Текст книги "Quicksilver"

Автор книги: Amanda Quick

Соавторы: Amanda Quick
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EIGHTEEN

The hunter in him sensed that he was closing in on his prey. He ought to be feeling the icy-cold rush of energy that always hit toward the end of the hunt, Owen thought. But for some reason he was consumed with an edgy, restless sensation that told him he had left at least one door unopened.

“Owen?” Virginia said. “Is there something wrong?”

He realized he was hurrying her so swiftly along the stone passage that she was obliged to hold her skirts up almost to her knees and trot briskly to keep up with him.

“Sorry,” he muttered. He forced himself to slow to a rapid walk. “I am eager to get you out of here.”

“I appreciate that. I assure you I have no desire to linger. But I have the impression that you are not satisfied with what we learned in that chamber. At least we have some clue to the identity of the man who murdered Mrs. Ratford and Mrs. Hackett. We know that he is a blood relative of Hollister’s.”

“That information is useful,” he agreed. “I will ask my aunt to pursue her genealogical research.”

“You are concerned about the fire that is trapped in the mirrors, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Hollister was an out-and-out killer. He raped his victims, and then he murdered them. That was all he cared about. But there is something different about the second man. He does not assault his victims physically before he kills them.”

“I see what you mean.” Virginia sounded thoughtful.

“It is almost as if he has been conducting experiments.”

“To what purpose?”

“To trap fire in mirrors, or so it appears. There is much more to this affair than meets the eye, Virginia.”

“Lady Hollister might be able to tell us something useful, but she really is quite insane, Owen.”

He turned another corner and saw an ancient wood-and-iron door set into the wall of the tunnel. He stopped abruptly. So did Virginia.

“Lady Hollister,” he said softly.

“Surely you are not going to pursue her? Speaking personally, I am grateful that she murdered her husband.”

“She certainly did the world a favor.” He contemplated the door. “But I am curious about how she came and went from the scene of the murder.”

Virginia looked at the door. “Do you think that leads to the mansion?”

“Yes. The lock on it is new.”

He took the pick out of his pocket and set to work. “The house is empty. We may as well search the premises while we are here.”

“That could take hours, even days. It is a very big house, Owen. What do you hope to find?”

“I don’t know. I never do until I see it.”

When he got the door open they found themselves in an empty basement room. A well-worn trail of footprints cut through the decades of dust and grime that covered the stone floor.

“Someone came this way often over the years,” Virginia said.

He angled the lantern and crouched to view the footprints. “It is impossible to make out individual tracks because there are so many of them, but most appear to have been left by a man.”

“Hollister.”

“No doubt. I see the prints of a woman’s shoes, as well. More than one woman, to be precise. Whoever they were, they came through here recently.”

“Lady Hollister and the servant who helped her carry me down here, perhaps.”

“No doubt.” He straightened and aimed the lantern at the flight of steps at the far end of the room. “Let us see where that leads.”

They climbed the steps. The door at the top opened onto a darkened library. When they emerged into the room Owen saw that the opening they had come through was concealed as a section of bookshelves.

“A house of secrets,” Virginia said. “But obviously Lady Hollister knew at least some of those secrets.”

Owen set the lantern on the desk and began opening and closing drawers. “Others may have known them as well. Lady Hollister’s companion, for example. Or some of the servants.”

“I do not recall seeing any servants other than the housekeeper when I arrived. There must have been a couple of daily maids and a gardener, at the very least. One simply cannot run a household this size without staff. But I can’t believe that they would have remained silent if they had suspected what was going on down in that chamber.”

“By all accounts this was a rather eccentric household.” He closed one drawer and opened another. “If most of the staff came in daily and did not live on the premises, it’s possible that they never knew about their employer’s unpleasant hobby down in the basement.”

Virginia came toward him. Her shoes made no sound on the expensive carpet. “Are you searching for anything in particular?”

“It would be rather useful to find a record of the purchase of one or more of those damned clockwork devices.” He closed the last drawer. “But there is nothing of that sort here. Just some blank paper and a few odds and ends.”

Virginia began plucking books at random off the shelves. After half a dozen volumes, she opened one and paused.

“This is interesting,” she said.

He rounded the desk. “What have you got there?”

“There are a number of photographs concealed in this book. They all appear to be of young women and girls about Becky’s age.” Virginia looked up quickly. “Dear heaven. I fear that this is a record of Hollister’s victims.”

He took the book from her and examined the photographs. Each showed a young woman dressed like a prostitute. Each girl in the pictures was lying on the bed in the mirrored room, clearly dead.

Wearily Owen closed the book. More victims he had failed to save, he thought. More images to haunt his nights. “He indulged his obsession for years, and no one ever knew.”

Virginia touched his hand. The knowing look in her eyes told him that she understood what was going through his mind.

“There is no changing the past,” she said. “There will always be monsters. You cannot hunt them all. You will do what you can, but you must accept that you will not be able to save every victim.”

“Knowing that truth and accepting it are two very different things.”

“One accepts such truths by concentrating on the present and the future, not the past.”

He smiled. “Where did you learn such wisdom?”

“My mother told me that when I was thirteen and just coming into my talent. She said I must never forget that although I would see a great deal of evil in the mirrors, once in a while I would be able to find justice for some of the victims and provide a sense of peace to some of those left behind. She said those rare moments must be enough to sustain me or I would be driven mad by the afterimages I would view in the years ahead.”

“Your mother sounds like a very wise woman.” He tucked the book under one arm. “I will give these pictures to Caleb Jones. He can turn them over to his friend at Scotland Yard. Perhaps the police will be able to notify the families of some of Hollister’s victims and assure them that the killer is dead.”

“That is a good plan,” she said.

He went toward the door that opened onto the hall. “Let’s go upstairs. People are inclined to keep their most closely held secrets in their bedrooms.”

They went down a long hallway and started up the broad stairs to the floor above.

“I remember coming up this staircase,” Virginia said. She looked around uneasily. “The bedroom that Lady Hollister wanted me to examine was on this floor at the end of the hall.”

“That was the room in which you were overcome by the drug?”

“Yes. I remember nothing after that until I woke up in that mirrored chamber.”

The faint creak of a rope twisting on wood brought him to an abrupt halt. He looked up.

“Virginia,” he said quietly.

She froze. “What is it?”

“If I am not mistaken, it is Lady Hollister.”

The flaring light of the lantern revealed the body of a woman hanging from a rope secured to the banister two floors above.

“Dear heaven,” Virginia whispered. “I’m sure that’s her.”

Owen went swiftly up the next flight of stairs. Virginia followed on his heels. They both looked over the banister. The light fell on the face of the dead woman.

“It is, indeed, Lady Hollister,” Virginia whispered. “Was she murdered, too?”

Owen opened his senses and looked at the fluorescing light that clung to the rope and the wooden banister. Madness and despair radiated like a terrible poison.

“No. It is the same psychical energy that I saw downstairs in the tunnels where Hollister was killed. After she avenged her murdered daughter, Lady Hollister went about her wifely duties. She saw to it that her husband’s body was quietly removed. She made up the bed and dismissed the servants. And then she hanged herself.”

“And she managed it all without creating a scandal in the family.”

NINETEEN

Virginia was in her study, a cup of tea in one hand, a note from a grateful client in the other, when she heard the carriage in the street. She ignored the rattle of wheels and the stamp of shod hooves until she realized that the vehicle had stopped in front of Number Seven. Her pulse kicked up a beat and then immediately settled back into its normal rhythm. Not Owen,she thought. If he came by cab today it would be in a fast, sleek hansom, not a large, private equipage.

She listened to Mrs. Crofton’s quick footsteps in the hall and knew that the housekeeper had also recognized the unmistakable clatter of an expensive vehicle.

The front door opened. There followed a low, indistinguishable murmur of voices. Not a client, Virginia knew. She met those at the Institute. It was one of Gilmore Leybrook’s policies, and she thought that it was a very sound one.

In her early years as a glass-reader she had been obliged to interview clients in her personal lodgings. Some of those who sought out the assistance of a glasslight-talent were more than a bit odd, to say the least. A few of the truly distraught had appeared on her doorstep at midnight, demanding second or even third readings, convinced that she had been wrong the first time. There had been some threats from time to time. All in all, life was vastly more peaceful when clients did not know the address of the reader.

But if the new arrival was not a client and not Owen, Virginia could not imagine who would be calling on her in such a fine carriage.

The door of the study opened abruptly. For all her professional polish and aplomb, Mrs. Crofton’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She raised her chin and assumed a commanding tone of voice that was certain to carry out into the front hall.

“Lady Mansfield to see you, ma’am. Shall I tell her that you are at home?”

“Good grief, no.”

Virginia set down the teacup with more force than she had intended. There was a sharp, jolting crack of china on china. Tea sprayed across her hand and the note she had been reading. Mrs. Crofton frowned.

“Did you burn yourself, ma’am?”

“No, no, the tea has gone cold.” Virginia seized a napkin and dabbed at her hand. “There must be some mistake.”

“With the tea, ma’am? I’ll bring in a fresh pot.”

“I’m not talking about the tea, I meant the identity of my visitor. Are you certain it is Lady Mansfield?”

“Her card, ma’am.” Mrs. Crofton produced the calling card with a triumphant flourish. “I put her in the parlor.”

“Well, get her out of there.” Virginia crumpled the napkin. “Please tell Lady Mansfield that I am not at home.”

Mrs. Crofton got a steely look in her eyes. She moved into the study, closed the door and lowered her voice. “Too late to send her away. I already told her that you would be with her shortly.”

“Now, see here, Mrs. Crofton, I am well aware that you feel you came down in the world when you accepted the post in this household. Nevertheless, I regret to inform you that I am your employer and I give the orders under this roof.”

“Have you lost your senses, ma’am? Lady Mansfield is quality of the most exclusive sort. She moves in very elevated circles. Why, I cannot believe that she has called upon you in person.”

“Neither can I,” Virginia muttered.

“It is extraordinary. Most ladies of her station would have sent around a note summoning you to their homes to give them a psychical consultation.” Mrs. Crofton waved her hands in exasperation. “You would likely have been shown in through the tradesmen’s entrance.”

“You know very well that I never accept commissions if I am expected to use the tradesmen’s door. And for your information, Mrs. Crofton, Lady Mansfield did not bother to send me a note summoning me to an interview because she knew very well that I would have refused.”

Mrs. Crofton was aghast. “Why would you do a thing like that?”

“I really don’t think I need to explain.”

“I must remind you, ma’am, this is precisely the sort of client we’ve been attempting to attract.”

“We?”Virginia repeated, gravely polite.

Mrs. Crofton refused to be intimidated. “I have been giving your career a great deal of thought.”

“I beg your pardon? Youhave been thinking about mycareer?”

“If you want to advance yourself in your profession, you must acquire a better class of client. This is a golden opportunity. I will not allow you to pass it by. Our futures depend on it.”

“I am flattered that you have aligned your fortunes with mine, Mrs. Crofton. Does that mean that you have abandoned any hope of moving back up in the world by finding another employer?”

“It’s not as if I’ve got a great deal of choice at the moment, now, do I? Neither do you, I’m afraid. You know as well as I do that if you intend to better yourself, you need a housekeeper like me who knows the ways of the quality.”

“Do you know, Mrs. Crofton, until I met you I had not actually planned to better myself? I thought that I was doing rather nicely as it was.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Crofton said. “You mentioned at breakfast just last week that you wanted to earn money so that you could make some investments to secure a comfortable retirement.”

“Yes, but that is another matter entirely.”

“I’ve got to think of my own retirement as well. As you just pointed out, we are stuck with each other. So I strongly suggest that you go into the parlor and accept Lady Mansfield’s commission for a looking-glass reading.”

Reluctantly Virginia pushed herself to her feet. “It is obvious that you are not going to follow my instructions to show her the door, so I will perform the task myself.”

“Don’t you dare be rude to her,” Mrs. Crofton warned. “Once word gets around that you have performed a reading for Lady Mansfield, other fashionable ladies in her circles will want to commission readings. This is how one builds a quality clientele.”

Virginia crossed the small room toward the door. “I appreciate the advice, Mrs. Crofton. Now, if you’ll be so good as to get out of my way.”

Mrs. Crofton did not move. “One more thing.”

Virginia paused. “Yes?”

Mrs. Crofton lowered her voice a bit more. “Whatever you do, don’t appear too eager or grateful for the commission. Just be reserved and polite. Professional. Tell her that you’ll have to check your calendar before you commit to an appointment. Make her think she’s fortunate to be able to obtain your services.”

“I really don’t know how I managed to conduct my business without your advice before you came to work in this household, Mrs. Crofton. Now will you kindly get out of the way?”

“Right, then.” Mrs. Crofton stepped smartly aside and wrapped her hand around the doorknob. “I can hardly believe our good fortune. I wonder how your name came to Lady Mansfield’s attention. Perhaps it is your recent association with Mr. Sweetwater. And here I’ve been worried about that.”

“I have no idea why Lady Mansfield chose to call on me today, but I can tell you exactly how my name came to her attention. Indeed, she has been aware of me for thirteen years.”

Mrs. Crofton opened the door. “How’s that?”

“My mother was her husband’s mistress until both Lord Mansfield and Mama were killed in a train accident. They were returning from a tryst at Mansfield’s hunting lodge in Scotland.”

Mrs. Crofton blanched. “What on earth?”

“Lord Mansfield was my father,” Virginia explained in a tight voice. “I do apologize, Mrs. Crofton. I realize you had no way of knowing that you had assumed a post in the household of the illegitimate daughter of a high-ranking gentleman, but there it is. I don’t think you need bother with a tea tray.”

Virginia went out the door and down the hall. She paused on the threshold of the parlor and collected herself.

Lady Mansfield stood at the window. She looked out into the street as though there were something of great import there.

“Lady Mansfield,” Virginia said.

Helen, Lady Mansfield, turned to face her. “Thank you for seeing me, Miss Dean. I apologize for the intrusion. But I am quite desperate, and I have nowhere else to turn.”

“Lady Mansfield, I really don’t think we have anything to discuss.”

“Please, I wish only to ask you a simple question. If you will be so kind as to answer it, I assure you I will not linger under your roof a moment longer than necessary.”

The thing that had always struck Virginia as inexplicable was the fact that Helen was a remarkably beautiful woman. Blond-haired and blue-eyed, she was endowed with a classic profile and a fine figure, enhanced by the latest fashions. She was one of those women who drew the eye. At the age of eighteen, when she had married her much older husband, she must have been breathtaking, Virginia thought. She had also been a great heiress, a fact that always enhanced a bride’s charm.

With such a wife gracing his home and his arm when he went out into society, what had possessed Lord Mansfield to continue his longstanding, illicit relationship with a lowly glass-reader? Virginia wondered. It was not as if her mother had been a dashing actress or a much younger or more beautiful woman. Yet the relationship that Mansfield had begun with her mother years before his marriage to Helen had endured.

On those rare occasions when she allowed herself to sink into a dark mood and brood for a time on just how very much alone she was in the world, she summoned up the shards of memories of her childhood. When she did so, she took some comfort from knowing that Mansfield had loved her and her mother. One’s parents were always great mysteries, she reflected.

She started to speak the little speech she had rehearsed on the short trip down the hall. There has been a mistake, Lady Mansfield. I am not receiving visitors this morning. I’m sure you will understand.But one look at the pleading expression in Helen’s blue eyes caused the words to evaporate from her mind. She had seen that same look in the eyes of too many clients who came to her, seeking answers.

“What was it you wanted to know, madam?” she heard herself say instead.

“I am well aware that this is difficult for you, Miss Dean,” Helen said. “Surely you realize that I find it equally uncomfortable. I would not have come here today if there had been any other course of action open to me.”

I’m going to regret this,Virginia thought. But there was nothing else to be done. Helen was clearly in considerable anguish. Nothing short of desperation would have brought her here today.

“Please sit down,” Virginia said. She motioned to one of the two dainty chairs that bracketed the unlit fireplace.

“Thank you.”

Helen sank gracefully onto the chair, arranging the elegant folds of her expensive blue day gown with small, practiced movements of her gloved fingers.

Virginia took the matching chair and twitched the skirts of her plain copper-brown housedress into position.

“I realize that you have no reason to help me,” Helen said. “But I am hoping you will feel some degree of compassion for me in my hour of need.”

“Perhaps if you would get to the point, madam?”

“Yes, of course. My daughter, Elizabeth, has disappeared.”

In spite of everything, Virginia felt herself grow cold. “You believe she is dead?”

Helen’s eyes widened in shock. “God forbid.” She pulled herself together. “I meant that she has vanished from her home. She ran away sometime this morning. She told no one where she was going. No one saw her leave. I will come straight to the point, Miss Dean. Is she hiding here with you?”

Virginia was so taken aback by the question that for a moment she could not think clearly.

“Good heavens, no,” she finally blurted.

“Please do not lie to me. I must know the truth. I have been absolutely frantic since I discovered that she was missing.”

“Why would she come here? She does not even know that I exist.”

“I’m afraid that is no longer true.” Helen’s hands tightened into a knot on her elegant lap. “She learned recently that you are her half-sister.”

Virginia went quite still. “I see. How did that come about?”

“Perhaps it was inevitable. I told myself that no one would remember the old gossip. But there are always some who never forget ancient scandals.”

“Yes,” Virginia said.

“When Elizabeth came to me a few days ago, demanding answers, my first thought was that you had sought her out to tell her the truth. But I later learned that she got the story from a friend who had overheard her mother and another woman gossiping about the old tale. It seems the other woman was a client of yours.” Helen looked down at her hands and then raised her eyes. “She remarked on the family resemblance.”

“I am sorry,” Virginia said gently. “I realize how upsetting this is. But I give you my word Elizabeth is not staying here with me. You may search the house, if you like.”

Helen closed her eyes in anguish. When she opened them again, she looked more frightened than ever. “That will not be necessary. I can see that you are telling me the truth. I admit that I had pinned all of my hopes on finding her here. But if she is not in this house, where can she be?”

“I’m sorry,” Virginia said again. “Perhaps Elizabeth is staying with a friend?”

“No, I’m certain that is not the case. I made a few discreet inquiries before I came here.”

“I still do not understand why you believe she would have come to me.”

“She is extremely curious about you. She has questions, you see. Questions I cannot answer.”

“What sort of questions?”

Helen’s mouth tightened. “My husband claimed to have some psychical powers. He said he could see shimmering currents of energy around people. He said the colors and hues of the wavelengths told him a great deal about the person. Indeed, he was always very good at predicting how others would act, and he had a knack for knowing when someone was lying. But I never believed he actually possessed paranormal abilities. However, when Elizabeth turned thirteen this year, she told me that she could perceive strange lights around other people.”

“She inherited her father’s aura-reading talent.”

“For months I have tried to tell her that it was her imagination. I took her to our country house for a month. I thought the fresh air and daily walks would distract her.”

“But she continued to see auras,” Virginia said.

“Yes. When we returned to London last month I told her that she must not discuss the visions she has with anyone because people would think she was mentally unbalanced. That sort of chatter can ruin a young lady in society.”

“Yes, of course,” Virginia said evenly.

“After that lecture, she stopped talking about auras; at least she did not speak of them to me. But she has begun to take a great interest in all things paranormal. When I let her know that I was concerned, she informed me that the paranormal was all the rage and that her friends were very much intrigued by it. She made it sound as if attending séances and demonstrations of psychical talent were simply fashionable activities for young ladies.”

“For many young ladies, that is true,” Virginia said. “But Elizabeth is attempting to comprehend and accept her own talent. Surely you can understand that she does not want to believe that there is something wrong with her. She is seeking answers that will assure her she is not mentally unbalanced.”

“I realize that.” Helen tightened her gloved hands. “Learning that she has a half-sister who claims to possess paranormal talents, indeed a sister who makes her living with her abilities, was the final straw. I am convinced that she has set out to find you.”

“I would have said that she could not possibly know my address. But since you are obviously aware of it, I suppose she might have discovered it, too.”

“I have been aware of your address for some time,” Helen said. “But I did not tell Elizabeth.”

“If she knows anything at all about me, which I think we can assume is the case, she will likely know to make inquiries at the Leybrook Institute. That is how my clients contact me. Mr. Welch accepts the commission. His assistant, Mrs. Fordham, forwards all requests for consultations to me. I have received no notes regarding your daughter.”

My sister.

Although she had been aware of Elizabeth since her birth, it had always been difficult to think of the girl as her sister. Mansfield’s legitimate daughter existed in a different dimension. The world she moved in had nothing in common with the one in which Virginia lived.

Tears glinted in Helen’s eyes. “Forgive me.” She pulled out a delicate lace handkerchief and blotted up the moisture. “I have been living in a nightmare since I discovered she was gone. The thought of Elizabeth out there alone on the streets terrifies me. She has no notion of how to survive in the world. What if she has been kidnapped?”

“I will send word to Mr. Welch at the Institute,” Virginia said. “I will ask him to be on the alert for a young lady making inquiries about my services. My housekeeper will have one of the street boys dispatch the note at once. If Elizabeth shows up, Mr. Welch will have his assistant keep an eye on her until I can get to the Institute to take charge of her. If I hear any news I will contact you at once.”

“Thank you,” Helen said, her voice leaden with anxiety. “I am so afraid that she will come to grief before I can find her.”

“You said your daughter is an aura-reader.”

“That is how she refers to herself.”

“Is she a sensible young lady?”

Helen sighed. “I had always believed that to be the case until this morning.”

“If she has a degree of common sense and if she can read auras, she is not as unprotected as you might think,” Virginia said.

“How can you say that? She has no experience of the world.”

“Her talent provides her with a strong intuitive ability that will surely help her avoid people who might be a danger to her. Aurareaders are very good at that sort of thing. That sensitivity will help keep her out of harm’s way.”

“She does seem to have recently developed very sound instincts when it comes to judging others,” Helen admitted. “I can only pray that you are right.”

Virginia rose. “I shall write the note to Mr. Welch immediately.”

Helen got to her feet. “I am very grateful, Miss Dean. I realize that you have no reason to feel any vestige of obligation to Elizabeth.”

“All I am going to do is send a note,” Virginia said. “It is nothing.”

Helen looked at her with an unreadable expression. “The gossip was right, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is a strong family resemblance. You and Elizabeth both have your father’s eyes.”

Helen went out into the hall. Mrs. Crofton opened the door for her with a respectful air. Helen went down the steps and got into the waiting carriage.

Virginia went into her study to write the note to Welch. After she gave it to Mrs. Crofton to send around to the Institute, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and removed the photograph inside.

For a long time she sat, looking at the picture of her handsome, dashing father, her attractive mother and herself. She had just turned thirteen when the photograph was taken. She looked innocent and happy and loved. For all her budding psychical talent, that day she’d had no premonition that in a few short months her world would come crashing down around her.