by Àìàíäà Êâèê
"But you did tell Lady Hollister that the person who had murdered her daughter was someone the girl knew and feared."
"Yes."
"How did she respond?"
Virginia's brows came together in a troubled frown. "I'm not entirely certain. That is where my memory of the night starts to blur. I think she may have left the room without speaking, but I cannot be positive. After that, everything is a blank until I woke up in that mirrored chamber."
"You were drugged."
"That is the only explanation," Virginia agreed. "But by whom? Lady Hollister? Why would she do that?"
"You told her a truth she did not want to hear. You said yourself she was clearly unbalanced."
"We know Hollister used chloroform on Becky so it may have been on the premises, but I'm sure I would have recalled the smell or at least a struggle."
"I'm told one does not always remember the odor, but I think in this case, it's more likely that the drug was in the tea."
"In which case Lady Hollister intended to drug me even before she knew what I would see in the looking glass," Virginia said. "But again, why?"
"We do not yet have the answers, but we will get them."
Virginia turned away from the window. "'We,' Mr. Sweetwater?"
"I cannot conduct this hunt-" He stopped and cleared his throat. "I mean this investigation, without your assistance."
She went back to her desk and sat down. "You seem very eager to help me, Mr. Sweetwater. I suspect that is because you believe that I am the key to solving the case for your client."
"You are a very suspicious woman, Miss Dean. Is it not barely possible that my client wishes to protect you and other potential victims of the glass-reader killer?"
"It is highly unlikely that Arcane has any interest in protecting practitioners like myself."
"Well, as it happens, I am the one requesting your assistance, not J J. You will be dealing with me, not Arcane."
"Is there a difference?"
"Oh, yes," he said very softly. "A vast difference. I am no more a member of Arcane than you are. As I told you, J J is a client."
"No offense, sir, but I trust you will understand that I know less about you than I know about Arcane or J J."
He smiled. "By the time this affair is concluded, we will know each other very well, Miss Dean. Meanwhile, I give you my word that I am not going to ruin your career, nor will I allow J J to do so."
"Hmm."
"You do not believe me?"
"I'm not sure what to believe," she said. "There is the matter of your reputation. Only last week you exposed another medium in the press."
"I admit that I did expose a couple of mediums in order to establish my credentials as a legitimate researcher," he said. "I can see that it was not the wisest course of action, because now you do not trust me. If it matters, I can tell you that I chose the two mediums because practitioners who claim to speak to the dead annoy me far more than those who pretend to levitate or read minds."
"Why is that?"
"The levitators and mind readers are harmless entertainers, for the most part. They are guilty only of parlor tricks. But the mediums practice a cruel deception."
She drummed the fingers of one hand on the desk. "As it happens, I agree with you. Nevertheless, that does not give you the right to interfere in the business affairs of others who are merely trying to make an honest living. Well, mostly honest."
"Believe me, exposing practitioners is not my goal in this affair. I posed as a researcher who investigates psychical phenomena in order to provide myself with a cover that I could use to enter your world."
"I see."
"Your colleagues affiliated with the Leybrook Institute may not trust me, but by now they are convinced that I am a researcher."
"It is almost impossible to prove the existence of psychical talent. There are no instruments that can measure or record that kind of energy. I doubt if I convinced any of your associates who were present at the Pomeroy reading."
"They were not my associates. And I am aware that you feel you were tricked into doing that reading for Lady Pomeroy and those Arcane investigators."
She narrowed her eyes. "Did you arrange for that test?"
"No, Miss Dean. Believe it or not, what I intended that night was a proper introduction. I asked Lady Pomeroy to request a reading so that I could meet you. I knew that she had always had some questions about her husband's death. I swear to you that I did not know that she intended to invite several researchers from the Society to watch you at work."
She studied him for a long time with her haunting eyes.
"I believe you," she said at last.
It was as if a mountain had been lifted off his shoulders.
"Thank you," he said.
"I almost walked out that evening without doing the reading," Virginia said. "I have a strict rule when it comes to dealing with those who want to conduct research on me. I always refuse to cooperate in any sort of test. But on a whim, I decided to go through with that reading."
"Because of Lady Pomeroy?"
"I could tell that she truly did have questions about Lord Pomeroy's death. But that was not the reason I stayed to read the mirror."
"You did the reading because of me, didn't you?"
"I think so, yes."
"Why?"
"I sensed that you were a man of considerable talent," Virginia said. "I thought, perhaps, that if you witnessed me at work you might comprehend that my talent was real, also. I suppose it was a challenge of some kind."
"So you broke your own rule that day. Because of me."
She smiled coolly. "In my experience, breaking the rules that I have established for myself is almost always a mistake."
"I have had the same experience."
"Have you ever broken your own rules, Mr. Sweetwater?"
"It seems I am shattering a number of them in this case."
An odd silence descended. The housekeeper's footsteps sounded in the hall. Mrs. Crofton opened the door and brought in the tea tray. She looked at Virginia.
"Shall I pour, madam?"
"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Crofton," Virginia said.
Mrs. Crofton poured two cups of tea and handed them out. She left the room, unobtrusively closing the door. It seemed to Owen that the study was suddenly even smaller and more intimate. He opened his senses a little, allowing himself to savor the sensation of being so close to Virginia.
"Will you assist me, Miss Dean?" he asked after a while.
"Someone has murdered two glass-readers in the past two months," she said. "Yesterday I was lured to the scene of a rather spectacular murder that involved a mirrored room. And then there is that clockwork curiosity that we encountered in the tunnels beneath the Hollister mansion. All in all, there is simply no way to explain any of those events by invoking coincidence. Yes, Mr. Sweetwater, I will assist you in your investigation."
"I am very pleased to hear that."
"Before we begin, I trust you will understand when I tell you that I have some concerns for my reputation in this affair."
Out of nowhere, cold outrage flashed through him. "I assure you, Miss Dean, the men of my family may be hunters, but we consider ourselves gentlemen. I have no intention of harming your good name."
She blinked in surprise, and then smiled. "Thank you for that assurance, but it is unnecessary. It is not my personal reputation that matters to me. At my advanced age and given the nature of my career, I need no longer worry about that sort of thing."
"What the devil are you talking about? You are hardly elderly."
"I am twenty-six, sir. That puts me well and truly on the shelf, as I'm sure you are aware. I will not be looking to contract a respectable marriage. It is my professional reputation among my colleagues that concerns me."
He frowned. "I don't see the problem."
"Really, sir, you are being quite dense. Let me spell it out for you."
People had called him a great many things, but de
nse was not among the words that were typically used to describe him.
"Please do," he said.
"It is imperative that none of my associates conclude that I am assisting you to expose other practitioners. That is the sort of rumor that would ruin me."
"Of course." He really had been quite dense, he thought. "I had not considered that aspect of the matter."
"It must be very clear to one and all that I am allowing you to study and observe my work only because I am convinced I can prove to you that I really do possess some talent."
"Yes, Miss Dean. That was my plan."
"If there is any gossip to the effect that I am betraying my colleagues, I will soon lose all of my friends and the connections I require to conduct business in my world."
"You have made your point, Miss Dean. I will do everything in my power to make certain that your colleagues believe that I am devoting all of my attentions to you and you alone."
"Excellent." She sat back in her chair. "In that case, let us discuss your plans. I can advise you whether or not they are viable. I expect you will have to make some modifications. After all, we will be operating in my world, not yours, sir. I am the expert."
He wondered just when he had lost control of the discussion. If he was not extremely careful, Virginia Dean would take charge of the entire investigation, and that would put her in even more danger than she was in already.
An oddly disturbing shock of awareness whispered through him. He had embarked upon the investigation because his talent had compelled him to accept the case from J J. There was a monster preying on the paranormal practitioners of London, and he had been called to the hunt. It was what the Sweetwaters did. It was in the blood.
But somewhere along the line the driving force behind his decision to find the killer had altered. Now he hunted to protect Virginia. The only way to do that, it seemed, was to put her at risk by involving her in the investigation.Be careful what you wish for, Sweetwater.
"I have one more question," Virginia said.
"Only one?"
"What do you intend to do if we are able to identify the killer?"
He set his cup and saucer aside, propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and put his fingertips together. "Caleb Jones informs me that J J has developed a policy that it applies to situations such as this."
"What is J J's policy?"
"If there is sufficient evidence that is not of a paranormal nature, evidence that will hold up in a court of law, said evidence will be turned over to Scotland Yard. The authorities will then take charge, and the criminal will be arrested and tried in the normal, routine manner."
"I see. What are the odds that that policy will be effective in this case?"
"Very poor."
She watched him intently. "But one way or another, the killer will be stopped, is that what you are telling me?"
"One does not hire the Sweetwaters if there is anything normal or routine about the investigation," he said gently. "Our clients come to us when they have run out of options. We are the last resort."
Chapter 7
The following morning, Virginia called on her closest friend, Charlotte Tate, and told her the whole story.
"Thank heavens you are safe and were able to save that poor street girl." Charlotte poured tea into two cups. Behind the lenses of her spectacles, her unusual amber eyes were shadowed with concern. "But I still can't believe that you came so close to being arrested for murder."
"I expect that I will have nightmares about waking up next to Hollister's body for some time," Virginia said.
Charlotte set the pot down. "I don't want to even think about what might have happened if Mr. Sweetwater had not come along when he did. You would likely never have escaped from that mirrored chamber, let alone figured out how to rescue the girl from that underground cell."
"It's true, I do lack lock-picking skills," Virginia said. "Perhaps I will ask Mr. Sweetwater to teach them to me. He was very adept, I must say."
They were sitting at the small table in the back room of Charlotte's bookshop. Charlotte had inherited the shop from her mother, who had, in turn, received it from her mother. The women of Charlotte's family had a true talent for locating ancient and rare books and manuscripts linked to the paranormal.
The bookshop did not stock the latest sensation novels or penny dreadfuls. The weighty, leather-bound tomes on the shelves ranged from archaic treatises on ancient Egyptian, Indian and Greek theories of the paranormal to journals devoted to the investigations of modern researchers. In between there were medieval works on metaphysics and Newton's speculations on alchemy.
Three of the shelves in the shop contained an extensive collection of theJournal of Paranormal and Psychical Research, the Arcane Society's official publication. There were, however, no copies of the Leybrook Institute's own very popularLeybrook Journal of Paranormal Investigations. Unfortunately, the Institute's publication was replete with papers that bore titles such as "An Investigation of the Usefulness of Certain Musical Instruments in the Summoning of Spirits" and "A Study of Levitation and Astral Travel." In other words, Virginia thought, Leybrook published a great deal of fiction. But as Gilmore Leybrook had explained, the Institute'sJournal sold far more copies than Arcane's decidedly more esoteric publication.
"Lock- picking is no doubt a useful ability for a man in Mr. Sweetwater's profession," Charlotte said. She frowned. "I certainly didn't turn up any information about psychical talent in the bloodline when I looked into Mr. Sweetwater's background for you a couple of weeks ago."
"Something tells me the Sweetwater family keeps a lot of secrets."
Shortly after Owen Sweetwater had embarked upon his investigations of Leybrook Institute mediums, Virginia's intuition had been aroused. She had asked Charlotte to see what she could find out about the dangerous newcomer in their midst. When it came to research, no one was more talented than Charlotte. It was an aspect of her ability.
"I'll dig deeper and see what I can learn," Charlotte said. "All I could discover for certain is that the family is an old, established one with a reputation for being reclusive. Evidently the Sweetwaters rarely go into society, although with their money and connections they could probably do so if they wished."
"The Sweetwaters appear to have a few things in common with the Joneses," Virginia said. "That no doubt explains why they are doing business together."
"A very odd business it is, if you ask me. I can't stop thinking about what would have happened if you had been found in that room with Hollister's body."
"Ah, but there was no murder." Virginia glanced at the copy of theFlying Intelligencer on the table. "According to the morning papers, Lord Hollister expired from natural causes."
"Right, a heart attack. Obviously someone had to come up with a different version of events when it was discovered that you had departed from the scene. Imagine overlooking a knife wound in a man's chest."
"It's amazing what can be covered up by a wealthy, exclusive family."
"Well, I doubt that anyone is in deep mourning, least of all his poor wife. Do you really think that she was the one who killed him?"
"That is what Mr. Sweetwater believes. He perceived traces of energy that were left by the killer. He said whoever put the knife in Hollister's chest was definitely unbalanced. He also feels certain that the killer was a woman."
"Hmm."Charlotte pursed her lips and looked thoughtful. "He can tell that much from the residue of energy at the scene?"
"So he says."
"And you believe him?"
"Why not?" Virginia smiled wryly. "After all, he believes in my talent."
A bright, sparkly look appeared in Charlotte's eyes.
"I see," she said. "Well, now, that's certainly interesting."
There was no need to discuss the matter further. Charlotte understood the situation perfectly. Virginia's talent had always created problems for her when it came to romantic relationships. Over the years there had been men who had found her
attractive. Strong talents often drew the attention of the opposite sex. The energy of a powerful sensitive could be felt even by those who did not possess any measurable talent themselves.
But although men were sometimes intrigued, even fascinated, by her psychical nature, sooner or later the very quality that had initially drawn them to her began to make them uneasy and eventually repelled them. Virginia did not entirely blame them. The prospect of marrying a woman who claimed to see the dead and the dying in mirrors struck most gentlemen as daunting, to say the least.
When she turned twenty-six several months ago, she had shared a bottle of wine with Charlotte and officially abandoned the last of her romantic dreams. She would never marry. Charlotte had arrived at a similar conclusion regarding her own fate. Faced with lonely spinsterhood and inspired by the wine, they had resolved to chart an alternative course for themselves.
The initial plans had involved flinging themselves recklessly into a series of romantic liaisons with handsome men. Simple and brilliant though the scheme seemed to be in the glow of the wine, in reality things had not worked out very well. It transpired that there was a severe shortage of handsome men who were sufficiently interesting to warrant the risks involved.
They were now engaged in researching another safer and far more sensible option. The new plans appeared promising.
"I'm not telling anyone except you about the true nature of my association with Mr. Sweetwater," Virginia said. "As far as everyone else at the Institute is concerned, I have agreed to allow Mr. Sweetwater to study and observe me as I work."
Charlotte frowned. "Are you certain you can trust Owen Sweetwater? He may be using you for his own ends."
"Oh, he makes no bones about doing just that," Virginia agreed. "He has been quite open about the fact that he needs my assistance in his investigation. My intuition tells me that he can be trusted insofar as my personal safety is concerned. After the events of last night, I feel certain that he means me no harm. But I am well aware that the only reason he has taken an interest in me is because he thinks I'm the key to the case he is trying to solve."
