Her mother refused to meet her eye, but she nodded with just a hint of her normal determination. When the coachman opened the door, Mrs. Decker drew a deep breath before taking his offered hand and climbing out. Sarah followed her across the sidewalk, into the tiny, gated yard and up the small stoop and waited while her mother rang the bell. After a few moments, a well-dressed gentleman with carefully pomaded hair answered the door.

“You must be Mrs. Decker,” he said in a deep, reassuring voice. “I am Professor Rogers. Please come in. Your friend Mrs. Burke is already here.” He stepped back to allow Mrs. Decker to enter, and only then did he notice Sarah. “Is this lady your guest?” he asked with just the slightest hint of disapproval.

Her mother had heard the disapproval, too. Although Sarah couldn’t see her face, she saw the slight stiffening of her mother’s spine as she squared her shoulders in silent resistance, in case the man intended to deny Sarah entrance. “Yes, my daughter, Mrs. Brandt.” No one could mistake the tiny thread of steel that ran through the words. Every trace of the uncertainty Mrs. Decker had felt mere moments ago was gone.

The gentleman was suddenly uncertain. “Madame Serafina was not expecting two new clients today.”

“Then perhaps you will ask her if it would be all right for my daughter to join the sitting today as well,” Mrs. Decker said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I have included an additional fee for my daughter,” she added, starting to hand the Professor an envelope but stopping just short of actually doing so. “But if my daughter is not welcome, I will have to leave with her.”

The poor man was caught between following what were obviously his instructions to admit only invited guests and the prospect of losing Mrs. Felix Decker as a client. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Mrs. Decker,” he said, instantly contrite. “I’ll speak with Madame Serafina. These matters are very sensitive, you know. Madame Serafina must maintain a delicate balance.”

“We will most certainly be guided by her wishes,” Mrs. Decker said, although her tone implied that Madame Serafina’s wishes would doubtless coincide with Mrs. Decker’s. She allowed the Professor to have the envelope.

Professor Rogers-Sarah wondered just what kind of a professor he was-guided them inside, took their wraps, and escorted them into the parlor before disappearing, presumably to ask Madame Serafina’s permission for Sarah to attend the séance. A large silver tray had been set on a low table in the middle of the modestly furnished room. On it were a tea service and an assortment of small cakes. Two people had already arrived. A woman sat on the sofa and a man stood on the other side of the room, staring out a window.

“Elizabeth,” the woman said, nearly upsetting her teacup in her haste to put it down and rise from where she was sitting. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.” The woman hurried over and took Mrs. Decker’s hands in her own, as if to reassure her.

“Kathy, you’ll remember my daughter, Sarah Brandt,” Mrs. Decker said. “Sarah, Mrs. Burke.”

“So nice to see you again, Mrs. Burke,” Sarah said politely. Mrs. Burke looked vaguely familiar, although Sarah probably wouldn’t have recognized her under other circumstances. Her clothes marked her as a member of the wealthier members of society, and she had the well-tended look of a hothouse flower. Is that how her mother appeared to others? Sarah wondered fleetingly before Mrs. Burke returned her greeting.

“So nice to see you again,” she said. Her tone was too hearty, and now that Sarah had an opportunity to look into her eyes, she saw a strange anxiety reflected there. What did Mrs. Burke have to be anxious about? She’d already made contact with her dead sister and made up their quarrel.

“I’m glad I was able to come,” Sarah replied noncommittally.

Mrs. Burke turned back to Mrs. Decker. “I didn’t know you were bringing someone else.” Now the strain in her voice was unmistakable.

“I only decided last night,” Mrs. Decker replied with a frown. “The gentleman who answered the door seemed to think it would be all right.”

“He did?” she replied uncertainly, with a nervous glance toward the doorway. “Then perhaps it is. Mr. Sharpe, do you know how Madame feels about unexpected visitors?” She turned slightly toward the older gentleman who had been standing by one of the long windows that overlooked the street. He must have been listening to their conversation, because he looked up and came forward as if on cue.

“I’m afraid I can’t speak for Madame Serafina,” he said to Mrs. Burke. “Perhaps Mrs. Gittings can tell you.”

Mrs. Burke glanced uncertainly at the doorway again, as if expecting the answer to her question to appear there, before remembering her manners. “Oh, may I present Mr. John Sharpe?” she asked Mrs. Decker.

He was impeccably dressed, and his clothes fit without the slightest wrinkle, as only a skilled tailor could manage. His hand, when he took Sarah’s, was smooth, but his eyes were razor sharp.

“I believe I’ve met your husband, Mrs. Decker,” he said when he’d greeted them both.

Sarah saw a small flicker of alarm pass over her mother’s face, and she quickly stepped in. “Are you well acquainted with my father?” she asked.

“Just enough to admire his success, I’m afraid,” he said, easing her mind.

Footsteps in the hallway alerted them to another arrival, and a woman entered the room. She wore a hat and gloves, but she had obviously come from somewhere else inside the house, since they would have seen her coming in the front door.

“Mrs. Gittings,” Mrs. Burke said with renewed alarm, which she covered with a bright smile. “Mrs. Decker has come, and she’s brought her daughter, Mrs. Brandt.”

Mrs. Gittings took them in with a swift, measuring glance. “So I see.” She was a small woman with an ordinary face. Although her dress was the height of fashion and her hat very stylish, Sarah could see she wasn’t quite comfortable in her finery, as if she’d only recently acquired the means to own such expensive things.

“Do you think it will be all right?” Mrs. Burke asked. “With Madame Serafina, I mean?”

“She must tell us that herself,” Mrs. Gittings said and turned to Mrs. Decker expectantly.

Mrs. Burke took the hint and quickly introduced her to Sarah and her mother.

“Pleased to meet you, I’m sure,” Mrs. Gittings said, although her expression betrayed no pleasure at all.

Sarah was beginning to think her coming was not just an uncomfortable situation for her but a genuine problem. Should she offer to leave? Or simply to wait in another room during the séance?

“We might as well sit down,” Mrs. Gittings said before she could decide. “Mr. Cunningham hasn’t arrived yet, and we can’t start without him.”

“He’s always late,” Mr. Sharpe observed with disapproval. “The young have no manners.”

“He’s an orphan, Mr. Sharpe,” Mrs. Burke reminded him too brightly.

“He’s only fatherless and his father died when he was twenty-two, Mrs. Burke,” he reminded her right back. “That was plenty of time to learn propriety.”

Sarah wondered if the missing Mr. Cunningham wanted to contact his late father, but she didn’t ask. She wasn’t quite sure what the rules of etiquette were for séances. Was it rude to ask whom one wished to contact? Would Madame Serafina ask them outright or would she just know?

Mr. Sharpe turned back to the window, and the ladies took seats around the center table with the tea things on it.

“Would you like some tea while we’re waiting?” Mrs. Gittings asked them, almost as if she were their hostess.

“Nothing for me,” Mrs. Decker said. Sarah figured her mother’s stomach was tied in knots, just as hers was. Sarah also declined. She didn’t think she could swallow a thing.

“In any case, it’s nice to see some new faces,” Mrs. Gittings remarked in an attempt at small talk.