A Study in Sable (14 page)

Sarah realized at that moment that part of the reason for her aching head was that she was utterly famished and accepted the offer gratefully. “Get breakfast for both of us,” she insisted, making sure Alicia realized she would be rather put out if the maid did not share in the meal.

After anxiously inquiring three or four times if she would be all right alone, the maid left—presumably to order a meal somehow; the exact means by which the wealthy patrons of the Langham obtained room service was something of a mystery to Sarah. The only time she and Nan had stayed in a fine hotel had been in Wales, and there one placed an order for breakfast when supper came up, for luncheon when breakfast came up, for tea at luncheon, and supper at tea.

However it was done, Alicia accomplished the task in a few moments, and the service was prompt. Within an hour, her head was easing, and she had put the better part of a good, solid, English breakfast inside her.

She had made sure to insist that Alicia join her when it appeared the girl was only going to eat after she had finished, and after a weak protest the little maidservant had. Now the girl sat beaming at her proprietarily. “It does me heart good to see you eat like that, miss,” she said. “It truly does. The Mistress won't eat no more than a bit of toast and drink a lot of coffee when she first wakes up. That can't be right.”

Sarah shrugged. “If one goes to bed on champagne, one often doesn't feel up to facing real food in the morning,” she pointed out. “Speaking of which, when
does
your mistress generally awaken?”

“Noon, not a bit earlier, even when she wasn't getting haunted,” Alicia said, promptly. “But to be fair now, she's working hard doing that singing, and don't get to bed before one or two. Sometimes later, if some gentleman takes her to supper after.”

Sarah nodded. That seemed reasonable, put that way. “And when does she receive visitors?”

“Around about four? Teatime. She quite likes a proper tea, though she drinks more coffee, not tea, or sometimes chocolate. I guess they don't have teatime in German-land,” Alicia replied. Sarah sighed with relief. Good. She'd be able to get a decent round of sleep before coming back to consult with the diva.

“Then I'll return about then. Wait a moment, and I'll write a note you can give her.” Sarah stuffed the sheaf of notes she had taken on hotel stationery into her purse, then found a clean sheet and jotted down a few lines.

Fraulein von Dietersdorf; you are indeed the unhappy recipient of spirit-visitations. I will return about the time you normally receive visitors to explain at length. I believe you spent last night untroubled, and I believe I can disperse your visitants, although, as there are many, many more than I would have thought, it will take more time than I had expected. Respectfully, Sarah Lyon-White.

This she slipped into an envelope and handed to Alicia. “I'll have the concierge find me a cab. Thank you for your kindness, Alicia. I will see you later this afternoon.”

The maid saw her to the door, and Sarah made her way down the utterly silent corridor to the elevator. Evidently the rest of the people who inhabited this part of the hotel were not the sort to rise early, either. The concierge quickly got her a cab, looking a little surprised to see a young lady awake at such an early hour.

A gratifyingly short time later, she made her way up the stairs to the flat, feeling every single minute of her ordeal and looking forward to falling into her bed. Nan and Suki must have heard her footsteps on the stair, for the door flew open, and Nan reached out to pull her inside.

“You look like you've been through the wars,” Nan said bluntly. “To bed with you. You can tell us more when you've had a decent sleep.”

She barely remembered Nan and Suki helping her to undress and getting her into her nightgown. She definitely did not remember falling into bed, only the graceful wings of sleep closing around her.

• • •

“So,” Nan said, pouring tea and adding milk and sugar. “To sum up everything you've told us, you are in for a long job of work. It's definitely more than you bargained for.”

“More work, certainly,” Sarah replied. “Nothing nasty or dangerous, other than the revenant of that murderer—I'm not certain I really want to know that particular story—but a great deal more work than I had reckoned on.”

She tapped the pile of notes on hotel stationery she had taken from her purse. “Most of these spirits seem to have a great deal of unfinished business. Just three of the seven that I passed over last night dictated
that
much to me.”

“Well, I can easily transcribe it,” Nan replied, picking up the pages and leafing through them. She blinked, reading one part that went on for several pages. “Great Caesar's ghost, what is this, a legacy?”

“That's exactly what it is,” Sarah agreed. “That one took the longest. It was a businessman who has a great deal of money hidden away in an extremely convoluted fashion. He was extremely anxious that his wife get all of it, but it seems that accessing it all will require her to go to solicitors and bankers all over London and indeed, outside of London, with her marriage lines and his death certificate, and in some places offer various pass-codes. He had intended to write all of this down in his will but—”

“Of course, I can guess, he dropped dead in the Langham before he got the chance.” Nan shook her head. “Well, good news for her, anyway. The rest of these seem to be letters and addresses from your other two spirits. They're clear enough. I'll write them up properly for you and post them off. That's one thing less on your plate.”

Sarah sighed, her face suffused with relief. “Bless you.”

Nan did not ask what she dearly
wanted
to ask—which was how much longer this was going to take. Sarah couldn't possibly know that, just as she couldn't possibly know how many more ghosts had yet to appear. Nan didn't
like
any of this, but she could scarcely forbid Sarah to do it, especially now that Sarah knew how many spirits actually needed her help.

“It looks as if you are going to be taught your lessons by me for a while, Suki,” she said to the little girl, who only grinned impishly.

“Oi don' mind.” Nan knew very well why Suki didn't mind. Nan was far more likely than Sarah to offer a bit of sweet as a reward for a lesson done well.

“Nan, I am doing this for the sake of the ghosts—I've never seen so many trapped in one place before,” Sarah said, leaning over the table earnestly. “But of course, there is Holmes' little mystery as well, which has only become more mysterious. Because she was not aware that I knew anything about Johanna, I have already learned from Magdalena that she had no great affection for her sister, which makes me wonder
why
her sister came with her in the first place.”

Nan pursed her lips. “That is a good question. Was it the parents' idea? But
why,
if Johanna was engaged to that young man? I would
have thought that they'd be anxious to get her married once Magdalena was launched on a successful career.”

Sarah tilted her head as a nearby church clock struck the hour. “I need to go. I'll be back within two hours or so. Perhaps we can manage a visit to the Watsons before I need to go back at midnight.”

“Possibly. Meanwhile I'll help Suki with her lessons while I transcribe your material.” Nan grinned suddenly. “And you
knew
I would do that, didn't you!”

Sarah sighed dramatically. “Your hand is much clearer than mine. If we need to pass those letters off as being done by a secretary, it will be more easily accomplished if they are actually legible to someone other than you and me.” She picked up her purse and went out the door.

• • •

Sarah was beginning to appreciate Freddy Smart and his gelding Crumpet. Freddy kept his cab absolutely immaculate, and Crumpet had the instincts of a polo pony for finding his way through crowded traffic. There was mud on the floorboards of this cab, by contrast, and the horse seemed tired, moving along at a discouraged amble.
I should be grateful there is no worse than mud in this cab,
she decided. Right
now
Magdalena was pleased with her, but she sensed that the least little misstep could alter the diva's temper in a flash.

But when she was admitted to the singer's suite again by Alicia, the maid gave her a little smile, and Magdalena welcomed her from her seat on the fainting couch with a triumphant cry.

“Miss White! I passed the night
completely
undisturbed! I read your note the first thing upon awakening, and you
must
tell me what happened!”

Encouraged, Sarah seated herself opposite the singer, who was arrayed in yet another expensive and gorgeous tea gown, this one the color of a wild rose, and related briefly what had happened, omitting the fact that five of the seven spirits she had dealt with last night had been quite lower class. She sensed that Magdalena would
be appalled to discover that she was being haunted by the likes of scullery maids. The diva listened to the descriptions, nodding when Sarah said something she seemed to recognize.

“Yes, yes, that . . . screaming thing, and the creature it was tied to, I have seen that one, though only glimpses. I am not brave when it comes to spirits, one look and I cowered beneath the bedclothes like a little child. And the young girls who stared and stared, I remember those too. And the old man. The old man moaned and made motions at me. There are others, many others—”

Sarah sighed; the fact that Magdalena had seen all of these spirits for herself made things easier. “Yes, that is what I was coming to. It seems, for some reason, you have become attractive to every spirit that haunts the Langham and the ground it was built on. Sometimes that happens, though I have never seen it to this extent. I don't know why—” she said, forestalling any questions on that head. “It may be your sensitive artistic temperament; that allows you to see them, and because they know you can see them, they are drawn to you.” Privately she thought that Magdalena was about as sensitive as an ox, but she
could,
without a doubt, see these haunts, and that might indeed be the reason they had come to her. When ghosts knew someone could see them, they often leapt to the conclusion that person could, or would want to, help them. “The cause really doesn't matter. What is important is to rid you of them. And . . . there seem to be a very great many of them. . . .”

Here she hesitated, because she had no intentions of doing this for free, and yet, she was uncertain how Magdalena would react to being asked to match that first fee, night after night.

“Oh blessed God! If this is as you say, any other hotel will be
just
as bad, and no other hotel in London is a match for this in comfort—please, Miss White, I will gladly pay the same fee every night you need to be here until they are gone!” There was no artifice there; Magdalena was truly afraid, and truly frantic to be rid of the hauntings. “What good is money if I cannot sleep for terror?” She clutched her hands together in an attitude of begging then stretched them out to Sarah. “Say yes, I implore you!” Her voice rose with the last sentence.

“Calm yourself, of course I accept,” Sarah said quickly. “I will be here every night until I believe I have rid you of the ghosts. And if any new ones come after that, you have only to send for me.”

Magdalena flung herself back into the embrace of the fainting couch with the air of someone who has just been saved out of all expectations. “A thousand blessings on you! Can you come at midnight again? We can share supper, as we did before.” Then she sat up, suddenly. “Would—is it likely they would follow me—elsewhere? If I was to be asked to a private party after the opera—”

Hmm hmm. Private party. Well, she is getting those gowns and jewels and the guineas she is paying me with from somewhere, and it isn't the management of the Royal Opera. And I doubt her fiancé has any inklings of this, which is probably why she sent him packing as soon as she could.
“The spirits here are more or less bound to this place,” Sarah assured her. “They cannot follow you, not unless they happened to be tied to some object you were in the habit of carrying with you rather than this hotel, and from all I have seen that is unlikely. As long you only stay a few hours, I doubt very much that any ghosts resident where you will be will sense your presence. Besides,” she added, trying not to sound sly, or worse, give Magdalena the hint that Sarah knew very well about her wealthy patrons. “They only plague you when you enter that half-world between sleep and waking, and I very much doubt you would be trying to sleep at a private dinner party!”

Hmm hmm, and this will keep you from ornamenting some gentleman's bed for longer than it takes to satisfy him.

Magdalena laughed weakly. “Well, some of the guests can be dull enough to send one to sleep,” she said. “But you are probably right. If I am not here, will the spirits come anyway?”

“They will, as long as
I
am here,” Sarah told her firmly. “Remember, they want help, and they already know I can give it to them. I've no objection to working here if you are detained and sending them away, in your absence.”
It might even be easier.
“All that will happen if you come in later is that they will be startled and leave, but they will return as soon as you have settled back into your bed. I can begin arriving at midnight and leaving at dawn, starting tonight.”

“Alicia, fetch my cheque book,” Magdalena commanded, then turned back to Sarah. “My lo—I intend to perform here for some time, so I arranged to establish a bank account here. A cheque will be easier and safer for you than a purse full of money.”

“Much,” Sarah agreed fervently.
Yes, your lover—or lovers—have set you up with an account, to make it convenient for you to buy whatever your heart desires. And I will politely pretend I have no idea that any such thing has happened.
She did wonder, though, what the fellow would think about the cheque to Sarah.
Likely, Magdalena will pass me off as a dressmaker. Heaven knows simple alterations or repairs to some of those gowns would easily cost ten guineas.