Chapter 7:

The Tea-Party Death

It was scarcely a week later that London was set to talking once more by an incident so very peculiar that no one could even countenance an explanation other than foul play. That there had been no less than four witnesses only strengthened the idea that something peculiar was afoot. What details there were had been quickly obscured by that great confounder of truth: rumor. Amid the panic and general frenzy, it was firmly set into the memory of all that Count Iudas Polidori had made a thoroughly memorable entrance into London society - though for quite the wrong reason.

It began quite simply, as many disasters must. There was to be a high tea given at the home of Professor Hiram Thaddeus and his wife Theodosia, in honor of their house-guest. It had long been rumored that a mysterious young man had been seen on the premises, but those possessed of a more practical mind had concluded that he was no more than a tutor for Professor Thaddeus's son Harland, or daughter Philippa. It was an astonishment to the surrounding houses, as a result, when a party was announced for a visiting count from an obscure island in the Black Sea with a name no one even bothered to pronounce.

There was much talk of the magnificence of the party, which was thought to be perfectly reasonable, as the foreign gentleman must have had little experience with the offerings of London society, and anyone who came by an invitation to the event was thought very fortunate. Indeed, Professor Thaddeus was terribly selective in his choice of guests - which added no little amount to the rumors and whisperings the party generated - and as the majority of the invitations went to families with daughters who had just made their debut into society, it was assumed that Count Polidori was seeking a wife.

Not every family that received the invitation felt as honored as the rumor-spreading majority. One had arrived at the Foiche household, requesting the presence of Sean and Abigail with their elder three children. Brendan contrived an excuse to avoid the occasion with the assistance of the ever-sympathetic Lord Prime. As the young man stepped into the coach with the explanation that his presence at the manor was urgently required, the second eldest Foiche children, twins Alice and Peter, were not delighted.

Peter thought it was monstrously unfair that he had to attend society functions and study continuously while his eldest and youngest brothers were allowed to slip away and spend time with their godfather. Alice thought it was a terrible shame that Brendan might miss an opportunity to meet a foreign noble - or, more importantly to her young mind, find a bride.

A similar invitation had arrived at Prime manor, addressed to the ward of the current Lord Prime. Upon taking the handwritten notice from the messenger, Optimus swiftly read it and frowned. Mo Li did not care for grand events and formal parties. She had scarcely made it through the small gathering in which he had introduced her as his ward, and there had only been six guests! There had, of course, been a few invitations scattered here and there, for the ward of a man as powerful as he was a welcome addition to any garden party. Miss d'Iacon did not let her attend many for fear that unwise guests might make unkind remarks about the girl's past. Arcee did not fear for Mo Li's feelings, but rather for the safety of any person careless enough to anger her.

Lord Prime entered his vast library and found that Miss d'Iacon was hard at work organizing the hundreds of books. Mo Li sat upon a blue settee with Brigid Foiche and young Hagen on either side of her as they looked through a book of poems and short stories by Edgar Allan Poe. So engrossed was the young trio that they started like guilty things when Lord Prime cleared his throat in a polite cough.

"My dear," said he to his ward, "You've a letter." As he handed her the delicate envelope, he assured her that he was quite aware of her feelings on the subject of large parties, and that she needn't go if she did not want to. "All the same, my mind misgives me about this Count. I cannot say why, but I fear some machination of the House of Kaon may be at work somewhere below the surface."

"Why sir! For a High Tea?" Brigid blinked up at her godfather over a rather owlish set of spectacles that were a trifle too large for her. "Why should they care about a visiting noble?"

Hagen said he thought that perhaps Kaon intended to recruit the man, or assassinate him, and that perhaps the Count was in danger.

"Or perhaps he is looking for a wife," Mo Li answered in the driest tones imaginable. "And I am hardly the sort of lady he might seek, I am sure."

Lord Prime took her hands in his own and looked upon her with a kindly eye. "While I would not go so far as to agree with the latter part of your statement, I do wonder at the demographics of the invited guests. I wonder if you might be so kind as to spy for me, my child? As I have said before, there is something here that troubles me greatly." Upon seeing that the young woman was not entirely convinced, Optimus allowed that she should take some small means of defense with her and whoever she chose to accompany her as chaperone, with the stipulation that it not be poison.

"As you seem most thoroughly determined to curtail all my more creative means of defense," said she with a hint of devilish mischief in her dark eyes, "I shall in all my best comply - but only if Miss d'Iacon must suffer the indignities of the tea party as well!"

And this was how Arcee found herself trapped in meaningless conversation with a banker's wife, all the while keeping careful watch for any sign of Kaon agents or any other untoward behaviors. A glance down the long table revealed that, in direct opposition to her apprehension, Lord Prime's young ward appeared to be enjoying herself. She perched on the edge of the elegant dining-room chair and nibbled delicately at a lavender biscuit, listening politely to some whispered confiding of the hostess's daughter.

Philippa Thaddeus was a thin waif possessed of an angelic countenance, yet with some inescapable aura about her of ill health, as though she were ever haunted by the spirit of some misfortune. Most thought the girl really had no business being present at the party at all, for she looked truly unwell. Her cheeks were sunken and her hair hung lusterless on her shoulders. Of the seven other young women invited, only Alice Foiche and Mo Li seemed interested in engaging her in conversation.

"Tell me, is it terribly difficult living in England?" asked Philippa in a whispery rasp of a voice, "I imagine it's a far cry from China."

"Indeed," answered Mo Li, who was beginning to really dislike having to answer the same question at every party, "I might even go so far as to say that they are such different experiences that one can hardly think of comparing the two. At least, not in such short time as we have."

She was aware that most - indeed, if not all - of the young ladies and gentlemen present had some romantic notions of her past. Some were so enchanted by the thought of her dressed in silks, and listening to what they fondly imagined was Chinese music, that Mo Li despaired of ever managing to disabuse them of their erroneous notions about her childhood.

Further down the table, the guest of honor leapt up from his seat at every opportunity and walked about. Miss Adelaide had not tried the sorbet? Why, he must fetch her some immediately! Had Mrs. Foiche been served tea yet? No? Who better than he to do so? As he leapt to and fro in a manner most unbecoming of an honored visitor, his strange eyes glowed the golden-green of a cat. And all the while as he moved he spoke, weaving fantastical tales of boyhood adventures. Arcee found herself wishing for a pen and paper with which to copy down the stories - some seeming more derived from antiquity than the generation Count Polidori occupied - before the spell of his voice wore off.

It did not occur to her at first that something was terribly out of place. As the guest of honor, Iudas Polidori ought not to have been serving anything at all. That was the duty of the hostess, and yet she sat beside her husband with the same stultified beam upon her countenance that he wore, as though she hadn't the slightest idea that she was being remiss in her responsibilities. Upon further examination, not one guest, man woman or child, seemed to notice the breach in protocol. Across the length of the table, they smiled and murmured approvingly, heads bobbing to the soporific effect of the nobleman's voice.

The count swept by behind Miss d'Iacon's seat, still weaving words, but the once-melodious voice seemed to have changed into the sharp rasp of a crow as it fell upon her ear, and she felt suddenly stifled, as though a great black cloak had been thrown over her. Something evil was afoot, of that she was quite certain, yet with nothing more than a general feeling of some malicious presence, she could hardly have said what it was.

Mo Li cast a glance at Alice Foiche, who was seated very near to her, and was thoroughly engaged in listening to the unbelievable exploits of Polidori - something to do with a stolen horse, an angry Turkish soldier, and an old peddler woman. It appeared that she would be no help in extricating Mo Li from Miss Thaddeus's company, for the girl spoke on with a determination that belied her frail nature. Nevermind that the guest of honor was speaking - and at some considerable length, no less - Miss Thaddeus was quite set on speaking to Mo Li about something she could not yet decipher.

"Pray, do not think me odd or hysterical for asking this, it is but a matter of my own curiosity. Do you believe that nightmares can harm someone in waking life?" Philippa whispered to Mo Li. The younger girl had been on the verge of pointing out the poor etiquette of the hostess's daughter interrupting the speaker so blatantly, but there was some urgency to her gaze that caught her attention. Well, she answered, without knowing any details, it would have been hard to say, but if the nightmare were the sort that ended in sleepwalking, harm was certainly possible. "Very logical, Miss Liú!" she answered. "I confess, these past two weeks I have dreamed of a wolf in the garden or in the house itself - absurd, I know, unless he escaped the zoo - and I did walk in my sleep once. They say I went outside and fell in the garden, injuring myself. I have not slept well since." Then, seeming to forget her train of thought, her eyes lost a bit of their shine.

"Then perhaps you had better have your doors and windows locked at night, so that you cannot escape or otherwise fall and hurt yourself, Miss Thaddeus," Mo Li answered. Now this, she thought to herself, was eminently more interesting than a high tea. "I hope you do not think me uncouth, but would you tell me more? I have, you might say, some small experience with unusual happenings, and I may be able to offer some assistance."

The light came back into Philippa's grey eyes once more as she answered that she found this suggestion to be quite agreeable. "Uncouth? Oh, never, Miss Liú! Rather, I am relieved, for you may well be the first person, aside from my mother and the Count, who has been willing to hear about it!" She described a series of dreams, each more vivid than the last, of seeing a great black wolf in the garden, or upon the stairs, or standing in her dressing room. After each dream, she felt weak and had difficulty catching her breath. "Papa says that they are only dreams, and that I must have read too many books before sleeping. The Count thinks it is because I am too often indoors, but I wonder if I was dreaming at all."

"That is a curious thing to say," Mo Li set her teacup down and took Philippa's cold hand in her own. "Don't you think you were dreaming?"

"Perhaps I was, but perhaps I was not. None of the servants walk the halls at night anymore, and my maid refuses to speak to me about any sort of nightmare at all. It seems very odd to me." Her tone lowered to something almost below a whisper as the count passed by them on his way back to his seat. "Whatever else has or has not occurred, I find myself regarding every night with terror: I do not want to sleep again!"

Whatever wild yarn Count Polidori had been telling wound down to its end and the man sat once more amid a smattering of applause, though not before insisting upon refilling the tea cup of every guest at the table. Soon after, Professor Thaddeus announced that if the guests would all be so kind as to follow his wife, there would be dancing in the adjoining room. All stood and moved in an unhurried manner, cheerfully conversing amongst themselves, but Philippa remained in her seat.

"Are you not going to dance, Miss Thaddeus?" Peter Foiche asked with some little concern.

"Oh, you must excuse me," answered the young woman, "I am not strong enough to dance at present, but I shall come and watch by and by."

Mo Li did not care to dance with the present company in any case, and so she resolved to stay with the host's daughter. Having her own burgeoning suspicions regarding Philippa's illness, she cast a swift glance at Miss d'Iacon. The older woman nodded, signaling with a meaningful glance that she had heard some little portion of the previous conversation and would attend to the matter.

"My dear Miss Thaddeus! You are unwell? That is most distressing." Count Polidori knelt beside Philippa's chair and took her hand in his own. "Perhaps you should lie down and rest?"

"I don't mean to be a bother, but I suppose I am rather tired," she admitted, and took a sip of her tea, "I'm afraid the nightmares have not been going away, even after your suggestion."

"Ah, I am such a foolish man!" the count bowed, forehead nearly touching the carpet. "I forget, you see, that London is not like my homeland. Where I come from, sleeping with the window open allows fresh, wholesome air into the room and stirs the blood to health. O, if my foolish advice has resulted in your illness, I am quite sure I shall never forgive myself!"

It couldn't be his fault; she assured him repeatedly that he needn't bother himself about it and that she meant to speak to a physician sooner or later. "I'm certain it will all be sorted out soon," Miss Thaddeus said with a wan smile. He smiled back, showing very white teeth, and moved to rejoin the rest of the party.

No sooner had he left the room than Miss d'Iacon sat herself beside Miss Thaddeus. "My dear," she began, "I've some small experience with medical cases, if you'd like to speak with me about it. If not, both Miss Liú and myself are very well-acquainted with a gentleman of the trade who takes excellent care of his patients."

As the secretary examined the girl further, she saw that even the gums in Philippa's small mouth were pale, almost as pale a pink as the brocade she wore. The gentle rasp of her breathing began to sound more labored, as though she were fighting simply to draw breath. Utterly dissatisfied with Miss Thaddeus's claim that it was no more than sleep deprivation, Arcee made it quite clear that she intended to stay with the girl until she was certain she would be well.

"Mo Li, will you fetch Peter?" she asked her flatmate, "I'd like him to deliver a message to Dr. Rach, if his mother and father are agreeable to it." The young man was sent for, drawing the curiosity of the guests. Professor Thaddeus bade them all continue with their dancing and conversation and stepped back into the dining room, where Miss d'Iacon frowned over his daughter and tried to coax her into eating a little of the cake left on the table.

"Dear girl," she was saying, "You really must eat or drink something! You've very little strength as it is, and I do not think it is anything to do with something so simple as a loss of sleep!"

"Do pardon me, miss-?"

"Miss d'Iacon. I am Mo Li's chaperone."

"Indeed. Do pardon me, but I shall have to ask that you do not disturb my daughter. I fear attending the party was likely too much excitement for her as it stands already, and I worry that unnecessary talk of illnesses may frighten her." His words were pleasant enough but there was a shrouded hostility about his eyes that Arcee found unnerving. It was the coldness of one who recognizes an enemy, yet refrains from attacking.

Presently, Mo Li returned with Peter Foiche. Tearing her eyes from the unusually inscrutable Hiram Thaddeus, Miss d'Iacon took a small pencil from her handbag and scratched out a hurried missive on a folded piece of stationary kept in the purse for occasions such as this. With stern instructions that the boy was not to stop for anything, she sent Peter out to hail a cab, then turned to the professor.

"Professor, I fear your daughter has taken ill. Observe her breathing, and how pale she has become!" she gestured to Philippa, who leaned listless against the backrest and tried to smile at her father and Mo Li.

"Nonsense!" the professor blustered, "You observe her, miss. Why, she's never been more delicate and beautiful!"

Several of the guests lingered at the door between the dining room and the chamber where the dancing was being held, pensively watching the unfolding conversation. By degrees, they shifted, allowing Iudas to slip through and come to stand beside his host. Dark hair fell in a curtain over his face as he bent to examine Philippa.

"The Professor is, of course, quite correct. Miss Thaddeus seems no worse than she has for the last two weeks, madam. If anything, her eyes are more full of life than before!"

He motioned to the young woman's face: her pupils were dilated and shone eerily, reflecting the lights around the table. Mo Li picked up Philippa's now-empty teacup and plucked something from the tea leaves that remained on the bottom. It was a crushed, black berry of some sort, with a slightly sweet scent. Mo Li carefully wrapped it in a handkerchief and slipped it into her pocket. She would examine it further at a later time.

Suddenly, Philippa began to make awful gasping noises, trying desperately to fill her lungs with air. Her shoulders shook and the fingers on her right hand spasmed fitfully on the arm of the chair. The professor finally began to realize that something was terribly wrong, seeming to come out of a thick fog, and called loudly for help as his daughter twitched and trembled. She flung out her right hand and caught Mo Li's skirt, bunching the cloth between her sweating fingers. Her left hand, limp and barely able to move at all, she lifted to the lacy ribbon around her throat. Miss Thaddeus barely retained enough strength to touch the ribbon before her hand fell to her lap and her head fell back against the chair.

As her pale face rapidly gave way to scarlet, Philippa labored to speak. "Miss Liú," she gasped, "I did not dream the wolf!" After these enigmatic words, she fell silent, and spoke no more. There was a harsh silence that settled across the party, heavy and full of sorrow. In shaking tones, Professor Thaddeus tried to wake the girl, somehow convinced that she only slept. Grimly, Count Polidori bade someone send for a doctor.

"I already have," Arcee answered him, "Dr. Rach is surely on his way with young Peter, even as we speak. I fear that it will be too late, however."

The count covered his mouth with one pale hand, as though he could not even fathom the depth of the tragedy before him, and turned away from the sight. "I did not think her to be so ill as that!" he remarked, fully in the hearing of the guests, "If it was because the London air did her harm - and upon my advice! - then I shall withdraw from society!"

"I would not withdraw so soon, Count," Mo Li took from her handkerchief the black fruit and held it out for all to see. "And I think perhaps someone had better send for the police."

"The police?" gasped the banker's wife, "Why, whatever for? What's that berry got to do with anything?"

Mo Li set the fruit back in the handkerchief and shook her head slowly. "Atropa Belladonna, madam, can be a useful aid if treated with care. In its natural state, however, it can produce a toxic effect in those who ingest its leaves or berries."

"Nightshade?" Miss d'Iacon took the handkerchief from Mo Li. "Yes, I daresay that would do the trick, and in a case where someone was as weakened as Philippa was, I don't suppose it would have taken long to take effect."

"Have a care, madam, and pray don't speak so indifferently about my daughter!" Hiram said stiffly, and called for a doctor once more.

"I do apologize," Arcee answered coldly, "But I fear we must all take care now. It remains to be seen whether this was an accident or deliberate."

Mr. Foiche took Alice and hurried to find a policeman, while the other guests floated nervously between the desire to flee and the desire to comfort Theodosia and Hiram. Presently, Peter returned with Doctor Rach, and the Foiches returned not twenty minutes later with Detective Inspector Bell. He warned them all not to touch the food and drink, lest there be nightshade in anything else. The guests were each questioned, one at a time, but as they had each partaken of the same tea Miss Thaddeus had imbibed, they were all more concerned with whether they too might soon exhibit symptoms of belladonna poisoning.

It proved to be nearly fruitless to question Count Polidori, for he still appeared to be convinced that it was somehow his suggestion that Philippa sleep with the window open that had sentenced her to death. The man was very near hysterics, in fact, as he begged to be arrested, and Doctor Rach was obliged to give him a sedative.

Mo Li found it interesting, and not a little nauseating, that this childish display only deepened the admiration of the young ladies in attendance. Taking her flatmate aside, the girl expressed to Miss d'Iacon some few concerns of her own.

"Miss d'Iacon, at the risk of sounding callous, did not the death of Miss Thaddeus strike you as somewhat convenient? Indeed, I was just offering the services of the House of Prime to unravel the peculiarity of the dreams she had been experiencing, and then suddenly she could not tell us anything."

"Yes, I did think her story sounded rather like something from the Codex," Miss d'Iacon admitted, "That is why I stayed behind with you. I wonder if perhaps this was the influence of Kaon that Lord Prime feared would surface - or the premonition of evil that I felt."

By and by, the guests were sent home with instructions to stay in the city so that the police could contact them. The members of the House of Prime returned to the manor, deeply disturbed, and the police inquest ruled Miss Philippa's death a murder by person or persons unknown.

Not one report mentioned her dreams of wolves or her sleepwalking, nor did anyone think aught of her final words, "I did not dream the wolf." But as the carriage rattled over the cobblestones, taking Miss d'Iacon, Mo Li, and Doctor Rach back to the manor, the man turned the case over and over in his mind. The girl had been weak, yes, and poisoned, but there were other factors he could not account for. Beneath the ribbon 'round her throat, Philippa Thaddeus had two small puncture wounds, ragged at the edges and a touch infected. There was no logical explanation for their presence, and the police did not think they had anything to do with the death. But still it nagged at the doctor until he concluded that perhaps the explanation had little to do with logic after all.

Mo Li remained stonily silent for the entirety of the evening, and shut herself away in the library, speaking to no one. When asked about it, Miss d'Iacon said to Lord Prime, "There was no proof of Kaon's involvement, and that angers her. But I worry that perhaps something other than Kaon was at work; Doctor Rach has informed you of his findings, has he not?"

"Indeed," Optimus said grimly. He glanced down at the hated volume upon his desk, with a length of twine wrapped 'round it. "I fear there is a new player in the game."