Karen Essex - Dracula in Love

Kate sat quietly at the table as Madam Gummler poured three cups of tea, placing their saucers on little lace doilies to protect the shawl on the table.

“First, we shall call upon the spirit of your dear little son,” Madam Gummler said. “After we establish a firm connection, my husband will take the photograph. As you can see by our walls, we have had great success in the past, reuniting the living and the dead.”

The walls of the parlor were lined with framed photographs of the Gummlers’ living subjects, all seated in this very room, each with a ghostly figure hovering in the background. The portraits covered the walls from the wainscot to the floral wallpaper trim bordering the ceiling. The ghosts varied; some were identical to the subject, which Madam Gummler explained meant that the camera had captured the subject’s etheric body, or higher self, while other spirits were different entities entirely.

“Here is Sir Joseph Lansbury with his beloved mother,” Godfrey said. Sir Joseph looked to be a dignified man in his forties; the ghost of his mother was a matron in a white cap and white dress with a lace collar. Others were photographed with baby ghosts wearing christening costumes, or older ghosts in antique garments. Some of the apparitions were angelic forms or, in some cases, mere swirls of light that one had to presume were spirits.

“The spirits themselves have told us how the photography comes into being,” Godfrey explained. “They manifest themselves by merging our sphere with their own. This creates a mixed aura. When rays of light pass through this hybrid atmosphere, they are refracted, which causes their images to be projected on the plate.”

“That is most interesting, and a fair scientific explanation,” Jacob said.

“It is a mere veil that separates you from your child, Mrs. Reed. Just a thin membrane, invisible, made of vapor. Believe me, he is just on the other side. What is the little darling’s name?”

Kate, who apparently should have had a life on the stage, produced a single teardrop and said, “Simon. After his grandfather.” Jacob reached out and touched her hand. What players they were! For my part, I sat quietly sipping tea and trying to look as lugubrious as possible. Godfrey went about the room lighting candles. He lowered the gas lamps on either side of the fireplace.

“Simon. Lovely. Now we begin,” Madam Gummler said.

“Should we all hold hands?” Jacob asked.

“No, none of that nonsense is necessary,” she replied. She raised her hands to the ceiling and with eyes turned upward, she called out in a voice from deep within-octaves lower than her speaking voice. “I call upon the heavenly bodies and angels of high rank to deliver the spirit of the child Simon Reed! Simon Reed, your mother is calling to you! If little Simon has already made his transition and is sitting in heaven with God, then ask the Lord to allow us to borrow his spirit for a brief moment to comfort his bereaved mother. Let us borrow him from eternity! O Holy Ones-Michael; Jophiel; Uriel; Gabriel; and Afriel, protector of babies and children-hear my pleas and answer me!”

Her eyes were closed, and she swayed gently as she waited for a reply from the heavens. I looked about the room. Everyone’s eyes were shut tight. Candles flickered, making the photographs on the walls doubly eerie. But nothing happened.

“Simon Reed, your mother, father, and godmother are calling out to you. O Spirit Mothers, free the infant to come to us, and we shall return him to you, where he may rest in your holy bosom for eternity.”

Suddenly, the medium’s breathing pattern changed, and she started to take short breaths, as if she was about to have an asthmatic attack. She threw herself back in her chair as if something had knocked the wind out of her.

“Another presence has entered the room,” said Madam Gummler, opening her eyes and looking directly at me. “Is there anyone near and dear to you who might inhabit the spirit world?”

She looked convincingly afraid but excited at the same time. Either she was an actress with the skills of Ellen Terry, or she had genuinely felt something happen that had gone undetected by the rest of us.

I looked at her blankly.

“Anyone close to you who is deceased?” she asked.

“Why, everyone,” I said. Jacob laughed. Kate opened her eyes and looked at me angrily. “Surely we are not dead, Wilhelmina.”

“N-no, of course not,” I stammered. “Perhaps my mother may be trying to contact me.”

“No, it is emphatically a male who is attempting contact.”

“I cannot think who it may be,” I said, hoping that it was not my father. The last time I remembered seeing him, he beat me and yelled horrible things at me. I did not want him manifesting here in this parlor, intruding upon the new life I had created and saying things that would disturb Kate’s opinion of me.

“Perhaps it is Simon,” Kate offered.

“Yes, oh yes, I do feel little Simon as well. Yes, I do. Oh, what a sweet little darling. He has a message for you, Mrs. Reed.” Madam Gummler closed her eyes tighter as if she were straining to hear someone. Then she spoke in a high, delicate voice, imitating a small child. “‘I am here, Mama. I did not leave you. It’s just that God wanted me by his side.’”

“Oh!” Kate exclaimed.

“Let us take the photograph while the child is with us,” Godfrey said, rising from the table. He lit the two lamps on either side of the mantel, drowning out the softer light of the candles. “We must have enough light to take the photograph but not enough to frighten away the spirit,” he said. “These are delicate balances that must be maintained.” He placed a high-backed Jacobean-style chair in front of the fireplace and asked Kate to sit in it. “Now, Madam Gummler, if you please.”

Madam Gummler rose from her chair, tossing the corner of her shawl that had drooped off her shoulder back around her neck. She walked to the camera and placed her hand above it. “This encourages the process,” she said, swirling her hand over the camera.

“How should I pose?” Kate asked.

“Hold out your hands as if to receive your little boy,” Godfrey said.

Kate did as she was told, sitting very still while Godfrey took the picture.

Madam Gummler put her hand over her chest and took a deep breath, looking as if she were about to swoon. She turned to me. “Someone is trying to contact you, and he is being most persistent. Would you like a photograph, dear?”

I shook my head violently.

“Please do not reject the spirits who have come to see you. It insults them,” she said. “I work to keep my parlor a hospitable environment for those on the other side. Do not destroy my efforts with your skepticism.”

“I am not skeptical,” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm. “I simply cannot afford your fee.”

“Why, Wilhelmina, we will pay for the photograph,” Kate said magnanimously. “Perhaps little Simon wants a picture with his Aunt Mina,” she said, taunting me with the moniker my students used for me.

“Yes, Wilhelmina, please allow us to get this for you,” Jacob said. I supposed that he and Kate wanted to gather more evidence for their story.

“But Mr. Gummler has already taken the camera away,” I said. He had indeed left the room with the camera immediately after Kate had been photographed.

“Ah, but I have returned.” For how long he had been standing at the parlor door I did not know. “I unloaded the exposed plate in the darkroom, and I have placed a fresh plate in the camera,” he said, attaching the instrument to its tripod. “If you please,” he said to me, pointing to the antique chair, which suddenly looked to my mind like it had been used in the Inquisition.