by Anna Lord
“I think there is no need to sleep in here tonight, gentlemen. It is clear the phantom does not exist. It was merely someone in the kitchen singing, the sound floated up the stairwell and even into the dungeon. Our imaginations did the rest. The gate is locked. The portcullis is down. We can bolt our doors. I do not believe we will be murdered in our beds. Whether it was Sarazan or Velazquez or even a third party who killed our hostess and disposed of her body seems immaterial. By tomorrow the path should be clear of rocks and we can place the mystery into the hands of the gendarmerie. They will summon the Surete if there is any question of foul play.”
“Here! Here!” came the chorus. There was but one dissenter.
It was Moriarty.
“I don’t agree. I cannot dismiss what has happened so breezily. I cannot put it down to heightened imagination. There are too many unresolved questions. If you wouldn’t mind allowing your manservant, Fedir, to join me here in the great hall, the two of us can take turns keeping watch during the night. I do not ask that anyone else disturb themselves. All I ask is that you, Countess, keep your maid with you in your bedroom throughout the night and that you keep your door bolted.”
18
Golden Child
Xenia and Fedir were waiting for the Countess in her bedchamber. She asked Fedir if he would mind keeping the Irishman company in the great hall for the night, stressing that there would be just the two of them. He said he was happy to do it.
“Do you trust him?” she asked her manservant, interested to hear what he would say since she already knew Xenia didn’t trust the Irishman one inch.
“Yes,” said Fedir. “He thinks before he speaks and he is neither a coward like the Spaniard nor a blusterer like the German.”
“Hmm, well, make sure you do not divulge anything about my background. Pretend not to understand him if he asks you any questions. Xenia will be sleeping in my bedchamber tonight. Wake me should anything happen. Dr Watson has had too much to drink. Let him sleep late tomorrow. Keep your wits about you.”
Fedir departed and Xenia bolted the door.
“Did you learn anything else from the servants?” the Countess put to her maid as the candles were extinguished and there was just the red glow from the fire casting strange shadows against the stones.
“Yes,” said Xenia. “I know where the doll went. Inez had it in her room. She had it hidden under her pillow. The old woman was looking for it everywhere and she accused Inez of stealing it. Inez tried to hang onto it but the old woman slapped her hard across the face.”
“Oh, yes, I saw the red welts.”
“Inez screamed out some horrible things in Spanish but the old woman laughed at her and snatched the doll away from her. She made some curses to Inez and made the sign of slitting the throat. Inez looked terrified and fell to her knees and sobbed and sobbed. I went to console her and she confessed she had once had a baby. She had been raped by a priest and had given birth to a little girl. The baby had been given away as soon as it was born and she was still pining for it. It broke my heart to listen to her story.”
“Yes, a sad story but what interests me is that the old woman is not as frail and helpless as she seems?”
“No, she was not afraid to stand up to Inez who has the fiery temper of the gitanos in her hot Spanish blood.”
“Did you learn anything about Desi?”
“Only that she is an orphan. She does not like to talk about herself. Every time I asked something she would start moaning about being over-worked and always tired.”
“There appears to be bad blood between her and Inez?”
“Yes, I think it is jealousy. Desi is jealous of Inez because Velazquez goes to the bed of Inez. I think Desi was in love with Velazquez but he would not look at her unless he was very drunk.”
“But Inez seems to hold some grudge against Desi too, though it cannot be jealousy because she could have had Velazquez any time she wanted.”
“I think Desi knows about Inez’ secret baby. She threatens Inez with the telling.”
“Yes, that makes sense. Inez is Catholic, she wouldn’t want it known she had a baby out of wedlock, though it would be commonplace among poor girls and men of power. It makes my blood boil when I think of the hypocrisy of the men involved and the misogyny of the church. I was fortunate my mother saw fit to sell me to the Count of Odessos who loved me as a father should. My life might have been quite different otherwise.”
Xenia didn’t reply. Some people were born lucky and others weren’t. It was the will of God or the gods or the stars – she wasn’t sure which but the older she got the more she thought it might be down to dumb luck.
The Countess closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift. She thought about her happy childhood in Odessa. She thought about the doll Inez tried to hide, she thought about the dead girl-child who had once belonged to someone here in the castle, she thought about the Singing Wolf - a mysterious creature who seemed to surround herself with servants who had a dark secret in their lives. Velazquez, Inez and Milo all had something to hide. Desi was the odd one out. Her past was probably as uneventful as her present. That’s why she never spoke of it. There was nothing to speak of. That is not to say there would have been no suffering, but it was the sort of daily suffering that was borne stoically. She complained endlessly about being over-worked and tired because that was all she had to complain about, little realizing that no one was listening.
“What do you think of Desi?”
“She is spiteful, that one. Sometimes I see a look on her face that gives me the shiver from Siberia.”
“Mmm, I want you to find out if Desi has a secret, something she doesn’t like to talk about. It won’t be easy to get it out of her. Perhaps Inez or Milo knows something. Ask them first. Now, lets’ go to sleep.”
Cold white light was streaming in through the latticed glass in the lancet windows when Xenia heard a tap on the door. It was Fedir. He and Moriarty had taken turns keeping watch during the night and had thought they were on a fool’s errand when about thirty minutes ago something had flitted up the spiral stairs. They were both wide awake because a loud noise from the kitchen had woken them. They gave chase immediately. They both swore it went into the bedchamber of the south tower, but search as they might, they could find nothing. Moriarty was currently poised on the landing to make sure that whatever or whoever it was did not flee back down the stairs. It was Fedir who insisted on waking his mistress, so here he was.
The Countess threw on her winter dressing gown of white velvet edged in ermine, snatched up the ivory-handled pocket pistol from under her pillow and followed him.
Together, the three of them returned to the south tower. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed. While Fedir stood guard at the door, Moriarty checked for loose floorboards, loose stones and a secret door. The Countess checked the dressing rooms and closets. Almost at once she noticed that the red and gold dress from the Singing Wolf’s first ever opera had been slashed with a knife. It was still hanging on its hanger but it had been reduced to rags. She called Moriarty to have a look.
“That confirms someone has been in this chamber without us knowing it,” he said.
“Yes, but when? This could have been done any time yesterday afternoon, during dinner or even during the night.”
“Have any other garments been slashed?”
She quickly checked. “No, just this one.”
He rubbed his hand over his unshaved chin. “This is an act of hate.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“That rules out theories about rough love-making gone wrong and reincarnation through divine suicide. We come back to murder.”
“What is it that you thought you heard flitting up the stairs?”
“Something small, fast and nimble, larger than a cat, smaller than a man. Fedir heard it too. We weren’t dreaming. A loud noise from downstairs had already woken us.”
“A gunshot?”
“No, I don’t think so. More like the s
lamming of a door or a piece of furniture being thrown.”
Her breath caught. “Not the portcullis?”
“Relax. Fedir checked. It’s down.”
She drew breath. “Was it at first light? I think the old couple rise at first light and rekindle the fire for the bread oven. They might have dropped a log of wood.”
“Impossible to say when - the high windows face south and don’t offer much light. The tapestry covering the kitchen stairs has been hitched back since yesterday and that’s what makes me think the noise came from the kitchen. If it had come from any other direction it would have been muffled.”
“Let’s forget the noise and the dress for the moment. I’ll continue searching the dressing rooms and the bathroom. Fedir should check the bedrooms to make sure everyone is all right. You should question the servants. They must have heard something too. Concentrate on that old couple. They’ve been hiding something since the day we arrived.”
“I’m not leaving you up here alone. I’m not ashamed to admit I’m spooked. I don’t believe in ghosts or shape-shifting demons but something flew up those stairs, came in here and vanished.”
“Very well,” she conceded while remaining undeterred about pinpointing the current whereabouts of everyone as quickly as possible. “Send Fedir to check on the others, including the servants. You stand guard at the door. I’ll keep looking.”
The remaining dressing rooms and closets revealed nothing worth noting. The garderobe had developed an unpleasant odour. She made a mental note to tell Desi to sluice it. But the bathroom was a different story. Inside the copper bath was the golden-haired doll. Someone had dropped it into the empty bath. Since the old woman had taken possession of the doll, it could only have been her, though it was a stretch of the imagination to picture her as nimble.
The Countess showed Moriarty the doll and told him of the incident between Inez and the old woman.
“So how did the doll end up in the bath?” he quizzed.
The Countess had no answer. It was time to set another trap. She lowered her voice and told him her plan. He began shaking his head.
“I don’t like the idea of leaving you up here on your own.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts or shape-shifting demons either, that means whoever came up here is human. They are vulnerable to bullets and I have a gun.” She showed him her elegant ivory-handled pocket pistol. “I’m going to sit in that chair by the door with my finger on the trigger. Whoever emerges after they think we have both gone downstairs will be in for a surprise. Make a great show of speaking loudly and tramping down the stairs on your way out. Position yourself on the landing to the great hall. If you hear me scream, come running.”
Reluctantly, he removed himself to the landing. His gun was cocked and his heart was beating fast. Every tick of the clock felt like an hour.
The Countess had positioned the chair behind the door. Her heart was beating equally fast and her hand was shaking. She reminded herself to take deep slow breaths. The sound of the wind whistling around the merlins of the tower was the only thing that could be heard. The Countess was about to give up when she heard a faint click like the opening of a door or window except all the doors in the tower were open and there was only one window in the garderobe and it was not fitted with glass. Her heartbeat accelerated and she fought to steady her hand. A soft swishing sound came next. It was the sound of silk or satin in motion. A moment later came a tuneful humming. Her heart was in her throat and the thrashing of it almost deafened her. She counted to three then showed herself.
Something had been standing in the doorway to the first dressing room. It gave a tiny cry and jumped back. The door slammed. The next door slammed. The Countess gave chase. Another door slammed. Finally the bathroom door slammed. The Countess was breathing hard though she had barely covered any distance at all. She checked the bath where she had earlier replaced the doll. It had gone. The bath was now empty. She checked the japanned cabinets. Empty. She stared at herself in the mirror and that’s when she saw it. Fingerprints smudged on the silvered glass. The middle mirror, which protruded about twelve inches from the wall, was actually a door concealing a tall thin cabinet.
The Countess trained her gun, pressed her fingers to the glass and waited for the door to spring back.
“Where’s my maman?” said the golden-haired child clutching the pretty porcelain doll that looked a perfect likeness of its young owner.
“I wish I knew,” sighed the Countess, pocketing her gun. “What’s your name?”
“Lalique.”
“Well, Lalique, you have been playing a very merry game of hide and seek.”
“I know. I wasn’t supposed to let you find me. You win. What’s your name?”
“Countess Varvara.”
“Your name is not as pretty as mine.”
“That’s true. I think you were named for the lovely coloured glass on your maman’s dressing table.”
“Was I?”
“Yes. Why don’t you come out of there and I can show you.”
The Countess took the girl gently by the hand and led her into the bedchamber where she sat on an ottoman and lifted the life-size doll onto her lap. The little girl leaned on her elbows and studied herself in the oval glass. Her face puckered disapprovingly.
“Hortense has not had time to do my hair. She normally does it in rags and when the rags come out I have golden ringlets.”
“My maid can do your hair for you.”
“Can she do ringlets?”
“Oh, yes.”
“I have worn this dress for three days now. It smells because I have been sleeping in the stable with the donkeys.”
“Do you normally sleep in the stable?”
“Oh, no, I have my own cot and when maman comes I sleep in the big bed with her. I like it when maman comes to stay.”
“You don’t know where your maman went?”
The girl shook her head and her lips drooped. “Hortense doesn’t know either. I asked her. She has had no time to look for maman because she has been busy baking bread and making soup because maman brought four friends here to meet me and then she went away and Hortense doesn’t know where.”
“Six friends,” corrected the Countess.
“Hortense said there was only supposed to be four friends. She said she didn’t know about the man and the lady. That’s you, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Hortense told me we had to play hide and seek until maman came back. I like hide and seek but I’m getting tired of hiding in the stable. I want to wear my new dress and my new slippers. Maman wanted me to look pretty for her friends. I don’t look pretty now, do I?”
“Oh, I think you still look very pretty.”
“Hortense says I should never tell lies. She says God doesn’t like little girls who tell lies. Do you tell lies?”
“Only when it is important not to tell the truth.”
“I don’t think I understand. Is this the coloured glass that has my name?”
“Yes, it’s called Lalique. Is this a photo of you in this silver frame?”
“Oc. I was just a baby then. I had my birthday last summer. Next year I will have six years. If you look at the back of the photo you will see something maman wrote. I asked her what it was she was writing but she said she would tell me when I was a little older. You can read it to me, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Certainly.” The Countess removed the photo from the frame and read: “Baron Frederik Reichenbach. Herr Gustav von Gunn. Prince Anton Orczy. Colonel James Isambard Moriarty.” Each name was followed by a question mark.
“I think they must be the names of maman’s four friends.”
“Yes, I rather think they are. How would you like to play a new game?”
“I won’t have to sleep in the stable?”
“No.”
“Do you promise not to take Lally away again?”
“Lally?”
“My doll.”
> “I promise.”
“I took Lally from your bed when you weren’t looking. It wasn’t really stealing because it was my doll. Then that servant took it when I left it in the bread room. Hortense got it back for me. Hortense was very cross. What game?”
“It’s a game called: Surprise! My maid will do your hair in ringlets and you can have a bath in my room and you can put on your new dress and slippers and when you are ready you can come out and give your maman’s four friends a big surprise. How does that sound?”
The girl clapped her hands. “Oh, oc! I cannot wait to wear my new dress!” She leapt to her feet. “I will go and fetch it. It’s in the chest in the cot room.”
The Countess caught the girl by the hand. “My maid can get it.”
“She won’t know which one,” pouted the girl.
“It’s the red and gold one, isn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
“Your maman told me,” the Countess lied, though there was no sorcery to her guess – the red and gold dress looked brand new and the matching silk slippers looked unworn. “I will tell my maid and she will fetch it. You see, one of your maman’s friends is on the stairs waiting to catch you in hide and seek. You cannot let him win. I will send him away and then you can run to my room. Knock five times and my maid will let you in. I will meet you there. Can you count to five?”
“Oh, oc!” She knocked on the dressing table to prove it then danced around the room and bounced on the bed and threw her doll in the air.
“Shhh,” hushed the Countess. “It has to be a surprise, remember. While I’m speaking to your maman’s friend you can find that nice little brooch with your face painted on it. I will pin it on your dress. I’ll be back in a moment. Wait here and don’t make any noise.”
While the girl was bouncing up and down on the bed, the Countess noticed whorls of talcum powder filling the air. It wasn’t until she’d met up with Moriarty that she realized that the talcum powder was in fact flour and that one of the girl’s hiding places had been the compartment under the bread table. No wonder the men had tracked the phantom to the bread room and then lost sight of it. The old couple, a picture of innocence, had seated themselves at the table with their bread and broth and candle. Who would think to look in the dough hatch!