I might have had a witty response, but at the moment I was much too worried about Miss Adler. Instead, I grabbed Evaline and said, “Pix said Olympia took Miss Adler to hospital. We must get there immediately, for in the event she does awaken . . .” I stopped, for I didn’t want to put it into words.
Evaline looked at me with expressionless eyes. “Yes. I’ll take care of it. If she awakens, I know what must be done.”
Miss Holmes
Many Questions and One Answer
“I was young. And impressionable. I was in Paris! And La société . . . that’s what they do. They prey on impressionable, naive people—especially young ones.”
A very thin and pale Miss Adler was speaking to us in her office one week after the events at the La société hideout. But, miraculously, she was alive—mortal and alive.
And it was all thanks to Dylan.
Not even certain where he was or what he’d been doing—though I was terribly relieved not to have found him in La société—as we left Smithfield that morning, I sent word to Dylan that Miss Adler was gravely ill, suggesting he come at once.
I was sure he’d want to see her one last time. I sent one message through the Museum and another to Dr. Watson, not knowing whether Dylan had been spending time with my uncle’s partner. I didn’t know any other way to reach him so urgently.
When Dylan arrived at the hospital, he rushed up to me. “What’s happened to her?”
To my relief, he looked less gray and pasty than he had the last time I saw him. I couldn’t help but glance at his shirt sleeve when he took off his coat—and it was pristine and white. No bloodstains.
“Vampire bites. They drained her blood. If she survives, it’s because she’s been turned UnDead,” Evaline explained.
“She’s lost too much blood.” I felt exceedingly weary and lightheaded myself. “She’s hardly breathing and her pulse is very weak.”
“I can save her.”
I stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“I can save her.” Before I could react, Dylan was shouting for nurses and Dr. Lister and several others for assistance.
“What is going on?” I demanded, trying to quell my rising hope.
“Blood transfusions, Mina,” he said rapidly. “I’m a universal donor. I can give blood to anyone.” He brandished Prince Albert’s pin, now on his coat lapel. “This helped—it made them all listen to me, and I’ve been testing out the procedure for a week now. I’ve been working with Dr. Lister and Dr. Watson. Mina, I can give Irene my blood.”
I shook my head. I was still feeling weakness from my own loss of blood, for I didn’t understand at all what he meant.
As it turned out, it didn’t matter whether I understood or not. Whatever Dylan did—and he promised to explain it all to me in depth later—it saved Miss Adler’s life.
He was a hero again. I looked at him across the office and he caught my eye, giving me a smile that made my stomach flutter. How foolish had I been to think he’d fallen in with La société ?
But now that Miss Adler was alive and recovering, she had things to tell us. Things we needed to know, and things perhaps she should have been forthcoming about sooner.
I glanced at Evaline. She seemed almost herself, although I detected some brittleness about her since everything related to the spiritglass case had ended. I could only surmise it had to do with that ugly scene with Willa after Evaline killed Robby.
Incidentally, there’d been an announcement in the Times that Miss Willa Ashton and Mr. James Treadwell were to be wed, and her guardian, Herrell Ashton, was giving her away. I suspected neither Evaline nor I would be invited to the nuptials, and although I didn’t care at all about the social event, I felt as if Miss Ashton should at least acknowledge the fact that, without Evaline and myself, there wouldn’t be any nuptials.
Obviously, with Miss Geraldine Kluger out of the picture, Willa no longer needed to worry about being committed to a lunatic asylum. The whole story was in the papers—at least, the censored part I’d given to Grayling—and so everyone, including the Nortons, knew poor Willa Ashton had been manipulated by her aunt. Miss Kluger’s motive was put out to be greed—she wanted control of her niece and nephew’s money, and she forced a group of boys to play pickpocket for her as well.
I returned my attention to Miss Adler with difficulty and apprehension. Although I’d been brimming with questions since learning she bore the mark of La société, I found myself surprisingly reluctant to hear her story.
Whatever else I deduced, it was clear Irene Adler had, at least at one point, been a willing member of La société. What wasn’t clear, and what I was strangely reluctant to ask, was how she’d come to be at Gadreau’s lair a week ago. Willingly or unwillingly. I wasn’t certain I wanted to know.
“There was a La société meeting on the night of the grand opening of New Vauxhall Gardens. And I’m certain I saw you there at the Gardens, Miss Adler. Were you at the meeting?” Evaline let her voice trail off, but she was watching our mentor closely.
For the first time since I’d known her, Miss Adler appeared utterly uncomfortable. “I . . . did attend. For a variety of reasons. I wanted to find out why they were in London. I knew of Gadreau, of course—he’s been a powerful vampire for more than two decades. I needed to know what brought him to London from Paris.”
“Presumably it was his mortal lover, Geraldine Kluger, the certified spinster. She came back because her sister, Willa’s mother, died, and she was going to take care of the children. Robby and Willa.”
“Fine job she did taking care of them,” Evaline muttered.
I nodded. “Aunt Geraldine did it all to keep her lover happy, comfortable, and safe. It was all for love—a powerful motivator, if I do say so. And in fact, I did, did I not? Early on in the investigation?”
“As I recall, you were speaking of Miss Norton as a possible suspect, because she was in love with Mr. Treadwell,” Evaline pointed out.
I sniffed and turned to Miss Adler. “Even after all that, you didn’t see fit to tell us you were a member of the group?”
“No. And I made a mistake. But . . . it’s not something I’m proud of. It was a foolish thing I did, getting involved with La société many years ago when I was living in Paris. I had some friends, and we . . .” Her voice trailed off and her eyes shifted down. “It was a mistake of youth.” Then she looked up at us with a clear gaze. “I hope you can forgive me for not being completely forthcoming. I didn’t realize it would become such a dangerous concern.”