Read Online The Truth About Verity Sparks by Susan Green - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Green
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increase, or indeed a diminishing of your powers?”
“Beg pardon, sir?”
“He’s asking if you are getting better or worse,” said Mrs Rose in a loud whisper.
“Nothing much has changed, sir,” I said.
That wasn’t exactly true. I knew that all the practising was making me better at it, but I met the Professor’s eyes and he gave a tiny little nod, as if agreeing with my short answers. I got the impression that he didn’t like Dr Beale very much.
Then Miss Kelling wanted to know if I visualised in black-and-white, and Mrs Rose wondered if I felt tired afterwards, and I said no to that one and yes to the other, and then asked to be excused.
“Miss Sparks, permit me to detain you for a minute longer,” said a deep fruity voice. It was Mr Savinov. He’d been sitting quietly at the back of the room, but as he rose I saw that he was a fine-looking old man, tall and so burly he was almost bursting out of his evening suit. His hair was long and brushed back from his face in thick silver-grey waves, and his beard and moustache were neatly trimmed. His calm, stern face reminded me of the bronze lions in Trafalgar Square.
“Miss Sparks, your skills are remarkable, and so is your patience. I would like to thank you on behalf of all of us –” he gestured to those gathered in the library “– and to wish you well.”
There was a polite round of applause, and I think I blushed red as a beetroot. Fancy that, I thought. Compliments to Verity Sparks. I looked back into the room just as I was closing the door, and Mr Savinov caught my eye. He gave me a little smile, as if we two were in on the same secret. I smiled back. I was still smiling when I got upstairs to my room.
I wasn’t smiling twenty minutes later. The Professor sent Etty to ask if I’d come to his study for a moment.
“The Doctor’s there with him,” she told me.
“Dr Beale?”
“That’s the one,” said Etty, making a face. So she didn’t like him either.
I let myself in and shut the door. The two men were standing side by side in front of the fire, and in spite of the warmth, there was a frosty kind of feeling in the room.
“Dr Beale has something to ask you, Verity,” said the Professor. His voice sounded very strange. I wondered what was the matter with him. “Go on, Doctor.”
He got straight to the point. “Miss Sparks, I want to request your valuable assistance in a vital matter of scientific research.” He paused, looking at me. Close up, his eyes were pale green and reminded me of fishes’ eyes, and his skin had an odd, waxy sheen to it. “No more than one week’s investigation would be involved, and I am prepared to pay you fifty pounds for your cooperation.” It was clear he expected I’d jump at the chance to make fifty pounds – after all, it was a small fortune – and he stretched his mouth open in what I suppose he thought was a smile. “What do you say, Miss Sparks?”
I didn’t want to help Dr Beale in anything, no matter how vital. He gave me the creeps. “I’m already doing experiments with the Professor,” I said.
Dr Beale raised his eyebrows. “I have advised Professor Plush that to wilfully stand in the way of progress for purely personal reasons is selfishness of the highest order, and will reap its own punishment. Neither should he stand in the way of letting you better yourself by receiving a considerable financial reward, which would allow you to become independent of your so-called benefactors and friends.”
“So-called?” I didn’t like the sneer in Dr Beale’s voice. “I’m not sure what benefactors are, but I know my friends when I see them.”
“So you may think.” Dr Beale smirked. “You are, if you will forgive my analogy, the goose that lays the golden eggs, and so of course Professor Plush is kind to you. Sheer self-interest.”
The Professor made an odd little noise in his throat, but said not one word. I wanted to say something very rude, for who was Dr Beale to call
“Beg pardon, sir?”
“He’s asking if you are getting better or worse,” said Mrs Rose in a loud whisper.
“Nothing much has changed, sir,” I said.
That wasn’t exactly true. I knew that all the practising was making me better at it, but I met the Professor’s eyes and he gave a tiny little nod, as if agreeing with my short answers. I got the impression that he didn’t like Dr Beale very much.
Then Miss Kelling wanted to know if I visualised in black-and-white, and Mrs Rose wondered if I felt tired afterwards, and I said no to that one and yes to the other, and then asked to be excused.
“Miss Sparks, permit me to detain you for a minute longer,” said a deep fruity voice. It was Mr Savinov. He’d been sitting quietly at the back of the room, but as he rose I saw that he was a fine-looking old man, tall and so burly he was almost bursting out of his evening suit. His hair was long and brushed back from his face in thick silver-grey waves, and his beard and moustache were neatly trimmed. His calm, stern face reminded me of the bronze lions in Trafalgar Square.
“Miss Sparks, your skills are remarkable, and so is your patience. I would like to thank you on behalf of all of us –” he gestured to those gathered in the library “– and to wish you well.”
There was a polite round of applause, and I think I blushed red as a beetroot. Fancy that, I thought. Compliments to Verity Sparks. I looked back into the room just as I was closing the door, and Mr Savinov caught my eye. He gave me a little smile, as if we two were in on the same secret. I smiled back. I was still smiling when I got upstairs to my room.
I wasn’t smiling twenty minutes later. The Professor sent Etty to ask if I’d come to his study for a moment.
“The Doctor’s there with him,” she told me.
“Dr Beale?”
“That’s the one,” said Etty, making a face. So she didn’t like him either.
I let myself in and shut the door. The two men were standing side by side in front of the fire, and in spite of the warmth, there was a frosty kind of feeling in the room.
“Dr Beale has something to ask you, Verity,” said the Professor. His voice sounded very strange. I wondered what was the matter with him. “Go on, Doctor.”
He got straight to the point. “Miss Sparks, I want to request your valuable assistance in a vital matter of scientific research.” He paused, looking at me. Close up, his eyes were pale green and reminded me of fishes’ eyes, and his skin had an odd, waxy sheen to it. “No more than one week’s investigation would be involved, and I am prepared to pay you fifty pounds for your cooperation.” It was clear he expected I’d jump at the chance to make fifty pounds – after all, it was a small fortune – and he stretched his mouth open in what I suppose he thought was a smile. “What do you say, Miss Sparks?”
I didn’t want to help Dr Beale in anything, no matter how vital. He gave me the creeps. “I’m already doing experiments with the Professor,” I said.
Dr Beale raised his eyebrows. “I have advised Professor Plush that to wilfully stand in the way of progress for purely personal reasons is selfishness of the highest order, and will reap its own punishment. Neither should he stand in the way of letting you better yourself by receiving a considerable financial reward, which would allow you to become independent of your so-called benefactors and friends.”
“So-called?” I didn’t like the sneer in Dr Beale’s voice. “I’m not sure what benefactors are, but I know my friends when I see them.”
“So you may think.” Dr Beale smirked. “You are, if you will forgive my analogy, the goose that lays the golden eggs, and so of course Professor Plush is kind to you. Sheer self-interest.”
The Professor made an odd little noise in his throat, but said not one word. I wanted to say something very rude, for who was Dr Beale to call
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