Lady Anne said not a word, but her eyes briefly met Evelyn’s over the edge of her teacup. There was a glimmer of devilry in them.
“No fear,” Lady Arundell went on. “We’ll get you sorted in time for my ball. I’ll consult Dmitri about how best to proceed.”
“Who is—” Evelyn’s question was arrested by the sound of a floorboard creaking in the hall. It was immediately followed by the reappearance of Mrs. Quick.
“Begging your pardon, miss,” she addressed Evelyn from the drawing room doorway. “Mr. Fielding has returned. He says he’ll be up directly.”
“Has he gone to his study, Mrs. Quick?” Lady Arundell asked.
“He has, my lady.”
Lady Arundell returned her teacup to the tea tray. “In that case”—she stood—“I shall go to him.”
Evelyn moved to rise, but Lady Arundell waved both her and Lady Anne back to their seats.
“Finish your tea, girls. I’ll return with him in a trice.” With that, Lady Arundell sailed from the room, Mrs. Quick at her heels.
Lady Anne lowered her teacup to her lap. “You must forgive Mama. She and Mr. Fielding share a passion for antiquities. She visits so often she’s become accustomed to roaming free about the place.”
“I don’t mind it.” Evelyn had no right to mind. This wasn’t her home. “I’m only grateful she’s agreed to help me.”
“You truly have no one to sponsor your come-out?”
“Indeed, I have not. My aunt might have done, but she’s remained with my little sisters in Sussex. I was obliged to come to London alone.”
“How unfortunate.”
“Not at all.” Evelyn smiled. “I’m accustomed to managing things for myself.”
Lady Anne shot a swift glance in the direction of the door before reaching for a biscuit. “Mama won’t like to hear that. She’s a great one for managing people. There’s no one on earth who can change her opinion once it’s been fixed. She takes no advice from anyone.”
Evelyn took a biscuit for herself. “That can’t be so. She mentioned consulting with someone named Dmitri.”
“No one on earth, I said.” Lady Anne finished her biscuit before explaining, “Dmitri isn’t of this realm. He’s Mama’s familiar spirit.”
Familiar spirit?
Evelyn gave her guest a blank look.
Lady Anne’s mouth curved. “You are very countrified, aren’t you? Haven’t you any spiritualists in Sussex?”
“None that I’ve ever known.” Evelyn had heard about them, of course. Her little sister Caro had a girlish passion for all things otherworldly. She was forever relating stories about séances that she’d read in the papers. Evelyn couldn’t wait to write to her about today’s events. Imagine, encountering a genuine spiritualist in Uncle Harris’s drawing room!
“There are a great many spiritualists in London,” Lady Anne said. “Mama’s been involved with them ever since Papa died.”
Evelyn was struck, all at once, by the significance of Lady Anne and her mother wearing so much black. The Earl of Arundell must have passed sometime in the last year. “Oh, I am sorry,” she said. “Please accept my condolences on your loss.”
Lady Anne helped herself to another biscuit. “What loss?”
“Why . . . the loss of your father. You are in mourning, aren’t you?”
“Gracious, no. Not for my father at any rate. He died years ago.”
“Then—”
“It’s done at Mama’s insistence. For Prince Albert.”
“I see. Your mother knew the prince?”
“No, indeed. But she hopes to make his acquaintance very soon.”
Evelyn didn’t know what to say. Was Lady Anne in earnest? Or was she having a private laugh at Evelyn’s expense? The very idea was enough to set Evelyn’s back up. “You have me at a loss, I’m afraid.”
Lady Anne’s expression softened with sympathy. “I don’t wonder. But you’d best acclimate yourself. Mama isn’t the only devoted spiritualist hereabouts. Your uncle is as well. You must have realized.”
Evelyn’s teacup froze halfway to her mouth. “My uncle is a spiritualist?” She was dumbfounded. “But . . . I understood his passion lay with antiquities.”
“Antiquities, yes,” Lady Anne said. “The Book of the Dead, and so forth. Mama and Mr. Fielding are keen on finding evidence of spirit contact in ancient texts. Or rather, they were until very recently. The death of Prince Albert has lately consumed all of their energies. Mediums from here to America have been trying to make contact.”
“Have they? My goodness.”
Lady’s Anne’s sherry-brown eyes sparkled with sudden humor. “You really didn’t know?”
“I thought my uncle merely absentminded. I’d no notion he kept company with spiritualists and like-minded people.”
Aunt Nora had never hinted at the fact. Evelyn wondered if she knew. She’d always described Uncle Harris as a respected scholar. A bachelor recluse more concerned with his books and papers than with the welfare of his distant relations. He’d only agreed to host Evelyn because Aunt Nora had given him no other choice.
“Not altogether like-minded,” Lady Anne said. “The difference being that while your uncle might be absent by nature, my mother is ever present. To be sure, there’s only one activity in which she doesn’t shadow my every step.” She took a sip of her tea. “Is it true you enjoy riding?”
“Above all things. It’s the chief pleasure of—” Evelyn broke off, suddenly recollecting her encounter with the young woman in the park. “Forgive me, but you wouldn’t happen to be acquainted with a lady by the name of Miss Wychwood, would you?”
Lady Anne’s face brightened. “You’ve met Julia?”
“Only once, three mornings ago. I encountered her in Rotten Row. She said that she often rides with you, and with another lady. Miss Hobhouse, I believe.”
“Stella Hobhouse.” Lady Anne nodded. “We frequently make up a threesome during the fashionable hour. Or we did, anyway. Julia prefers to ride at dawn this time of year. She never could stomach the laughs and whispers once the season commences.”
Evelyn went still. “What laughs and whispers?”
“Some of the young gentlemen in town fancy themselves to be wits, and when they see the three of us trotting abreast down Rotten Row, they will call us all manner of silly names. Under their breath, naturally. They haven’t the courage to tease us to our faces.”