have hurt me as well.”
“Yet she only held Bram while Ellen drank, is that not so? Why would she abstain with the opportunity at hand?”
“I did not witness her drink; that doesn’t mean she did not,” Matilda countered.
“The only mark on my person is the one at the wrist; if she drank, wouldn’t there be another?” Bram said.
“Perhaps she got her fill with my unfortunate coachman?” I pointed out.
Vambéry nodded at this. “As always, Thornley, your logic prevails.”
“You know what is happening here, don’t you?” Matilda asked of him. “You have seen this before?”
Vambéry leaned over the table, his voice hushed. “In my travels, I have seen and heard many things, some treading far beyond what one would consider to be rational. Your tale reminds me of those told to me in Eastern Europe of Ottomans, Romanians, Slavs, and the like. I will share those tales with you eventually, when I deem it appropriate, but for now I would prefer to hear more from you, to ensure my deductions are correct.” His gaze again fell upon my sister. “May I examine the items you retrieved from the O’Cuiv grave?”
Matilda had stored these things in a small leather satchel. She retrieved it from the floor at her feet and placed it on the table, then extracted each item, lining them up on the table between us.
Vambéry’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the necklace, and he reached for it. “This is exquisite, and quite valuable. Clearly crafted in Romania, I can tell by the setting—handmade by a very talented craftsman. This ruby is one of the largest I have ever seen. Please put this necklace back in your bag; I fear what might befall you should a thief realize you are harboring this treasure. The Hellfire Club is safe, but, still, there are prying eyes everywhere.”
I watched as Matilda collected the necklace and carefully placed it back into the small leather satchel. Vambéry then inspected the mirror. “I find this a little odd.”
“How so?” Bram asked.
“The fact that you found a looking glass is quite peculiar, but for it to be made of silver and gold, that is odder still.” His finger ran over the engraving. “This inscription will no doubt prove useful; we must devote some time to ascertaining who this Countess Dolingen von Gratz was. Like the necklace, this mirror is very old. The same is true of the hairbrush. Such craftsmanship is typically reserved for the wealthy. Possessions such as these would not belong to a nanny, nor this O’Cuiv family as you described them.”
Matilda handed him the cloak and told him it belonged to our mother, yet it was found in O’Cuiv’s grave.
“You are certain?”
“There is no mistaking it. See the hole in the sleeve there?”
“And the last time you saw it, the cloak was worn by your Ellen?”
“On the night before she took leave,” Matilda said.
“So we have all these things that presumably belong to your former nanny hidden within the grave of your former neighbor. A grave lacking a body, mind you.”
Matilda produced her sketchbook and turned to the map of Ireland indicating the position of St. John the Baptist Church. “I believe the location of the grave is marked here.”
Vambéry’s eyes went wide. “You drew this? From memory?”
“I did.”
“Remarkable.” He studied the image. “And you said the grave was amongst the suicides?”
Matilda nodded, then turned the pages of her sketchpad, flipping through the other maps. “All of these marks indicate cemeteries containing either suicide graves or unconsecrated ground.”
Vambéry retrieved a small magnifying glass from his breast pocket and leaned over the map. After a few minutes’ study, he proceeded on to the next, then the next after that. “I have been to some of these locations, but not all. Did Ellen ever speak of these places?”
The three of us shook our heads.
“But clearly they were important to her.” He closed the sketchpad and handed it back to Matilda. “The purpose of these maps will present itself in time, as is always the case. Of that