Paula Cohen - What Alice Knew - A Most Curious Tale of Henry James and Jack the Ripper

At ten minutes to seven the next evening, Mrs. Lancaster was standing in the foyer of Alice’s flat. “I like to be punctual,” she announced blandly, “which means I take into account the possibility of delay and thus tend to arrive early.”

The announcement was not what one might have expected from a spiritualist medium as Alice imagined her. She had in mind bangles and scarves as well as a greater vagueness regarding time, and was, in truth, a bit disappointed with the unfestooned and uninflected person of Mrs. Lancaster.

Alice had spared William the difficulties he had imagined when he announced his intention of holding a séance in her apartment. Partly it was because of her guilt for being hard on him the day before. Partly it was because she was curious to see what a séance was like. She had heard about such things from her friends, and it all sounded very foolish, but it was , after all, a sort of adventure, even if a bogus one. If she could not climb a mountain or ride a horse, she could at least sit at a table as alleged spirits played with the lamps and banged on the walls.

To prepare for the event, she had gotten out of bed and dressed in the Chinese silk robe her aunt had sent her for her last birthday. It was an indeterminate sort of garment—something between an evening gown and a dressing gown—that had the advantage of being comfortable and hiding a body debilitated by erratic nourishment and lack of exercise. It had the additional value of giving her the free use of her limbs, should she want to move them under the table in an effort to explore (she had read about these psychic ladies and knew something of their modus operandi). She had thrown on a string of her mother’s pearls and had Katherine put up her hair in an elaborate chignon. In a word, she looked ready to preside over the séance herself.

The contrast, in fact, to the actual medium was noteworthy. Mrs. Lancaster was wearing a long, mustard-colored dress, an unflattering shade under any circumstances (Alice’s favorite color was pink), but particularly so given the woman’s sallow complexion. She was tall and angular, with the kind of unprepossessing features that one associates with a New England schoolmarm: thin lips, bushy eyebrows, and a nose that was extremely long and aquiline and of the sort likely to get very blue at the tip during the winter. She moved her mouth only slightly when she spoke, suggesting that she had bad teeth and, given the nasal quality to her voice, possibly a serious sinus condition. She had on a pair of worn black shoes that looked too large for her feet. Not at all the sort of woman one would have imagined channeling spirits, Alice thought, though with the secondary observation of the inveterate skeptic that this was precisely the get up that a shrewd operator in this line might choose to put her audience off their guard.

The round table normally in the corner of Alice’s bedroom had been moved into the adjoining study, where Katherine did household accounts. The room had been cleared of its books and papers, and five chairs had been arranged around the table. Mrs. Lancaster immediately took the seat facing the door, and Henry and William, who had been standing off to the side looking uncomfortable, sat down next to each other opposite her. This left Katherine to sit on Mrs. Lancaster’s left and Alice on her right. There had been some discussion about inviting the Sargents, but it was finally agreed that the fewer participants, the better. Sally had been told to remain in the kitchen and keep an ear open in case she was needed.

Mrs. Lancaster indicated that the lights in the room should be dimmed and the shades drawn. The result was dark, though not as black as Alice had heard some mediums required in order to work.

“We must all hold hands,” said Mrs. Lancaster, taking Alice’s hand in her bony fingers. “The spirits find it consoling to know that we are united.”

“Is there music?” asked Henry. “I like a bit of music.”

“No music,” said Mrs. Lancaster curtly.

Henry coughed and then sniffed slightly. “Can I get out my handkerchief, or will that bother the spirits?”

“Shh,” said William. “You don’t have to play the prima donna all the time. Just sit still and be quiet.”

The group remained silent for a few minutes.

“I don’t know that I’m getting anything,” said Mrs. Lancaster. “There is a great deal of negative energy in the room.”

“Maybe if I could blow my nose?” asked Henry.

“Blow your nose, for God’s sake, and be done with it,” snapped William.

Henry blew his nose, and the group returned to silence.

Suddenly there were two loud raps that Alice felt must have come from under the table. She moved her leg quickly against Mrs. Lancaster’s and felt a tremor in the muscles of the woman’s calf, though so slight, it seemed hardly enough to produce the loud noises she had just heard. There was no time to explore further, for Mrs. Lancaster began to shake violently. She continued to hold Katherine’s and Alice’s hands, but the shaking grew so violent that everyone around the table was pushed from side to side.

“Oh my!” said Henry. “I’m not cut out for so much exercise.”

“Shh!” said William.

Mrs. Lancaster’s teeth began to chatter, and her eyes rolled back in their sockets. If she had not been much to look at before, she was definitely not a pretty sight now.

“Perhaps we should call a doctor,” murmured Henry.

“Shh!” said William.

Mrs. Lancaster sat bolt upright, her eyes wide open. Her face, harsh and bony in its natural outline, appeared to soften. Her eyes grew bright, and her mouth shaped itself into a pout. In an uncanny eruption, a child’s voice suddenly cried out, “I wants some cake! I wants some cake!”

Everyone looked at Mrs. Lancaster in wonder.

“Mayn’t I have some cake?” the voice cried again.

“It seems she wants cake,” murmured Henry.

“Mayn’t I have some cake, mum, please?” The voice, which had been demanding, had turned to a plaintive whine. “It’s cake I want; please, Mum, please!”

Alice, who had been staring raptly at Mrs. Lancaster’s transformed features, called out to Sally, who appeared in the doorway, and at the sight of the medium’s contorted visage, looked like she was about to faint.

“No need to be frightened, dear,” said Alice, who herself sounded a bit shaky. “Please go to the cupboard and bring some of that lemon cake that Mrs. Woolson brought over the other day.”

Sally disappeared and returned with a platter with a cake on it.

“Put it in front of the lady,” instructed Alice, so that Sally, her hands trembling, deposited the cake in front of Mrs. Lancaster and then quickly ran from the room.

“There’s your cake, dear,” said Alice. She took hold of Mrs. Lancaster’s arm and directed it toward the cake. Mrs. Lancaster placed her hand in the cake and began to shovel it into her mouth. She kept shoveling until the cake smeared her face and the front of her dress.

“Someone needs to learn some manners,” murmured Henry.

“Shh!” said William.

After several minutes of cramming the cake into her mouth, Mrs. Lancaster leaned back. “Good cake,” said the child’s voice.

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Alice. “Now tell us your name, little girl,” she said.

“I’s Cassie Bartram,” said the voice.

“And how old are you, Cassie?”

“I be nine or ten, not sure which one,” said the voice.

“And why are you here?”

“I comes here sometimes to speak through this lady. Don’t know why I do, but she’s easy to go through when I’s something I need to say.”

“And you have something you need to say now?”