Sepia and Silver (Tragic Silence Book 3) Read online

  My heartbeat intensified in my chest. I glanced around at Erik, feeling my eyes searching his face, prickling with the threat of yet more tears. He stroked my cheek tenderly before hugging me, kissing my forehead.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “You will be alright.”

  I gave a wooden nod. “I’ll write to you as soon as I arrive,” I promised.

  Erik stepped back slightly so he could look at me better, but kept his hands on my shoulders. I could tell that there were a thousand words fighting to break free of each of us, but no amount in any language would be strong enough to eclipse the tempest raging inside. I felt as though I were standing upon the edge of a great chasm, stretching forever down into the unknown dark. One foot hovered over the abyss and I hung suspended in a single long moment, waiting for the rupture, like glass breaking under strain.

  I sighed, and adjusted the strap of my bag. The movement snapped time back into perspective. Knowing I had better go quickly before I could falter, I angled my body towards the vessel, but kept my eyes on Erik.

  “Köszönök mindent,” I said. Thank you for everything.

  Erik managed a smile, pressing his lips together firmly. Then I steeled myself, and turned away, forcing one foot before the other to carry me closer to the ship. Its great wooden bulk reared before me, bobbing up and down on the gentle harbour waves, and I felt its shadow fall across me as I stepped off the land and onto the gangplank.

  I showed my documents to Captain Hallward, who welcomed me graciously and led the way through the interior to the cabin that my grandfather had reserved for me. It was somewhat alarming to hear all the crew above me, chattering and crying out orders in English. But I was surprised at how quickly I recognised the words, and felt a stab of gratitude to József for teaching me as a child. No doubt it would be invaluable knowledge in the days ahead.

  The cabin was small, with a little cot beneath a single circular porthole. There was a washbasin perched atop a wooden dresser set into the wall, and at the bottom of the bed stood a dark red trunk. I gazed at it, noticing the name Calvin inscribed across the lid. Beneath that, there was a crest displaying a thick cross emblazoned on a square.

  “I hope you will be comfortable, Miss,” said the Captain. “My men will respect your privacy, but if you need any assistance, do not hesitate to ask.”

  I nodded, smiling politely at him. “Thank you,” I replied, stumbling over the foreign words. I hadn’t spoken English for a long time. But I supposed that having an English crew taking me across the sea meant there would be ample opportunities for me to practise.

  I left my sack under the bed and locked the door with a key the Captain gave to me. Then he led me up to the quarterdeck, and I went straight to the side, bending over the rail to look down at the heaving quay. A large crowd had gathered to watch, many of them calling out and waving their hats. I scanned the sea of faces, searching frantically for Erik. I thought of shouting his name, but I knew he wouldn’t be able to hear me.

  As the bells chimed nine o’ clock, I found him, standing just a little back from the front, obviously having been staring at me for some time beforehand. I raised a hand, and he smiled broadly, doing the same.

  I wiped at my eyes quickly as the lines were cast off and the helmsman ordered to begin the departure. The white sails unfurled overhead, billowed as the wind filled them, slowly pulling us out towards the open waters of the bay.

  I kept my attention on my cousin the whole time, watching him disappear into the throng. Then Fiume itself shrank ever smaller, as the miles fell behind us, leaving only the ocean waiting up ahead.

  CHAPTER V

  The Persephone sailed along the gash of the Adriatic Sea, before rounding the south of Italy into the Mediterranean. The temperature heightened a little as we drew further from land, but still retained a chill, and I made good use of my shawl while taking air on the upper decks. I spent many hours at the stern rail, gazing back the way we had come, marked by the white arrow-path which the keel had cut through the water.

  The weather remained calm and constant, and I felt some strange reassurance in the endlessness of the sea. At first, I found the movement of the ship a little unsettling, and was ill for a few days, but it wasn’t long before Captain Hallward declared I had found my ‘sea legs’.

  I dined with him every night in his quarters, and he patiently helped me to practise my English. But despite the friendliness of all the crew, I generally tended to keep to myself. I was anxious about being on my own for the first time in my life, and couldn’t shift my nerves at the prospect of the new world that awaited me. On top of everything, I was still somewhat shaken after my attack, and often found my fingers absently tracing the cut that the Izcacus had left on my neck.

  I thought back on that moment, when he had struck me down and drained my blood. And then the horrible declaration: that I would pay for daring to resist. I remembered the strange black substance I had seen running beneath my skin after his fangs had sunk into me. Had I really imagined it? Had I been delirious, as everyone claimed?

  Then what of my angel? Was he ever there?

  Time drew on slowly. I distracted myself in simple things: watching the waves smacking against the prow, closing my eyes to feel the wind in my face. I marvelled at the way the sky melted in so perfectly with the horizon; looked on as we moved past the Rock of Gibraltar.

  “That’s your first glimpse of your new home there, Miss,” said Captain Hallward, pointing towards the shore.

  I frowned at him. “I thought that was Spain?”

  “Gibraltar belongs to Her Majesty the Queen,” he replied. “It’s been with us for near a hundred years. The Austro-Hungarian Empire is behind you now, Miss. The British is ahead.”

  Further and further west we voyaged, becoming all but swallowed up in the vast Atlantic; then changed course to due north. The air became cold once again, and at the insistence of the Captain, I began to spend more time in my cabin to avoid catching a chill. I certainly didn’t want to meet my grandfather in poor health, especially after my long convalescence in Hattyúpatak.

  Two weeks after leaving Fiume, a new coast came within sight on the starboard side of the ship. A polite knock on my door informed me that it was to be the final day of the crossing. As we sailed on, I turned my attentions to the chest that had been left for me. I’d looked through it earlier in the journey, and discovered that it was full of new dresses. They seemed so fancy compared to the simple clothes I was used to, and I was sure each one could have easily made two garments with the amount of fabric in them. They were all tailored, with gathered skirts and an alarmingly thin waistline. I pressed some to my body in dismay, realising that even with my petite figure, it would be near impossible to fit inside. How I was expected to wear them was beyond me.

  I glanced over to my small bag of clothes on the bed, seeing the white blouse of my Sunday outfit. I contemplated going ashore in those when the schooner docked, but then it dawned on me that the new items wouldn’t have been sent to me in advance if I wasn’t expected to arrive in style. And I knew I could run the risk of insulting my grandfather unless I complied.

  Eventually, I found a dress at the bottom of the trunk with a much more normal-looking mid-section. It was plainer than most of the others, and made from a fine white lawn linen. Layers of it cascaded over my hips like a ghostly blanket, and I tested my range of motion before pinning my hair on top of my head.

  Recalling the ugly scar, I was instantly relieved that the English fashion seemed to favour high-necked collars. The silky fabric buttoned up to directly beneath my chin, and concealed any indication of my wound.

  The afternoon trailed into early evening, and I felt the ship tilt to the right. The crew began shouting; there was a dull snap of fabric as the sails were pulled in. I went to peer out of my porthole, when there was a knock from outside.

  “You might want to come on deck, Miss,” the Captain said. “We’re just about to enter the Mersey River. Wrap yourself
up warm, now!”

  I quickly obeyed, snatching my shawl and pulling my cabin shut door behind me. I struggled to climb the steps in the awkward dress; I felt as though my back was stretched in a perfectly straight line by the stiff collar. But I did my best to ignore it, stepping out into the crisp air. It sliced my lungs with the invisible icy blades of early November, and my breath misted in front of my lips. I instantly pulled the wrap tighter in an attempt to keep some heat around my body.

  I made my way to the Captain’s side on the quarterdeck, placing my elbows on the rails. Ahead of us, the sea tapered into the wide mouth of an estuary, the left bank lined with all manner of buildings and dockyards. Other vessels crowded the grey water around us: schooners, paddle steamers, and too many other types to name. The maze of streets was lit with the glows of thousands of flaming lamps, blinking yellow beneath a cobalt-blue sky.

  “Is this Liverpool?” I asked in amazement.

  “Aye, it is,” said the Captain.

  I fell silent then, watching as the city grew larger. The crew climbed up into the rigging, tying the last of the sails against the masts. A helmsman took to the wheel and began carefully steering the Persephone further upriver.

  We moved into one of the docks; ropes were thrown to waiting hands that pulled us in and tied the vessel fast to the ground. A throng of people were waiting at the end of the street, watching the spectacle. I glanced over them fleetingly, trying to see if I could spot someone who had come to collect me.

  After a few minutes of making sure everything was secure, the gangplank was lowered, and cranes readied to empty the cargo hold. Captain Hallward turned to me with a smile, offering his arm for me to take.

  “I’ll see you safely to your guardian, Miss,” he said. “Don’t worry about your luggage; my crew will bring it ashore for you.”

  I swallowed nervously. “Do you know what he looks like?”

  “Aye. He spoke with me about bringing you over here a few months ago. Don’t look so concerned; he is quite a gentleman. I hope I do not overstep my bounds by admitting that he has taken great effort to allow you this opportunity.”

  The Captain led me to the plank, his hand resting chastely over mine. I took hold of the rope rail with my other fingers, nervous of slipping over my long skirt. We descended onto the dockside, and I wavered slightly, taken aback by the abrupt solidness of land after a fortnight at sea.

  A customs officer took my details and stamped my passage documents, before leaving us alone for the Captain to manoeuvre me through the crowd. We didn’t have to go far though, before a middle-aged man with a rich crop of mahogany hair approached and tipped his hat in my direction.

  “Might I have the pleasure of assuming this is Miss Eva Calvin?” he asked.

  “Yes, that is me,” I said.

  Another man instantly drew near to stand beside the first. He was much older – I hazarded a guess that he was in his late sixties – with grey hair and full beard that stretched to his collarbones. On his arm was a woman who seemed about a decade younger than him, flat brown locks laced with streaks of brilliant white. Her face was angular, wrinkles pinching the corners of her eyes and mouth.

  “Eva?” the older man said, his beard bobbing with the word.

  I gave a small smile, biting back the urge to correct his pronunciation of my name. “Yes.”

  Captain Hallward lowered his head respectfully, and I quickly copied the movement with an awkward curtsey, unsure of what to do. The woman gave a sharp sniff through her nose. I fought not to wince, sensing her scorn.

  “A pleasure, as always, Mr Calvin,” said the Captain. “Her luggage should be arriving momentarily. May I trust that the young lady is now free of my charge, Sir?”

  “Yes, thank you,” replied the old man.

  The Captain nodded again; then politely kissed my hand before returning towards the Persephone.

  I laced my fingers together in front of me, glancing over the couple. The man was broadly built, and I was of the impression that he had once been muscular, but had let most of it turn to fat in the later years. He was dressed in a light grey suit, with a top hat of matching colour perched atop his head. The woman was clad in an olive green dress that bunched somewhat at the back, her hands concealed beneath dark gloves. A wide-brimmed hat cast her forehead into shadow.

  “Oh, my dear girl, look at you,” the man exclaimed, jolting me out of my fancies. “You are absolutely stunning!”

  I felt my cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. “Thank you very much, Sir.”

  “Oh, never mind with ‘Sir’. I am Norman Calvin: your grandfather, Eva! You must call me as such, I insist upon it.”

  “Yes, of course,” I muttered. “Thank you, Grandfather.”

  The woman coughed gently, giving him an expectant look. Norman suddenly seemed to remember her and responded with a smile of apology.

  “May I introduce my wife, Margaret,” he said, gesturing to her; then to the first man who had come to me. “And this is my valet, Mr George Rose.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” I replied, nodding to them both in turn before moving my attention to Margaret. “May I call you Grandmother?”

  “Mrs Calvin will be just fine,” she said immediately.

  I pressed my lips together, surprised at her aloofness, but decided it was better not to press matters. I couldn’t expect everything to be perfect when I had barely been on English soil for ten minutes.

  Two of the Persephone’s crew members approached with my trunk and bag, and Norman directed them across to a black horse-drawn carriage on the other side of the street. George helped them to deposit the luggage onto the flat roof, where they tied it down with thick straps. I gazed at the coach in amazement, shocked at how much more elaborate it looked than the humble wagonette which had taken me to Fiume.

  Norman helped Margaret and me inside via a set of small folding steps, while George climbed into the driver’s seat. I sat opposite my grandparents, pressing my shoulders firmly into the upholstery to serve as some kind of anchor. The coach smelled of pipe tobacco and pungent flowery perfume; small curtains were drawn back around each of the windows. It felt like more of a small room than a means of transport, and I was somewhat startled in spite of myself when I felt the wheels begin turning.

  “We must get you home for tonight, Eva,” Norman said. “I can’t imagine you slept as well as you would have liked on that ship. But worry not; we have a bedchamber all made and ready for you. I must say, I am simply overjoyed that you can already speak English, and so well! Who taught it to you?”

  “The priest of our village is fluent in several languages,” I replied, speaking slowly so I could choose the correct words. “My mother wished for me to learn English when I was a child. She told me that it was a request of my father, since he had family here, and he wanted me to know something of my heritage.”

  Hearing that, his eyes lit up. I offered a tentative smile, seeing how mention of my father had forged some kind of connection. It was then that I noticed Norman’s eyes were the exact same shade of blue as mine.

  I tried to look out of the window at the city, but by this time, true night had drawn in, and despite the streetlamps, the majority of what I could notice was varying degrees of shadow. I eventually gave up, realising I would see everything soon enough in the light of day. I was, however, aware of the clamour of the docks falling behind us as we trundled into a more residential area. A sign flashed by, declaring that we had entered the district of Toxteth, before the coach eventually drew to a halt on a tree-lined street.

  I stepped onto the cobbles, gawking at the size of the houses. They stretched from left to right in a single long terrace, fronted by small balconies and wide steps leading up to their front doors. Three storeys of large windows punctured the sheer brick face, all aglow with the gold of candlelight from within.

  “Is this where you live?” I couldn’t help gasping.

  “Of course,” said Margaret, a snide edge to her words. S
he strode across to the threshold, and the door was opened by a teenage girl wearing a dark stuff dress and white apron. She bobbed her knees a little in welcome before taking Margaret’s coat and hat without a word.

  “Fetch a pot of tea immediately, Christine,” Margaret commanded. “My bones are all but frozen from this godforsaken air.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” the girl replied, hurrying away down the hall.

  Norman went to encourage me to follow Margaret, but then looked up at the sound of footsteps on the pavement. I turned around in the same direction, and noticed a man walking towards us, dressed in a dark uniform and a stiff black hat, embossed with the letters VR.

  “Good evening, Mr Calvin,” he greeted. “I don’t recall you visited your club on Tuesdays?”

  “Oh no, my good man. I have just been to the docks to collect the newest member of my family,” replied Norman, gesturing to me with a proud sweep of his arm. “This is my granddaughter, Eva, all the way from eastern Hungary. Eva, this is Inspector James Hayes.”

  “How do you do?” I said, nodding courteously.

  The policeman smiled. He seemed to be in his early thirties, and his body was tall and wiry. Wisps of strawberry blonde hair were just visible beneath his hat. From within an oddly angular face, two penetrating eyes focused on me, the irises so dark that they appeared black in the low light. The effect was a little unnerving, but I couldn’t bring myself to tear my own gaze away. There was something about him which intrigued me, as though forcing hooks deep into my stomach.

  “Welcome to England, Miss,” James said, looking at me for what seemed a split-second longer than necessary. Then he turned to George. “Well, allow me to help you carry the young lady’s luggage, Sir. I don’t officially start my rounds for ten minutes.”

  “Thank you, Inspector,” replied Norman. “Come now, Eva. Let’s get you inside; we must get you warm.”