Chapter 19 #2
Onora tried to ignore the way he was touching her, needing to take in all he was saying.
Did he really believe this? She’d heard nothing of insanity running in the Seton line, but families kept such things close. Was it possible?
“I did ponder if your aunt might remain with us.” Seton went on, still impassive.
“The Colonel was most eager, and Herr Müller, but her mind was not strong enough. You saw how she was during the ritual of the mirror and the flame.” A look of disdain passed over his features and he left off fondling Onora.
“I had prepared well in advance, naturally, arranging the telegram to be sent upon a certain date. It was the simplest thing to present it, when the moment came.”
The telegram? Onora cast back her mind. She’d read it herself, and it had been genuine; she’d seen the postmark. But she could see how easy it would be to organize such a thing. Seton would have acquaintances in Oxford. It would be no trouble at all for them to send a message at his direction.
Fury rose up in her like a white-hot flame, but she could neither move nor speak.
He’d made her think Aunt Maeve was seriously ill—perhaps near death.
Clodagh had believed unquestioningly. She’d left with all haste, but it would be at least two weeks before she touched soil in England.
All that while, she would be in the highest state of alarm, sleepless with worry—thanks to Seton’s monstrous plan to remove her.
“A necessary subterfuge.” Seton took a sip of champagne.
“Our lovely Hyacinth arranged the cobra. Devilish, I know. Jealousy does rear its head, and she likes to keep the Colonel on a tight leash. I had words with her, but she is very much her own woman. Those years in India have given the Feathermounts an unusual set of skills, and Gardenia has been most generous in teaching us hers, of how to exert control over another’s mind.
It’s been interesting, practicing that bit of trickery upon you, my dear. ”
Hyacinth and Gardenia! How could you?
Onora felt a pang of betrayal. She’d trusted them, as had Aunt Clodagh.
Seton appeared to ponder, then manipulated the signet ring upon his right hand, flicking it open to reveal a powder within. This he tipped into Onora’s drink, where it fizzled.
She watched, transfixed.
“Almost tasteless. It has required the briefest experimentation with dosage. You come under the influence most readily.” He gave a tight smile. “We require a much larger dose tonight, however.”
Pressure beneath her elbow brought the glass higher. She wanted to resist, to dash the crystal flute away and run.
Anywhere. Away from Seton.
Another nudge from him took the glass to her lips. “Drink, Onora. All of it!”
Unable to stop herself she did so, swallowing gulp after gulp, coughing at the intrusion, until Seton let the glass fall to the ground.
His eyes were alight. “You’ve seen her, haven’t you! Not only in the mirror but in your dreams. We all have. There can be no doubt.”
Onora fought to make sense of what he was saying.
Seen her?
Who is he talking about?
Images flooded Onora’s mind; out in the desert, beneath the sky, the serpent coiling about her body. There were many times she’d felt the presence of someone or something. Was this what Seton meant?
But that can have nothing to do with some ancient goddess. I don’t believe it!
“Your face tells me everything. Though, perhaps she has visited you in a different way?” Seton was triumphant. “Yes! I see it now! All this time, she has been with you!”
He reached within his costume, then opened his palm.
Two pieces of jewelry were nestled there. One a ring, the other a long chain upon which hung a pendant. A stone was set within each—none other than a crimson scarab.
“You recognize these?” He smiled indulgently. “I knew you’d have yours with you. How could you not?”
He placed the pendant around his neck, then held up the ring—a simple band of gold with a claw setting, into which the scarab had been placed.
Onora’s mind raced. It had not been her imagination that someone had entered her room. They’d been searching among her things!
To her horror, Seton lifted her left hand. She thought he’d pass some comment, for she’d forgotten to replace her engagement ring, but he said naught at all, sliding the scarab ring where the solitaire diamond had been. He then lowered his lips, lightly kissing the stone.
“A new high priestess, and a fitting consort for myself. Together we shall lead the faithful, and the goddess shall reward us!”
Has he lost his senses?
Is he really suggesting…?
He turned her about, and she saw that the others had drawn close. She looked from face to face—the Misses Feathermount, the Doctor, the Colonel, the Reverend and his wife, the Auvrays, Herr Müller, and the other, unknown woman. Was that…Maria?
They stood within a half-circle, their focus entirely upon her. She saw now that each wore a scarab—some about their neck, others as brooches, some upon a cuff about their wrist.
An icy fear gripped Onora’s heart.
“The time has come!” Seton’s declaration rang out. “We are the twelve!”