Part 7 (1/2)
”I've just come from there, yes,” he replied. It wasn't quite an answer to the question she'd asked but she didn't seem to notice and appeared to be mollified by his deep, polite, and melodious voice.
”If you wish to see her, sir, I should act as chaperone,” she noted, in her frail tones.
”That will be acceptable, thank you.”
”Pray, come in out of the fog, then. You can wait in the hallway.”
Burton ran the soles of his shoes over the iron boot-sc.r.a.per on the doorstep then stepped into the dingy hall, the walls of which were crowded with framed paintings and photographs, display plates and crucifixes. The landlady closed the door behind him and took a small silver finger-bell from her sleeve. In response to its tinkling ring, a st.u.r.dy young girl hurried out from the parlour. Flour powdered her hands, forearms, and nose. She gave a clumsy curtsey.
”Mum?”
”Run up to Sister Raghavendra, Polly, and tell her she has a visitor; a Mr.-?”
”Captain Burton.” He always preferred to use his military rank; ”Sir Richard” sounded a mite pretentious.
”A Captain Burton. You may advise Sister Raghavendra that I will escort the gentleman up to her sitting room if she wishes to receive him.”
”Yes, Mum!”
The maid thumped up the stairs and out of sight.
”An ungainly girl but she serves me well. My name is Mrs. Emily Wheeltapper, Captain. My late husband was Captain Anthony Wheeltapper of the 17th Lancers. He fell at Balaclava. I have been in mourning these seven years since. He was a fine man.”
”My sympathy, ma'am.”
”Will you take a cup of tea, Captain?”
”Please don't trouble yourself. My business will be brief.”
”Is the poor girl in difficulty? She came home in tears this morning. Has something happened at the sanatorium?”
”That's what I'm here to find out, Mrs. Wheeltapper.”
Polly's heavy tread thundered down the stairs. ”She says to come on up, Mum,” she reported.
”Thank you, Polly. Now back to the kitchen with you. Those scones won't cook themselves. Follow me, please, Captain Burton.”
The old widow slowly ascended, followed patiently by her visitor.
On the third landing, they were met by Sister Raghavendra. She was, Burton guessed, in her midtwenties. She was also extremely beautiful, with dark almond-shaped eyes and dusky skin. Her nose was small and straight; her lips full and sensual, with a squarish shape more often found in South Americans; and her black hair, though pinned up, was obviously very long and l.u.s.trous.
His nostrils detected the scent of jasmine.
She reminded Burton of a Persian girl he'd once bedded, and a thrill of desire rippled through him as her eyes met his.
”You are Captain Burton?” she asked, in a soft, slightly accented voice. ”You are here about Lieutenant Speke, I suppose? Come into my sitting room, please.”
He followed her into a small and spa.r.s.ely ornamented chamber and sat in the armchair to which she gestured. She and Mrs. Wheeltapper settled onto the sofa.
He noticed a statuette of Ganesha on the mantelpiece; a nurse's headdress had been thrown carelessly onto a table; a small bottle of laudanum on a dresser.
Sister Raghavendra sat with her back held very straight and her hands folded gracefully on her lap. She was still in her work clothes: a floor-length, high-collared, and long-sleeved pale grey dress over which she wore a short white jacket.
”With Mrs. Wheeltapper's permission,” said Burton gently, ”I would like to ask you about the events of last night, when John Speke was removed from the sanatorium.”
The old widow patted her lodger's hand. ”Is that all right with you, my dear?”
”Perfectly,” answered the nurse, with a trace of imperiousness in her voice. ”I will answer any question as best I can, Captain Burton.”
”I'm happy to hear that. Perhaps you could tell me what occurred?”
”I'll tell you as much as I know. I came on duty at midnight. My s.h.i.+ft is from twelve until six. I was a.s.signed to Lieutenant Speke, my duty being simply to sit with him and monitor his condition. Forgive me for being blunt, Captain, but he wasn't expected to live for long; the left side of his face and head were extremely badly damaged. The presence of a nurse was not entirely necessary in a medical sense, for there was nothing that could be done to save him, but it is our practice never to leave a dying man alone in case he recovers himself in his final moments to make a statement or request or confession.”
”I understand.”
”I pa.s.sed four hours reading to him and was then interrupted by a man who entered the room.”
She paused and put a hand up to her throat, took a breath, and continued, ”I cannot describe him. I cannot see him in my mind's eye. I remember-I remember only his soft tread as he came in, then-I-I-”
Droplets of sweat appeared on Sister Raghavendra's forehead. She bit her lip and pulled at her collar.
”Did I faint?” she asked. ”But why should I have done so?”
”What is your next clear memory?” asked Burton.
”I was-was, um-I was inside the entrance by the reception desk, wheeling a trolley past it, and, somehow, I felt satisfied that Lieutenant Speke was in good hands.”
”Whose?”
”Well, I thought his family's but-I-I don't know!” She lowered her face into her hands.
Mrs. Wheeltapper stroked her tenant's arm and crooned wordlessly.
Sir Richard Francis Burton had not only listened to the girl's words; he'd also been absorbing her accent, and with the phenomenal skill that was his, had identified her-or at least her family-as native to the Mysore region of Southern India; specifically, to the Bangalore district.
He now spoke to her in her own dialect: ”You have fallen under a spell, young lady. I recognise the signs, as you, a nurse, would recognise the symptoms of an illness. The presence of a newly opened bottle of laudanum on your dresser suggests to me that you are suffering from a headache. This further leads me to believe that you've experienced a traumatic shock and the memory of it has been sealed within the depths of your mind. Believe me when I say that it will do you no good if it remains there, hidden away like a festering cancer. It must be sought out, exposed, and acknowledged; confronted, subdued, and defeated. Sister Raghavendra, I possess the power of magnetic influence. If you permit it-if you place yourself under my protection and send this worthy old woman away-I may be able to break through the spell to discover that which is concealed. My intentions concern only your well-being; you should fear neither me nor my skill as a mesmerist.”
The nurse looked up and her exquisite eyes were wide with wonder and delight.
”You speak my tongue!” she exclaimed, in her own language.
”Yes, and I know Bangalore. Will you trust me, Sister?”
She reached out her hands to him; he leaned forward and took them.
”My name is Sadhvi,” she breathed. ”Please help me to remember. I don't want to lose my job without even knowing the reason why.”
”Here,” interrupted Mrs. Wheeltapper, wheezily. ”What's all this? I'll brook no hanky-panky in my premises! And what was all that gobbledygook? Not sweet nothings, I hope; not bold as bra.s.s in front of a poor old widow woman!”
Burton smiled at her and released the nurse's hands.