“I can have most of your things sent by carrier,” Nan told her. “But we’ll want to leave enough at the flat so that you have things to wear and play with and read when you come visit us on holidays.”
The flash of grateful relief that crossed Suki’s face told Nan that Suki had been afraid Nan was going to renege on all her promises—including the ones that she was to spend holidays with her foster “mothers.”
“And Suki—the property belonging to this house is enormous,” Nan went on. “There are some completely wild places, like that forest we walked through on the Downs. You will certainly see Puck there, and he will certainly come to see you.”
“Cor! Rilly?” Suki’s face, which had taken on a bit of a pinched look, brightened again.
“When Nan and I were your age, he came to visit us regularly here in the country,” Nan assured her. “And you will finally learn to ride and drive as you wished. Lord Alderscroft has supplied ponies for the students here, and even a pair of white donkeys, and—well, you’ll see. There’s a menagerie of animals here; there are cats in the barn and dairy, the gamekeeper’s dogs, and cows and doves.”
Well, that was the touch that turned this from “exile” to “promised land,” so far as Suki was concerned. After a barrage of questions, Memsa’b finally rang for one of the Hindu servants, who took Suki away to pick out a room and some of the outgrown clothing of other girls to tide her over until her own things arrived. They walked out, hand in hand, Suki already chattering to her as if she was an old friend.
Memsa’b turned to Nan. “Now what are you really afraid of?” she demanded.
“Frankly, that Sarah will abandon us. And I absolutely was afraid she’d do so without even a second thought for Suki. I couldn’t keep leaving Suki with Mrs. Horace; it’s not fair to either of them. It was bad enough when she was spending every night at the hotel, but today I understand from Sarah that Magdalena’s latest conquest is going to invite her for the summer to his estate—”
Grey gave a heartbroken cry that sounded like a sob, and Memsa’b quickly gathered the bird to her chest and held her there, comforting her.
“Grey, she will certainly take you with her,” Nan said hurriedly. “I cannot see her leaving you behind. But I am not going to sit by and let her get into that fiend’s clutches without a fight. I am going to follow; I’ll hire a cottage nearby, or disguise myself as a servant, or something. But I cannot do that if I have Suki to care for.”
“No, you certainly cannot,” Memsa’b said firmly. “You’re quite right. This is the only solution.” She hesitated, and then added, reluctantly, “And Grey, if she becomes unkind to you, you will have Nan nearby to fly to.”
Grey made another little sobbing noise, and Nan thought her heart was going to break. “I am going to cure her of this if I have to kidnap her and smuggle her here and keep her in the cellar until she comes to her senses,” she snapped. “Oh! How I want to box her ears until her head rings like a church bell!”
“Sarah?” Memsa’b asked, dryly.
“A bit. But chiefly that wretched Magdalena. I should have started keeping a watch on Sarah’s mind from the beginning,” Nan replied bitterly. “Then I would have realized how she was worming her way in, and I might have been able to stop her.”
“I am as much to blame for this as you,” Memsa’b said with equal bitterness. “I am the one who suggested Sarah to someone who must have been one of Magdalena’s early converts. Lady Dorcas came to me, looking for a ‘real’ medium to help Magdalena, and after hearing her story, I suggested Sarah. I wish I had said someone, anyone else!”
“And if that person actually had been a medium, he or she would be in the same straits as Sarah is now, or even worse,” Nan pointed out, quickly, trying to extinguish the guilt painting her mentor’s features. “And that person would have been without any friends able or willing to help!”
Some of the guilt lifted. “That . . . is true enough,” Memsa’b agreed. “And . . . yes, it is also true enough that if things come to that pass, Karamjit and Agansing are more than skilled enough to ambush Sarah someplace and carry her off here.”
“Then the first thing you must do is make several plans along those lines,” Nan told her. “There will be no difficulty in abducting her if she continues to sleep at home, because I will certainly aid and abet a kidnapping, but you must make contingent plans if she begins staying at the hotel—and tentative ones for if she does, indeed, go to this country house. Wherever it is—”
“I can find that out easily enough,” Memsa’b told her. “What did you say this new conquest is called? ‘Willie’? And he’s a Marquess? Those are not all that thick on the ground, particularly not those of middling age. I can easily find someone with that nickname among his fellows and those profligate habits. Once I know that, I’ll know what and where this ‘country house’ is.”
Nan sighed with relief. That was one enormous worry off her shoulders. She had been afraid that Sarah would simply announce she was going with Magdalena, pack a bag, and vanish, without telling Nan where she was going.
Memsa’b held the parrot up to her lips and kissed her. “We’ll make her better, Grey. Whether she likes it or not.”
13
NAN managed to make it back to the flat just before tea, informed Mrs. Horace of the change in circumstances, and helped her bring the tea for two up herself. If nothing else had persuaded Nan that she had taken the correct course of action, it was Sarah’s reaction when she woke up. It took her over an hour before she finally frowned slightly and asked, “Where’s Suki? Is she studying in her room?”
“I took her to Memsa’b this morning and enrolled her in the school,” Nan said, with a carefully calculated air of nonchalance. “We discussed this before, and we all agreed, and with you gone every night, and me helping the Watsons, it seemed prudent to take her there today. We cannot keep imposing on Mrs. Horace’s good will.”
“Oh, all right,” Sarah said, vaguely, and went back to reading the newspaper.
A Sarah in her right mind would have been shouting at me, Nan thought, throttling down her anger. A Sarah in her right mind would be demanding how I had gotten the notion into my head that I could make decisions without discussing them with her. This Sarah . . . isn’t my Sarah.
But she said nothing; she just went to the task of making up the labels for the boxes in which she was going to pack Suki’s things. A carrier would be coming for them tomorrow. She tried not to think about what would happen if . . . they couldn’t find a means to break Sarah free of this terrible woman.
I still haven’t heard from the Watsons, she reminded herself. Perhaps they will have good news.
A quarter hour later, Sarah went back to her room and emerged dressed for the evening. “That was a good idea, Nan,” she said, with an absent-minded caress of Grey’s head. “I’ve been worried about you needing to go out some night and having to leave Suki alone. This solves everything.”
“Yes, I’m sure it does,” Nan replied, heartsick. “I hope you finally convince those last spirits to leave tonight.”
“Even if I can’t, as you pointed out, I’m doing what I promised Magdalena, I’m keeping them away from her. That’s all that matters.” Sarah beamed. Nan tried not to gag.
“So you say. Good luck,” said Nan, wishing Sarah would finally hear how false those words were ringing and come to her senses.
But Sarah took them at face value, and gave a gay little wave as she turned to leave. And it took every ounce of Nan’s self-control to keep from erupting in a fury and giving her friend a harsh piece of her mind.
She worked out that fury by packing up Suki’s things—all the warm-weather clothing, most of the cold-weather clothing, and most of the toys. She left the puppet theater—there was one at the school—but sent the new wooden horse and Suki’s favorite dolls. When everything was boxed up and the labels pasted on, sh
e took the boxes downstairs and left them in the care of Mrs. Horace, along with the money for the carrier.
“Well, I’ll miss the little mite,” Mrs. Horace said, looking troubled. “But I will confess I’ve been worrying, too. What with Miss Sarah being out all night, and you liable to being called out by day or night, you can’t leave her alone, it’s not right. She’s a good little thing, but children will be children, and the temptation to get into mischief or something she shouldn’t—well!”
“That was what Sarah and I thought,” Nan replied, sick at having to lie. “And we wrote the head of our old school, who wrote back yesterday and said there was a vacancy. Suki will be very happy there.”
“And she’s getting to be with children her own age, which is right and proper. And she’ll lose that dreadful accent.” At any other time, Nan might have smiled at this tiny example of Mrs. Horace’s snobbery, but not today.
Instead, she ran back up the stairs, the birds went into their carriers again, and she headed out to find a cab and go to the Watsons.
Evidently they had been watching for her, for no sooner had she opened the door to 221 Baker Street than the door on the second floor landing popped open and Mary Watson waved to her to come up.
“We told Mrs. Hudson there will be three for supper,” Mary said as she arrived. “And I’ve set up spots for the birds; I rather thought you might bring them. Where’s Suki?”
As Nan explained the provisions she had made for Suki and Sarah’s reaction—or rather lack of it—she let the birds out. Mary Watson had found a pair of old-fashioned wooden smoking stands somewhere—not matching, but equally sturdy—and she and John had replaced the ashtrays and humidors with cups for food and water. Both stands had rails that would do very well for perches, and there was already food and water waiting, and newspapers beneath them.
“I wish we had better news to report,” Mary said, as John came in from another room, shrugging on his jacket. “Beatrice was unfortunately unhelpful. She agrees that this sounds very like a witch’s love spell, but maintains that such things have to be cast separately, on each person one wishes to enchant. She also maintains that it is absolutely impossible for the passion inflamed by such a spell to be ‘cooled’ in order for the witch to take a new lover. ‘It has to be broken,’ she told me, ‘Or else the original lover will kill himself, his rival, or his mistress in his rage. Love spells are nothing to trifle with.’ And she never heard of a love spell that evokes the—let’s call it adoration, in the old sense of worship, that we’ve seen in Sarah.”
“And others,” said John, settling down at the laden table next to Mary, while Nan made sure the birds were comfortable and sat down opposite the two of them. “I have that from Alderscroft. He wasn’t alarmed before, but he damned well is now.”
“Why wasn’t he alarmed before?” Nan wanted to know.
“Because the men this woman has gotten under her thumb are not particularly important so far as the government is concerned,” John replied, putting a lamb chop each on Mary’s and Nan’s plates, then serving himself, as Mary served mashed potatoes and new peas. “Remember, as the unofficial Minster of Magic to the Crown, his chief concerns will be things that threaten the Government and the Crown. Alderscroft frankly doesn’t care how many merchants or peers bankrupt themselves over a dancer or an actress, so long as they don’t have access to state secrets or do anything other than park their ample derrieres in a Seat in Parliament and vote with their cronies. But now that we’ve pointed out to him how many victims she’s ensnared, he’s taking notice. Just because she hasn’t gone for bigger fish yet, it doesn’t follow that she won’t. And she’s actually amassed enough followers that she could turn a close vote, if she chose to. So that has alarmed him, and he was sending for Mycroft as we left.”
Nan furrowed her brows with thought, because involving herself in government plots seemed very uncharacteristic of Magdalena. “Everything she’s done has been purely selfish until now, why would she risk exposing herself to change that?”
“Because, as Alderscroft pointed out to me, she might not have the wit or the inclination to meddle in politics, but any foreign agent who has noticed what she has been doing will become very interested indeed. And she is shallow enough that an offer of a great deal of money is very likely to be enough to convince her to exert the trifling amount of ‘work’ it would take to get her followers to vote as she wants them to.” John Watson shrugged. “We couldn’t even prosecute her as long as she leaves no trail of written evidence. She’s a foreign national, so the Seditions Act wouldn’t apply even if we got her victims to testify, which we wouldn’t, and neither would any of the provisions against espionage. Alderscroft has very good reasons to be concerned.”
“For that matter,” Mary continued, “She is German, and German nationals do tend to be just as loyal to their Kaiser as we are to the Queen. I doubt she would stir herself for that loyalty alone, but for loyalty and money, or loyalty and a promise she’ll be made the prima donna of, say, the Berlin Opera Company, I am sure she could be moved to mischief. It pains me to say this, but the Queen is under the entirely false impression that her Hanoverian relatives would never do anything to harm the interests of Britain—which is an extremely foolish thing to believe when you are faced with Kaiser Wilhelm and Otto von Bismarck.”
Nan blinked. “I willingly take your word for this,” she said. “I don’t know half of what is going on in Britain, politically speaking, much less outside her borders.”
“And none of it matters, except in that it gives us more help from Lord Alderscroft and, more importantly, Her Majesty’s government,” John replied. “Should we need it, that is.”
Nan was not at all ready to relax. There was no telling what all these governmental fellows were likely to be willing to do—or if what they wished to do would help Sarah or make things worse. She would rather count on people she knew.
“Well, what I’m most worried about is if Magdalena goes off to this ‘Willie’ fellow’s country house and takes Sarah with her,” Nan confessed. “I don’t even know who ‘Willie’ is—Memsa’b said she’d find out—”
“Alderscroft will see to all that,” John interrupted. “I assume if Sarah does go, you intend to follow?”
“Couldn’t stop me if you tried,” Nan replied firmly.
“Then we’ll find out who this Marquess is, which of his properties he intends to entertain at, and work out a plan from there.” John nodded, as if were all settled. “I can almost certainly get an invitation myself as long as at least one of the guests is beholden to Alderscroft. Alderscroft can get me installed as a personal physician.”
“And I can go as a personal maid; whoever we are attached to will have to be informed that we are investigating something, and will not expect any actual service from me.” Mary seemed absolutely confident of this, so Nan could only assume that this was something she had done before. “As for you—” She frowned. “—I think it will depend on how near we want you to be to Sarah. We could arrange for you to be attached as another lady’s maid—”
“I’m good with hair,” Nan offered.
“That ought to be sufficient. But I’d really prefer you to be outside the household, in case we need to get Sarah away against her wishes.” Mary glanced at John.
“I agree,” he said. “Alderscroft will arrange something. Some place near enough to the manor house to be of use, but not actually in the household.” John sat back. “I think that is as much planning as we can do without knowing the exact circumstances we will be dealing with.”
Grey had been peering at all of them, anxiously, during this entire conversation, her eyes going from face to face as they spoke. When John finished, she uttered what sounded like a sad sigh, her head drooping. Nan took the poor parrot up on her hand and held her against her chest. She just didn’t know what else to do.
• • •
Nan
spent a restless night with both Grey and Neville perching on her bed. She was just grateful that Grey’s instincts were able to overpower what must have been terrible despair, for the parrot did manage to go to sleep not long after the sun went down and was very little disturbed when she came to bed with her single candle.
As for herself . . . well, she shared some of Grey’s despair. They still hadn’t managed to work out how Magdalena was controlling people, and until they did, how could they hope to break the spell, if spell it was? And Nan didn’t believe in the promises or fidelity of anyone other than John and Mary, Sherlock, and Lord Alderscroft. These governmental men would promise things they never meant to give, as soon as they had no more interest in a situation. And once Magdalena’s danger to Crown and Country was negated, why would they have any reason to help Nan break Magdalena’s control over her friend?
It would be easiest for these government agents just to approach Magdalena directly, offer her the spot as the Company Prima Donna for the Covent Garden Opera, and money, too, as long as she promises never to meddle in politics. Given what she had seen of Magdalena, Nan had very little faith that the singer would ever be moved by something as unselfish as loyalty to her Kaiser and native land. The only loyalty Magdalena had was to herself.
And if that was the approach these governmental shadow-men chose, well, then they’d walk away from the situation content. Magdalena would be thrilled to promise not to do something she’d never intended to do in the first place in exchange for more golden guineas, more fame, and a secure position in one of the best opera companies in the world.
So Nan lay awake, staring at the ceiling, quiet rather than tossing and turning so as not to wake the birds. Poor Grey had enough to deal with, without losing sleep.
She was yawning over her third cup of strong coffee, and the birds were on their perches partaking of—if, in Grey’s case, not precisely enjoying—their breakfasts, when Sarah came back. And from the “I’m full of news!” look on her face, Nan dreaded to hear what she had to say.
A Study in Sable Page 27