A Study in Sable (36 page)

“So it wears off!” Nan exclaimed. “The—charm, or fascination, or call it by the ancient name,
enchantment
—I mean.”

“Indeed.” Holmes nodded. “So, at that moment, Magdalena is going to London. Johanna has no reason to go, and indeed, one would think she would embark on a round of engagement parties and outings where she and her fiancé are displayed together. And yet, she
does
go. Why, she agreed to, we will never know. But I believe I know why Magdalena asked her.” He raised an eyebrow. “I believe she intended to eliminate her. Possibly because she knew that Johanna was her only real rival, as they share the same talents. The difference between them was that the only talent Johanna
used
was the gift of song.”

“Johanna was going to get her old position in her old opera company when Magdalena left!” exclaimed Mary, looking to Holmes. “Because whatever
else
Magdalena had done to get it would wear off eventually!”

Holmes smiled thinly. “And Johanna had something else that she would
never
allow Magdalena to take from her. Herr Helmut. While on Magdalena's part . . . well, you, Miss Nan, put your finger on why Magdalena would want the young man.”

“When I said that Magdalena wanted anything that someone else had . . .” Nan replied, slowly.

Holmes nodded. “Perhaps Johanna thought this trip was a sort of
chance for reconciliation with her sister. Perhaps she only wished to keep an eye on her, to keep her from piling up dupe after dupe. In either case she was sadly mistaken when she thought she was safe from Magdalena. I am convinced that Magdalena murdered her.”

Shocked, Sarah protested—much as she now felt sick about how much Magdalena had been using her and anyone else that crossed her path, she could not believe
that
. “No body was ever found!”

“Not . . . quite . . . true,” Holmes told her. “No body was found at the time Johanna supposedly went missing.”

“Ah!” Watson cried. “I see where your logic is leading you! You think Johanna was murdered earlier!”

“Precisely. In fact, I believe Magdalena murdered her sister by throwing her off the boat as it approached London.” Again, he held up his hand. “And you will tell me that letters came from Johanna in London, and Johanna was seen in the hotel. But I point out to you that siblings can often forge one another's handwriting, that the letters in question sounded suspiciously as if they had been copied from a guidebook, that the ladies were known to wear each other's gowns, and that the specious ‘Johanna' was never seen without a veil.”

Sarah felt . . . stunned. Too many shocks in too short a time.

“Now, countering this was the testimony of the hotel porter that he had helped Johanna with her luggage and sent her off in a cab to the King's Cross railway station, at an hour when Magdalena was normally asleep. Surely the maid Alicia would have noticed! But! The maid Alicia was not engaged until after Johanna had ‘eloped.' I established this at once.”

“So there is no alibi for the time in question,” John observed. “And Magdalena has been known to exert herself when necessary. She only needed to get up very early, ring for the porter, and get as far as King's Cross and back. Porters and elevator operators are not known for noticing what a lady is wearing, only her face. Without her veil, she could feign to be returning from a festive night.”

Holmes nodded. “So I went to King's Cross and looked for the most remote destination possible from there, which was Thurso, in the Highlands. Then I took the journey myself and made enquiries
at the left-baggage office. And there, as I had expected, was ‘Johanna's' luggage. It was without an owner's label and contained a few outmoded gowns with German seamstress labels, cheap jewelry, a picture of the Von Dietersdorf family, some toilette articles, letters, and quantities of dead flowers. Now that I knew I must look for a dead woman found much earlier than I had thought, I returned to London, and that was when I had my great piece of luck.”

He paused.

Watson shook his head. “You never admit to mere luck, Sherlock.”

“I shall this time. The morgue attendant told me of a young man, with a photographic hobby, who was attempting to get himself hired by Scotland Yard. To that end, he had been photographing the faces of victims that were unidentified in morgues all over London, so that even after the bodies were interred, the victims might be identified. I already knew the date at which Magdalena had arrived. I suspected she would not have murdered her sister until the ship was near to port—otherwise Johanna would have been missed. She probably threw Johanna over the side at the stern, when all the other passengers who cared to watch the arrival were clustered at the prow. I knew the ship, its course, and the currents, and I asked him for the photographs of unidentified blond women within the correct date range.”

Holmes reached into his tweed jacket and emerged with two photographs. The first was the one that he had shown the girls when they first discussed the case with him, the photograph of Johanna that her parents had given him. The second—

Well, the features were bloated and softened—but it was still unmistakable as being Johanna.

Sarah gasped.

“I will not say that you have had a near miss, my dear lady,” Holmes said. “You are exceedingly useful to Magdalena. But if you had cut yourself off from your friends and followed her into the world, on the day that you ceased to be useful to her. . . .” He let the sentence trail off. “Perhaps nothing would have happened, and you
would have been left like all those others she used and discarded, wondering
how
you had come to let yourself be manipulated. But . . . perhaps not. And if she had, indeed, succumbed to the temptation to meddle in the affairs of government, she might have found a way to cast all blame on
you
if she was caught
.
”

Sarah swallowed, and Grey reached up and took one of her uninjured fingers gently in her beak.

“At any rate, that was when I spoke with Miss Nan about Magdalena, and became . . . alarmed at the prospect of what she might do. I turned to my good friend John for an explanation of how she might be doing these things.” He bowed his head at Watson, who picked up the tale.

“I went to Alderscroft, who also became alarmed. He in turn took my information about Magdalena and her summer plans—and you and your part in them—and did what Alderscroft does best. He found allies, some in unexpected places, we formulated an interim plan of action, and here we are.”

Holmes laughed dryly. “Yes. About those unexpected allies—”

“
Señors, señora, and señoritas,
I trust I have arrived at the correct time for our meeting?” A new voice spoke gently from the door, and Sarah gaped as she recognized the newcomer.

It was Pablo, the famous violinist.

15

N
AN,
John, and Mary had been expecting this. Nan had been waiting for this moment. Holmes had not spoken to Alderscroft, as they had, but Holmes had his sources, too.

Holmes leapt to his feet. “Maestro Sarasate—” he said, with a bow. The elegantly clad violinist raised his hand.

“Un momento.
First of all,” Pablo Sarasate said, with a little bow toward Sarah, “I must apologize to you, Señorita Sarah, for I have been the cause of much work, perhaps even distress, to you.”

She blinked at him. Or at least as much as her tear-swollen eyes would allow. “I don't see how that is possible,” she said dubiously. “We only met last night.”

“Ah, but I fear that you have been battling the fruits of
my
labors for some time,” he replied.

She stared at him blankly.

He smiled and elaborated. “I am the one responsible for invoking the spirits that
you
have been sending to their rests. Or at least, to their just rewards or punishments, as the case may be.”

Now Sarah gaped at him. Nan was enjoying this. She and John and Mary had had the pleasure of meeting Pablo Sarasate three days
ago, so they had heard all this before. Sarah, however, was completely in the dark.

“How?”
Sarah demanded. “That's not possible! Spirits can come of their own accord, but no one can actually
call
them!”

“Actually,
señorita,
it is possible,” the violinist said apologetically. “I am an Elemental Master. And what you have been told, that there are four sorts of Elemental Masters, is not precisely true. There are five; I am one of the fifth kind, a Spirit Master, Spirit being the fifth element.” He looked around for a place to sit and settled on the windowsill, after dusting it off with his handkerchief. “We are rare, which is just as well. The gift is not . . . terribly useful.” He shrugged. “It is not unlike your ability as a medium, save that I cannot open a door to the next world. All I can do is answer the call of a spirit in distress, summon spirits who remain in this world, and strengthen them. This is how I became involved with Magdalena von Dietersdorf in the first place.”

Sarah tilted her head to one side, bafflement showing on her face. “I don't understand. How does that have anything to do with what I have been doing for Magdalena?”

“Because,” Pablo said, with a little gesture of conciliation, “I was asked for help by the spirit of Johanna von Dietersdorf.”

The look on Sarah's face was absolutely without price. Nan wished there was a camera there, so she could capture it. Even Grey gaped at the violinist. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Nan would have laughed until her sides hurt.

Then Sarah's face took on another expression, this one of a revelation. “The very strong ghost—the one who wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't listen to me, and wouldn't go through the door—”

Pablo bent his head. “Indeed,” he replied.

“That explains a great deal,” Sarah replied without rancor, then sighed. “So what are we to do about this?”

“Ah!” said Sarasate, with a slight smile. “That is what we are here to decide.”

• • •

Sarah walked back to the manor with the violinist. She held Grey against her chest with both hands the entire way as he escorted her right to the door of Magdalena's suite and knocked for her. She found his presence incredibly soothing, and hoped that at some point she would be able to ask him questions about being a “Spirit Master.”

Alicia opened the door
immediately,
and her face was suffused with relief when she saw Sarah had Grey. “Oh thank God!” the maid cried. “You found her!”

“Maestro Sarasate helped me, she came to him when she heard his practicing,” Sarah replied, making up a story on the spot. “If she hadn't heard him playing and gone to him, I don't think I would ever have found her.”

Pablo gave a little bow. “It was my pleasure to be of service,
señorita
,” he said gallantly, with a sidelong glance and a little twinkle at her lie. “Now I must return to my practice, and you should rest after your fright.” With that, he turned and walked off, presumably back to his own guest room.

“Get in here! You must be completely knackered!” the maid said. “And your poor parrot! She must be half-dead with fear!”

“I think she was, I think there was a hawk chasing her,” Sarah murmured, allowing herself to be drawn into the sitting room and fussed over.

“Is she hurt, or did she bite you? There's blood all over your waist and skirt.” Alicia began
tsk
ing over the stains. “That is never going to come out—”

“She bit me when she saw the hawk and flew out the window, I think she was terrified,” Sarah lied, a little appalled at how many lies she was telling lately. “She came to me as good as gold when Maestro heard me calling for her and called me back.”

“Did he bandage your hand? He's as good as a doctor! Here, let's go in your room and get you out of those clothes, and I'll see if there is anything to be done about the stains.” Alicia chivvied her into her room, shut the window firmly, and waited while Sarah put Grey on her stand before helping her out of the skirt and waist. Sarah was a
little surprised at the amount of blood on them; she hadn't realized how bad the bite had been.

“I don't think there is anything I can do to save this shirtwaist,” Alicia said, holding it up critically. “But I might be able to get the blood out of the skirt, at least enough that it's not noticeable anymore. It's a good thing you like browns.”

“You don't have to go to all that trouble,” Sarah protested. But Alicia just smiled.

“Mistress rarely needs anything done, she's so careful about her clothes. I don't mind. Now
you
look a sight. You have a nice lie-down with cucumber slices and a cool cloth on your eyes while I see what I can do.” It was very clear that Alicia was not going to accept “no” for an answer, and truth to tell, Sarah was utterly exhausted. Her eyes were still swollen, her nose felt twice its normal size, her hand throbbed, and so did her head.

I should try to think of something to add to the plan,
she told herself. But her head hurt so badly, she really couldn't think at all. So she did as Alicia had advised and laid herself down on the bed, changing the cloth over her eyes whenever it got warm. At some point her head finally stopped pounding, and somehow she drifted off to sleep.

She woke to the sound of the first dinner gong with a start. Wrapping her dressing gown around herself, she took a peek into the sitting room.

Alicia was there, mending something. She looked up when she heard Sarah's footstep. “Oh, you look much better. I got most of the blood out of the skirt, but I advise you have that shirtwaist dyed if you really want to keep it. I was going to wake you, then thought I had better let you sleep. Would you like me to ring for dinner to be brought here?”

“Would you share it with me?” Sarah asked.

Alicia laughed, and they were on friendly terms once again. “I would love to, thank you. There's a ladies' maid here that used to serve Willie's mother; she's an absolute cat,
terribly
superior, and I have to sit right next to her in the Hall. I'll ring for the maid, tell them
you've got a sick headache still, and you need to be fit to watch over Mistress tonight. They've got enough servants here they can make us a tray before the dishes go up for dinner.”

“Where
is
Magdalena?” Sarah asked.

“She went down early; Willie asked her to play lady of the house. Almost everyone that's supposed to be here for this house party arrived this afternoon.” Alicia waited for her to take in and understand what that meant.

“He isn't thinking of proposing to her, is he?” she asked.

“Well, I don't know, and it's not my place,” Alicia admitted, ringing for the maid. “It might only be that now
everyone
is here and he can't do without someone to act as hostess—and he discovered last night that Mistress can do the thing proper, without embarrassing him. So she can play hostess, and the guests can think what they like. He's a Marquess
and
an Earl,
and
has pots of money, there's no reason he can't suit himself. After all, we've got half the peerage marrying these American heiresses with silver mines who don't know a soup spoon from a demitasse spoon, why shouldn't he marry a prima donna who was properly brought up?”

I need to sound the way I did when I was still worshipping the witch,
Sarah realized. This was going to be harder than she'd thought. “True enough. Would you
like
it if Willie proposed?” Sarah asked, making an effort to appear curious, and not appalled. “You'd be the lady's maid to a real Ladyship then!”

“If I could get that cat dismissed, I'd love it,” Alicia replied, and giggled. “No, that would be too easy. I'd have her as my under-maid. And I'd be sweet as sweet to her, because that would pour vinegar in her wounds of coming down in the world.” She eyed Sarah. “You go get into your nightdress and dressing gown and lie down again. I'll get you when the dinner comes.”

Sarah was not at all averse to following that advice. It was quite lovely to get into her night-things and the heavy silk dressing gown that Lord A had given her last Christmas. Coming from any
other
gentleman, such a gift could have been considered scandalous, but Lord A frequently bought her and Nan garments appropriate to roles
they might need to play, if those roles were of ladies in the higher ranks of society. He'd bought Nan a silk dressing gown, too. And once again, she found herself overcome with shame that she had considered Nan somehow
inferior
to her, even if she
had
been under that witch's fascination. After all, Lord Alderscroft treated them exactly as equals. . . .

“Are you all right?” she asked Grey, who was watching her curiously, as if the parrot was reading her thoughts.

“Hungry,” said Grey, and yawned. “Sleepy.”

“We'll both eat and sleep, and then . . .” Then, well . . .

Then we'll have to see. Not even Pablo knows what's likely to happen tonight.
He was going to
try
sending some of the worst of the ghosts back to “sleep.” The rest—well, he and Sarah shared a concern: that they must be helped to move on.

He was also going to try to explain their plan to Johanna. Or rather—he was certainly going to be able to explain it to her; as a Spirit Master, that was his forte. He could communicate perfectly with spirits. The question was what she was going to do, once she heard what they planned.

“I have no control over that, Sarah,” he had said apologetically. “I do not control spirits; that would be the work of a necromancer, and such things, I will not do. So—we will see what we will see. If she does not like our plan for her sister, then . . . it may be she will do as she will do, and we will have to adapt ourselves to that.”

About a half an hour after Alicia rang for the maid, she came to get Sarah again. Sarah brought Grey with her into the sitting room, where quite a repast was laid out. Certainly enough food for two, and then some; it looked as if someone had asked the servant who had served her at dinner last night to make up plates, for there was nothing there she would not have chosen for herself.

The two of them—three, if you counted Grey—sat down at the table; Grey was between them, and they took turns offering the parrot bits of things they thought she would like. It was a much more pleasant dinner than last night's, and Sarah was able to relax and
chat with Alicia quite naturally as long as she didn't think too hard about Magdalena's manipulations.

When they were finished, Sarah went back to her room to doze until Magdalena returned. It turned out to be a “nap” of about five hours, as Magdalena came in at around three, just as she had the previous night. Tonight she was as pleased as a cat who had gotten into the cream, and brought a half-empty bottle of champagne and a full glass with her. Alicia raised her eyebrows when Magdalena wasn't looking; Sarah shrugged. Alicia coaxed her mistress into her room, and Sarah settled down to see what the silence of the night would bring.

The clock on the mantelpiece had struck four before the rooms quieted down. And as soon as the last chime had struck—so did the Cavalier.

With a sigh, she resigned herself to another grueling night. The only good thing about it was that the later Magdalena stayed up, the shorter the night was. And the more sleep
she
was going to be able to get after it was over.

• • •

Their quarters in the stable block were not nearly as uncomfortable as Nan had feared they might be. The Stable Master had cleared out the two rooms at the far end of the left-hand quarters over the stables; that put them over the tack room rather than over the horses. The rooms were plain and spare, but scrupulously clean, and scented with nothing more objectionable than leather and clean hay. Since the stable was set quite a distance from the manor, it was in a little bit of forest and meadow all its own. What came in the windows was a great deal of lovely, fresh air, birdsong, and, at night, the occasional bat. It was four days since the rescue of Grey.
I wouldn't mind staying here a week or more,
Nan thought.
Well, except for the food . . .
Since they weren't supposed to be here, they were having to make do with whatever could be brought over from the nearest village, and
she was getting tired of bread and cheese, carrots, and pickles. She tried not to think of how Sarah was eating. She kept reminding herself that her younger self, before Memsa'b had taken her in, would have cheerfully subsisted on any of the four alone and considered just having a full belly to sleep on enough.