Quicksilver (7 page)
Authors: Amanda Quick
Virginia winced. “In retrospect, it would appear that she was not the best of clients.”
“Go on with your recollection of events.”
Virginia returned to the view from the study window. “Let me think. I recall being shown into the library. The room seemed cold and dark, although there was a fire on the hearth and the lamps were lit. Something about the energy in that house, I suppose. Very depressing. Lady Hollister was waiting for me together with her companion. Tea was served. I asked Lady Hollister to tell me why she had requested the reading.”
“Did she explain?”
“It was obvious almost immediately that Lady Hollister was not entirely sane. Her conversation was disjointed, and she became easily agitated. Her companion had to calm her at several points. But Lady Hollister was very clear about why she had summoned me.”
“What mirror did she want you to read?”
“The looking glass in her dead daughter’s bedroom.” A slight but unmistakable shudder shivered through Virginia. “I dread those sorts of readings. The children . . .”
“I understand.”
She glanced at him again. “Do you?”
“I have seen the taint of the monsters who prey on children. If you dread those readings, why do you do them?”
“I feel somehow compelled.” Virginia returned her attention to the window. “Sometimes, not always, I am able to provide a sense of finality to the bereaved parents. It is as if the reading closes a gate into the past and frees them to move forward into the future. And on rare occasions, I have been able to perceive clues that have led the police to the killer.”
“You take satisfaction from those readings? The ones that lead to justice for the victim?”
“Yes,” she said. “They comfort me in some way I cannot explain. But last night I was unable to give Lady Hollister what she wanted and needed. Instead, I suspect that I drove her deeper into madness.”
“What happened?”
“Lady Hollister told me that her daughter had died at the age of eleven. Officially it was declared an accident. The girl’s body was found at the foot of the staircase. When I was shown into the bedroom, it was clear that nothing had been changed in the room since the poor child’s death.”
“Where was the mirror?”
“On a small dressing table,” Virginia said. “It faced the bed. I knew that I did not want to look into it, but I felt I owed the truth to Lady Hollister.”
“What did you see?”
Virginia closed her eyes. “The girl was assaulted by someone she knew well. Someone who terrified her. She cried. That is probably why he strangled her. He wanted to silence her and used too much force. Afterward I suspect that he tossed her body down the stairs in an effort to feign an accident. But I know where she died.”
“In the bed.”
Virginia crushed the green velvet drapery in her tightly clenched fist. “Yes.”
“Hollister. She was raped and murdered by her own father.”
“I think so, yes.”
The familiar ice-and-fire energy of the hunt splashed through Owen’s veins. He suppressed it with an act of will. That particular monster was dead, he reminded himself. He needed to concentrate on the new prey.
“Did you tell Lady Hollister the truth?” he asked.
“I did not name Hollister as the killer. After all, I had no proof to offer. A woman in my position must be very careful with her words in a situation like that. The thing is, I do not see the afterimages of the murderers, only those of the dead. The visions tell me a great deal, but they do not provide all of the answers. It was possible that another close family member was the killer, an uncle or a grandfather, perhaps.”
“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?”
‘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 dense 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.”
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