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A lantern throws its light over the straw and dirt at our feet. The lovely kitchen maid appears out of nowhere, a look of astonishment on her face."Beggin' your pardon, miss. I forgot to bring Mr. Kartik his coffee." "I was just leaving,"I say to her, practically leaping to my feet. I assume this is the aforementioned Emily. "Thank you for that, um, most, most informative, ah, instruction in . . . in . . ."
"Carriage safety?" Kartik offers.
"Yes. One cannot be too careful about such things. Good night to you," I say.
"Good night," he answers. Emily does not make any effort to leave. And as I stride past the horses, I hear her laughing gently--girlishly--at something Kartik has said.
Ginger snorts at me.
"It is impolite to stare," I say to her, before running up to my room to sulk in private.
Simon's box sits on a table beside my bed. I pull open the false bottom and see the wicked brown bottle lying there.
"You shan't be needed again," I say. The box slides easily into a corner of my cupboard, where it is lost among petticoats and
dress hems. From my window, I can see the lanterns of the mews and our carriage house. I see Emily returning from the stable, her lantern in hand. The light catches her face as she looks back to smile at Kartik, who waves to her. He glances up and I duck out of sight, quickly extinguishing my lamp. The room is swallowed in shadow.
Why should it bother me so that Kartik fancies Emily? What are we to each other but a duty? That, I suppose, is what bothers me. Oh, I should forget this business with Kartik. It is foolish.
Tomorrow is a new day, December 17. I shall dine with Simon Middleton. I will do my best to charm his mother and not make a nuisance of myself. After that, I'll go about finding the Temple, but for one evening, one glorious, carefree evening, I intend to wear a fine gown and enjoy the handsome company of Simon Middleton.
"How do you do, Mr. Middleton?" I say to the air."No," I answer, lowering my voice,"How do you do, Miss Doyle?" "Why, I'm absolutely splendid, Mr.--" The pain has me in its grip. I can't breathe. God! I can't breathe! No, no, no, please leave me alone, please! It's no use. I'm pulled out like the tide, slipping into a vision. I don't want to open my eyes. I know they're there. I can feel them. I can hear them.
"Come with us . . . ," they whisper.
I open one eye, then the other. There they are, those three ghostly girls. They seem so lost, so sad, with their pallid skin, the dark
shadows carved into their cheeks.
"We've something to show you. . . ."
One of them puts her hand on my shoulder. I stiffen and feel myself falling into the vision. I don't know where we are. A castle of some sort, a great ruined fortress of stone. Deep green moss grows up the side of it. Bright laughter floats out, and through the tall, arched windows, I can see flashes of white. They're girls playing. Not just any girls--the girls in white. But how lovely they look, so fresh and alive and merry!
"Catch me if you can!" one shouts, and my heart aches, for that was the game my mother played with me as a child. The other two girls jump out from behind a wall, startling her. They laugh at this. "Eleanor!" all three call out. "Where are you? It's time! We shall have the power--she's promised."
They run toward the cliff 's edge; the sea churns below. The girls step across rocks, outlined by the gray sky like Greek statues come to life. They're laughing, so happy, so happy.
"Come, don't dawdle!" they shout merrily to the fourth girl. I can't see her very well. But I see the woman in the dark green cloak coming fast, can see her long, wide sleeves catching the wind. The woman takes the hand of the girl who lags behind.
"Is it time?" the others shout.
"Yes," the woman in the green cloak shouts back. Holding the girl's hand fast in hers, she closes her eyes and raises both their hands toward the sea. She's muttering something. No-- she's summoning something! Terror rises in me like nausea, making me gag. It's coming up from the sea, and she's calling it! The girls scream in terror. But the woman in green does not open her eyes. She does not stop.
Why are they showing me this? I want to get away! Must get away from that thing, from their terror. I'm back in my room. The girls hover near. Their pointed boots move across the floor--scrape, scrape, scrape, I think I shall go mad from it.
"Why?" I gasp, trying not to vomit."Why?"
"She lies . . . ."they whisper. "Don't trust her. . . don't trust her. . . don't trust her. . ."
"Who?" I pant, but they are gone. The pressure leaves me. I'm struggling for breath, my eyes teary, my nose running. I can't bear these horrible visions. And I don't understand them. Don't trust whom? Why shouldn't I trust her?
But there was something different about this vision, a detail I remember now. Something about the woman's hand. She wore a ring of some kind, something unusual. It takes me a moment on the floor to regain my senses. And then I think I know what it was.
The ring on the woman's hand was in the shape of two intertwined snakes.
I've seen that ring before--in the case beneath Miss McCleethy's bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
