The Séance: a classic Victorian gothic

  By Camille Oster

  Copyright ©2019 Camille Oster

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the work of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Camille Oster – Author

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  Chapter 1

  Toronto, 1886

  BEFORE VICTORIA STRETCHED the city of Toronto as the steamer slowed speed as it came into port. This journey had been planned for several months, ever since she'd met Frederick in London about eight months ago. Some of her friends had thought it was close to a fairytale romance, the attractive Canadian, so charming she couldn’t help falling in love with him. Love might be a strong word, but it was definitely a tenderness.

  It had also countered the pervasive sadness that had weighed on her with the loss of her husband five years earlier. All that grief and loss, and then Frederick had come into her life like a shining ray of light, taking her away from the somber heaviness, and impressing her with his boundless energy and enthusiasm.

  Their time together had been wonderful, but just as she was starting to fall in love with him, he'd had to return home. Correspondence across the Atlantic simply hadn’t been enough, so Victoria had taken a leap and booked passage to visit, as Fredrick had urged her to do. In their time apart, their sentiments seemed to have deepened and Victoria held hopes there was a real future between them.

  The ship seemed impossibly large as it approached the harbor, but the crewmen were very skillfully drawing the ship near the jetty without hitting any vital structures. A crowd of people had gathered below, eagerly awaiting whoever they were meeting. With searching eyes, Victoria tried to find Frederick, but she couldn’t see him, even as she was sure he was there. Like her, there were many people eagerly awaiting loved ones reunited by the arrival of this ship. So much happiness and hope in one place.

  In all regards, it has been a lovely voyage with clement weather throughout, even as there could be hard seas this time of year. Luckily, they’d fared completely without incident. The staff have been wonderful and the facilities had been lovely, but Victoria was ready to leave the ship and its contained life.

  Being a first-class passenger, she was one of the first invited to leave the ship. Porters carried her trunk behind her as she descended the gangway that now extended between the ship and the jetty. With a tightly clasped hand, the handrail felt like a lifeline as she navigated her way down, a flash of vertigo hitting her seeing herself so high above the inky black water. It would be freezing cold.

  Around her, the city’s rooflines were covered in snow. Halfway down the gangplank, she saw Frederick smiling at her ahead, and her heart contracted. The most handsome man she had ever met. Hurrying, she made her way down to him, smiling as he approached her. His hair was a little darker blond than she remembered, but she had not forgotten the soft brown of his eyes.

  Immediately, he took her hand and kissed her on the cheek. The scent of him, that she had tried so hard to remember, enveloped her again and she closed her eyes. He'd always smelled so lovely—masculine with a hint of smoke.

  “I'm so pleased you’re finally here,” he said. “I hope the voyage wasn’t too onerous. You were not ill, were you?”

  “No, apparently my sea legs are stout. It was lovely, the perfect voyage all things considered. But I'm glad to be here.”

  There was a deep excitement about visiting this new city, in this continent she had always heard about, but had never had any personal links to—until now. It may actually be her new home if things went as she hoped.

  Travel hadn’t been something there had been much opportunity for—partially because Charles had died so young. With so little experience, she’d been quite nervous about the idea of coming here, but she was glad she had overcome her concerns and made this leap of faith. And standing here with Frederick holding her hand, she was sure she'd made the right decision.

  “Come, let’s get going. It’s cold today. The winds are coming down from the north, which plunges the city into arctic cold. There's a good chance it might snow later.”

  Living in London, snow was quite a rare occurrence for Victoria, so she wouldn’t mind if it snowed. In the reference library, the information about Toronto stated the weather could be unpredictable, and it at times snowed quite severely. The only time Victoria had seen real snow was during a trip to Scotland, but not even that compared with what the weather could produce here, or so she understood.

  The jostling crowd was unpleasant as people pressed, but they got through and the porters diligently followed with her trunk, until they made it through the crowd toward the customs building, where a nice man surveyed her documents and welcomed her to Canada.

  Walking arm in arm, they continued out onto the street where a jumbled row of carriages waited, some of them jostling to get by. It was quite an event when a ship came to port. It had been similar as she’d left Southampton.

  Streams of passengers were coming up behind her, taking some of the waiting hacks to convey them to their destinations.

  “This is our carriage,” Frederick said with a smile. “It should take us about forty minutes. There is a blanket to keep you warm. Are you tired?”

  His firm hand helped her up into the carriage and Victoria took the leather padded seat furthest away and waited for him to join her. The porter attached the trunk to the back of the carriage, the springs shifting as the weight came down, again when Frederick stepped up and took the driver’s seat. Eager to leave, the horses needed little encouragement and they pulled away from the curb.

  The city looked different from what she was used to. But also familiar. There were people as there was in London, hurriedly going about their business. Many of the buildings were made of brick, and quite a few attractively built. Some were older wood buildings, as if the city was in the midst of transforming itself.

  Along the busy streets, a multitude of carts and trams navigated each other. People went about their business.

  She wasn't sure what she'd expected of the city. To imagine it had proved difficult, but now she looked out and absorbed everything she saw.

  They seemed to drive through the heart of the city, then through residential streets lined with white snow, townhouses on both sides. Crownless trees grew along the street of what appeared to be a very nice neighborhood. As they had been closer to the port, some of the buildings were wooden and someone made of brick. In places they were very uniform and in others the houses had been built according to the owner's tastes.

  “Are you tired?” Frederick asked.

  “Not particularly, although I suppose the excitement of the day will take a toll. It is not every day one is introduced to a new city. A new country even. I'm so very pleased to be here, and to see you again.” She placed her gloved hand on his arm. “I have missed you terribly.”

  “I have missed you too and I'm glad this finally came to fruition. We are going to my Aunt Beatrice's house. A lovely woman. You should get on well. Her daughter Flora will be there. They are both looking forward to meeting you. I have told them incessantly about you and they were so excited to hear that you are finally coming to visit. Hopefully you will choose to stay.” He looked over at her and smiled. Obviously, she couldn’t simply stay as there were matters to attend to, such as her house in London. Although it could just be shuttered. To act
ually move here needed some serious consideration and planning, and it was too soon to commit to such an action.

  “Here we are,” he said, pulling over next to an ornately built wooden house. It had a sharp roofline and a curved section that looked almost like a turret. It was painted blue with darker trimmings. Very pretty. “What a beautiful house,” Victoria said.

  “I spent quite a lot of time here as a child,” Frederick stated. “It is a lovely house. I think you’ll like it here.”

  Jumping down from the carriage, he held out his hand for her. Again, she noted how solid his felt under hers and it reminded her of the times they’d kissed. This memory she’d held close to her heart for a long time, but nothing had been as exciting as when a letter had arrived from him. Now they were together again, and Victoria hadn’t been this happy for a very long time.

  “Let's get out of the cold. I'm sure my aunt Beatrice has some hot drinks waiting for us. I’ll have your trunk seen to.” An elderly man appeared at the door, a retainer Victoria guessed by his somber clothes. He nodded as they approached and held the door open. “Mr. Thompson, would you be so good as to arrange for Mrs. Tremaine’s trunk to be brought to her room. I assume a room has been prepared for her.”

  “Of course. A room is waiting, Mr. Frederick.”

  The house was warm inside, making Victoria instantly feel overly dressed and Mr. Thompson helped her with her heavy coat.

  The main hall of the house was certainly grand with an ornately carved staircase, a round table with hothouse flowers. The wood was dark and the wallpaper a pleasing rose color. Portraits of family members lined the walls. In all, it was a lovely house. It had a warm feeling. There was definitely a feminine touch.

  Once divested of her coat, hat and gloves, Frederick brought her through to a salon where a group of ladies sat, who all rose as the new party walked in. Victoria’s attention went immediately to an elderly woman with white hair and a round face. She had the air of the mistress of the house. Another woman of the same age, but slim, and a younger woman with neatly pinned brown hair.

  The first woman spoke. “This must be her—the lovely Victoria you've told us so much about, Frederick. And he certainly wasn’t exaggerating when he said you are beautiful.”

  Color crept up Victoria’s skin, not used to being called beautiful. “I'm pleased to meet you. Mrs. Victoria Tremaine. I've just arrived from London.”

  “So we understand,” the woman said and moved closer to embrace her. “Welcome to Toronto. It must have been quite the journey. Frederick has told us so much about you, we almost feel like we know you.”

  The woman wore a dark silk gown and even darker jewelry. According to Fredrick’s letters, she had been in mourning for some time and expected to stay that way. Some women couldn’t bring themselves to put away their mourning clothes. Victoria could understand the inclination, but she’d also felt it had been important to move on from her husband's death. Could not wallow in the loss for the rest of her life. And as her mother had insisted she was still young, that there was still an entire life ahead of her, with the hopes of a husband and a family. Unfortunately, being blessed with children had never happened with her husband.

  “Let me introduce you to Flora, my daughter,” she said, indicating to the young fashionable woman who smiled. She was pretty and she wore dusky pink that suited her coloring very nicely.

  “I'm so pleased to meet you,” said the woman who appeared to be similarly aged as Victoria. “Frederick really has read us most of your letters and we have been so looking forward to your visit. And here you are.”

  Aunt Beatrice next drew her attention to the other woman. “My dearest friend in the world, Mrs. Verity Wallis.” Who was short and thin with rosy cheeks. “Please come have some tea with us. You must be parched after such a long journey across the Atlantic. I don't know how you managed.”

  “The ship was very pleasant and had every amenity one could wish for. But I must admit a cup of tea would not go amiss.”

  “There is coffee if you prefer. Frederick tends to be partial to coffee rather than tea.”

  “I do love a good cup of coffee, but nothing surpasses a perfectly brewed tea, I find.”

  “A woman after my own heart. Come, sit.” Aunt Beatrice indicated to the rattan sofa group, painted white with green silk cushions. One of the chairs was meant for her and Victoria took a seat. The welcome she received was warm and all she could have hoped for, having been worried that they would be suspicious of this woman that Frederick had brought all the way from London. They all seemed perfectly nice and she didn't feel at all unwelcome, as she had feared.

  The daughter, Flora, poured the tea and handed out the dainty cups with roses painted on them. Victoria eagerly accepted hers along with a teaspoon of sugar from the sugar bowl held out for her. With a smile, she stirred and then took a sip to savor the lovely warm liquid.

  Outside the window snow was falling, little white flakes slowly meandering down to the ground. It looked so peaceful, utterly quiet outside. This appeared to be a very nice neighborhood and it was certainly a lovely house.

  Victoria smiled noting that everyone's attention was on her, perhaps studying this newcomer being brought in and introduced as a potential wife. A nervousness shot through her at the idea, but they both knew that it was how she and Frederick saw each other.

  Chapter 2

  A BLANKET OF WHITE covered the street outside as Victoria stood in the guest bedroom and marveled at the beauty of it. Touching the windowpane, cold seeped into her fingers, but the room was nicely warm.

  A lovely room with a large bed, a writing desk, a wardrobe, and the roaring fire. The fire kept the cold outside at bay, but touching the windows, she knew it was cold. She had rested briefly and now it was time to dress for supper.

  In truth, she was tired, but not distressingly so. Not enough to excuses herself from supper. Frederick seemed to have a lovely family. His parents had passed away some time ago, and these two women were the only family he had.

  His aunt was quite a character, no doubt difficult to deal with when crossed. She had that manner that suggested she expected to be obeyed. Victoria knew the type—her society was full of older women like her. Her friend Verity was more difficult to pin down as she was quiet and reserved, but she seemed like a very nice lady, even as she hadn’t said much.

  A knock sounded on the door and Victoria bid them to enter. A maid had been sent to assist her to dress. Mary, she introduced herself as. The girl looked Irish in origin, with red hair and fair complexion. Her accent was a mix of Irish and the more broader accent of the Americas, which Victoria guessed meant that she’d grown up here, or had, at least, been here for quite some time.

  It was strange to think one would lose connection with the country one came from. If she married Frederick that would be true for her children—if she were to be so lucky. They would be Canadian and not English like she was. They may not have any true connection with England. It was strange to think, but then again, this seemed like a beautiful country, full of possibility and spirit. It may not be a bad idea to be unshackled from some of the old ways and expectations of English society. But how different things were here, she didn’t know.

  “Are you ready to dress?” Mary asked.

  “Yes, I suppose I must.”

  The girl moved to the wardrobe where all her clothes had been hung while she’d been downstairs earlier in the afternoon. “I had the green gown steamed for the evening, but I can go tend to another if you prefer.”

  “The green should be perfectly suitable.”

  Mary helped her dress and then repinned her hair. She was very efficient and skilled, and Victoria thanked her before she disappeared again.

  Another knock sounded on the door again and for a moment she thought it might be Mary returning, but as she opened the door, it was Frederick. He wore the same clothes as before, but his hair had been combed and he looked as handsome as she had ever seen him.

 
“Are you ready?” he asked. “Of course you are. You look stunning, but then you always do. It would be my honor take you down to supper.” His arm was held out for her and his eyes twinkled in the sparse light of the hall.

  “It would be my deepest pleasure, sir,” Victoria said. “I'm quite famished. I was just admiring the snow outside. It covers everything. In London it does snow at times, but it melts almost immediately.”

  “Sometimes after it snows like this, it will stay all winter. It’s always a pleasure when it snows, but as the months go on, the wonder wears thin. It can make it very difficult to get around. At times it's just easier to stay in the house. So London does have an advantage in that regard, in that it's easy to get out and find entertainment. Here we will have to do with my aunt,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “At least for tonight.”

  “Your aunt is lovely.”

  “Not as lovely as you,” Frederick said and paused as they reached the landing. “There was something I meant to do, but was prevented by circumstances.” Leaning in towards her lips, he claimed them softly. Sweetness suffused Victoria's mind. The taste of him called to her senses and she allowed the kiss to deepen.

  They had kissed before, but each time felt like the first. It was such a lovely kiss and she sighed as it ended. His eyes sparkled with pleasure and he smiled as he brought her arm to the crook of his elbow again and led her down the staircase. “Hopefully we will have the odd opportunity to sneak away into a dark corner,” he whispered. Quelling her smile, Victoria bit her lip. No, she wouldn’t mind a few stolen moments in dark corners.

  A new person had joined them as they entered the salon. Beside Verity sat a man Victoria had yet to meet. Tall with dirty blonde hair and a sharp chin. Close to Fredrick’s age, she estimated.

  “Here is our guest of honor,” Aunt Beatrice said. “I hope you're well-rested.”

  “Yes, it was very restorative,” Victoria replied, trying to ignore the awkwardness of not having been introduced to the new man in the room, who she couldn’t yet acknowledge.