When William left again, the rest of the world came knocking.

As Victor and I sat on the porch or in the side yard, I saw the wagons come. There was a regularity to them, at least one a day, loaded down with trunks and boxes, with women who waved at me and men who tipped their hats. The cards began to make their appearance, sent by servants to announce arrivals; they rested in a pile on the silver salver in the foyer. The early time, the alone time, was over so soon. I cursed myself for not coming earlier, for not finding weeks alone with Victor instead of only days. But William never would have allowed that, so I resigned myself to the ending of idyllic hours.

The first supper was at Millicent's. She had been coming to Newport only the last two years, and her husband had bought a house farther down Bellevue Avenue-a ten-room cottage they were busily adding onto and redecorating.

The regular crowd was still small and intimate, so Millie had invited a faster set as well. They were a welcome diversion now, before August brought Caroline Astor and her social watchdogs. Twenty or so of us gathered that night in Millie's sea- motifed dining room, and I was aware every moment of where Victor was in the room; it took all my will to keep from monopolizing him, touching him, showing them all that he belonged to me. I was distracted enough that I found it hard to listen to Alma Fister as she leaned close to me at the table.

"I could hardly bring her with me," she was saying in a loud whisper. "She insisted that she be allowed to go back to the city once a week to take her wages to her mother. How could I possibly allow such a thing? I mean, really, how important can a few cents be? I've half a mind to let her go as it is-the way she looks at me is so impudent. I can hardly give her an order that she isn't mocking me with her eyes. But you know how difficult it is to get a good servant, and she does my hair so wonderfully."

"Perhaps she only wants a few hours to herself," I said.

Alma looked at me as if I'd just committed heresy. Her dark brows rose high, accenting the odd contrast between them and her rapidly graying hair. "Why, she's a servant, Lucy. She'll take what hours I choose to give her. And I simply can't afford to lend her the time. What with all the promenades and parties, I need someone constantly to attend to my hair."

"You could forgo one or two hours. I expect it would hardly make a difference. You might even find you like it. I've taken several hours for myself. Just to sit idly on the beach is invigo-rating."

"Have you?" Alma's blue gaze darted down the table. "How do you manage to do that with a guest about?"

She had looked to where Victor sat, not far away, engaged in conversation with Millicent. I smiled patiently. "Victor spends much of his time engrossed in his work, I'm afraid. I've tried to convince him to go out himself, but he claims he came here for peace and quiet."

"A pity William doesn't find his way here more often. He could take Victor out to the Reading Room or the Casino."

"Yes, but William's quite busy. It's a wonder he's managed to be here every weekend."

"It's so hard for them to get away," Alma commiserated. "Gerald complains of it often." Alma's husband usually spent his weekends not at his summer estate with his wife and her friends, who searched constantly for the next amus.e.m.e.nt, but anch.o.r.ed in the bay, watching the goings-on from his yacht, the Mary Dare.

Alma whispered, "You would think Steven Breckenwood would at least attempt to do the same." She glanced at Julia Breckenwood, who sat a short distance away, and whose presence made me anxious-I had not forgotten William's words regarding her and Victor-and wrinkled her nose. "Poor Julia. Everyone knows he's been seeing that little actress. It's quite scandalous. We must do what we can to keep Julia occupied this summer."

There was laughter at the end of the table. Victor was smiling in that diffident way he had. I heard him say, "Mesmer was interested primarily in magnetic energy."

"Oh yes, I've read all about it," Leonard Ames-one of the few men at the table and well known as Alma's Newport monkey-spoke eagerly. He took a sip of his wine. "Something about some energy fluid that runs through the body, isn't it? Didn't he use magnets to direct it? Quite fascinating, really. Is that what you do, Victor? Have you your magnets? Perhaps we can try it out."

"It's not the same thing at all," Victor said impatiently. "There was nothing scientific about it. Human magnetism has nothing to do with hypnosis-nor, for that matter, does celestial magnetism."

Alma frowned. "Celestial magnetism?"

"A kind of spiritualism, I gather," Leonard put in. "Can you summon the dead, Victor? Let's have a seance."

"And wake them from their graves?" Victor asked wryly. "Leave that to the charlatans. I've nothing to do with it."

"Then what do you do?" Alma asked. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Hypnotism is simply a form of sleep," Victor explained sharply, "where a suggestion is made to the unconscious mind to modify behavior."

Leonard leaned forward eagerly, sloshing droplets of wine on the tablecloth. "You mean that if I were having trouble sleeping, you could make a suggestion that I sleep and I would?"

"It depends on the strength of your will," Victor said. "But yes, essentially."

"You mean you take over someone's will?"

"It's not possible with everyone; but in some cases, yes."

"You could make me do anything you wanted me to do?" Leonard poured more wine. "Could you make me do something like, well . . ."

"He's terribly shy, really," Millie said, and everyone laughed. "Could you make him do something truly outrageous?"

"Probably." Victor eyed Leonard speculatively.

"Oh, please, try," Leonard said. "Show me how this hypnosis works."

"Will you, Victor?" Alma asked.

"It's not a parlor game," Victor said.

"Well, of course," Millie put in. "But perhaps seeing it would explain it to us a little better. And it's been such a dull week. I'm sure we could all use some amus.e.m.e.nt."

It surprised me when he considered it. They were all sitting forward, as if by the very pressure of their movement they could get him to agree. I found myself urging him as well. He was a brilliant man, and I wanted them to understand him. I wanted them to think of him as I did. When he looked at me, I nodded and said, "Perhaps you can make them understand."

He set down his goblet. "Very well," he said, "but I must remind you that this isn't a game."

"Take me first." Leonard stood, spreading his arms as if sacrificing himself. "I've a longing to see how it feels to have no will."

"I would have thought you'd already know what that feels like," Julia said.

The rest of the table laughed, as did Leonard. "Well, then, to see what it feels like to have someone else's." He widened his eyes. "I shall be a new creature. Like Frankenstein's monster."

Victor stood. "Perhaps someone less dramatic," he said. "Perhaps Julia?"

All eyes went to her. Julia set down her napkin, licking her lips with a little nervousness. Her expression was reproachful, even petulant, but she smiled and said, "Of course," and rose against Leonard's loud protests.

"Do you have a comfortable chair, Millie?" Victor asked.

"In the parlor." Millie got to her feet, ushering us all from the dining room. They followed Victor like rats after the Pied Piper, seduced by his charisma, as I had been. We went from the dining room into the first parlor, which also was decorated in a sea theme, with settees and chairs of aqua silk, gla.s.s jars of sh.e.l.ls, wallpaper flocked in shades of sand. Victor motioned Julia to the settee and pulled a chair opposite her in a formation that reminded me of his office. I knew what Julia was feeling as he sat across from her, and I saw with a small shock that it was familiar to her as well. She seemed comfortable and calm, as if she knew what was going to happen. I felt a keen stab of jealousy. I wondered why he had not chosen me.

"Everyone must be quiet," he said, keeping his gaze on Julia, who blushed beneath it. "It cannot work if you aren't."

"Silent as the tomb," Leonard said, putting a finger to his lips, and there were nervous giggles and a few hushes. When the room was quiet, Victor began.

I had only ever been the victim of that gaze, and I watched with a kind of repulsed fascination as Victor took Julia's thumbs in his fingers and began to speak in a quiet, singsong voice. "Look at me, Julia, and think only of going to sleep. How you long for it. How good it will feel to close your eyes. Your eyelids are growing heavy. Heavier. Your eyes are very tired."

Julia's eyes began to redden.

"Yes, that's it. Your eyelids are flickering, your eyes are watering. Your vision is blurring. You want to close your eyes. Sleep is all you long for. Yes, close your eyes."

Her eyes were tearing now. When he said the final words, she closed her eyes in obvious relief. I had known that relief once, the first time he'd put me into a trance. Since then, I had never needed such a ceremony. My fingers curled about my wrist. There was a murmur from someone, quickly hushed. Victor did not take his gaze from Julia.

"You will no longer feel anything. Your hands are motionless, you see nothing more. You are sleeping. Sleeping." His voice trailed off in a whisper.

"That was remarkable," Leonard said.

"Quiet, Len," Alma ordered.

Victor released Julia's thumbs. They fell lax into her lap. "Now," he said, "I am going to raise your arm. It will stay frozen in the air. No amount of strength will move it."

He raised Julia's arm until it was outstretched, so the candlelight shimmered off the purple silk of her sleeve. The sinews in her arm were p.r.o.nounced; her hand was rigid. Gently Victor tried to move it. It did not budge. He turned to Leonard. "Would you care to try?"

Leonard swallowed and nodded. He came forward and pushed on Julia's arm. "It's solid as a bar," he said in amazement.

"You may use all your strength," Victor told him.

Leonard put both hands on Julia's arm and tried to lower it. It did not waver. "My G.o.d," he said.

"Does one of you ladies have a pin?" Victor asked.

"Yes. Yes, of course." Alma reached into her chignon and pulled out a bejeweled hairpin that glittered citron and amethyst. She put it in Victor's hand.

"You may lower your arm now, Julia," he said, and she did so. He took her hand and turned it palm up. "You will feel nothing," he said, pressing the pointed end of the pin into the soft center of her palm, hard enough that it made an impression. She didn't move.

"What else can you make her do?" Leonard asked.

Victor handed the pin to Alma, who stood staring as if it held some magic power. He sat back in his chair and said to Julia, "Rise and open your eyes."

Julia stood obediently.

"Walk."

She walked, neatly avoiding the chair, crossing the room as if she could see everything within it. I began to feel strange, as if it were me Victor was putting through the paces.

"You can't go any farther," he said, the tone of his voice never wavering. Low and smooth, with a rhythm that held us as spellbound as Julia. "On the table beside you is a gla.s.s of wine. You will drink it."

There was no table beside her, but Julia reached out. Her hand curled around an invisible gla.s.s. She raised it to her lips. Swallowed.

"You've had your fill of it," Victor said, and Julia put the gla.s.s down. "Now you will return to your chair and sit down. When I count to three, you will awaken. When you do, you will hear the sound of a violin coming from the beach."

Julia moved back to him. She sat down, calm and still, and Victor counted slowly. "One. Two. Three."

She blinked. She saw us watching her and flushed deeply.

Leonard clapped his hands. "Bravo, Victor. That was truly remarkable."

But no one paid attention to him. We were all watching Julia as she tilted her head. "Do you hear that?" she asked, rising, going to the window. "Why, it sounds like someone is playing a violin on the beach."

Victor sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He smiled smugly while the others oohed and aahed and crowded around him, and it was clear he enjoyed their adulation. I looked at Julia, who had turned from the window with a frown. Our gazes met, and I felt hollow and alone. I remembered a walk in the woods, a singing bird.

"There's no violin," I said softly to her, and her expression cleared. She nodded and went again into the dining room, to where her gla.s.s of wine-a real one this time-waited. She took a long swallow.

I heard Leonard ask, "Can you do that to anyone?" and Victor's a.s.sured a.s.sent, and then a chorus of "Oh, I'd like to try" and "Put me to sleep, Victor" and "No, no, it's my turn now." I turned away from it all, bedeviled in a way I couldn't explain. I went out the screened door and onto the porch that looked over the darkness that was the sea. The moon was slight. I could see the crests of waves, dimly white and ghostly, floating, disconnected. From somewhere came the scent of roses.

That night, as we walked from the carriage house around to the porch, Victor caught my arm, stopping me before I climbed the stairs. "You seem quiet tonight," he said.

"I'm a bit tired."

"You've said nothing about dinner."

Sadie had lit a lamp that beckoned from the window. It cast Victor's face in shadow, but I could see the avidity of his stare, how hungry he was for praise. I said, "You were quite a success. I think they all love you."

"Yes," he said with satisfaction. "Did you hear how they all begged for it? Two minutes before they had called it mesmerism."

"They couldn't know the difference," I said dully.

"I had to show them it was a true science. They didn't believe."

"Now they do."

"Yes, now they do," he said. I felt his excitement. We went up the stairs, and he pressed me against the wall near the door and kissed me. "They'll know now," he murmured into my mouth, and my sense of disconnectedness fled. I felt again the pa.s.sion I always felt for him, the longing so intense it took away doubt as he lifted my skirts and plunged his hands beneath them, holding me in place, taking me there on the porch while the sea rushed onto the beach beyond.

Chapter 22.

Victor became a luminary in Newport. He was invited to the Reading Room, the exclusive men's club that William had spent most of three years trying to join before they accepted him last summer. Women could not get past the first step onto the large piazza without encountering a clubman, so I only heard about how Victor entertained them, how he made Gerald Fister attempt to light his cigar with a stem of mint from a julep, and how even Cornelius Vanderbilt had clapped him on the back and asked him to attend one of their parties. When we went to the Casino to listen to the orchestra, he was surrounded by those who wanted to be turned into trained monkeys, and every supper we went to ended with a display of hypnotism. Even Millicent had taken her turn on the chair, exclaiming when she woke over how loud the military band on the porch was-where had it come from?

Victor had told me in the past how hypnosis was not successful on everyone, and to others only to a certain degree. I noticed how carefully he chose-Julia, whom he had hypnotized before; Leonard, who wanted it so badly he would no doubt pretend even if Victor could not take him into a trance; Gerald, who accepted with alacrity anything that made Alma happy. But never me. Victor never put me into a trance before a crowd.

It was mid-July already. The sky was clear blue and cloudless, and the mornings came humid and hot, so we woke often before dawn, bathed in sweat, to open the windows, and we kept them open far into the night. Even the water felt warm when we swam.

We began to live for the night, for the suppers we went to and the ones that we increasingly hosted together. William had not visited Seaward for the last two weeks. He would come on the fourteenth to spend a week, but he was busier than ever. He sent his love, along with the invitations to our ball for me to address, and hoped that Victor was not monopolizing my time.

Victor threw himself into the entertainments, and these scenes played anxiously about my mind. I did not like the game hypnotism had become; it made too little of my own experience. I did not like seeing how easy it was for Victor to make a fool of someone. I began to wonder about the control he had over my mind. Though I was uneasy and fretful, my pa.s.sion for him had not abated. If anything, it had grown, so my fingers itched for him constantly; I grew less discreet. Occasions like the one on the porch grew more frequent-once on the beach, along the seawall; once in the carriage house, while David was outside washing down the landau; once midday in the little rose bedroom that had been mine, with his papers crumpling beneath me and Sadie moving around downstairs. I searched for ways to bind him to me, because my own doubts plagued me. I did not like my feeling that the Victor I knew was changing into one of the tricksters he claimed to despise. I wanted his hypnotism play to stop, and I told myself it was because I feared for him: I knew how soon people's affections could turn, how the newest entertainment pa.s.sed so rapidly into the next. How much longer before hypnotism bored them the way phrenology had? But the truth was that I didn't like the intrusion of my own reason; every time he put someone in a trance, I was reminded of the control he must have over me.

I thought Victor must sense my uncertainty, but he said nothing, though I often found him staring at me as if he could see into my thoughts.

Early one afternoon, two days before William was due to arrive, Millie came to call bearing rolls of wallpaper and swatches of fabric and chunks of marble. I welcomed her with a smile, but those things only reminded me of the pile of invitations on my desk, ready to be sent out, and of the huge mausoleum that I would be returning to, of William's expectations.

She knew this, of course. Perhaps it was part of the reason she'd come. As she laid a chunk of pink Italian marble next to one of sparkling marbleized granite, she gave me a sideways glance and said, "I wouldn't have brought them all this way, but I do need help choosing, and I thought since you've so recently been through this yourself . . . Oh, and Lucy, wouldn't this pink look lovely in your new foyer?"

"William has already decided on something," I said.

"Oh? What is that?"

"I don't remember."

She gave me an odd look, and then her glance went beyond me to where Victor was idly glancing through rolls of wallpaper. "You didn't help him choose?" she asked me.