The Moonstone's Curse

by Sam Siciliano

  I exchanged a look with Michelle, then stared for the last time at the long table, all the silverware soiled, the small plates with half-eaten morsels or debris, the linen napkins crumpled up. Beyond the table, the tall rectangles of the windows were dark, the only light coming from the chandelier and the candles. We followed Bromley and Holmes down the dim hallway to the stairs.

  Michelle grasped my arm with both of her large, strong hands. “I am so full.”

  “You did well,” I said. “The dinner went better than I expected, although Murthwaite’s toast provided some unexpected excitement.” When we reached the sitting room, Michelle pulled her long white gloves back on. I slipped my forefinger underneath one glove, tickling the crook of her arm. “Do I get to tear these apart too?” I murmured.

  One side of her mouth rose. “They are made of a tough material. Pulling them off will probably be faster and simpler.”

  I glanced at the sideboard. “Would you like coffee or port? I would suggest coffee. We don’t want you to fall asleep on the way home.”

  “No. Coffee it is, if you please.”

  I took a cup of coffee from Sabine, added a bit of cream, then took it to Michelle. I returned for another cup for myself. Holmes sipped from his own.

  “You finally escaped from your admirers?” I asked.

  He winced slightly. “I thought it would never end. Lady Alexander seems to have memorized all the stories. She particularly wanted to know about the speckled band.” He was staring across the room at Jane, Norah and Alice. As before, the darker Norah and Jane in their extravagant overblown gowns, the one of patterned green silk, the other of dazzling red and pink, appeared to be members of a different species to the tall, wraith-like Alice in pale blue. Alice held a tiny glass of port, her teeth clenched together in a frozen smile. More wine was the last thing she needed.

  Norah’s sharp voice rose; it cut through the room. “So you really are just going to lock it away? You will actually let such a diamond go to waste. Father must be turning in his grave. Lord, I cannot believe how absolutely stupid…”

  Alice’s lips pursed together, spread apart again revealing her teeth, and then she hurled her glass of port into Norah’s face. Norah shrieked and let her cup and saucer fall, spilling coffee and breaking the china to pieces. “What do you think you are doing!” The dark scarlet liquid had splattered her face and her bosom, stained the dark green silk black.

  “Lord, I am sick of you—sick to death of you!” Alice hurled her empty glass against the wall, shattering it, then clenched her fists and half turned to Jane. “And you as well.” She laughed. “My sister and my best friend—what a joke, what a farce! You hate me, and I hate you. Always cutting at me, nibbling away, gnawing at me like filthy mice or rodents. You disgust me, the two of you! And Father—you dare mention him to me? God, how I hated him!”

  The room had grown absolutely quiet. Bromley and Cowen quickly walked toward Alice. Holmes slowly raised his right hand, then rubbed with his thumb and fingers at his chin.

  “Alice…” Bromley raised his hand as he came closer.

  Alice turned and backed away. “Stay away—don’t touch me!”

  “Please, darling. I can see that you don’t feel well. Perhaps…”

  “There is nothing wrong with me—nothing at all! It is… it is the people around me, all of you, only…” She laughed once and smiled at Murthwaite. “Jack is my only friend, the only one. At least he has a reason for…”

  Cowen had come forward too. “That’s enough, Alice.”

  “Don’t you tell me what to do!” She glared at the two men. “I’m sick and tired to death of you both! You treat me like a child, like a baby! I’m not a child—I’m a woman.”

  “Then act like one!” Cowen exclaimed.

  Alice stepped forward, pulled her glove off her right hand, and slapped him hard. He blinked wildly and took a step back. “Alice!” Bromley shouted.

  Alice’s wild glee was fading, but she smiled fiercely all the same. “I told you to stay away. I told you.” She blinked once. “Where’s my glass?” She seemed to notice the pieces on the floor. “Oh. I need another glass. I need more port. I need…”

  “Please, Alice!” Bromley moaned.

  She made it to the sideboard where Hodges and Sabine in their formal black-and-white seemed frozen in place. Alice reached out for the bottle of port, her hand trembling wildly. “Damn it.” She winced, made a face, then clutched at her stomach. “I don’t… I don’t feel well.”

  Michelle started forward. “Alice, let me help you.”

  She shook her head wildly. “No, no—you stay away. You’re like all the others! Don’t come near me.” She swallowed once. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Cowen took two steps and grasped her right arm. “That’s quite enough, Alice. You need to rest now.”

  “You cannot tell me what to do.” Her sudden fury seemed to have drained away.

  Cowen looked at Sabine. “Come with me, Sabine. Help get her ready for bed, and then I shall give her a sedative. My bag is in the hall.”

  “I’m not sleepy. I don’t think. Maybe I am. Maybe…”

  Still grasping her arm tightly, Cowen turned her toward the doorway and steered her forward. Alice didn’t seem to see any of us. “Can I help?” Michelle asked.

  Cowen didn’t look back. “No. All of you just stay here.” Sabine followed them through the doorway.

  Bromley sighed softly. “Dear God.” He looked round the room and smiled weakly. “Friends, I must apologize for Alice. She was not herself tonight—she was not. She…” He fought briefly to control himself. “I should never have… The cursed Moonstone—always the Moonstone!” He drew in his breath. “Forgive me, my friends. Finish your coffee or tea, or have a glass of port. Don’t let this unfortunate event spoil what has been a wonderful evening!”

  Michelle, Holmes and I approached Jane and Norah. Murthwaite was shaking his head sadly. “Poor Alice, poor girl.”

  Bartram had given Norah a handkerchief, and she was wiping port from her face and chest. “Well, it has finally happened. She has finally gone mad.” The white cloth was stained with dark red splotches. She pushed at a large piece of broken cup with her toe.

  Jane laughed harshly. “You give her too much credit. She never could handle drink. It is a good thing she did not try any such thing with me—I would not have abided it. I have had enough. Franklin, let’s go.”

  “Certainly, my dear.”

  Bromley had been talking with Hodges, asking him to clean up the mess. He came back to us, his smile forced. “Goodnight, Jane, Franklin. Thank you for coming.”

  Jane smiled back, then raised her gloved hand and patted his chin with her fingertips. “Always the gentleman, Charles. Gentleman and long-suffering husband. How well you play your part.” Her lips parted ever so slightly. Bromley stiffened, his mouth clamped together tightly, but he did not speak. “Goodnight and thank you for a wonderful evening,” Jane said. Alexander nodded once at Bromley, making his second chin thicken, then followed his wife.

  Norah gave Bartram back the stained handkerchief. He hesitated, then stuffed it in his trouser pocket. “We’re going too,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” Bromley said. “I know Alice will be sorry too. She was not herself.”

  Norah smiled briefly. “Wasn’t she? I think perhaps she was.” She and Bartram left.

  Harrison grinned. He and Florence were the only ones who seemed to have taken Alice’s behavior as a lark. “Well, old chap, I think we’ll be shoving off too. Excellent dinner and all that. Our regards to the cook.”

  Florence was also smiling. “Delicious it was, most truly delicious!” They followed the others out.

  Bromley gave Holmes a pained smile. “Well, Mr. Holmes, do you and Dr. Vernier also wish to abandon the sinking ship?”

  Holmes finished his coffee and set down the cup and saucer. “I shall wait to see the Moonstone safely locked away.”

  “Th
ank you. Would you care for port or a brandy? I think I could do with a brandy myself.”

  Holmes refused, as did I, but Murthwaite grinned happily. “I would love a brandy!” Bromley’s eyes rolled upward, then he poured out two into amber-colored snifters. Hodges was busy with a broom and dustpan sweeping up the broken glass and china. Bromley gave Murthwaite one of the snifters, then sipped from his own and sighed deeply. He gestured at the sofa and the chairs. “Why don’t we sit down?”

  Michelle glanced at me. “We cannot make our escape yet?” she said softly. I shook my head. We sat together on the sofa and drank our coffee. Holmes sat at the far end. He had made it through dinner without a single spot on his white shirt front or silk vest, no small achievement. I had a bit of gravy on my shirt.

  Bromley took a swallow of brandy, then sank back into the armchair. “I should have known this dinner was a bad idea.”

  “No, no,” Murthwaite said, “I had a wonderful time, and I think Alice did, too, until the very end. You mustn’t let that one little scene spoil everything.”

  Bromley stared thoughtfully at him. “I hope you are right.”

  “Of course I am. Poor Alice. She is a troubled soul. And Norah never was nice to her—never. I knew Norah when she was little, too, and she was always teasing and tormenting her sister. Just like her father, while Alice favored poor Charlotte. Oh, what’s the sense of it all, anyway? This is very good, you know.” He took another big swallow of brandy.

  “I never know quite what to do. At least… Soon now the diamond will be locked away and forgotten. We can get on with our lives.”

  We were all content to sit and savor the silence after the evening’s excitement.

  Sabine stepped into the room. “Dr. Cowen will be down soon. He said no one is to disturb them.”

  Bromley nodded. “Thank you, Sabine. Can you help Hodges, and then why don’t the two of you have a brandy as well? You have earned it.” Bromley turned again to Murthwaite. “How long before you return to India, Mr. Murthwaite?”

  “Not long, sir, thank God. I’ll wait until September, though. The heat is fearful in August.”

  “Is India as romantic and fantastical as they say?” Michelle asked.

  Murthwaite grinned, his teeth contrasting with his bronzed skin. “It is truly a land of magic and splendor, even if it has more than its share of heat, squalor and bugs.”

  We talked for a while. Hodges and Sabine finished cleaning up, and then Hodges poured their brandies. They stood by the sideboard. He put his hand on her shoulder, said something, and she laughed softly. When Cowen came into the room, his medical bag clasped in his left hand, we all fell silent. “I gave her something that should put her right to sleep. I have another patient I must check on this evening before it gets too late, or I would stay longer.”

  “And where is the Moonstone?” Holmes asked.

  Cowen frowned. “The Moonstone? Oh yes, the precious damned necklace. She put it on her dresser. You can fetch it, but give her a few minutes to fall asleep. Whatever you do, don’t go barging in and waking her.”

  “What exactly did you give her?” Michelle asked.

  Cowen stiffened, his black eyebrows coming together. With his full black curly beard he looked like some wrathful, slightly aged Grecian warrior in formal dress. Oh Lord, I thought, waiting for the lightning to strike, but he said mechanically, “A few drops of chloral hydrate. Does that meet with your approval, Doctor?” The last word dripped with sarcasm.

  Michelle did not rise to the bait. “Yes.” Chloral hydrate was a sedative given alone or with opium, which rendered people unconscious. It had something of a notorious reputation because some men had been known to slip it into a woman’s drink and, later, sexually abuse their insensate victims.

  “I shall try to drop by in the morning if I can. Given all that she drank and a second night without laudanum, she will feel dreadful.” He turned to Bromley. “If I cannot make it here in the morning, give her five drops of laudanum in water around eight or nine o’clock. That is half her usual dose.”

  Bromley nodded. “So I shall. Are you certain you don’t have time for a brandy, Doctor?”

  “No, I do not. As I said, I have a patient to see. And again—leave Alice alone for a few minutes so she can get to sleep.” He glanced suspiciously round the room, then nodded. “Good evening.”

  As soon as he left, the level of the tension in the room dropped dramatically. Murthwaite stared at his glass, took a final swallow, then slowly stood. “I must be going too.” We all rose to say our farewells. Murthwaite smiled up at Michelle, who was a few inches taller, then glanced appreciatively at her throat and the white skin above the elaborate blue lace covering her bosom. His eyes met mine; he was not embarrassed but amused. “You’re a lucky devil, Dr. Vernier.”

  I smiled. “Yes, I know.”

  After Murthwaite had left, Bromley glanced at Sabine and Hodges who were still talking quietly in the corner. Bromley walked over to the sideboard, poured himself more brandy, then returned to the chair. He gave his head a shake, then laughed softly. “Thank God, it is finally over.”

  I glanced at Michelle, thinking the same thing. Her gloved hand gave mine a furtive squeeze. Three lamps in the room had been lit, and the lighting was pleasantly subdued. Bromley looked the very model of an English gentleman in his white bow tie, vest and shirt. His hand was large and well shaped; alongside it was an inch of white cuff, then the black sleeve of his jacket. His long curly brown hair had become more tousled as the evening wore on. Sabine laughed softly, and Hodges murmured something.

  Holmes raised his hands and placed his fingertips together. “I believe you said you inherited this townhouse from your father-in-law. How enviable. This is an agreeable neighborhood.”

  Bromley nodded. “It is, Mr. Holmes. A lucky thing for us—we could never afford such a house, and I’d not live elsewhere in all of London.”

  “You have some dealings in property, I believe. You must know London well.”

  “Indeed I do, Mr. Holmes.”

  “And do you think the area around Grosvenor Square is overrated?”

  He and Holmes launched into a full-blown discussion of various London neighborhoods, their advantages and disadvantages, the prices to buy or let. After a few minutes of this, Michelle squeezed my hand again and gave me a desperate look. I withdrew my watch and opened it, hoping they might take the hint. It was after ten, and it had been at least fifteen minutes since Cowen had left. Michelle put her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn.

  “You must stay awake,” I said softly.

  “I’m very tired. Perhaps if I just close my eyes. I need to rest a bit, so as to conserve my strength for later.”

  “As long as it is to conserve your strength.”

  She shut her eyes and settled into the sofa. I admired her features for a while, then glanced around the room. Finally I pulled out my watch again. It had been a good half-hour. Bromley was describing the qualities of an admirable townhouse close by which his friend had just bought.

  Enough is enough, I thought. “Pardon me, but hadn’t we better check on Alice? It is getting late. It is nearly ten thirty.”

  Bromley shook his head. “Heavens, I had no idea! Yes, by all means. We must put away the necklace, and then you can all be on your way.” He and Holmes rose to their feet.

  Michelle opened her eyes and sighed softly. I gave her hand a squeeze. “Keep resting—and conserving your strength. I shall be right back.”

  Bromley used a match to light a short candle set in an elaborate silver holder. He turned to Hodges and Sabine. “You can turn in anytime.” They nodded. We followed him to the stairs, then went up two flights and down a dark hallway. Bromley stopped before the door, then raised a forefinger to his mouth as a warning to be quiet. He turned the knob slowly, then gently pushed open the door.

  A lamp with a sculpted bronze base and fluted green glass shade sat on a walnut nightstand beside the bed. The lamp was set very low.
Alice lay sprawled in shadow across the quilted blue and white bedspread, her head thrown back, her long ash-blond hair all astray across the pillow. She wore a long white lace nightgown and matching robe. Her bony ankles and thin white feet stuck out, her feet flopping slightly to each side. She looked half dead, but her breathing was loud, slow, and faintly hoarse. Bromley stepped silently into the room, approaching the bed. Holmes followed, equally silent. I remained in the doorway. A cool gentle breeze touched my face, and I looked across the room and saw one of the windows was opened very wide. The other window was closed.

  “Poor darling,” Bromley whispered softly.

  Holmes’s back was to me. He had remained where he was, but his head had turned slowly to and fro as he surveyed the room. “Well,” he said softly. “The diamond is gone.”

  Bromley froze, even as I came into the room. “What?” he said.

  There was a single tall dresser, another ornate walnut creation with many carvings. On top was a spectacular circular beige doily; on it was a metal tray with a glass, a pitcher of water, and a small blue-green bottle with LAUDANUM and POISON on the label. The necklace with the Moonstone was not there. Bromley’s eyes opened so wide you could see the white part round the irises, then he rushed to the dresser and fell to his knees to look underneath. He stood quickly and looked behind it as well. He shook his head wildly. “No, no!” His whisper was fierce.

  “Oh, it is gone,” Holmes said. He turned to me. “Have a look at this, Henry.”

  He started around the bed toward the window, and I followed him as quietly as I could. The window to the right was fastened shut. Holmes gestured with his hand at the open one to the left. Just above the bottom of the lower wooden sash, a six-inch hole had been cut in the glass pane. I glanced down at the floor. A glimmer of light from the lamp caught the edge of a matching glass circle.

  Holmes smiled faintly at me. “Neatly done,” he said.

  Bromley gripped Holmes’s arm tightly, his eyes wild. “Both windows were locked—I know they were!—ever since she saw the Indian we have kept her windows closed, even though we are two floors up. They must have had a ladder! What are we to do, Mr. Holmes? What are we to do?”