To Say Nothing of the Dog (45 page)

We went into dinner, which consisted of grilled sole, roast rack of lamb, and second-guessing Napoleon.

“Should never have stayed the night at Fleurus,” Colonel Mering said. “If he had gone on to Quatre Bras, the battle would have taken place twenty-four hours earlier, and Wellington and Blücher would never have joined forces.”

“Balderdash!” Professor Peddick said. “He should have waited for the ground to dry after the rainstorm. He should never have pressed forward in the mud.”

It seemed grossly unfair. They had, after all, the advantage of knowing how things had turned out, while all Napoleon and Verity and I had to go on were a handful of battlefield communiqués and a date in a waterlogged diary.

“Rubbish!” Colonel Mering said. “Should have attacked earlier in the day and taken Ligny. Never would have been a battle of Waterloo if he’d done that.”

“You must have seen a great many battles while you were out in India, Colonel,” Madame Iritosky said. “And any number of fabulous treasures. Did you bring any of them home? A Rajah’s emeralds, perhaps? Or a forbidden moonstone from the eye of an idol?”

“What?” Colonel Mering sputtered through his mustache. “Moonstone? Idol?”

“Yes, you know, Papa,” Tossie said.
“The Moonstone.
It’s a novel.”

“Pah! Never heard of it,” he muttered.

“By Wilkie Collins,” Tossie persisted. “The moonstone was stolen, and there’s a detective and quicksand and the hero did it, only he’d taken it without knowing it. You must read it.”

“No point in it now that you’ve told me the ending,” Colonel Mering said. “And no such thing as jeweled idols.”

“But Mesiel brought me a lovely necklace of rubies,” Mrs. Mering said, “from Benares.”

“Rubies!” Madame Iritosky said, shooting a glance at Count de Vecchio. “Really!”

“What use can the
signora
have for rubies,” Count de Vecchio said, “when she has such a jewel as her daughter? She ees like a diamond. No, like a
zaffiro perfetto,
how do you say, a flawless sapphire.”

I looked at Baine, who was serving soup grimly.

“Madame Iritosky once contacted the spirit of a Rajah,” Mrs. Mering said. “Do you think there will be manifestations at our séance tonight, Madame Iritosky?”

“Tonight?” Madame Iritosky said, alarmed. “No, no, there can be no séance tonight. Or tomorrow. These things must not be done in haste. I must have time to prepare myself spiritually.”

And unpack your trumpets, I thought. I looked over at Verity, expecting an expression as grim as Baine’s, but she was calmly eating her soup.

“And manifestations may not be possible here,” Madame Iritosky went on. “Visible phenomena only occur near what we call portals, links between our world and the world beyond—”

“But there
is
a portal here,” Mrs. Mering cut in. “I’m sure of it. I have seen spirits in the house and on the grounds. I’m
certain
if you will grant us a séance tonight, we shall have a manifestation.”

“We mustn’t overtire Madame Iritosky,” Verity said. “She is quite right. Railway journeys
are
fatiguing, and we must not ask her to tax her wonderful psychic powers too far. We shall have to have tonight’s séance without her.”

“With
out
me?” Madame Iritosky said icily.

“We would not dream of taxing your spiritual powers for a poor, homely affair like ours. When you have recovered your strength, we will have a
true
séance.”

Madame Iritosky opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, looking exactly like Colonel Mering’s globe-eyed ryunkin.

“Fish?” Baine said, bending over her with the platter of sole.

Round One to our side. Now, if only the séance would go as well.

The Reverend Mr. Arbitage arrived at nine, I took the opportunity of the subsequent introductions to put the wires up my sleeves, and we all (except for Madame Iritosky, who had excused herself rather huffily and gone upstairs, and Colonel Mering, who had muttered, “Twaddle!” and gone off to the library to read his paper) trooped into the parlor and sat down around the rosewood table which there was no way on earth I was going to be able to lift, leverage or no leverage.

Verity motioned me to sit down next to her. I did and immediately felt a weight on my lap.

“What’s that?” I whispered under cover of Terence, the Count, and the Reverend Mr. Arbitage all jockeying for position next to Tossie.

“Princess Arjumand’s basket,” Verity whispered back. “Open it when I give you the signal.”

“What signal?” I said, and felt a sharp kick on my shin.

The Count and the Reverend Mr. Arbitage won the battle, and Terence was left with Mr. Arbitage and Mrs. Mering. Professor Peddick sat down next to me. Napoleon was interested in spiritism,” he said. “He held a séance in the Great Pyramid of Giza.”

“We must join hands,” the Count said to Tossie, taking her hand in his. “Like this. . . .”

“Yes, yes, we must all join hands,” Mrs. Mering said. “Why, Madame Iritosky!”

Madame Iritosky was standing in the doorway, draped in a flowing purple robe with wide sleeves. “I have been summoned by the spirits to serve as your guide this evening in the parting of the veil.” She touched the back of her hand to her forehead. “It is my duty, no matter what the cost to me.”

“How wonderful!” Mrs. Mering said. “Do come sit down. Baine, pull up a chair for Madame Iritosky.”

“No, no,” Madame Iritosky said, indicating Professor Peddick’s chair. “It is here that the teleplasmic vibrations converge.” Professor Peddick obligingly changed chairs.

At least she hadn’t sat down next to Verity, but she was next to Count de Vecchio, which meant she’d have one hand free. And next to me, which meant I was going to have an even harder time lifting tables.

“There is too much light,” she said. “There must be dark—” She looked round the parlor. “Where is my cabinet?”

“Yes, Baine,” Mrs. Mering said. “I told you to put it in here.”

“Yes, madam,” he said, bowing. “One of the doors was broken, so that it would not lock properly, and I removed it to the kitchen for repairs. I have repaired it. Would you like me to bring it in now?”

“No!” Madame Iritosky said. “That will not be necessary.”

“As you wish,” Baine said.

“I feel that there will not be manifestations tonight,” she said. “The spirits wish to speak to us only. Join hands,” she ordered, draping her voluminous purple sleeves over the table.

I grabbed her right hand and grasped it firmly.

“No!” she said, wrenching it away. “Lightly.”

“So sorry,” I said. “I’m new at this sort of thing.”

She laid her hand back in mine. “Baine, turn down the lights,” she said. “The spirits can only come to us in candlelight. Bring a candle. Here.” She indicated a flower-stand near her elbow.

Baine lit the candle and turned the lights down.

“Do not turn the lights up on any account,” she ordered. “Or attempt to touch the spirits or the medium. It could be dangerous.”

Tossie giggled, and Madame Iritosky began to cough. Her hand let go of mine. I took the opportunity to extend the wires from my wrists and hook them under the table.

“I beg your pardon. My throat,” Madame Iritosky said, and slipped her hand in mine again. And if Baine had turned up the lights, it would have been dangerous, all right. I would have bet anything it would have revealed Count de Vecchio’s hand in mine. Not to mention my own hanky-panky.

There was a faint rustling on my right. Verity, moving her garter into position.

“I’ve never been at a séance before,” I said loudly to cover it. “We shan’t hear bad news, shall we?”

“The spirits speak as they will,” Madame Iritosky said.

“Isn’t this exciting?” Mrs. Mering said.

“Silence,” Madame Iritosky said in a sepulchral tone. “Spirits, we call you from the Other Side. Come to us and tell us of our fate.”

The candle blew out.

Mrs. Mering screamed.

“Silence,” Madame Iritosky said. “They are coming.”

There was a long pause during which several people coughed, and then Verity kicked me on the shin. I let go of her hand and reached onto my lap, and lifted the lid off the basket.

“I felt something,” Verity said, which wasn’t true, because Princess Arjumand was brushing against
my
legs.

“I felt it, too,” the Reverend Mr. Arbitage said after a moment. “It was like a cold wind.”

“Oh!” Tossie said. “I felt it just now.”

“Is there a spirit there?” Madame Iritosky said, and I leaned forward and lifted up with my wrists.

Amazingly, the table actually moved. Only a little, but enough to make Tossie and Mrs. Mering both give their little screamlets and Terence to exclaim, “I say!”

“If you are there, spirit,” Madame Iritosky said, sounding irritated, “speak to us. Rap once for yes, twice for no. Are you a friendly spirit?”

I held my breath.

Clack
went the sugared-violets box, and restored my faith in mystery novels.

“Are you Gitcheewatha?” Madame Iritosky asked.

“That’s her spirit control,” Mrs. Mering explained. “He’s a Red Indian chief.”

Clack, clack.

“Are you the spirit that I saw the other night?” Mrs. Mering said.

Clack.

“I
knew
it,” Mrs. Mering said.

“Who are you?” Madame Iritosky said coldly.

There was a silence. “She wants us to use the alphabet,” Verity said, and even in the dark I could sense Madame Iritosky glaring at her.

“Do you wish to communicate by means of the alphabet?” Mrs. Mering said excitedly.

Clack.
And then a second clack, a different sound, like someone cracking a knuckle.

“You don’t wish to communicate by alphabet?” Mrs. Mering said, confusedly.

Clack,
and a sharp kick on the shins.

“She does,” I said hastily. “A B C—”

Clack.

“C,” Tossie said. “O, Madame Iritosky, you told me to beware of the sea.”

“What else?” Mrs. Mering said. “Do go on, Mr. Henry.”

Not while there was a foot loose in here. I slid forward in my chair, stretching my left leg till it touched Madame Iritosky’s skirt, and pressed my foot hard against hers. “ABCDEFGHIJK,” I said rapidly, my foot held tight against hers, “LMNO—”

Clack.

She pulled her leg back, and I wondered what would happen if I clamped my hand down hard on her knee.

It was too late. “ABCD—” Mrs. Mering said, and the rapping sounded again.

“C-O-D?” Mrs. Mering said.

“Cod,” Professor Peddick said.
“Gadus callerias,
of which the most interesting variety is the Welsh whiting.”

“ ‘Will you walk a little faster,’ ” Terence quoted, “ ‘said a whiting to a—’ ”

“Cod, coddle, cody,” the Reverend Mr. Arbitage said. “Are you the ghost of Buffalo Bill Cody?”

“No!” I shouted before anyone could rap an answer. “I know what it is. It’s not a C, it’s a G. C and G look nearly alike,” I said, hoping no one would notice the letters had been spoken, not written, and that they were nowhere near each other in the called-out alphabet. “G-O-D. She’s trying to spell ‘Godiva.’ Are you the spirit of Lady Godiva?”

A very decisive
clack
and we were, thankfully, back on track.

“Lady Go
di
va?”Mrs. Mering said uncertainly.

Tossie said, “Is she the one who rode a horse without any—?”

“Tocelyn!” Mrs. Mering said.

“Lady Godiva was a very holy woman,” Verity said. “She had only her people’s best interests at heart. Her message must be very urgent.”

“Yes,” I said, pressing hard against Madame Iritosky’s leg. “What are you trying to tell us, Lady Godiva? ABC—”

Clack.

I rattled through the alphabet again, determined not to leave any spaces this time for Madame Iritosky to insert a rap. “ABCDEFGHIJK—”

I made it as far as M. There was a sharp rap, like a very annoyed toe being cracked. I ignored it and pressed on to O, but to no avail.

“M,” Mrs. Mering said. “CM.”

“What sort of word begins with CM?” Terence said.

“Could she be saying ‘come’?” Tossie said.

“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Mering said. “But where does she wish us to come? ABC—” and Verity clacked on cue, but I didn’t see what good it was going to do us. We’d never make it to “O,” let alone “V.”

“A—” Mrs. Mering said.

I stamped down hard on Madame Iritosky’s foot, but it was too late.
Rap.
There was no mistaking the fury behind the rap this time. It sounded like she’d broken a toe.

“C-A—” Mrs. Mering said.

“Cat,” Madame Iritosky pronounced. “The spirit is trying to communicate news of Miss Mering’s cat.” Her voice abruptly changed. “I bring you word of Princess Arjumand,” she said in a low husky growl. “She is here with us on the Other Side—”

“Princess Arjumand? On the Other Side?” Tossie said. “But she can’t be! She—”

“Do not grieve that she has passed over. She is happy here.”

Princess Arjumand chose this moment to jump onto the table, scaring everyone and startling Tossie into a screamlet.

“O, Princess Arjumand!” Tossie said happily. “I knew you hadn’t passed over. Why did the spirit say she had, Madame Iritosky?”

I didn’t wait for her to come up with an answer. “The message was not ‘cat.’ C-A—What are you trying to say to us, spirit?” and rattled off the alphabet as fast as I could. “ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUV—”

Verity clacked, and Tossie said, “C-A-V? What does that spell? ‘Cave’? She wishes us to come to a cave?”

“Cahv?” I said helpfully. “Cuhv?”

“Coventry,” Mrs. Mering said, and I could have kissed her. “Spirit, do you wish us to come to Coventry?”

A fervent
clack.

“Where in Coventry?” I said, put my full weight on Madame Iritosky’s shoe, and started through the alphabet at a gallop.

Verity wisely decided not to try for “Saint.” She clacked on M, I, and C, and, not sure how long I was going to be able to hold Madame Iritosky down, I said, “St. Michael’s,” got a
clack
of confirmation, asked, “Do you wish us to come to St. Michael’s Church?” Another
clack,
and I withdrew my feet.