Free Newport: A Novel by Jill Morrow

original agreement.”
    “I disagree. If these women are perpetrating a blatant fraud, then only the most incompetent—my father, perhaps—would allow themselves to be swept into it. Perhaps if you’d drafted our agreement a bit differently . . .”
    “This is ridiculous,” Catharine said. “I’ve Amy’s health to think of. She’s not a trained monkey, able to perform on demand. She—”
    “No, it’s all right.” Amy shook Catharine’s hand from her shoulder. Her blue eyes glittered in a too-pale face. “Mrs. Chapman would very much like an opportunity to speak with you all again. Tomorrow night is fine.”
    “Elizabeth has returned?” Years fell away as Bennett struggled hopefully to his feet.
    Amy listened for a moment. “She’s gone again,” she said finally.
    “How convenient,” Nicholas murmured. “I don’t remember Mother being quite this peripatetic when she walked the earth.”
    “Then we shall meet again tomorrow night.” Chloe flushed pink. “Father, let me help you to your room. I want to hear everything—everything!—Mother has told you.”
    Bennett enclosed his daughter’s hands in his own, his face glowing with delight. “Catharine, you don’t mind if I spend some time with Chloe, do you?”
    “No, Bennett, of course not.” Catharine’s smile looked as if it might shatter.
    “Chloe.” Nicholas extended a warning hand toward his sister, obviously no more comfortable than Catharine with the upcoming father-daughter tête-à-tête.
    “Oh, leave me be, Nicky.” His sister offered their father a steadying arm. “I’m not your puppet; I can have a conversation with my own father if I please.”
    Catharine stood quite still as Bennett’s papery lips scratched against her cheek. “Good night, my dear,” he said. “I shall see you at breakfast.”
    “I need air,” Amy said as Bennett and Chloe left the room. “I’m going for a walk.”
    Catharine automatically took her hand. “Give me a moment to fetch my wrap.”
    “No.” Amy’s little hand slid from Catharine’s and into the crook of Jim’s elbow. “Mr. Reid, may I prevail upon your protection for half an hour or so?”
    A crimson blush painted Jim’s face as he straightened from his slouch. “You bet. Of course. Delighted.”
    Catharine opened her mouth to speak. Adrian stiffened. But neither Amy nor Jim spared the slightest glance behind them as they left the room.
    Nicholas stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray by the door. “Tomorrow, then,” he said.
    Adrian pulled his attention back to the tall man before him. “I will not be held hostage here indefinitely, Mr. Chapman,” he said. “If we are unable to conclude this matter tomorrow night, I shall refer you to Clause Eight of our agreement, which allows a neutral third party to decide the outcome of our dispute.”
    Nicholas nodded. “Very well, Mr. de la Noye. But I very much doubt it will come to that. You are ultimately a man of reason. I trust your level head will prevail. Good night.”
    Catharine closed her eyes in an attempt to make sense of the situation. Why on earth had Amy agreed to another séance? The atmosphere at Liriodendron was too explosive. A hornet’s nest of questions floated about these posh rooms, and the mix of sitters was decidedly volatile.
    “We must talk.”
    Adrian’s low voice cut through her reverie. Her eyes opened wide as she faced him. She’d expected anger from him, indignation at the very least. But his stare seemed more mournful than malevolent. He made no effort to move toward her, did not so much as extend a hand in her direction. It was as if he’d placed her under quarantine.
    An anxious flutter ricocheted through her stomach.
    “Please, Cassie,” he said, and the ache in his voice cut a swift incision through her heart.
    She turned and bolted from the room.

CHAPTER
9
    February 1898
    Y ou’re a drunken sot,” a female voice proclaimed, and a bucket’s worth of water splashed across Adrian