The Dante Chamber by Matthew Pearl

Author:Matthew Pearl
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2018-05-29T00:00:00+00:00

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When the questioners exited to the grounds outside the church, Holmes asked his companions whether they noticed anything odd about the minister and his assistant.

“His hand rather lingered on the girl’s shoulder,” Tennyson replied.

“I think she had something more she wanted to tell us about Loring,” Holmes said, indignation rising. The young woman tethered to the minister had reminded him of his daughter. “I’d wager he has a hold on that girl.”

“I’m afraid I was given a similar impression when Reverend Fallow visited Saint Mary’s—the way he looked at the girls as he preached . . .” Christina was too proper to finish her observation. She merely nodded to drive home her implication.

She insisted on looking around the rest of the church to see if there was anyone else to question about Loring.

Holmes felt a chill down his spine, and found himself drawn to look at someone behind them. “Tell me, Tennyson, do you think the police could have followed us here?”

Tennyson, taken aback by the idea, traced Holmes’s gaze: on the other side of the church gates, a large stranger, with a tint of dusk in his skin, paced back and forth, his hands resting on a cord tied around a loose-fitting tunic. “I don’t believe that man works with Scotland Yard, Holmes.”

“Not likely, I suppose. But he seems rather intent on something.”

As Christina rejoined them, Sibbie exited the church and walked the grounds carrying some books to a stone outbuilding at the other side of the yard.

“I’m going to try to speak to her,” Christina said, darting off.

“I’ll go, too,” Holmes remarked, still thinking of his daughter—as though Amelia herself, now far from England, could be in danger.

Holmes suggested Tennyson stay where he was. He did not want to make her feel interrogated.

“Excuse me,” Christina said, without a reply.

“Sibbie,” Holmes called.

“Isobel,” the woman said, turning around. She had a fragile, melancholy beauty.

“My apologies. I heard Reverend Fallow call you ‘Sibbie.’ But I suppose the chaplain’s informality may prove rather uncomfortable to you.”

“What can I help you with?” Her voice was as muted as her general presence. Her skin was a kind of alabaster, which made her soft blue eyes stand out even more.

“Please, it is crucial we find out more about Reuben Loring,” Christina said, “and learn where he is. Immediately.”

Holmes noticed through the veneer of Christina’s usual politeness a hint of disdain escaped. This young woman had yielded to the whims of a dictatorial man—perhaps the greatest sin to an independent woman like Christina, far more so than falling into the habits of the girls who turned up at Saint Mary’s. But giving Sibbie an order, as she was obviously accustomed to receiving from the preacher, was not going to help. If they were going to convince her to speak, it would fall to Holmes to do it.

“We know it’s not your doing,” Holmes said. “But if you know anything more, it would be helpful.”

She gave a hurried glance around her with her sparkling eyes, then, after brushing away a dark lock of hair, offered a very slight nod.

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