Chapter 1 A LONDON CHRISTMAS When I think back to that distant afternoon in December 1870 a clear image comes to mind the slow dance of tiny snowflakes outside the window of Papa’s study It was my first London snowfall Papa had gone to Glasgow for one of his business trips With his typical generosity he had agreed to let me do my schoolwork in his small cozy study with book-lined walls Not far from me a lively fire crackled in a small white marble fireplace Horatio Nelson our butler walked toward the door he had left ajar and gestured to the window with a slight nod of his head Look Miss Irene he said As soon as I turned the sight of all that whiteness surprised me making my heart beat fast Snow Snow I cried without even thinking about it I must have sounded like a little girl or perhaps it would be more accurate to speak of the little girl who still lived inside me then Shortly thereafter my mother arrived having heard my outburst Mr Nelson stepped aside with a bow I saw my mother look toward the window her face lit up by a simple smile She too after all had the heart of a little girl Oh Irene isn’t it absolutely beautiful she asked As lovely as a fairy tale I answered My mother glanced at the books and papers cluttering Papa’s desk and said I’ll let you study my dear Until later I smiled thinking that her good mood had a hidden meaning After an autumn of sighs long faces and melancholy news from Paris our home which we’d had to flee suddenly due to the war with Prussia perhaps London had finally won her over The elegance of the city buildings the proper manners of good Londoners and the stylish craftsmanship of the items sold in the luxury emporium with which my mother had furnished our Aldford Street apartment had day after day found their way into her heart And when we heard from Papa’s friends that many other women of Parisian society had also moved to the British capital to escape the dangers of the war my mother’s change was complete She no longer felt alone Nor did I The Christmas atmosphere was enough to help us feel at home in this foreign city And so those days that I spent with my mother were happy ones as seldom had happened before This doesn’t mean that I kept no secrets from her On the contrary Even that afternoon for example I had not really been studying as she’d thought Instead I had just finished writing a page in the diary I’d begun several months before A secret diary a beautiful volume covered in Moroccan leather in which I disclosed many of the words that help me recall my childhood memories now But I don’t need to consult its now-yellowed pages to remember what I wrote that particular afternoon I wrote about my two dear friends Sherlock Holmes and Arsène Lupin The latter was traveling with his father and the Aronofsky Circus His last postcard was dated from a month before and had been sent from Antwerp When it arrived Mr Nelson secretly passed it to me and I read it in my room my stomach fluttering with excitement
Remembering that last letter I sighed and kept my eyes glued to the delicate dance of snowflakes outside the window Sherlock Holmes on the other hand had become a frequent visitor since I’d moved to the capital of Britain I knew I was a lucky girl now that I lived in London and not just because my father was able to get us away from the violence of the Franco Prussian War But I was also lucky because even before fame had brushed my friend I realized what a privilege it was to spend time with Sherlock Holmes and witness his lively volatile genius However there were times I missed Lupin with his charming simplicity and his boldness I missed his ability to make even the most dangerous adventure seem harmless but then describe it in such an exaggerated way that I had a hard time recognizing it despite having been involved myself I missed Lupin’s jokes his confidence his bold daredevil actions and that feeling of invincibility he seemed to have in the face of the world around us which reassured me before all danger Mostly I missed the alchemy that was created when the three of us Sherlock Lupin and I were together That was the power of our youth and our friendship Yes I was lucky to have such dear friends And lucky to have had so many adventures with them It was hard to believe that just last summer we’d been carrying out our first investigation After we’d come across a dead body washed ashore on the beach in Saint-Malo the three of us had vowed to discover the man’s identity and the cause of his death Indeed we did discover those facts and then some Just a few short months after I visited London with Papa It was then that Sherlock Lupin and I began a different investigation this one into the murder of Alfred Santi assistant to the great opera maestro Guiseppe Barzini This investigation had hit a rather personal note since Lupin’s father Théophraste was accused of the murder When the famous opera singer Ophelia Merridew went missing our trio had set out to find her And we’d been successful I sighed wondering what adventure we might encounter next When I finally tore my eyes away from the window I hurried to check the clock in the corner of the office It was Wednesday a few minutes before three And that day of the week as well as on Fridays my afternoons were spent the same way at four o’clock on the dot I would go down to the street where Mr Nelson waited with a carriage to take me to the Shackleton Coffee House on Carnaby Street That was one of the little secrets I shared with our butler My parents believed I was going to my lesson with Miss Langtry my new voice teacher The truth however was that I went there an hour later after spending some time with Sherlock in the Shackleton Coffee House a café that was little suited for a young girl from a good family But because Mr Nelson was responsible for scheduling and paying Miss Langtry it was not difficult to tell that small lie and gain that short secret moment in the company of my fascinating friend the young Sherlock Holmes That day however the unexpected snowfall convinced me to change my routine I hurried to put Papa’s desk back in order and ran to my bedroom to put on my heaviest boots Then I bundled up announcing my plans to Mr Nelson and my mother as I was already heading out the door I’m going to walk to Miss Langtry today I want to enjoy the city in the snow Could you send the usual carriage to fetch me at six Mr Nelson I asked While my mother’s and Mr Nelson’s voices echoed from the front hall behind me I plunged outside into the cold air and the swirls of snow that had slipped between the buildings carriages and bundled-up passersby I intended to go meet Sherlock of course but I hadn’t been lying when I’d said I wanted to enjoy the city in the snow So I crossed Aldford Street and turned onto South Adley Street heading toward Piccadilly It wasn’t the shortest route but as I came out to the large bustling street that led to the heart of London I found all that I had hoped to find First of all the majestic trees of Green Park were now covered in snow and their branches intertwined like silver lattices I found myself thinking about something that had struck me years before when I was a child the incredible wizardry that snow
can create It can transform even the most forgettable corner of a city into a magical place enchanted and mysterious I gazed at the lights beaming inside the grand hotels and the glowing shop windows and the comings and goings of ladies dressed in fur their valets huffing and puffing under bags and suitcases In that moment I felt that special feverish merriment that can only come when walking down a city street in the days before Christmas I found myself surrounded by voices laughter and the aroma of roasted chestnuts and sugar loaves and happily let myself be swept up in the rushing stream of people I enjoyed every single moment of that walk in the snow captivated by the bright colors the decorations and the mistletoe branches in the shop windows It all looked like a giant kaleidoscope Almost without realizing it I reached Piccadilly Circus where between the crowds of people and the traffic of carriages and wagons it was nearly impossible to move I turned onto the first road that led north and walked quickly for a quarter of an hour I let the smell of roasting sausages and the cries of shopkeepers guide me through a neighborhood much simpler and more working-class than the one I’d just left I arrived at Carnaby Street and wove my way between market stalls and the bustling crowd of people I finally walked through the doorway of the Shackleton Coffee House and despite being twenty minutes early found Sherlock already sunk into his favorite armchair Seeing him filled me with the usual intense thrill which felt like a slight tightening in my stomach But there was a black cloud that seemed to swirl around Sherlock’s eternally disheveled hair I sensed an air of unrest and gloom which immediately put me on alert Indeed I knew Sherlock Holmes too well not to recognize that something must have happened
