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“I must tell Pip that the soup is as awful as she remembers it,” Felicity whispers, giggling.
Pip. One more weight to add, for tonight I am to return to her and help her cross the river to whatever lies beyond.
“Really, you are brooding, Gemma, and have been all afternoon,” Felicity chides as we walk the well-worn path to the chapel for evening prayers. “And I think I know why. I saw you speaking to that Indian,” she says, dismissing him in a word.
“Kartik, do you mean?” I say coolly.
Ann’s ears prick up at this. “He’s back?”
Blast. Now I’ve got both of them to badger me—Felicity with her snideness and Ann with her disturbing, eerie stare.
“Yes, that’s the one. What has he said this time?” Felicity pantomimes a wild-eyed soothsayer. “Don’t touch the magic! Don’t go into the realms! The ghost of Jacob Marley will take your soul if you do. Stay home and darn your socks like a good, proper girl! Hmmm?”
“I see you’ve not lost your gift for the dramatic. Ann, don’t let her take your talent so easily,” I say, hoping to change the subject.
“He did, didn’t he?” Fee presses.
“He simply came to say goodbye properly.” I don’t want to tell them about Kartik. Fee is no friend of his, and if I told her the truth, she’d only gloat. It would be too mortifying to bear. “But if I am preoccupied, it is because I had a vision today—my first since Christmas.”
Ann’s eyes widen. Felicity yanks me to the side of the path, letting other girls pass us. “What was it?”
“A lady I’ve seen in my dreams before. She’s a magician’s assistant or a medium of some sort, for I see her with a Dr. Van Ripple, an illusionist. She writes on a slate as if in a trance—a very odd message.”
“What?” Felicity prods.
Mrs. Nightwing and Mademoiselle LeFarge are coming up the path. They talk of whatever it is ladies talk about when they are not on display. They seem at ease, jovial. We try to stay a few steps ahead of them.
“‘We are betrayed. She is a deceiver. The Tree of All Souls lives. The key holds the truth.’”
Felicity has been hanging on my every word, but now she laughs. “A tree? Really, Gemma. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell off the bicycle?”
I ignore her insult. “The images in my visions don’t always tell a story that I can see. But I think the lady in the vision might be dead.”
“Dead? Really?” Ann asks with a breathlessness that shows her love of the macabre. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I saw her pulled from the Thames, drowned.”
“Drowned,” she repeats, clearly relishing the inherent wicked excitement of it.
Up ahead, the chapel doors stand open. Candlelight brings a flickering drama to the windows, making them seem alive.
“What time are we meeting?” Felicity whispers as we reach the doors.
I turn away. “Not tonight. I’m far too weary from the bicycling. I need sleep.”
“But, Gemma!” Felicity protests. “We have to go back! Pippa is expecting us.”
“We’ll go tomorrow night,” I say, forcing a smile though I feel sick at the prospect of what I must do.
Felicity’s eyes brim with tears. “We’ve finally found our way back, and you want to keep us from happiness.”
“Fee…,” I start, but she turns her back, and I realize I shall have to allow them to hate me tonight though it is hard to bear.
uo;ve not stopped thinking of Kartik, his coldness. The last time I saw him in London, he pledged his loyalty. What could have happened to change his affections? Or is that the way of men—to pursue girls only to cast them aside? He seemed so haunted, so desperate about Amar, and I wish I knew what to say to comfort him, but I’ve not seen his brother, and perhaps that is comfort enough.
And then there is my vision. The Tree of All Souls lives. What tree? Where? Why is it important? You are the only one who can save us.
“Gemma, what are you brooding about?” Felicity taunts from her perch beside me. It wouldn’t do for her to ask me discreetly.
