Read Verity Sparks and the Scarlet Hand for Free Online Page A

Papa was close by.
    “Here, take it back,” I said, handing her the fan. I turned to walk away but she clutched my arm.
    “I want what is mine! I am Waldo Parker’s child. I have your mother’s fan. I have letters, papers, documents …”
    “Then why don’t you get a lawyer to help you?” I said.
    “Lawyers,” she hissed. “Sharks, thieves.” Her fingers tightened on my arm.
    Now I did feel scared. “Let me go!”
    Her fingers released immediately. She looked shocked. “Verity, I’ve frightened you. I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you, cousin. Never.”
    “Verity!”
    In the instant I turned my head towards Poppy, Della slipped away into the darkness.
    “Verity!” Poppy was tugging at my sleeve. “Look, Papa’s coming back. Verity, the man and them kids all ran orf and Papa Savinov’s got the carriage an’ we can go ’ome now.”
    I clung tightly to Papa as we crossed the street.
    “What is the matter, Verity?” asked Papa.
    “Just tired, Papa.”
    He smiled down at me. “An exciting evening, was it not,
chérie
?”
    Exciting? If only he knew.

    In the carriage on the way home, I tried to get my jumbled thoughts in order.
    Della Parker, so like Mama.
    Della Parker, with her glittering eyes, and that absurd claim that we were cousins.
    Della Parker, with Mama’s fan …
    That fan. I had first experienced psychometry when I picked up one of Mrs Morcom’s paintings. All of a sudden I’d been engulfed in the sorrow of her husband’s death. It had been horrible. But this was different. As soon as I’d unwrapped it and my fingers began to tingle, the Princess Theatre had disappeared. It was like an enchantment, a magic spell. Mama had never seemed real to me before, and now I’d seen her smile, walk, talk – and sing. She sang like a bird, or an angel. By handing me that fan, Della had given me a wonderful gift.
    That hadn’t been her aim, of course. She wanted to convince me that she and I were related so she could lay claim to Hiram Parker’s fortune. “I want justice,” she’d said. “I want what is rightfully mine.” If the strange glint in her eyes was anything to go on, she wanted it badly. My arm still hurt where she’d grabbed it. The man in the overcoat, the street urchins … Had Della Parker paid these characters to distract Papa so she could speak to me? Because once she was gone, they had melted away into the crowd too. If that was so, she was truly dangerous.
    A shiver ran through me. I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do.

    Kathleen brought us the bedtime mugs of hot milk that Papa insisted upon. Connie and Poppy chattered while they drank, but I didn’t join in. I was still chasing thoughts and theories about Della Parker around in my brain.
    Connie was bubbling over with the joy of the music and Madame Chartreuse’s voice. Poppy had experienced a different kind of enjoyment.
    “Did you see how her chins wobbled? And her bosoms. And even her backside.”
    “Poppy!” Connie echoed Papa. “Don’t be such a philistine.”
    “Pooh to those ol’ Philistines. I don’t reckon they was ever real, anyway.”
    “They’re in the Bible, Poppy,” said Connie. “Haven’t you heard of the story of David and Goliath?”
    Philistines. It came to me out of the blue. Bible stories. Bibles!
    “I’ll show you, Poppy,” I said.
    I ran to Papa’s study and knocked on the door.
    “Come in.” Papa was drinking his nightcap too. It was a small glass of cognac. “What is it, Verity?”
    I was breathless. “Please can I have the Bible?”
    He looked at me strangely. Well, it was an unusual request to make at midnight after the opera. “You are becoming religious,
chérie
? At this time of night?”
    Papa, I knew, believed in many things, like truth and beauty and votes for women. But he was not a religious man. The only Bible in the house was a confirmation gift from my grandmother to Mama. Few of her things had survived the fire, and that’s why he’d kept