“It’s wonderful!” Sarah burst out, casting her shawl aside, tossing her hat in the direction of a chair, and dropping down across the table from Nan. “Willie has invited Magdalena for the entire summer! And Magdalena says that, as the manor is old and, according to Willie, absolutely stiff with haunts, she can’t do without me! We’re to leave two days after the last performance of the season!”
“That’s interesting,” Nan managed. “I suppose Willie is rather pleased you’ll be ridding his manor of spirits. And at no cost to him, except for the provision of meals and a bed!”
Sarah looked hurt; under any other circumstances, Nan would have apologized, but after seeing how unhappy she had made Grey, Nan would rather have eaten a live frog than apologize.
“You’re just jealous that I have been invited and you have not!” Sarah snapped.
Nan held on to her temper with both hands. “If I were at all interested in hobnobbing with a lot of empty-headed idlers whose chief recreations are changing their clothing five times a day and talking about hunting, then perhaps I might be. But I’m not,” she said, coolly. “Then again, you won’t be hobnobbing with them, either. You’ll be staying up all night to keep the ghosties away from Magdalena and sleeping all day, so you’ll be spared the hollow prattle.”
Sarah looked astonished for a moment, and as if she really did not know how to respond. Nan had been anything but supportive, but at the same time, she hadn’t given Sarah anything to start an argument over.
Nan avoided eye contact with her friend as she assiduously ate her breakfast. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Sarah open her mouth to say something, then close her mouth again, whatever she had intended to retort with left unsaid. Nan would have felt a little more as if she had “won” if “winning” had been her goal.
She reached for the paper and opened it, still saying nothing to Sarah directly. “Hmm. I see there are only five days left in the current season. Are you planning on leaving directly, the next day?”
“Alicia is already packing,” Sarah said, faintly. “So I suppose we are.”
Nan closed the paper. “That will be tiring for you; you’ll have to stay up all night, then come here to get your things, and then back to the train.” She didn’t offer any solutions. She didn’t intend to. She might not be able to stop Sarah, but she certainly wasn’t going to help her. And perhaps this would serve to remind Sarah that things were a lot easier with genuine friends to help.
“I’ll manage,” Sarah replied stiffly.
“I’m sure you shall!” Nan replied.
An awkward silence ensued, after which Sarah picked up Grey and went to bed.
Without Suki here to give lessons to and without any other task, Nan set herself to studying, with determination, a couple of books that Memsa’b had sent her home with, books about psychical power used for bad or selfish ends. She had some slim hope she might find something like Magdalena’s abilities in them. About the time that Grey flew out of Sarah’s room to rejoin her and Neville, she had managed to push her distractions to the side and concentrate on them.
Rather than playing with Neville, who was hard at work on yet another horseshoe-nail puzzle, Grey landed next to Nan on the couch and crept into her lap like a cat. There, she settled down as if she was on a nest, and Nan stroked her gently while she read. After a moment, Neville left his puzzle and hopped up onto the couch, gently preening Grey’s head feathers with his massive beak. Both of them were trying to comfort their heartsick friend. It made Nan want to cry, knowing that there was so little they could do.
• • •
Well. I showed her. I managed just fine without her.
Sarah stood, yawning, on the train platform beside Magdalena and Alicia. By packing up one case at a time and bringing them with her to Magdalena’s suite to be stored with Magdalena’s things until everything she would need for the summer was there, she had solved the problem of trying to transport all her luggage by herself. And I didn’t need Nan to think of it, either.
The last night, she had skipped going to the opera and instead brought Grey in her carrier to the suite. She had left Grey sleeping while she kept those four persistent ghosts occupied. Then she and a fascinated Alicia had shared breakfast with the parrot; then Grey went back into the carrier while the porters came and collected all the luggage.
Since she was traveling in the same private compartment with Magdalena, she didn’t dare let Grey out, but Grey was so quiet she might not even have been in the carrier at all. Magdalena showed no interest whatsoever in the leather carrier; Sarah had a notion she just thought it was an odd piece of luggage, containing, perhaps, a hat or two, or something else equally delicate and likely to be crushed. Sarah didn’t enlighten her as to Grey’s presence. She didn’t want Magdalena to raise an objection.
It was going to be about a three-hour train trip; Sarah kept the carrier on her lap and read. Magdalena, who was clearly bored, looked out the window while Alicia read the society papers to her. They were going into Wiltshire, a county that Sarah had, until now, only passed through. The manor they were going to be staying at all summer was called “Tottenham House,” which was not a particularly impressive name. Sarah actually knew nothing whatsoever about it. She just hoped it would be large enough that there would be at least one small room for her that she did not need to share, unless she was going to share one with Alicia. Alicia had enjoyed Grey’s company and been fascinated by her, and probably would not object to sharing her room with a bird—but anyone else? There was no telling. She didn’t even want to contemplate what would happen if they wanted her to sleep with the servants. Willie had invited her himself, albeit at Magdalena’s urging; surely that meant she was supposed to be a guest.
It was a distinct relief when they arrived at the tiny station at Burbage to see a carriage waiting for them and a wagon waiting for the luggage. She and Alicia trailed along behind Magdalena like a pair of geese behind a magnificent swan; she took the seat facing the front, and they took the one facing backward. Sarah was glad she didn’t suffer from traveling sickness when sitting in the backward seat. As the little caravan moved away from the station, it was clear that they were going to be moving along at a very sedate rate; the horses barely picked up into an amble.
The carriage swayed along country roads for quite some time; Sarah began to wonder if they were in for another three-hour trip. By her watch, it was nearly an hour before the carriage made a right-hand turn and moved from the rutted country road to a smoothly graveled lane, passing through enormous gates held open by a gatekeeper. Behind the gatekeeper was his “cottage”—and to her shock, it was a three-story stone building that looked the size of Mrs. Horace’s two-flat house in London!
While she was still taking that in, they rolled smoothly down the lane—or road, it was perfectly wide enough to be a road—through what looked like manicured parkland. They traveled through this parkland along an avenue between two perfectly straight lines of trees. It was driving Sarah a little mad to be sitting backward, where she couldn’t see the manor. And finally, after about a mile, the carriage made a smooth left turn that became a curve, and then, the manor came into view.
And came into view.
And came into view.
When the carriage came to a halt, Magdalena was handed out by a footman, complete with livery, and Sarah and Alicia descended (without any such help). The carriage had arrived at the steps of the . . . “house.” “Willie” was already there, having taken Magdalena’s hand, and was guiding her toward the great front doors.
“. . . about a hundred rooms, more or less,” Willie said, with a little laugh. “Never counted ’em all, personally. You’ll have the Green Suite, there’s four bedrooms in it . . .”
Sarah sighed with relief.
Willie began rattling off all the members of the peerage and the wealthy and famous who were going to be at this “house p
arty” as Sarah tried to simultaneously look at the building and try not to look as if she was gawking, because it was, quite literally, the largest single building she had ever seen in her life, excepting only Hampton Court Palace. She could scarcely believe her eyes. How could anything this big be called a mere “house”?
Built of some pale yellow stone or brick, it had two stories and a ground floor, with a third story over the main building. Two huge, stubby, L-shaped wings stretched out on either side of the main building, embracing a circular drive, then two single-story curved sections sprang from the ends of the wings, ending in two more single-story buildings.
Sarah had thought Lord Alderscroft’s estate was magnificent. Tottenham House’s main building alone was the size of Lord A’s manor.
There was a line of uniformed or liveried servants stretching to either side of the door, which was being held open by a butler. Sarah took a quick glance behind her and saw that the wagon was being swarmed by more servants, busy as ants, unloading all the baggage. She looked ahead again, and the twin lines of servants bowed or curtsied as Willie and Magdalena sailed past them.
In a front hall that left Sarah feeling dazzled, Willie took his leave of them, putting Magdalena in the keeping of a housekeeper. That worthy woman directed them to the right and into one of the wings. Eventually they were brought to the “Green Suite,” which was papered in a pleasing pale green brocade, with furnishings upholstered in a darker green plush. The sitting room of the suite was nearly identical in its magnificent furnishing and size, if not in shape, to the suite at the hotel. And like the hotel, the opulent green bedroom that would be Magdalena’s was to the left as they entered. It was complete with a bathroom, although it was clear that water was not piped in, and would have to be carried here by hand every time Magdalena wanted a bath. There was a separate door for that, so that pails of hot water would not have to be lugged through the bedroom.
Then again, they clearly have an army of servants to do just that sort of thing, Sarah thought in a daze.
To the right were three more modest bedrooms, papered in a simple pattern of dark green vines on a light green background, with furnishings that were older, simpler, and appeared to be suited for children. The luggage was piled up in the third bedroom, and Alicia went immediately to sort it out.
Sarah went to the further of the two bedrooms and put Grey’s carrier on the bed, opening it so she could come out. The parrot walked out onto the bed and shook herself vigorously, hopping up onto the foot of the brass bedstead and peering out to the southwest at first, where she could see a formal garden, then a great deal of lawn, sparsely dotted with trees and bushes, then forest. She looked up at Sarah and looked back at the window.
“Yes, I think there are almost certainly hawks, and Neville is not here to protect you,” Sarah said, in response to the unspoken wish to go out. Grey sighed. “Water,” she said, and Sarah went to where the luggage had been left and pulled out the case holding the traveling perch and newspapers. When everything was set up, she filled one cup with water from the pitcher on the washstand and the other with the peas and cut carrots that had been in the traveling case.
The housekeeper emerged from Magdalena’s room, having made sure that everything was to the diva’s liking, and Sarah intercepted her before she left. “I have a parrot with me,” she said to the housekeeper, trying to put on an air of enough authority that the woman would not challenge her right to have Grey with her, but not so much that she’d think Sarah was “aping her betters.” “She’s perfectly tame, and travels with me everywhere. If the chambermaid is afraid of her, all she has to say is “Go in the box,” and she’ll go to her carrier and not come out until the maid is gone. I will take care of any messes she makes, but I will need fresh fruit and vegetables chopped for her, about a cup full, once in the morning and once at teatime.”
“May I see this bird?” the housekeeper asked, sounding a little doubtful.
“Certainly,” Sarah replied. The housekeeper followed her into the second small bedroom, where Grey had just finished eating a piece of carrot. Grey looked at both of them, and bobbed her head. “Hello,” she said. “My name is Grey.”
“Hello, bird,” the housekeeper replied with surprise. “Well, listen to it talking like a Christian and all! You’re sure it’ll be no trouble to the maid?”
For answer, Sarah said, “Grey, go in the box.”
Grey flew to the top of the dresser where the carrier now stood, and walked into her carrier.
“Well then, this will be easier than those nasty little spaniels Lady Harrington brought with her, miss,” the housekeeper said, with a little spite. “Underfoot and yapping and snarling, and if they’re housebroken, I am a Red Indian. I’ll tell the maid; you’ll have Annie, she likes animals. Good day, miss.”
As she left, Grey came back out and flew to her perch, which Sarah put by the window. With the most important thing taken care of, she went to collect the rest of her luggage, including some toys for Grey, which she hung from the perch. When she had finished putting her clothing away in the dresser, Alicia came in.
“They’ll be ringing the gong for dinner,” the maid told her. “You’ll hear it all over the house. Once to warn you it’s time to get ready, and twice when dinner is served. You’ll be going in with Magdalena. Someone will come to show you.”
“But where—”
“I’ll be eating with the servants, as is proper,” Alicia said, with a faint air of regret. “I’m not quite sure where you fit in things. I think you’re above a governess. You’ll find out when they place you at table. I’m not sure if the Marquess thinks you’ll be performing séances or anything, but you ought to prepare to be asked. You might count like Magdalena, as a sort of entertaining guest.”
“I hope they don’t ask me,” Sarah said, feeling the cold hand of dread. “Séances are . . . I don’t usually do them. Spirits sometimes don’t come when you call them, and when they do, if there are a lot of people, things can get unpredictable . . .”
What did I let myself in for when I agreed to this? she thought in a bit of a panic.
“Well, if they do ask you, it will probably be after we’ve been here a few days. Most of the guests aren’t even here yet, so it will just be the Marquess and people who managed to come down from London early.” She lowered her voice. “His bedroom suite is right next to this one, so it will probably be him who comes to take Magdalena down.”
Ah. I hope Magdalena realizes there’s more than one way in which she’s going to be expected to perform. . . .
At just that moment, a maid appeared with a laden tray, standing hesitantly in the door open to the hall. After a few moments of directing and setting out, the maid left again, this time closing the door behind her, and Alicia tapped on the closed bedroom door. “Mistress,” she said quietly. “There is tea.”
“You may serve me in my room, I am prostrate with exhaustion,” Magdalena replied, sounding not exhausted at all. Alicia gave Sarah a knowing nod, fixed a plate full of tiny sandwiches and cakes, and poured a cup of tea the way Magdalena liked it. When she came out of the bedroom again, she closed the door behind her with a sigh.
“Now we can eat,” she said. “I’m famished. I’ll tell you what dinner will be like while we have our tea.”
Interlude: Langsam (Schumann Concerto in D)
THE tall, spare man regarded the view out of the window of his room on the second floor of Tottenham House with a frown. Moonlight flooded the enormous lawn, and the few trees and bushes made black figures against the silvery expanse of perfectly mown grass.
It was not that he was unhappy to be here. On the contrary, it was a good thing he had been alerted to the flight of his quarry before she’d had a chance to vanish. It was an even better thing that he had managed to maneuver an invitation for himself to this “house party”—he considered himself a fit man, healthy and able-bodied, but t
he prospect of marching over acres of land guarded by gamekeepers and dogs every night was not one that appealed.
He, of course, had not been granted a room in the part of the “house” where the master and his most favored guests were sleeping. But his powers should be strong enough to accomplish what he needed from here. He had specified that he might need to practice at odd hours; his host had assured him this would cause no difficulty. He wondered if his host had any idea just how “odd” his “practice” hours were going to be.
There are a hundred rooms in this mausoleum. If my neighbors object, I am sure they can be moved, or I can.
He went to the bed, opened the violin case, and took out his treasured instrument and the special bow. The bow glowed with a spectral paleness in the moonlight, the bow itself luminescent, the bowstring gleaming like silk. Carefully, he put bow to the strings, and began to play.
She came immediately, bright as a candle flame in the darkness of his room. He played for her, and her alone, at this moment. Reminding her that she was here by her own choice; that she and she alone had the right to decide how this dance of life and death would end. She swayed a little, not to the music, but to some inner rhythm of her own. And as she swayed, her light strengthened as she drew in power from him, and from his own particular magic.
When he was sure that, once again, she understood, when he was sure she had accepted all of his power that she could contain, he released her. She did not leave, of course. She was waiting for more.
And then, as she waited, he summoned the others. This was an old site, and there were many restless spirits here. Before long he had given her an army. Only when she was satisfied did she vanish.
Now drained from his exertions, the violinist carefully replaced instrument and bow in the case, then closed and locked it. Only then did he turn to the darkened, farthest corner of the room.
A Study in Sable Page 28