Doctor Who_ Foreign Devils - Andrew Cartmel [16]
piano. 'Why? Is it out of tune?'
'No, but it's warm. It's too close to those fireplaces. Heat doesn't do a piano any good.' Carnacki murmured a polite response, but his mind was elsewhere as he prepared the screen for his slide show and opened the brown leather case to reveal the pitted, corroded length of the jousting lance which nestled there among oiled knots of silk.
Carnacki's talk was a considerable success, with even the most obnoxious of the guests finally falling silent and listening with attention as he described one of the oddest occult experiences of his burgeoning investigative career. After some initial nerves, Carnacki's confidence grew, his voice deepened in tone and became firmer and louder. The audience listened, rapt, and Celandine watched him, her eyes glowing with pride.
Also watching with approval from the flickering shadows near the west fireplace was the Doctor, lifting the tails of his jacket to warm his hindquarters as he listened.
When Carnacki finished his account of the occult lance there was prolonged spontaneous applause. Even those sceptics in the crowd who didn't believe a word of the lecture had found themselves engrossed in an enjoyable ghost story. As the lights came up and servants circulated with trays of drinks, Celandine hurried up to Carnacki and handed him a linen handkerchief embroidered with tiny red roses. Carnacki accepted it gratefully and mopped his brow, sighing with relief; he had survived the ordeal. 'Battling the supernatural is one thing,' he told Celandine. 'Public speaking quite another.' He accepted a glass of champagne and swallowed it thirstily.
Among the servants circulating with trays of drinks was the chief butler, Elder-Main. He sidled over and joined the Doctor by the west fireplace.
'Glass of bubbly, sir? Or shall I add a spoonful of sugar and a drop of bitters to make a nice little cocktail for you?'
'Neither, thank you. Tell me, what is that structure attached to the west wing of the house?' The Doctor pointed through the windows where a tall tower could be seen, glazed with snow in the winter moonlight. It had a domed roof and a steel framework with broad panes of glass set between the metal lattices.
'The arboretum, sir. Full of tropical plants and that. Costs a small fortune to heat, especially in the winter. You should hear her ladyship go on about it. But Mr Pemberton is adamant. Cut the heat and all that greenery dies.' 'Isn't that where Roderick Upcott is buried?'
'Very much so sir. Him and his pet chimpanzee, under the spreading mango tree, as our little rhyme goes.'
'Fascinating, although Sydenham was actually a Capuchin monkey. Perhaps I could go and have a look at this grave later?'
'No doubt Mr Pemberton will be providing his guests with a guided tour at some point. It's his pride and joy. But if you want a private visit before that, I dare say something could be arranged.' The butler leaned closer to the Doctor and adopted an intimate, conspiratorial tone. 'And while on the subject of private arrangements, if you cared to spend some more time alone with that little under maid you've taken a shine to, I'm sure we can work something out.' 'Taken a shine to? Oh, you mean Zoe.'
'That's her, sir.' The butler indicated the far side of the room where Zoe was fighting to keep a large tray of champagne glasses stable and upright in the surging crowd of guests.
'I wasn't aware that anyone even knew I'd spoken to her. In fact, I thought we'd taken every possible precaution to remain discreet.' 'Oh, nothing escapes I our notice in this house, sir.' 'Evidently not.'
Elder-Main grinned toothily and rubbed his finger against the side of his nose. 'New she is and snooty. But I dare say a few guineas in the right place could loosen her apron strings, so to speak.' 'I see. And you would be looking for a percentage of whatever guineas are involved?'
The butler shrugged modestly. 'Any emolument the gentleman sees fit to send my way sir.'
'Well I'm not sure quite what you mean by loosening apron strings.' 'Of