Serafina and the Black Cloak. Robert Beatty

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СКАЧАТЬ black hair and their brown eyes, she knew that none of them were her kin. Her pa never talked about what her momma looked like, but Serafina searched for her in every face she saw.

      Serafina had come upstairs with a purpose, but now that she was here, the thought of actually trying to talk to any of these fancy people put a rock in her stomach. She swallowed and inched forward a little, but the lump in her throat was so huge she wasn’t even sure she could get a word out. She wanted to tell them what she’d seen, but it suddenly seemed so foolish. They were all happy and carefree, like so many larks on a sunny day. She didn’t understand. The girl was obviously one of these people, so why weren’t they looking for her? It was like it had never happened, like she had imagined the whole thing. What was she going to say to them? Excuse me, everyone . . . I’m pretty sure I saw a horrible black-cloaked man make a little girl vanish into thin air. Has anyone seen her? They’d lock her up like a cuckoo bird.

      As a tall gentleman in a black suit coat walked by, she realised that one of these men might actually be the Man in the Black Cloak. With his shadowed face and glowing eyes, there was no doubt that the attacker had been some sort of spectre, but she had sunk her teeth into him and tasted real blood, and he needed a lantern to see just like all the other people she’d followed over the years, which meant he was of this world too. She scanned the men in the crowd, keeping her breathing as steady as she could. Was it possible that he was here at this very moment?

      Mrs Edith Vanderbilt, the mistress of the house, walked into the room wearing a striking velvet dress and a wide-brimmed hat. Serafina couldn’t take her eyes off the mesmerising movement of the hat’s feathers. A refined and attractive woman, Mrs Vanderbilt had a pale complexion and a full head of dark hair, and she seemed at ease in her role as hostess as she moved through the room.

      ‘While we wait for the servants to bring up our horses,’ she said happily to her guests, ‘I would like to invite everyone to join me in the Tapestry Gallery for a little bit of musical entertainment.’

      A pleasant murmur passed through the crowd. Delighted by the idea of a diversion, the ladies and gentlemen streamed into the gallery, an elegantly decorated room with its exquisitely hand-painted ceiling, intricate musical instruments and delicate antique wall tapestries. Serafina loved to climb the tapestries at night and run her fingernails down through the soft fabric.

      ‘I’m sure that most of you already know Mr Montgomery Thorne,’ Mrs Vanderbilt said with a gentle sweep of her arm towards a gentleman. ‘He has graciously offered to play for us today.’

      ‘Thank you, Mrs Vanderbilt,’ Mr Thorne said as he stepped forward with a smile. ‘This whole outing is such a wonderful idea, and I must say you’re a most radiant hostess on this lovely morning.’

      ‘You’re too kind, sir,’ Mrs Vanderbilt said with a smile.

      To Serafina, who’d been listening to Biltmore’s visitors her entire life, he didn’t sound like he came from the mountains of North Carolina, or from New York like the Vanderbilts. He spoke with the accent of a Southern gentleman, maybe from Georgia or South Carolina. She crept forward to get a better look at him. He wore a white satin cravat round his neck, a brocade waistcoat and pale grey gloves, all of which she thought went nicely with his silvery-black hair and perfectly trimmed sideburns.

      He picked up a finely made violin and its bow from the table where it had been lying.

      ‘Since when do you play the violin, Thorne?’ called one of the gentlemen from New York in a friendly tone.

      ‘Oh, I’ve been practising here and there, Mr Bendel,’ said Mr Thorne as he lifted the instrument to his chin.

      ‘When? On the carriage ride here?’ Mr Bendel retorted, and everyone laughed.

      Serafina almost felt sorry for Mr Thorne. It was clear from their playful banter that Mr Bendel and Mr Thorne were companions, but it was equally clear that Mr Bendel had serious doubts as to whether his friend could actually play.

      Serafina watched in nervous silence as Mr Thorne prepared himself. Perhaps it was a new instrument to him and this was his first performance. She couldn’t even imagine playing such a thing herself. At long last, he set the bow gently across the strings, paused for a moment to collect himself, and then began to play.

      Suddenly, the vaulted rooms of the great house filled with the loveliest music she had ever heard, elegant and flowing, like a river of sound. He was wonderful. Spellbound by the beauty of his playing, the ladies and gentlemen and even the servants stood quietly and listened with rapt attention, and they let their hearts soak in every measure of the music he made.

      Serafina enjoyed the sound of his playing, but she also watched his dexterous fingers. They moved so fast over the strings that they reminded her of little running mice, and she wanted to pounce on them.

      When Mr Thorne was done, everyone applauded and congratulated him, especially Mr Bendel, who laughed in disbelief. ‘You never cease to amaze me, Thorne. You shoot like a marksman, you speak fluent Russian and now you play the violin like Vivaldi! Tell us, man, is there anything you’re not good at?’

      ‘Well, I’m certainly not as skilled a horseback rider as you are, Mr Bendel,’ Mr Thorne said as he set his violin aside. ‘And I must say it has always been most vexing to me.’

      ‘Well, stop the presses!’ Mr Bendel called. ‘The man has a chink in his armour after all!’ Then he looked at Mrs Vanderbilt with a smile. ‘So, when exactly are we going horseback riding?’

      The other guests laughed at the two gentlemen as they quipped back and forth, and Serafina smiled. She enjoyed watching the camaraderie of these people. She envied the way they spoke to one another and touched each other and shared their lives. It was so different from her own world of shadow and solitude. She watched a young woman tilt her head and smile as she reached out and put her hand on the arm of a young gentleman. Serafina tried imitating the gesture herself.

      ‘Are you lost?’ someone said behind her.

      Startled, Serafina whirled round and started to hiss, but then she stopped herself short. A young boy stood in front of her. A large black Dobermann with sharply pointed ears sat at his side, staring intently at her.

      The boy wore a fine tweed riding jacket, a buttoned vest, woollen jodhpurs and knee-high leather boots. He was a little sickly-looking, a little frail even, but he had watchful, sensitive brown eyes and a rather fetching tussle of wavy brown hair. He stood quietly, staring at her.

      It took every ounce of her courage not to run. She didn’t know what to do. Did he think she was a vagrant who had wandered in? Or perhaps she looked like a dazed servant – maybe a chimney sweep or window-washing girl. Either way, she knew she was stuck. He’d caught her dead to rights exactly where she wasn’t supposed to be.

      ‘Are you lost?’ the boy asked again, but this time she heard what sounded strangely like kindness in his voice. ‘May I help you find your way?’ He wasn’t timid or shy, but he wasn’t overconfident or arrogant, either. And it surprised her that he didn’t seem angry at her for being there. There was a trace of curiosity in his tone.

      ‘I-I-I’m not lost,’ she stammered. ‘I was just –’

      ‘It’s all right,’ he said as he stepped towards her. ‘I still get lost sometimes, and I’ve lived here for two years.’

      Serafina sucked in a breath. Suddenly, she realised that she was speaking face to face with the young master, Mr Vanderbilt’s nephew. СКАЧАТЬ