When they entered, all the men rose—Alice felt quite intimidated by this spectacle of male courtesy. If she could have, she would have shrunk down into a small blue heap and crept out of the room like a mouse. Lord Godalming said, “Miss Trelawny, if you please,” and gestured toward his armchair.
“Thank you,” said Margaret Trelawny, smiling a particularly charming smile. She steered Alice to the armchair, then pulled her down until they were sitting side by side. There was just room enough in the armchair for the both of them. When they were seated, the men sat—all but one of them, who stood in front of the fireplace as though about to make a speech.
It was Professor Moriarty. He put one hand on the back of Mrs. Raymond’s armchair, beside the antimacassar. He frowned at Alice—or maybe he was just frowning in her general direction, because he did not seem to see her. She shrank back a bit. Yes, she was frightened of him—why shouldn’t she be? He had been there when she had woken up in the coal cellar, already shackled to the wall. He had asked her to demonstrate her mesmeric powers, and then told her that she would be let out as soon as she agreed to use those powers as he directed. Twice she had refused, before Margaret Trelawny had released her. Now that he had seen her, would he order her back in that dungeon?
But he scarcely seemed to notice her presence. “Where is Raymond?” he asked, of no one in particular. “I thought you told him we would be starting at four.” That statement was aimed specifically at Mrs. Raymond.
She raised her eyebrows and responded coldly, “I told him, but I am not his keeper. He has farther to come than any of us, except Mr. Harker.” She nodded at one of the men—presumably Mr. Harker? He looked young, and rather stupid. “However, having come all the way from Essex, Mr. Harker probably took an early morning train to make our meeting. Dr. Raymond no doubt took the latest one he could—he usually does.”
“I’m here,” came a voice from the doorway. In walked an older man, by far the oldest in the room, thin and stooped. He had a halo of white hair around a bald, wrinkled brow, and leaned on an ornate cane that was evidently as functional as it was ornamental, for he limped as he walked. “Hello, Helen. Lord Godalming. And Seward—we should have traveled from Purfleet together. Now then, what’s all this? Godalming has told me part of your purpose, Moriarty. I am in general agreement with your aims, or I would not have rented you this building—rather, the Alchemical Society would not have rented it to you. As there is no official branch of the Alchemical Society in England at present, I function as its de facto representative. But who are these other gentlemen—and ladies?” Here he bowed to the ladies and peered at Alice curiously. “I do not have the pleasure of their acquaintance.”
His voice took Alice back to the day she and Catherine had hidden in the kitchen below, listening to Raymond and Seward discuss Van Helsing’s plan to take over the Alchemical Society. Were these all members of the society, planning some new mischief? And had Van Helsing managed to gain power, or had Miss Mary and the others foiled his plans? She had no way of knowing. If this was some new plan of the society, how was her mother—or, rather, Mrs. Raymond, for she did not wish to call that woman her mother—involved?
“These are the members of our organization,” said Moriarty. “Welcome, gentleman… and ladies”—he bowed to Mrs. Raymond and Miss Trelawny—“to the new headquarters of the Order of the Golden Dawn.”
CHAPTER V
The Delirious Man
Let us begin with introductions,” said Professor Moriarty.
Listen and learn, Alice reminded herself. She would be just like Mary, who was just like Mr. Holmes himself. She would observe and remember, so that when she got out of here—and she would get out of here, she was determined—she could tell Mary and Mr. Holmes all about it. She leaned forward a little so she could see all the men in the room. Now Professor Moriarty was introducing them. She must remember their names. How would she describe them to Mary?
They reminded her of the characters in one of her penny dreadfuls. There always seemed to be a group of men who fought the monsters and saved the realm. Mentally, she cast them in their proper roles. Lord Godalming was the Peer of the Realm. He was handsome, not young anymore but still boyish, despite the gray in his hair and mustache. He had a pair of very blue eyes. Mr. Quincy Morris was the American, with what she assumed was an American accent. Despite her trepidation and discomfort, Alice could not help being amused by his fringed leather outfit and the large knife at his belt. Was this what Americans wore all the time, or only in the Wild West? As for Jonathan Harker, what was he, exactly? Quiet, deferential, clean-shaven. He looked younger than the others, and had an air of not quite knowing what was going on. She would not assign him a role yet. Seated on the other side of Lord Godalming was a heavyset man whom Moriarty introduced as Colonel Moran. As Moriarty mentioned his name, he rose and joined his leader by the fireplace, leaning on the mantel. He was obviously the Enforcer. His jacket did not hang quite right. When he moved, Alice could see there was something underneath, the approximate shape and size of a revolver. Dr. Seward was of course the Alchemist, a member of the Alchemical Society and the director of the Purfleet Asylum. And Moriarty was the Mastermind. He was so clearly in charge, so clearly the leader of this group. As for Dr. Raymond—well, she was not quite sure how to describe Dr. Raymond. Was he just another Alchemist, like Dr. Seward?
“This is Miss Trelawny, daughter of the late Professor Trelawny, the Egyptologist,” said Moriarty. “No doubt you have heard the name.”
“Indeed,” said Dr. Raymond, bowing in Miss Trelawny’s general direction. “My condolences, Miss Trelawny, on your father’s untimely death. I saw his obituary in The Times and was shocked, quite shocked, at the loss of such a brilliant mind. It will set our efforts in Egypt back significantly. I understand that the artifacts from the tomb of Queen Tera are about to go on display at the British Museum.”
“Thank you,” said Miss Trelawny. “Your words bring me comfort, Dr. Raymond.” Although she made this statement in the same pleasant, genteel tone with which she said everything, Alice glanced at her, puzzled. Somehow, it did not ring true. The energic waves around her head did not look quite right.
“And this,” Miss Trelawny continued, “is your granddaughter, Lydia.”
Granddaughter! Suddenly, all eyes were on Alice. Oh, if only she could sink down into the chair cushions, or hide herself in the folds of Miss Trelawny’s dress! She did not want their attention on her, particularly after such a revelation. Nevertheless, she could not help looking at Dr. Raymond curiously. This was her grandfather? This man whom she knew to be cruel and callous, who had allowed Archibald to remain locked up in the dark? Mrs. Raymond her mother, Dr. Raymond her grandfather…
“Indeed,” said Dr. Raymond, peering at her. He took a pair of spectacles out of his jacket pocket—they had no earpieces and simply sat on his nose—to examine her better, as though she were some sort of interesting insect. “So you found her again, after all these years. And is she—”
“Almost as skilled at manipulating the mesmeric waves as I am, and she will no doubt surpass me someday,” said Mrs. Raymond coldly. If they were father and daughter, there was no love lost between them! She did not seem particularly happy to see him, had not risen or greeted him in any way. So this is my family, thought Alice. She would much rather have been related to Mrs. Poole.
MRS. POOLE: Well, I did raise and train you, my dear, after you came to us from the orphanage. I think you can consider me family.
ALICE: Thank you, Mrs. Poole. You don’t know how much that means to me.
DIANA: We’re family too! Don’t forget about us. I mean, you’re annoying and insipid, but then so is Mary, and she’s my sister.
“If we could have a small demonstration of her powers…,” said Dr. Raymond, looking at Alice in a way she did not like. Gleefully? Avariciously? Catherine would have known the right word.
“This is neither the time nor the place,” said Mrs. Raymond with a frown
. Her voice was contemptuous. “You will have plenty of opportunity to observe the results of your experiment. This is a business meeting.”
“But what sort of business?” asked Jonathan Harker. “I’m grateful, of course, that Lord Godalming has included me in this enterprise, but thus far I have only the vaguest notion of what we are aiming for, or how we are to achieve it. If you would enlighten me—”
“Of course, Mr. Harker,” said Moriarty. “That is precisely why we are holding this meeting today. Lord Godalming and I want to make certain you gentlemen understand and are in agreement with our goals. We have given you an inkling of them—now we shall explain ourselves fully. Allow me to—ah, here is Mandelbaum.”
Alice had not noticed the butler standing just outside the circle of armchairs with a tea tray in his hand, but of course that was the defining characteristic of good butlers—one did not notice them. Ah yes, Margaret Trelawny had said there would be food. In her fear and consternation, Alice had almost forgotten.
“If someone would move the tables—” said Moriarty.
“Here, if you please,” said Miss Trelawny. “I shall do the pouring out.”
Mr. Harker placed one of the small tables beside Miss Trelawny’s chair, where she could reach it easily. The butler proceeded to put the tea tray on it, then went to the place in the wall that opened onto a dumbwaiter and took out what had been raised from the kitchen below—teacups and saucers, and two trays: one with pastries, the other with a selection of small sandwiches. Alice looked at them hungrily. How long had it been since she’d had a proper meal?
The others did not seem particularly interested in the pastries or sandwiches. Once the butler had left and most of the men, as well as Mrs. Raymond, had teacups in their hands—Mr. Morris declined and was drinking something out of a flask he had produced out of an inside pocket—Miss Trelawny loaded a plate for her. Alice tried not to eat too quickly, worried about making herself sick after the meager diet of the last few days, but it was difficult not to gulp down the sandwiches, which were very good. Shrimp paste! She had always liked shrimp paste. And some sort of cream cheese with cucumber. She did not recognize the pastries, which were quite different from the kinds made by Mrs. Poole. Some of them were filled with chocolate, some with apricot jam.
“Now,” said Moriarty. “Where were we? Ah yes, why I have brought us here together. The nine of us come from different worlds. Mrs. Raymond and Colonel Moran have been in my organization for many years. It is, shall we say, a commercial enterprise of sorts. We import and export various goods that fetch a high price on private markets. We provide services of the kind more, shall we say, conservative businesses are unable to provide. The good doctors”—here he nodded at Raymond and Seward, who were seated next to each other—“are members of the Alchemical Society, who have very kindly rented us their former London headquarters. Lord Godalming was at one time a member, until the English branch was disbanded and he resigned in protest. Mr. Harker is his solicitor and trusted representative. Mr. Morris is the famous explorer—we have all heard of his travels up the Amazon, his hunting expeditions in Africa. And Miss Trelawny represents her late father, whose discovery of the tomb of Queen Tera at Philae has brought us what we need to effect our central purpose.”
“Which is?” asked Harker. He looked as though he still did not understand what was going on. Well, Alice didn’t either.
Moriarty smiled. She did not like his smile—it reminded her too much of how Mrs. Raymond smiled. Whatever jollity their mouths expressed did not reach their eyes. “Mr. Harker, I invite you, Dr. Raymond, and Mr. Morris to join the Order of the Golden Dawn. The rest of us here are already members. The German branch of the order has repudiated us—indeed, I received a letter just this morning asking us not to use that name for our organization. But no matter. Golden Dawn we are and shall remain, because that is what we propose to bring to England. A glorious new dawn for this country, and the true English men and women in it.”
He put his teacup on the mantel, clasped his hands behind him, and leaned forward a little—it was the stance of a man in front of a lecture hall.
“As we meet here in the magnificent city of London, the greatest city in the world, a modern rival to the glory of ancient Rome, we might assume that we stand at the heart of a powerful empire. But you know, gentlemen—each of you knows—that we have been invaded. Look at our docks! They team with the outcasts of Europe and beyond. Why, there are places in this city where no English is spoken! Our markets are a cacophony of languages, of nationalities. Where, anymore, but in the highest halls of polite society can we find the pure, the Anglo-Saxon, strain that made this country great? At the same time, we send our young men off to India and Africa, to water foreign lands with their blood. And what does this get us? An empire, to be sure, but at the cost of the purity of our race, the stability of our nation. At the cost of our traditions—the cost, I tell you, of our very souls! What we propose—the purpose of our Order—is no less than the restoration of England, for Englishmen—and women, of course.” He bowed to Mrs. Raymond. “You all know of Galton’s Hereditary Genius and his later writings on what he has called ‘eugenics’—the good, pure, noble birth. English society is headed in the opposite direction, that of ‘dysgenics.’ ” The poor give birth like rats, immigrants fill our cities with the refuse of a hundred shores, and the flowers of English manhood and maidenhood are swamped in the tide. We must regulate our borders so that we no longer accept immigrants and refugees, regulate births so that only the best, the highest intellects, are allowed to perpetuate the race—although we must of course allow a certain number of the lower classes to continue breeding, or we shall have a servant problem indeed!” Here he smiled as though he had said something amusing. “What we need is a group of men, true Englishmen, who are not afraid to fight for their vision of what this country could be. A small group of dedicated men, with the proper resources at their disposal, can do what mobs cannot. As the Spartans held off the Persians at Thermopylae, so too must we stop the tide that is threatening to overwhelm us. And we have resources—Godalming brings to us his position in the House of Lords and considerable fortune. Raymond and Seward bring scientific knowledge. Moran has connections in what is sometimes called the underworld of London that have already served us well. Together with Morris, he also brings us, shall we say, a certain amount of firepower. And you, Mr. Harker—your knowledge of the law will add to our arsenal. We shall form the central core of the Order. As for the ladies, they too have much to contribute. Helen, my dear, perhaps this is the time for a demonstration?”
Everyone looked at Mrs. Raymond. There she sat, a beautiful woman of middle age, her black hair not yet touched by gray, the white lace falling from her snowy shoulders over the gray silk bodice of her gown. She gave a small, grim smile—and suddenly, she was not there anymore. Instead, sitting in her chair—
“What the devil!” said Morris.
Harker sprang up and almost tripped over his chair. “Your Majesty…”
Alice would have cried out in astonishment, but Miss Trelawny had gripped her arm, as though in warning.
The woman who rose from the chair in which Mrs. Raymond had been sitting was as familiar to her as her own face in the mirror. She had seen that countenance all her life, on coins and stamps, in photographs in the newspapers. It was the Queen herself, a compact figure in black crepe, with a lace cap on her head and an expression on her face of determination and resolve. This was the woman who ruled the greatest empire the world had ever known.
And yet—the mesmeric waves swirling around her were recognizably those of Helen Raymond. The illusion would have been perfect, except to a mesmerist.
“Rest easy, we have not whisked Her Majesty from Buckingham Palace to this room,” said Moriarty with a dry chuckle. “Helen, if you would reveal the illusion?”
Before their eyes, Queen Victoria seemed to swirl like smoke—a column of black, gray, and white that reformed into the semblance of
Mrs. Raymond.
“That, gentlemen, is the power of mesmerism,” she said. “I was able, for a time, to convince you that you were seeing the Queen herself. It was, of course, merely a kind of trick. If you would like me to demonstrate again—”
“Not for the world!” said Harker. “Can such a power truly exist? I thought mesmerists were merely charlatans.”
“Most of them are,” said Mrs. Raymond. “But some of them can truly manipulate the mesmeric waves that surround us like an invisible ocean. By manipulating those waves, I can determine what you see—for a time.”
“Then you did not truly become Her Majesty?” He still sounded disbelieving.
Mrs. Raymond sighed, as though wearied by his questions. “Mesmerism does not change the physical world—it merely alters our perception of it. Actually changing material reality is theoretically possible, but would take more power than I currently have. And there is a limit even to the visions I can create. I could not sustain this illusion if there were hundreds of spectators present, rather than the nine of you in this room.”
“Which is of course the problem,” said Moriarty. “Over the past decade, my organization has infiltrated government at the highest levels. Colonel Moran and I have assembled a dossier that could bring down half the cabinet. Once we tell certain powerful figures what we know about them, they will beg us to command them, and willingly do our bidding. But the Queen herself, sitting above the daily fray of politics, is nevertheless sharp-eyed. She keeps a watch over matters of state and has her own shadow cabinet, as it were, whose members are loyal only to Her Majesty. While her role appears ceremonial, in reality she is far more than a figurehead. If we are to effect true change in this country, we must replace her with another, more amenable, version of herself—whom you have seen! That version will reign long enough for us to put our members into the government. Lord Godalming will be our new Prime Minister. And then she will abdicate in favor of Prince Edward. From what I have been told by reliable informants, he will be much more sympathetic to our cause. All of us here are loyal to the Crown—that goes without saying. But the Crown is not necessarily the Queen. She shall not be harmed, I assure you. However, she is old, and it is long past time the throne passed to her son. He will understand the problems of the new century, which is almost upon us. What say you, gentlemen? Are you ready to join the Order of the Golden Dawn?”
The Sinister Mystery of the Mesmerizing Girl Page 10