by Candace Camp
“Why did this Entwhistle woman invite you?”
“I—I don’t understand. She just sent me an invitation. I was a little surprised. I only know her slightly. I wasn’t inclined to go.”
“Why did you, then?”
“Pamela was terribly bored. And she persuaded me that it would do us both good to get out, and since it was such a small party, it would be perfectly all right, even though it had not been an entire year. So we went. Madame Valenskaya was there, and she was persuaded to hold a séance. It was so illuminating. I had never realized it was possible to speak to someone one had lost. She spoke straight to me. She said that I had lost someone dear to me. And the raps sounded out Roddy’s name.”
“Pamela.” Stephen’s jaw tightened. “That scarcely sounds like Pamela, to be interested in something like that.”
“Yes, I was a little surprised, too, I confess,” Lady St. Leger said. “But I think it was more that Pamela wanted to get out, you see.” She sighed waterily. “Poor girl. She was overbalanced by Roderick’s death. I had never thought she cared overmuch for him, frankly. She was a cold sort of woman. I shouldn’t say that about the dead, I know, but it is the truth. But after he died, she cried and cried for days.”
“I suspect it was more losing the status and fortune of being Roderick’s wife than losing Roderick himself,” Stephen told her bluntly.
“Stephen! What a thing to say!” Lady St. Leger cried.
“It is the truth, and we both know it. But I have no intention of letting whoever killed her get away with it. Whatever her faults, Pamela did not deserve to die.” He swung back to Irina, barking, “Was Pamela in on your scheme? Did she help you lure Lady St. Leger into your trap?”
Irina shrank back from him. “No! I—”
“Stephen! What are you saying?” Lady St. Leger cried.
“I think Miss Valenskaya knows,” Stephen said grimly. “Did you know Pamela before you met my mother?”
“Lady Pamela!” Irina squeaked out, her hands writhing in her skirts. “How could I?”
“I don’t know how! That is what I’m trying to find out. Why was Pamela killed, clutching the Martyrs’ treasure? Was she stealing it? Or was your mother? Or you? Which one of you killed her?”
“Stephen!” Lady St. Leger exclaimed, shocked. “You cannot mean—”
“I can. I do. Miss Valenskaya, I don’t know where your mother went, but it seems obvious that she disappeared because she knew Pamela was dead. The likely reason is that she herself killed her.”
“No!” Irina took an involuntary step backward. “Mother would never—” She licked her lips nervously and cast an imploring look at Lady St. Leger. “Please, my lady, tell him….”
“Enough!” Stephen roared. “I am done with these charades. I will turn you over to the constable when he gets here—and your mother, too, whenever we find her. Perhaps a night in gaol will help you to realize—”
“All right!” Irina cried, trembling all over. “I will tell you! I never hurt Lady Pamela! I barely even spoke to her!” She brought her hands up to her face. “I never—she talked to my mother. I don’t know how they met, but she came to us. She was angry about how little money she had. She said that the St. Legers had cheated her, that after all she had done, she had been left penniless.”
“Penniless!” Lady St. Leger looked indignant. “Why, Roderick left her a very generous amount of money, everything that was not entailed. He could have done no more!”
“She said she was being punished because she had not borne any children. And she kept on about this box.”
“The Martyrs’ treasure?”
Irina nodded. “Mother was content with doing the usual sort of thing, the rappings and harps hanging in the air and all that, getting gifts from Lady St. Leger. She was quite happy to be invited to stay here and enjoy the earl’s generosity, of course. But Pamela wanted that treasure. She could talk of nothing else—how her husband had kept it from her, how he had refused to let her have any of the jewelry. She said he had kept it hidden from her and wouldn’t even tell her how to get into the place where he kept it. She came up with this scheme to pry the box away from you. She was sure that even if Stephen didn’t want to give it to us, he would eventually do it because he wouldn’t want Lady St. Leger to be unhappy. She said that even if you would not give the box up, with all the talk about the jewels, you would be bound to at least go there to look at them. She had never been able to catch the first Lord St. Leger going to where they were stored and taking them out. She thought she could keep an eye on you and—”
“And catch me opening the secret room!” Stephen exclaimed, and his eyes flew to Olivia. “That must be what she did. The day that you and I went in there, she must have been watching, and we didn’t notice.”
“I should have known she was up to something!” Irina exclaimed, bitterness tingeing her voice. “There was this smug look to her the last few days. She must have found it and didn’t even tell us. She was going to take it all for herself.”
“Until someone stopped her,” Olivia said quietly.
Irina looked alarmed. “It wasn’t me, my lady! I never knew she’d found the box, let alone that she was planning to steal it.”
“I suppose not,” Stephen agreed. “I rather think it was your mother.”
“Mama? No!” Irina wrung her hands together. “You don’t understand. It couldn’t have been. Mother would never—” She stopped, looking around her uncertainly. Then she straightened, lifting her chin, her hands clenching into fists at her side. “I don’t believe you!” she cried defiantly. “Mama has not killed anyone. Something terrible has happened to her, I just know it!”
She burst into tears after that, and, covering her face with her hands, she ran from the room.
Stephen watched her go, then turned toward Lady St. Leger. “Mother, I am so sorry.”
Lady St. Leger’s eyes swam with tears. “I have been a fool, haven’t I?”
“No, not a fool,” Olivia assured her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Many people have been deceived by people such as Madame Valenskaya and her daughter.”
“I thought Roddy was talking to me.” The older woman’s mouth trembled. “I wanted it so much, I made myself believe it.” She looked up at her son. “You tried to tell me, and I wouldn’t listen. Both of you did. And now Pamela’s dead, and all because I brought those people here.”
“It is not your fault that Pamela died,” Stephen said firmly. “Pamela died through her own greed. I don’t know who killed her, but I am sure that it stemmed from the fact that she was stealing the Martyrs’ treasure.”
Lady St. Leger sighed. “Nevertheless, I cannot help but wish that I had never invited Madame Valenskaya here.” She rose slowly. “I think I will go to my room now.”
“Let me help you,” Olivia offered, walking with her toward the door.
Lady St. Leger smiled at her. “Thank you, my dear. You are very sweet. It is no wonder that Stephen is head over heels about you. We must go see to Belinda. No doubt she will be quite distressed.”
She curled her hand around the crook of Olivia’s arm and walked from the room, her pace slow but her head held high.
Irina gained the sanctuary of her room and closed the door after her, turning the key in the door. She relaxed, and her face changed, losing its distress and turning cooler, harder. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with her hands and began to pace the room.
“Where the devil are you, Mother?” she muttered to herself.
It had been a shock when Lord St. Leger told her that Lady Pamela was dead, but she was certain that her mother had not killed the woman. She had, she thought, managed to convey her own loyalty to her mother yet evidence that little touch of doubt at the same time. She needed, after all, someone else to take the blame if St. Leger and his constable should decide that it was Irina herself who had taken Pamela’s life. Irina didn’t know how Pamela had died, but she thought that it served her right fo
r trying to steal the treasure right out from under their eyes.
Imagine! It wasn’t hers, anyway. Like everything else here, it belonged to him.
Irina had never been very concerned about her mother’s whereabouts. She had felt sure that the old woman, scared as a rabbit after the séance last night, had simply taken off, hoping to hide her departure for a few hours by leaving her things behind. It had been all Irina could do to hold her here the past few days, anyway. Ever since Babington had fallen into that seizure, she had been terrified.
Irina had put on the act of confusion and distress about her mother’s disappearance simply because the others would have found it most bizarre if she had not, and also to buy herself some time. She needed to remain longer at Blackhope, and St. Leger would scarcely have wanted her to if she told him that Madame Valenskaya had simply fled from sheer terror.
But now, of course, with Pamela’s death, everything had changed. She had had to reveal their duplicity to St. Leger, and of course he would not allow her to remain now. Even Lady St. Leger would not want her in the house. Right to the end, Pamela had proved to be a thorn in Irina’s side.
Pamela had only been after money, of course, as had her mother, but Irina knew herself to be different. She had a larger purpose, and she must stay to see it out.
The problem, of course, was how to do it. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing for guidance. He was here, yet she could not speak to him, ask him what to do.
She brought out her cards and began to shuffle them, then laid them out, hoping for answers. They were difficult to read today, as sometimes happened. There was his card, of course, the Magician, and the Tower, as well, signifying destruction. There would be, she was certain, the result he was hoping for, but what she wanted was answers to what she should do, and the cards were hazy on that topic.
Outside in the corridor, she heard now and then the sounds of people moving and talking. The constable would have come, no doubt, and she had little desire to meet him. The best thing she could do was to stay here, out of sight. The less St. Leger or any of the others thought about her, the better.
Hours passed, and she moved restlessly about the room. It had grown quite silent in the hall. Finally, unable to wait any longer, she opened the door and looked into the hallway. There was no one there. She was tempted to slip down to the room where Pamela’s body had been found. It had been there that the golden casket had been kept. Perhaps there…
But, no, she knew it would be futile. St. Leger would doubtless have placed someone there to guard the door. It was even possible that the constable or doctor was still there. Instead, she walked across the hall to Babington’s room.
One of the maids sat beside his bed, working on some mending, and she looked up at her entrance.
Irina smiled at the woman. “I will sit with Mr. Babington for a while. You may go. I will call you when I need you again.”
“Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.” The maid got up, putting her mending back into the bag by her chair. “Isn’t it terrible about Lady St. Leger?”
“Mmm. Dreadful.”
The girl gave a dramatic shudder, then bobbed a curtsy and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Irina went to stand beside the bed, looking down at the still form of Howard Babington. Her lip curled in contempt. What a puny, incompetent nothing the man was! It irked her to think of all the time and effort she had wasted seducing him.
She laid her hands flat on his chest, saying, “You were too weak a vessel, alas. There was not enough strength in you to house my dark lover, was there? I should have chosen a better man. You were unworthy of such a powerful presence. But how am I to get him back now?”
She let her head fall back, her eyes closing, as she said, “Come to me now, my love. My dark prince. Fill this unworthy body again and let me know you.”
She began to chant, ancient, secret words falling from her lips. The air around her grew cold, and the sound of a great wind filled the room, though nothing stirred.
Irina stiffened, stretching up on her tiptoes, then jerked violently and fell hard onto her knees. She knelt for a long moment, recovering herself. Slowly she rose and gazed about the room. Her face was different from before, her eyes cold and hard as stones.
Her voice, when she spoke, came out a low, rusty growl. “I will have what is mine.”
She turned and walked back to her room, going to a drawer in her dresser. She shoved aside the lacy underthings, going to the leather scabbard that lay beneath. She slid out a knife from the scabbard, and it gleamed. A smile as cold as death lifted her lips.
“I will have what is mine,” she repeated, and put the knife back in its scabbard, shoving it up the sleeve of her dress.
Then she turned and walked out the door.
15
Olivia walked into Stephen’s study, and he looked up and smiled at her. Then he stood up, came around his desk and pulled her into his arms, laying a soft kiss on the top of her head.
“You are an angel to look after Mother and Belinda,” he said.
“It is no hardship. I am fond of them,” Olivia replied, stepping back.
“How are they doing?”
“I think they will be fine. Belinda has had some hard knocks this week, but she is young and resilient. It will take Lady St. Leger more time. She blames herself for setting the whole thing in motion by bringing Madame Valenskaya here, and she feels much taken in, I fear.”
Stephen sighed. “I hope she will not dwell on it too much.”
“I left them in Lady St. Leger’s room. Your mother is lying down, with a cloth dipped in lavender water on her head, and Belinda is reading to her. I’m not sure either of them is attending much to what is on the page, but at least it keeps their minds off what happened.” Olivia looked up at him, concern in her eyes. “What about you? How are you faring?”
“I am all right. It was foolish of me not to guess that Pamela was involved in their scheme. Obviously someone had given them a large number of facts about Roderick and the family. Who better than a member of the family? And I knew Pamela’s mercenary nature better than any of them.”
“You could not have known,” Olivia said firmly. “Disloyalty, I think, is too far from your nature for your mind to leap to that sort of conclusion. If anyone should have thought of her involvement, it is I. It is my field of expertise, after all, and as an outsider, I should have been better able to look at the situation logically, impartially.”
She knew, in fact, one reason she had not even considered Pamela to be in league with the medium was that she had been too wrapped up in her own jealousy of the woman. She had had difficulty looking at her as anything but the woman Stephen had once loved and might still.
Olivia took a breath, summoning up her strength. It was not a subject she wished to pursue, but for Stephen’s sake, it had to be done. “You must be feeling a great deal of sorrow. You were, after all, in love with her.”
Stephen looked at her, startled. “You knew that I—”
“Pamela herself told me that you were in love with her, although her story was far from the truth. Belinda told me later what had really happened between you—how much you had loved her and how she had broken your heart.”
“I thought myself madly in love with her,” he agreed. “She was beautiful.”
“Yes, she was.”
“She was even lovelier at eighteen—fresh and blooming. I was a complete fool. I had no idea what sort of person lay beneath her looks. Looking back on it, I have to be thankful that she jilted me. If she had not, I would have married her and been miserable these past ten years, no doubt. I was filled with hurt and rage at the time, of course. I rashly ran off to America, hating my brother, hating her. But before long, I realized what I had escaped, and I was thankful. I only wish my brother had not had to endure marriage with her.”
Olivia looked at him, perplexed. Stephen glanced down at her and smiled. “Why do you look so? Did you think I had been pin
ing away for her all these years?”
“Well, I—I mean, you loved her, and she is—was—so beautiful. I—did you not?”
“Lord, no. I was infatuated with her looks. I scarcely knew her, really. As it is with young girls making their come-out, we were all chaperoned. I danced with her. I exchanged the kind of polite chitchat that one does. We managed to sneak away enough to share a few kisses. But that was all. I would like to think that if I had actually talked to her, spent time with her, I would have realized what she was like. As it was, I was in love with an image. Nothing more. It died quickly once I was away from her. When I returned, I wanted nothing to do with her. I looked at her and felt nothing.”
“Oh.” Olivia supposed it was awful of her, with the poor woman dead, but she could not help feeling a burst of joy at Stephen’s words. “I see.”
“I am sorry she died,” Stephen went on. “As I would be sorry for anyone. But I do not mourn her as a lost love.”
Stephen took her hand and raised it to his lips. “You are—”
“Ah, there you are,” said a voice behind them, and Stephen released her hand and turned.
“Lord Moreland. Come in.”
For once Olivia was less than happy to see her diminutive great-uncle. What had Stephen been about to say?
“I hope I am not intruding.”
“Of course not, Uncle,” Olivia lied. “Come, sit down with me.”
His bright bird eyes went from her face to Stephen’s as he came over to the chair Olivia had indicated. They sat in front of Stephen’s desk, and Stephen resumed his seat behind it.
“I wondered what news you had had,” Great-uncle Bellard said. “Has the constable come? Has Madame Valenskaya been found?”
“Yes, the constable and the doctor have both been here. They removed Pamela’s body. As for Madame Valenskaya…” Stephen shrugged. “Rafe has joined Tom and the servants in searching for her, but they have found no sign of her yet. I am inclined to think she probably got well away from the house before we even knew she was gone. Perhaps she even had some sort of conveyance waiting for her. It seems far too organized and efficient for the woman, but it may be I am entirely wrong about her, and she is so clever that she carries on a perfect masquerade as a fool.”
