“You really think that Clotilde cares about such grand issues?”
“I think that Clotilde cares far more than even she guesses, and than this King could ever imagine.”
“Irene, I confess myself at an utter loss. I have no idea what you think you are doing here, but such a scheme cannot be useful or even healthy.”
“No,” she admitted with that charming frankness I found nigh impossible to resist, “but it may be effective.”
A knock at my chamber door the next morning sounded like the pecking of a sparrow.
Puzzled—for neither Irene nor Godfrey were timid knockers, and the hour was far too early for the affected scratch of the chambermaid—I opened the door.
Allegra Turnpenny stood before it, toying with her beribboned sleeve cuff. In her cashmere green-plaid Directoire redingote with its puffed sleeves, wide waist sash, and lace collar, she looked as charming as a shepherdess.
“Are we ready for breakfast, then?” I inquired, more eager to learn the results of Godfrey’s royal dinner than to breakfast like a Bohemian peasant.
Allegra looked away, clearing her throat. “I suspect that you and I will have to make a pair of it.”
“Oh?” Her unusually diffident manner alarmed me. I stepped back from the door so she could enter the room and we could speak privately. “What of Irene and Godfrey?”
Allegra came out with it in a burst. “Mrs. Norton did not return to the suite we share last night.”
“Irene is missing!? Heavens, child, why did you not say so immediately!?” I rushed to fetch my wrap, reticule, and my bonnet and gloves, naturally. Inquiries might be necessary, and that would require us to leave the hotel. My mind flailed for the last time I had been assured of Irene’s whereabouts. “I saw her after dinner, of course. She planned to wait up for Godfrey in his room and discover what he had learned at the castle. We must ask Godfrey when he came in, thus establishing when Irene might have... vanished. You did notify Godfrey first thing?”
I bustled Allegra out of the door, barely remembering my room key, and started down the passage. Allegra, rather than matching my haste, dragged her feet most annoyingly.
“Hurry, dear girl! Not a moment is to be lost. Irene may be off on some secret escapade, but then again she may have been kidnapped by the King’s agents, or—Allegra, are you coming or not?”
The girl drew to a stop behind me, still fidgeting with the ribbons on her gown, I could have shaken her, and tried to do so verbally.
“Allegra!”
“I have not yet... disturbed Godfrey,” she admitted.
“Then we must notify him immediately. Gracious! We do not even know that Godfrey is in his room, or that he returned last night. Heavens! Irene may have fallen asleep waiting for Godfrey, while he may have been captured by the King, who has known Irene’s identity all along, and now Godfrey is being held prisoner in the dungeons of Prague Castle—”
“Miss Huxleigh,” Allegra interrupted me, “I truly doubt that Godfrey is languishing in Prague Castle’s dungeons, or that he is in the least discomforted at the moment. Neither do I think that you should actually... knock at Godfrey’s door.”
“Not knock? I have never been afraid to knock at a door in my life. I am not much noted for courage, but in that regard I am a lion. As long as one knocks politely, one can do no wrong.”
“I considered doing it myself,” she confessed, “but—”
“But? You have become a very school-roomish miss. Courage! We may discover the worst, but we will at least know more than we do now.”
I had pulled Allegra toward Godfrey’s door despite her folly in hanging back. We must discover what had happened to our companions no matter how mystifying or frightening the news.
“Either they are in here, or they are not,” I told Allegra, poising a firm fist above the wood.
Allegra Turnpenny stayed my hand, hanging from my arm like a distraught child. “Please, Miss Huxleigh,” she begged in an agonized whisper. “I don’t think that you understand.”
“Nonsense! It is you who are too timid to face facts.”
“Miss Huxleigh, I am not afraid that Mr. and Mrs. Norton are not in the room; I am afraid that they are!”
The absurdity of her remark froze me in mid-gesture. Allegra whispered in my ear. “Mrs. Norton has always returned to my room for the night until now. The reason for this abrupt change in habit may not be sinister, as you think, but merely... marital.”
“Oh.” My arm dropped back to my side.
I considered such matters as room arrangements in purely practical terms when we traveled. Once a person had accepted a room as hers or his, she or he stayed there, as one would in a home. I never thought of—but then it was none of my business.
I let Allegra lead me down the passage a little before I said, “What do you suggest?’
“Mr. Norton’s and your rooms are single chambers, while Mrs. Norton’s and mine is a suite. If we knock and are... precipitous, no other room cushions us from the... occupants. Perhaps we should breakfast on our own and investigate later. Mrs. Norton planned to await Mr. Norton in his room. If we assume that nothing untoward has happened... we must not intervene until a more suitable hour. If you are indeed right, and some perfidy has been afoot, then we shall berate ourselves bitterly for not acting. That is why I came to your door. I do not want full responsibility for whatever action we take.”
I considered. Allegra was correct. How much better to assume we were witnessing the results of a domestic improvisation—however awkward and embarrassing—rather than a criminal attack.
“I will not be able to eat so much as a kipper until I know that all is well,” I complained.
This time Allegra took my arm to led me toward the stairs. “We must give time a chance, dear Miss Huxleigh, to prove that ordinary rather than extraordinary actions explain our dilemma.”
“Irene’s irregularities in habitation set a most improper example for you!”
Allegra’s smile displayed her dimples. “On the contrary; I do not blame her in the least. As for propriety, they are married, after all.”
“Yet to let you wonder and worry all night! She should have said something.”
“What?” Allegra asked with eyes as candid as Evian water.
What, indeed?
We went down to the hotel’s usual uninspired breakfast: strangely spiced sausage, eggs and potatoes, and the Bohemian national delicacy: leaden, lumpy dumplings.
We had survived the worst and were consoling ourselves with heaping bowls of fresh berries and cream when a motion in the dining room archway caught our eyes.
Irene and Godfrey stood poised there, blissful as a wedding cake couple. When they saw us they waved blithely and came to the table.
I solved the mystery in one glance: Irene still wore the same gown with which she had honored the castle the previous day. I hoped that Allegra’s fright would help her overlook the extremely improper example Irene was setting her. Obviously, she’d had no occasion to yet don fresh underclothes for the day!
This lack seemed not to have affected her mood, or that of her spouse, who was in exceptionally good spirits.
“I could eat a horse!” Irene exclaimed as she sat.
“You may get your wish here, and never know it,’’ I murmured in reply.
They ordered breakfast nevertheless, and I almost wished for Casanova’s carping presence; certainly my air of dignified disapproval was having no effect In fact, they did me the extreme discourtesy of failing to notice it. Allegra, being young, had forgotten the uncertainty of the morning and its subsequent embarrassment.
“Oh, Mr. Norton, we are writhing in agony to know what transpired at the castle! Do tell us, please.”
“You are quite right to use the word ‘transpired,’” he admitted with a conspiratorial smile, glancing ’round the dining room. Due to our late arrival, the chamber was deserted, so he dispensed a quick, if cryptic, diagnosis.
“Baron de Rothschi
ld was right. The King of Bohemia fancies himself quite a coming power in this quaint corner of the world. He seeks immediate funding to finance everything ranging from spy networks to launching a possible military adventure.”
“From Bohemia!” I demanded in disbelief.
“Hush,” Godfrey cautioned me. “The notion is quite serious to him. Nor were we alone at dinner.”
Here Irene leaned over the table to join the conversation. “An unannounced guest of a surprising nature, or so Godfrey swears, joined the King and Godfrey for dinner.” Her teasing tone was also a bit thorny.
Godfrey drew back a bit. “The King’s... associate. I understand you three saw her in the Castle earlier, and Nell and I glimpsed her at the reception. She calls herself ‘Tatyana.’ ”
I glanced indignantly at Irene, on her behalf, and was met by her understanding smile. “Odd, is it not? The Queen of Bohemia cannot be party to a dinner attended by the King and the Rothschild emissary, but this woman can. If I were Queen, such snubs should not happen!”
“Interesting, Irene?” I answered. “It is shocking. Deplorable. Even I cannot believe that King Willie has sunk so low—”
Irene’s expression warned me against further exercises of outrage, but Godfrey had already seized my comment as a fisherman might retrieve a baited hook.
“Well, Nell, you surprise me indeed when you find the King even more reprehensible than your opinion. I confess that I found little admirable in him. He is supremely arrogant, rather slow-witted, and, although a robust-looking fellow, not half as handsome as I was led to believe.”
Irene remained silent. Although her toe tapped beneath the table, only I heard or understood the sound. Her dilemma rivaled Allegra’s and mine of earlier that morning. She was not averse to her husband finding a former suitor no serious threat, but neither did she wish him to dismiss such an erstwhile interest so sweepingly. The meeting between the two men had accomplished exactly what Irene would have wished, but at the cost of her vanity. This was never an ideal outcome for one of her theatrical temperament.
Godfrey shook out his napkin as if the King were a crumb to send flying. “Much over-rated, His Majesty, Wilhelm von Ormstein, by the Rothschilds as well as by... others, including you, Nell. I am vastly disappointed. I had not thought you so impressionable at your age.”
“My age?” I objected tardily.
Irene smoldered silently. I almost searched for the hidden cigarette, but found no sign of smoke.
Godfrey’s eyes rested on Allegra with satisfaction. “One might expect an untried girl to fall victim to such royal bluff and bravado, but, believe me, Europe and the Rothschilds have little to fear from this quarter, if Wilhelm von Ormstein is behind it.”
“What of her?” Irene asked in a low, dangerously modulated voice.
“What of whom?” Godfrey said. He knew very well he had been tweaking Irene’s tail feathers unmercifully. I suspect he had grown so bold only because he had met the King on his own ground and come away unscathed.
“Her,” Irene repeated. “The one woman allowed at your dinner of state, that even queens may not attend. Tatyana.” She articulated the word with foreign flair, precisely and yet musically, so it rang like Russian grand opera.
“The King’s... toy,” Godfrey dismissed her. “He has a colossal vanity.”
“Kings generally do,” Irene responded, “and sometimes so do barristers. I suggest that if you find the King a feeble opponent, you are not regarding the most powerful piece on the board.”
He sat back. “The Queen.”
“The Queen who is not the queen. It is true that the King harbors ambitions that were alien to him eighteen months ago. What has changed since then? His marriage? Tell me that Queen Clotilde is a Lady Macbeth and we will all have a good laugh. If you wish to be an effective emissary, Godfrey, you cast the part of the power behind the throne elsewhere. Tatyana.”
“A woman is the puppet master behind the throne?” he asked with just enough reluctance to set Irene’s toe tapping again. Like Mr. Poe’s Raven, Irene’s irritable toe was an ominous harbinger of no good.
“Humor me,” she suggested in a voice of satin. “Arrange to call upon this woman in private—and soon. Today, if possible—to test my theory. Measure her as you would any opponent, rather than as a woman you view merely as a King’s amusement. And take Nell along as your secretary, for a sensible assessment.”
“Me?” I objected again. “I am to tour the Old Town with you and Allegra and—” Irene’s look was Medusa- terrible, and it silenced me in time. “—and all the native Praguers we can encounter who have witnessed the Golem’s most recent reincarnation”
“You two ladies hunt the monster of legend,” Godfrey said, “while Nell and I hunt hussies? A fair exchange, I suppose. Certainly I will examine this lady more closely. If I have overlooked her, you must credit a certain prejudice on my part to other ladies more lovely.”
He smiled around the table before letting his gaze rest on Irene. The flattery was calculated, good-natured, and slightly jibing. Irene only smiled, but she seemed content
“Why must I go with Godfrey?” I demanded when I had managed to draw Irene away from the others after breakfast by feigning a wardrobe difficulty in my room.
“You were dubious about our jaunt to the Old Town; this will be less dangerous than chasing the Golem.”
“But I shall worry about Allegra and the Queen. And you.”
“Worry rather about this Tatyana,” she said a trifle tensely.
“Irene, do you really... fear her?”
“Let us say that I fear Godfrey’s optimism.” She walked to the window to study the colorful tile rooftops of Prague. “He is like the tailor who has killed five flies with one blow, or like Jack the Giant-slayer. To his surprise, the King has not proved to be the formidable rival he feared; hence, he is over-optimistic. He even derides my past attachment. Did his cockiness now not indicate the depth of his earlier anxiety, I might be inclined to take offense.”
She turned to regard me. “I am not condemning you to accompany Godfrey, dear Nell; I am charging you to protect him. You will not take this woman for granted. You will not see her as what I was supposed to become for the King of Bohemia, a trivial ornament for a tyrant. You will watch her with unjaundiced eyes, and will keep Godfrey's vanity from blinding him.”
“Vanity,” I repeated, “is a fearful fault.”
“But understandable,” Irene said ruefully, “especially in ourselves. Watch well today, Nell. I have a suspicion that a wise witness will see much. Godfrey is a barrister, despite his current insensible state, and a clever one. I expect his call upon the mysterious Tatyana to be highly productive.”
“And will your party make much progress in tracing the Golem, Irene?”
“The Queen,” she said by way of evasion, “is the most powerful piece on the chessboard, if not in life. I think that in this case she will ultimately prove worthy of her reputation.”
“Clotilde? Please, Irene, you ask too much of one.”
She nodded, and this time there was no mistaking the grimness in her voice. “So do the Rothschilds.”
Chapter Twenty-two
AN INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMP
At least the mysterious Tatyana kept rooms outside the castle, at the Hotel Belgrade. Somehow I saw this as more sinister than if she had been a guest in the massive royal compound on Castle Hill.
Would virtue need a respectable address?
I didn’t forget that eighteen months earlier I had lectured Irene for residing at the castle, but the King had not been married then, or even betrothed.
I was surprised by this woman’s alacrity in answering Godfrey’s note of the morning. A messenger returned a reply after luncheon, shortly before Irene and Allegra were due to leave for their foray into Old Town.
Godfrey fetched me as soon as the note arrived, and brought it to Irene and Allegra’s suite. We convened in their outer salon, where four could meet without cro
wding, or confronting a bed.
Irene snatched the envelope, running her fingers eagerly over the texture of the paper and lifting the missive to her nose before opening it. Allegra watched this performance with saucer-shaped eyes.
“Irene masquerades as a hunting dog on occasion,” I informed young Allegra.
Irene observed my comment then held the unopened missive before her, as a palm reader might the top of a hand.
“Viennese deckle parchment notepaper, as thick as tough pastry. An odor of... iris and old roses,” she declared portentously, fingering the heavy envelope. “Two sheets, because Madame Tatyana’s handwriting is bold and greedy, consuming ink and paper in great, bounding loops. No seal: she has no surname of which to boast. Besides, she wastes no time on empty ritual, particularly if it could untidy her manicure. You will find some bizarre personal token enclosed within, as an insignia.”
She presented the envelope to Godfrey over the support of her opposite wrist, as a man’s second would offer him a dueling pistol.
“Most civil of you to allow me first reading rights,” he noted to Irene.
Godfrey slit the envelope with the fruit knife, then skimmed the contents.
“Was I correct?” she demanded.
With a smile, he turned the first page so we all could view it. Black ink stormed the paper, almost gusting off the deckle edges. There were indeed two sheets, and between them something that slipped to the carpet.
Allegra bent quickly to retrieve it. “A pink tulle rose, as could have fallen from a corsage decoration! How pretty!”
“So pretty that you may have it,” Irene declared, smiling to see her prediction proven. “The formidable Tatyana has another side: she is formidably sentimental. An interesting blend of characteristics. I am sure that Godfrey has no need to retain another woman’s tokens.”
“Assuredly not,” he said hastily. “Nor need I keep her communications to myself. A simple invitation to ‘late tea at five.’ What do you make of it, Irene? No doubt I am missing some nuance.”
Irene eyed the pages in turn, shuffling them back and forth, studying the penmanship like a doctor his patient. “A most... diabolical swoop to the crosses on her t’s. Quite lethal.” She frowned. “As for the import, she obviously is previously engaged for tea, yet makes immediate room to see you later, I wonder what she will serve? An interesting quandary for any hostess, but I have no doubt that she will solve it by five.
Another Scandal in Bohemia (A Novel of Suspense featuring Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes) Page 24
