A Study in Sable (12 page)

A look of absolute fury passed over Magdalena's face. It was so violent that Nan felt a brief moment of fear.

But the expression was there and gone in a flash, and the only outward signs of the diva's anger were the hands clenched in her lap. “They never appear until after I have fallen asleep,” she repeated. “I tell you, this is not some waking dream, they are real, and they are horrifying. You must help me. I will pay you any amount you require. If you require something other than money, I will obtain that.” Her mouth twisted wryly. “At least you are more honest than the charlatan I first consulted, who claimed to see spirits infesting this suite in the light of day, and said nothing about . . . waking dreams.”

Sarah nodded slightly. And under the cover of her skirts she poked Nan's foot with her own. That meant, in their private code,
follow my lead.

“Well, what, exactly, is it that you want me to do?” Sarah asked patiently.

Magdalena waved an impatient hand, and reclined again. “Whatever it is you do! Remain here in my suite. Confront these spirits when they appear. Banish them! I will pay whatever it takes to be rid of them! Only tell me how much, and what else it is that you need.”

“Tonight?” Sarah asked, a little startled by the imperious order.

She threw up her hands with impatience. “Of course, tonight, and every night they plague me! How am I to perform if I cannot sleep?”

Sarah bit her lip. “I need to talk this over with my companion,” she said firmly. Very firmly, her tone saying that this was
not
negotiable. Magdalena looked as if she was about to object, then shrugged, waved her hand at them, and turned to the young maid and ordered wine.

Sarah got up and moved to the back of the sitting room; Nan came with her. “Do you really want to go along with this?” Nan whispered dubiously.

“Well, we've finished the only job that John Watson has for us at the moment,” Sarah pointed out. “And . . . I might be able to find more for Holmes about the sister if I stay.”

Nan glanced over at Magdalena, who was sipping a glass of champagne. “Do you really think she's being haunted?”

“I've no notion. The only way to find out is to spend the night here. I can sleep during the day at home.” Sarah made a little face. “I don't much
like
her, but I don't have to like her to want to help spirits trapped on this side. Maybe it's the fact that she's made herself a focus of envy that has attracted them. Maybe it isn't ghosts at all, but the actions of an Elemental Magician, in which case the Watsons and Lord A should be told. And maybe it's night terrors, in which case I will wash my hands of her and suggest Watson come treat her; he
is
a doctor, after all.”

Nan sighed, but she knew Sarah in this mood, and there was no changing her mind. “All right, stay the night. But charge her something absurd. If she is going to make you lose a good night's sleep, she should be prepared to pay for the privilege.”

They returned and took their seats on the couch. “I am prepared to spend at least one night to determine if you are indeed haunted,
and do what I may about it if you are,” Sarah said, steadily, and held up a hand to keep the diva from saying anything. “This is a considerable inconvenience to me. I will require ten guineas for this single night. If, after tonight, I determine that you
are
the subject of hauntings, we will discuss further fees.”

The amount, which was enough to pay the rental on their lodgings for the better part of a full month, scarcely seemed to faze Magdalena. Instead, her face only registered satisfaction. “Excellent! You need not remain here all evening. I am about to leave for the opera house; I will return at midnight. Alicia will let you in, if you come at that time. Alicia, my box, at once.”

The maid hurried to another room, and came back with an elegant inlaid box, which Magdalena opened with a key she took from around her neck. She counted out ten guineas, and leaning forward, placed them in Sarah's hand. “I shall see you at midnight, then. Alicia, have my usual supper, laid for two, at that time.”

Well, she's generous, I'll give her that.

Now Magdalena rose, and perforce they did, too. She took Sarah's hand, briefly. “Thank you again. The torment I am undergoing nightly is taking a toll on my art. If you can free me from it, you will not only earn my gratitude, but that of every music devotee in the world.”

“I'm sure I shall,” Sarah said, and Nan could tell she was hiding her amusement at the diva's enormous ego. “Until midnight, then.”

“Until midnight. Alicia, see them out. Then get my cloak.”

The maid showed them to the door; Nan could not help but notice that the diva had taken as little notice of
her
as possible.
Probably because she thinks I'm just some sort of hanger-on to the great medium,
Nan thought with amusement—and irritation.

Sarah put the fee in her purse as they walked to the elevator and summoned it. They stood there, waiting, listening to the sound of the motor as the cage crept its way up to them. “Well . . . that was interesting. What do you think?”

“Other than that she has a very high opinion of herself? I don't know.” At that moment, the elevator door opened, and Nan switched subjects slightly. “I wonder if our friends have gone to see her
perform at the opera. I know John's neighbor is fond of violin music, do you have any notion if he likes voice as well?”

The elevator arrived, and they nodded at the attendant and stepped into the cage beside him.

“If he does, I never heard about it. But we've never gone to the opera, even though we both like music. I prefer the ballet myself,” Sarah replied lightly.

“I know,” Nan replied, amused again. “I've suffered through ballets often enough with you. Well, don't tell anyone, or I'll lose all respect, but you can give me a good old panto over either anytime,” Nan continued in a conspiratorial manner, which made the elevator attendant smile.

The lobby was less full now than it had been when they arrived; the restaurant was open, and those who had been waiting to be seated had gone in. But now they were two unescorted ladies
leaving,
rather than arriving, and since they were well and modestly dressed, though people did notice them, they did so discreetly.

The doorman got them a cab, and they headed back to their lodgings. As they got out, Sarah got the attention of the cabbie. “Sir?” she said politely, as he looked down at her from his perch and accepted his fee. “I'm going to need accommodation back to the Langham at midnight; do you think you could arrange to be here to get me there in time?”

As she had added a generous tip to their fare, the cabby tipped his top hat and replied, “Ye can be certain of it, miss, sure as my name's Freddy Smart.” Nan felt an instant liking for this man; he had none of the signs of a heavy drinker about him, an all-too-common trait in cabbies, and his horse was well groomed, glossy, and clearly well cared for. He was in late middle age, with a wedding ring on his finger, and from the carefully cleaned state of his top hat and coat, he was as well tended as his horse.

“Thank you, Mister Smart, I greatly appreciate it.” She paused, and then added, “It is possible I may be making nightly trips there at the same time for a while. Would you be available for them, and if so, how can I reach you tomorrow night if it is necessary?”

“I'll tell ye what. I'll just trot by here at half past eleven tomorrow, and you can wave to me from the winder if ye needs me.” He twinkled at her, and the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. “Missus Smart'd put me eyes out if I let a young thing like you take 'er chances with whatever cabby comes by at
that
time'o night.”

“Thank you, sir!” Sarah said, relieved. “That will be perfect!”

“Thank
you
, miss. It'll be getting me a good fare, and taking me to where I'll get another good one. The Missus'll like that. Hup!” he said to the horse, who moved off without needing a touch of the whip he kept in its socket beside him.

“Well, that was sorted nicely. I was a little worried about your finding a way to the Langham tonight.” Nan took the door key out of her purse and let them both in. Mrs. Horace poked her head out of her own door when she heard the outer door open.

“Ah, there you are! I've been keeping your dinner warm in the oven! It will be up in two shakes of a lamb's tail!” their landlady said, and ducked back inside.

Suki had heard voices and opened the door at their landing. “Table's set, Mrs. 'Orace!” she called, and ushered them both inside, like a fussy hen chasing in two chicks.

After they were all settled around the table and Mrs. Horace was back downstairs, Suki peppered both of them with questions about the opera singer, what she wanted, and whether or not Sarah
believed
her story about being haunted.

“Well, that's difficult to say, Suki,” Sarah said, as they finished the last of an excellent white bean cassoulet and Nan passed around the treacle tart. The birds both begged for some, and got it. “The lady is an artist, and has an artistic temperament.”

“Ye means t'say she's barmy,” Suki replied wisely.

Nan laughed. “Not exactly. But she's very likely given to exaggeration and drama. It would do her reputation no harm at all if she could claim to be haunted; people do love a good ghost story, after all.” She cast a glance at the birds. “I wish we'd been able to bring Neville and Grey; they are both quite good at telling when someone is trying to gammon us.”

“On the other hand . . . I'm not so sure I want them there,” Sarah said slowly. “They are birds, and they are more delicate than you'd think. I don't believe Magdalena von Dietersdorf likes animals
at all.
Normally these artistic women have pampered little dogs, or the occasional elegant cat. Sarah Bernhardt is said to travel with a cheetah! But Magdalena has no animals about her, and there is nothing in her rooms to suggest she would welcome such a thing.”

Nan and Suki nodded.
Now that I think about it, Sarah is right. In fact . . . I don't think I want the birds anywhere around that woman.

“It might be that she is subject to night terrors—you know what those are, Suki, you used to have them.” Sarah took a bite of her tart as Suki nodded. “I find it very hard to think of a reason why she should be haunted in the first place. She says she has moved rooms twice, and the spirits follow her—as you know, spirits are usually bound to a place, and seldom follow a specific person about. She is a stranger to London, so there seems no logical reason why a spirit should choose her to show itself to. And yet . . . although there is a great deal about her that reads false to me, I am bound to say I think she is speaking the plain truth.”

“She seems willing to pay almost anything to be rid of her haunts,” Nan observed. “Which is a refreshing change from our non-paying clients!”

Suki laughed.

“Well, if she's a-payin', might as well see, eh?” Suki nodded, her curls bobbing enthusiastically.

“Exactly. So I am going to sleep a little and rejoin the lady when her performance is over. I will be there all night and return in the morning.” Sarah smiled apologetically to Suki. “Nan will have to help you with your lessons, tomorrow at least.”

Suki waved that away as unimportant. “Th' lady's payin',” she said, making it clear
that
was of primary importance in
her
mind. “'Sides. Miss Nan allus tells me the horripilatin' stuff
you
won't.”

• • •

Sarah felt very . . . alone . . . as she got into Freddy Smart's cab and the horse trotted briskly away from the house. It felt strange to be doing anything without Nan and the birds. Wrong, even. But they had discussed this over dinner, and it had been quite obvious to both of them that Magdalena had issued her invitation to Sarah, and Sarah only.

Neither of them could think of any good reason for her to refuse to go alone. The Langham was the most respectable hotel in London. Magdalena might be a respected singer, but she was also a foreigner, and her debut could be utterly ruined by even a breath of scandal. And although the lady was taller and heavier than Sarah, it was not possible that she was stronger. Ever since they were children and first came into the Harton School, she and Nan had been instructed in many ways of self-defense by Karamjit, Agansing, Gupta, and Selim. Although normally Nan was the “warrior,” Sarah was perfectly capable of defending herself, and she had several items secreted on her person to enable her to do just that.

But as the cab pulled up to the hotel, she still found herself wishing for the tall figure of her friend beside her and the gentle grip of Grey's talons on her shoulder.

The diva had not yet returned from the opera, but the maid Alicia let her in immediately and presented her with glacéed fruit and champagne. Sarah thanked her, but asked for iced water instead. If Magdalena
was
haunted, she needed to keep her senses sharp and her mind unclouded.

Alicia retired to a chair beside the door, sitting there as stiff as a doll. Sarah wondered if that was what she did every night. Possibly. Women like Magdalena thought nothing of keeping their servants up waiting till all hours of the night, then demanding they be up at the crack of dawn.

There was a dinner laid out, with the food under covers, on a small table at the window of the sitting room. And as Magdalena had ordered the table was laid for two. About fifteen minutes after Sarah had settled onto the sofa by the fire to wait, there was a commotion in the hall. Alicia leapt to her feet and flung the door open, and
Magdalena sailed in like a royal barque, wrapped in furs, in a cloud of rose scent, bidding farewell to someone over her shoulder. She flung the magnificent sable cloak aside carelessly—Alicia was right there to catch it—and turned to see Sarah waiting at the fireside.