Oracles of Delphi Keep (33 page)

Ian felt a cold sweat break out along his brow and Carl began choking on his tart, coughing and sputtering crumbs all about the table. Madam Dimbleby had to reach over and urgently pat his back while he attempted to recover himself.

Lady Arbuthnot looked pointedly at Ian, who dropped his eyes to the table and feigned a sudden interest in the pattern of the tablecloth. “That
is
an odd vision, Theo,” said the lady with a slight chuckle. “And I suspect that someday soon it will make sense. In the meantime, may I ask if you’ve had any others?”

Theo hesitated before speaking, so Ian lifted his eyes off the table and noticed with alarm that she’d gone a bit pale
again. “Just one,” she said softly, “but it was too awful to describe.”

Lady Arbuthnot looked thoughtfully at Theo. “You’re probably wondering why most of your visions are so frightening,” she said to her. When Theo nodded, Lady Arbuthnot picked up a tart, took a small bite, and chewed the treat before answering. “It’s simple, really,” she said. “Events that involve great sorrow or pain or shock or fear are much louder than most of the common occurrences of every day.”

“My lady?” Theo asked, seeming not quite to understand.

“Think of it like this, dear,” replied Lady Arbuthnot. “Let’s pretend that one day I invited you over and while I was here in the parlor, you were in my library, looking at my collection of books. Now, say that you spot your favorite book way up on the top shelf. So, being a courageous lass, you get the ladder and set it against the shelf, climbing up to fetch the book, but what you don’t realize is that my ladder has a weak spot, and that when you step on the sixth rung, it gives out and you tumble to the ground, where you let go a great howl of pain as you break your leg!”

Ian’s eyes were large as he listened to the lady and wondered what this had to do with her point. “Now then,” Lady Arbuthnot continued. “Let’s imagine another scenario where you find the book you want on the bottom shelf and when you extract it from the bookshelf, you get a paper cut and let out a small hiss. Which of these two events am I likely to overhear, sitting here in the parlor?”

“The first one?” answered Theo, her brows knit in confusion.

“Yes!” said the lady proudly. “I’m far more likely to hear
the commotion of you falling off the ladder and breaking your leg than if you merely cut yourself on a bit of paper. The first event is louder, bolder, and holds much more pain. The second is soft, barely a whisper with only a bit of discomfort.”

Theo’s features lit up with sudden comprehension. “Oh!” she said. “I understand! The more frightful the event, the more likely I am to perceive it!”

“Exactly!” said Lady Arbuthnot with a smile. “It’s not that you’ll always see events that are frightening, just that right now, they are the
loudest
to your untrained senses and are overwhelming you. I expect that your awakening to such things has been causing you a bit of distress, likely making you believe that you’re going a bit mad, and others, I should think, fear that too?” she added, looking expectantly at Madam Dimbleby, whose expression confirmed the truth.

Ian felt a powerful admiration for the earl’s aunt and he realized suddenly that he was quite grateful that Madam Dimbleby had come along to witness this lesson, because she could see that the lady was someone who understood and could make sense of Theo’s odd behavior. Clearly, Lady Arbuthnot didn’t believe that Theo’s rantings were a reason to send her off to a sanitarium.

Theo spoke next and her voice was haunted. “But how do I make them stop?”

Lady Arbuthnot frowned. “You don’t, I’m afraid,” she said. “From what I’ve seen of your abilities thus far, Theo, you’re extremely gifted. Your sense is perhaps the greatest I’ve ever encountered and your natural abilities surpass even my own talents. That means, my dear, that you shall have to
use temperance and caution around all of the visions that you receive. You must develop the ability to step back from the most frightening elements—those parts that are truly alarming—to gain perspective of the overall message of the vision. For, as you will discover, all visions are a mixed blessing of insight and caution.”

“What kind of caution?” asked Madam Dimbleby.

Lady Arbuthnot turned her gaze back to the head-mistress. “Oh, that is for Theo to divine,” she said. “I’m afraid only the seer can unlock the secrets to their own intuition.”

Ian rubbed his forehead. All of this doubletalk was making his head hurt. He glanced at Carl, who was looking just as confused. “If I can’t stop the visions,” said Theo, “can I at least control them?”

“Not only will you be able to exert some control, my dear girl, but you’ll soon learn how to master your gifts and help people with what you see. You are destined for greatness, Theo. Of that,
I
am certain.”

Theo looked at Lady Arbuthnot in wonder and Ian’s heart filled with pride. He’d always known that Theo was special, and now here was the earl’s aunt confirming it. But his happy moment was cut short when the lady’s attention turned abruptly to the doorway of the parlor, as if she’d heard something that alarmed her out in the hallway.

Theo too looked upset and she rubbed her shoulders as if she were cold, but Ian noticed that the small fire in the fire-place seemed to be filling the room with an unreasonable amount of heat. Lady Arbuthnot got up quickly from the table and hurried to the fireplace.

Ian watched in confusion as she took a large vase of fresh flowers off the mantel, and after pulling the blooms out, she doused the hearth with the water, extinguishing the flames. Smoke smoldered acridly about the room, and Lady Arbuthnot called out, “Bessie! Come here please …
quickly!”
With her elbow, she flipped off the light switch, throwing the room into a dim gloom.

A moment later Bessie appeared in the doorway. “Yes, me lady?” she asked, looking quizzically at the empty vase in Lady Arbuthnot’s hand.

“The knocker is about to sound. You are not to answer the door under any condition.”

Just then the front knocker clacked twice, causing everyone but Lady Arbuthnot to jump. “Shhh,” she said quietly as she held a finger to her lips. There was a long pause; then two clacks sounded into the parlor again, this time more insistently, and they all held their breath and waited.

From his chair Ian had a glimpse through the sheer curtains and he could clearly see the form of a woman standing on the top step, looking expectantly at the door. He thought he recognized the woman, but couldn’t quite place her until the stranger turned slightly and Ian had a good view of her face.

He gasped when he realized that it was Frau Van Schuft, the woman who had adopted Searle and Isabella. “I know her,” whispered Madam Dimbleby, and Ian saw that she too was looking intently out the window. “She and her husband are from Austria. They came to adopt two children a fortnight ago.”

Out the corner of his eye, Ian saw Lady Arbuthnot nod, but she held her finger to her lips again with a soft “Shhh.” Ian looked back to the window and watched as Frau Van Schuft gave the brass knocker two more clacks, waited a few tense heartbeats, then walked down the steps and away from the flat.

Without looking, Lady Arbuthnot seemed to relax and flipped the light switch back on. “Bessie,” she said calmly, handing over the flowers and the vase, “would you please refill this and get the fire started again for us?”

“Yes, me lady,” said the maid as she turned to go.

“Oh, and Bessie,” Lady Arbuthnot added, “from now on I shall want a pail of water by every fireplace with enough water to douse the flames.”

“As you wish, me lady,” said Bessie with a curtsy and a quizzical look before she hurried off.

Lady Arbuthnot went back to her guests at the table. “Shall we continue with our lesson, then?”

“She came to the keep, looking for me, you know,” Theo murmured.

“Who?” asked Lady Arbuthnot as she took her seat and lifted the teapot to pour them all a little more tea, as if nothing odd had just happened.

“That woman at your door. She’s been trying to find me,” Theo said softly. “But she guessed wrong and took Isabella instead … and now Isabella is dead.”

Another collective gasp circled the table. “What?” breathed Madam Dimbleby in surprise. “Theo, why would you
say
such a thing?” But before Theo could answer, Ian
remembered the newspaper article about the urchin girl found frozen in the London alleyway, and knew, without knowing how, that it was about Isabella.

Across the table Theo looked into her teacup, her face very sad, and Carl tried to comfort her. Lifting the nearly empty plate of treats, he said, “There, there, Theo. Have another tart and you’ll feel better.”

But Theo wasn’t so easily consoled. With eyes still downcast she shook her head and said, “Isabella’s ghost came to me in a dream last night. That was the vision I was afraid to talk about earlier. She was blue with cold and shivering but she managed to tell me that she’d been killed by an evil woman with frightening eyes. She also said I was in terrible danger and that I needed to be very careful or I could end up frozen, just like her.”

Madam Dimbleby’s eyes were wide with horror and shock, and she opened her mouth to say something, but Lady Arbuthnot gave her a sharp look of caution and said, “I’m so sorry about your friend, Theo.”

Theo gave a small shrug. “I didn’t know her very well. I just knew that I couldn’t go with that wretched couple. There was something about them that smelled of evil.” Theo shuddered. “Do you think it’s my fault Isabella is dead, my lady?” she asked, her voice laden with guilt.

The earl’s aunt gave her hand a gentle pat. “No, my dear. I think blame lies solely with the woman who was just at my door. You should not worry, however. We shall keep those nasty people far away from you.” Then, turning to the still rather shocked Madam Dimbleby, she said, “The couple that adopted Isabella, they shall return to your orphanage and tell
you a lie about Isabella being lonely for a sister. You are to be polite, but tell them that you can’t possibly give up another child to their care, as British law prohibits the adoption of any more than two children at a time to foreign nationals. You are not to let on that you know about Isabella, because to do so would put you all in grave danger. And if you’re worried about the boy, don’t be. We all make our choices in life, Madam Dimbleby. And we must all deal with the consequences.”

“But … but …,” Madam Dimbleby stammered, appearing truly unnerved.

“No buts, Madam,” said Lady Arbuthnot sternly. “You shall know the truth of what Theo has said soon enough and justice shall be served to those vile people. For now you must trust the advice I have given you. Do you understand?”

Slowly, Madam Dimbleby nodded. “Yes, my lady,” she said.

“Very well,” said Lady Arbuthnot with a friendly smile; then she turned to Ian and Carl. “Boys, it was a pleasure having you join us for tea today, but I’m afraid the other two in your party have returned to retrieve you.” And as she finished speaking, there came another clack at the door, causing everyone but the lady to jump.

A moment later they heard Bessie’s loud voice out in the hallway announce, “Hello again, Master Goodwyn! And you must be the professor. It’s lovely to meet you, sir. If you’d like to wait here, I’ll fetch the boys for you.”

I
an and Carl gave their goodbyes and hurried to the entryway. They met Thatcher and the grumpy Professor Nutley—who seemed very impatient to be off again—and gave their farewells to Bessie, who kindly handed them each a few tarts wrapped in a bit of wax paper. “For the road,” she said with a wink at the boys.

The foursome arrived just a quarter of an hour later at the professor’s cluttered and decaying doorstep and the old man waddled up the stone steps stiffly. He handed Thatcher his bundle of papers and folders while he fussed with his house keys, then opened the door and went right in. Thatcher glanced back at Ian and Carl, who were waiting at the bottom of the steps to be invited inside. “Come along, boys,” he directed. “The morning is quickly slipping by.”

The boys polished off the last of their tarts and trotted up the steps and into the flat. Ian was rather surprised that the mess from their last visit seemed even bigger and more disorderly this week.

“Blimey!” exclaimed Carl, reflecting Ian’s thoughts exactly. “I didn’t think it was possible for it to get worse.”

“Shhh,” cautioned Ian while he stifled a smile. “The professor might hear you.”

Thatcher took off his coat and hat and hung them on the coat hook, then motioned for the boys to do the same.

Ian and Carl wiggled out of their coats, then followed Thatcher through the maze of clutter, on the lookout for the professor, who had disappeared. Their schoolmaster seemed to know he’d be in his library, and sure enough, as they entered that room, they found him squished behind his desk, sorting through his stack of papers and files from Blythe House.

Thatcher stepped into the room and waited for the professor to notice him, but after several long moments Ian finally cleared his throat and asked, “Excuse me, Professor, but would you like Carl and me to start tidying up for you?”

The professor’s head snapped up and he blinked once or twice before saying, “No, my young man. I would like for you to take a seat and give me a moment to finish looking through this. Then you and I will have a discussion.”

Ian couldn’t imagine what the professor wanted to discuss, and his mind raced with possibilities. Perhaps he knew about the skeleton in the tunnel. Perhaps he suspected even more that Ian was part of a hoax that involved a duplicate map and the silver box. Perhaps there was some other awful thing Ian knew nothing about that he would be accused of being involved in.

The sound of a clock ticking faintly from beneath a pile
of clutter made Ian even more anxious and he began to sweat and fidget nervously. The professor looked back and forth between a very old piece of parchment nestled in one of the folders he’d brought back with him and something hidden behind a stack of papers. At one point he rooted around in his drawer again for his trusty magnifying glass, which he lowered to the parchment, then over to the item Ian couldn’t see.