your uncle control your life?”
It was my question! How had she known?
Mr. Allen stood up and glared at the audience. “That question was inappropriate. Miss Gramercy has been suffering from exhaustion and headaches. Since this audience clearly does not respect her abilities, she will now retire to her room.”
Nell opened her mouth, as if to say something, but her uncle pulled her up and pushed her toward the door closest to the table. The astonished crowd was still sitting down when the side door to the ballroom swung open.
“News!” It was Miss Averill, the telegraph operator. Her voice was high and loud. “News of our brave troops, just in over the wires: Fort Sumter has fallen! Fallen to the Confederates!”