“Then that will have to do,” said Ayesha, taking another sip of her tea. She looked completely at home in 11 Park Terrace—but then, she always looked both incongruous and completely at home wherever she was.
Laura took off her coat, which was still very dusty, although the maid at the hotel in Calais had brushed both their coats thoroughly the night before. She handed it to the doggy boy—or did he smell more like a monkey Lucinda had once seen at a fair, pulling coins out of children’s ears? She was not sure. Her own outfit must be just as dusty from the road.
“All right,” said Laura, sitting down in one of the armchairs. Following her example, Lucinda handed her coat to the footman, and sat down in the other. “It sounds as though we’re in for more conflict and turmoil, or as Carmilla calls it, adventure. So tell us all about it.”
By the time Mrs. Poole brought up a second pot of tea, Ayesha had told a tale so wild and unbelievable that Lucinda was half convinced she had made it up. An ancient Egyptian high priestess with seven fingers on her left hand? A ritual that bathed seven men in energic flames so that their skin shriveled off their bones and turned to ash? Could such things possibly happen? But Laura did not seem particularly surprised by these revelations.
“All right,” she said at the end of Ayesha’s story as Mrs. Poole was pouring her a cup of tea. “When do we leave for Cornwall?”
Mrs. Poole poured another cup of tea for Lucinda. “It’s too late for the train to Marazion, although there’s an overnight to Penzance,” she said. “You might still be able to catch that. But Madam Ayesha said she would like to go to the British Museum.”
Lucinda leaned over. She was so embarrassed—it would be terribly rude of her! And yet she had to do this. “Mrs. Poole,” she whispered. “I’m afraid… that is, I am most grateful for your kind hospitality, but I cannot drink tea. I cannot drink anything but—”
“Of course!” said Mrs. Poole in a low voice, with a look of consternation. “I’m so sorry, miss; Mary did tell me all about you. A little later, I’ll go out and—”
“I want to see the Trelawny Exhibit,” said Ayesha, ignoring their whispered conversation. She put down her empty teacup, which Mrs. Poole immediately offered to refill. “No, thank you, Mrs. Poole. No more for me. I want to make it to the museum in time before it closes. There are things about this situation I do not understand. Why were all the ritual implements in the tomb? Clearly because Tera expected to be resurrected, and not two thousand years after her death. There was an inner circle of priestesses—the most senior of them, all personally loyal to Tera herself. They must have planned to resurrect her in case she was killed, either by Cleopatra’s henchmen if she prevailed against the Romans, or by the forces of Augustus. And then for some reason their plan went awry. Most of the senior priestesses were killed in the assault against the temple, and those who were not killed were forced to flee for their lives. When Heduana instructed us not to use our powers against the Roman soldiers—well, I do not know whether she was right or not. Perhaps if we had fought, we might have held the temple, at least for a while—but more of us would have died. At any rate, the ritual was not enacted when it was meant to be, and Tera had to wait two thousand years. I need to know more, to read what is written on the tomb artifacts. Mrs. Poole, I will accept your kind offer and spend the night here. I have no doubt it will be more comfortable than even the Savoy. I should be back in time for supper.”
“Very good, madam,” said Mrs. Poole. “But as for being more comfortable than the Savoy, well, I don’t know about that!”
“I’ll go with you,” said Laura, drinking her tea a little more quickly than is usually advisable with hot beverages. “I want to see these artifacts for myself, and I can tell Bertha to send our bags over here. They’re still in her trunk—The Times is putting her up at Claridge’s in return for an exclusive. I can’t read hieroglyphs, but I want to know more about this situation as well. However, Lucinda needs to rest. Don’t you, my dear?”
Lucinda nodded. She was feeling light-headed and weak. She just wanted to lie down somewhere and sleep for a very long time.
“Then so you shall, miss,” said Mrs. Poole. “I’ll put Madam Ayesha in Miss Justine’s room, since the bed is longer, and Miss Jennings in Miss Mary’s. I think Miss Catherine’s room would be just right for you. It was a bit of a mess when she left, and in general I do expect the young ladies to straighten their own rooms, seeing as it’s just me and Alice nowadays, although we used to have any number of servants when Mrs. Jekyll was still alive. But I picked up in there myself this morning. I think you’ll find it most comfortable, and I’ll talk to Mr. Byles myself about what he has that would be suitable for your supper. I hope you don’t mind sleeping in Miss Catherine’s room for tonight—as a member of the club, you should have your own room, of course. The old governess’s room, which Nurse Adams used for a while, is empty except for Miss Catherine’s typewriter, and she said she could move that down to Mr. Jekyll’s office whenever you decide to join us. I’ll have a room fixed up for you by the time you return from Cornwall. I do hope the girls are all right.… I worry about them so, when they’re on one of these exploits of theirs!”
Lucinda was so tired that she just nodded. But when she was lying in Catherine’s bed, in the room that had once belonged to Mrs. Jekyll, she thought, This is the Athena Club, and I am a member. I can come live here if I wish. There is, after all, a place for me in this world.
DIANA: No, she didn’t. Lucinda thinks in Dutch. I asked her.
CATHERINE: If you want me to write that in Dutch, you’ll have to translate it yourself.
DIANA: Why don’t you ask Lucinda?
CATHERINE: Because she’s gone out hunting, and honestly I wish I’d gone with her! At least you wouldn’t keep coming in here all the time and interrupting. This is the problem with being in the office—or the library, since we’re calling it that now. Some days, it’s like trying to write in Piccadilly Circus!
DIANA: But I’m bored. I want to play a game.
CATHERINE: Why don’t you go into Beatrice’s greenhouse and see how long you can stand her poison without fainting? I bet you won’t last five minutes!
DIANA: Bet I will! You’ll see.…
CATHERINE: Wait! Di, I didn’t meant that. I was just joking. Come back here, you dratted child!
After her mother’s death, Lucinda had assumed there would never be a place for her in the world again. And yet there was a place for her here in England, as well as in Styria. She would go back there—she still had a lot to learn about being a vampire from Carmilla and Magda. But eventually she would come back to London, to live with Mary and the others. She could already feel this house welcoming her, as though it knew she belonged. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought—in Dutch, Diana—It is good to be a member of the Athena Club.
CHAPTER XIV
Helen’s Story
Lydia, what is this?” asked Margaret Trelawny. She had the bag of candy in one hand and a pendant of some sort in the other.
“I don’t know,” said Alice, trying to keep a tremor from her voice. She must remain calm and collected. “I’ve never seen it before. I swear.”
“How could the girl know, ma’am?” asked Mrs. Polgarth. They were all standing in Professor Trelawny’s study, where Margaret had summoned them—Alice next to her mother, and Tera by the professor’s desk, looking at them impassively. “I bought those sweets at Mrs. Turnbull’s shop in Marazion. Someone must have dropped that—whatever it is—in the bag by mistake. It looks like an expensive piece—perhaps it fell off a chain or bracelet into the bag? And the lemon and pear drops, humbugs, licorice—those were supposed to be for Miss Lydia, not the Egyptian lady, if you’ll pardon my saying so. While I understand that she might not have tasted English sweets before, it’s impolite to open a bag not meant for you, and here in England, proper ladies don’t usually go into the kitchen in search of food. They ring the bell and wait to be served. I don’t know how it’s done in Egypt, but that
’s how it’s done in an English household.”
“Lydia,” said Margaret, ignoring Mrs. Polgarth, “Are you absolutely sure you don’t recognize it? Look at this pendant—it’s engraved, as though it were intended to function as a seal. An owl, an olive branch, the letters ΑΘΕ. What do those mean to you? I’m not accusing you of wrongdoing… yet. But you must be honest with me.”
“She’s told you that she doesn’t know what it is,” said Helen. “Why do you assume this was meant for Lydia? Who could have known that the bag of sweets was meant for her?”
“Everyone Mrs. Polgarth spoke with yesterday, I imagine,” said Margaret. “Mrs. Polgarth, who did you encounter yesterday, after purchasing the bag of sweets? Who knows you were bringing them to Lydia?”
“Well, I didn’t tell anyone direct-like,” said Mrs. Polgarth. “I just said they were for the little girl staying at the keep. I mentioned it to Mrs. Turnbull, and old Widow Tremaine when I passed her in the street, and maybe, yes, I’m sure, Letitia Farquhar in the yarn shop, and Mr. Greengage the grocer when I put in your order, ma’am, and Mrs. Davies at the pub, and some nice young ladies who were staying at the inn, but they were visitors, and didn’t know anybody in Marazion.”
“What did the young ladies look like?” asked Margaret.
“Well, just ordinary young ladies,” said Mrs. Polgarth. “One had light brown hair, and the other had dark brown hair, and a darker complexion. The first was fair and a little sallow. They were both nice young ladies, and meant no harm, I’m sure. In fact, they wanted to visit the keep, but I told them there were no visitors allowed, on account of you being home, ma’am.”
Margaret turned to Helen. “Do those sound like the girls you captured? Mary Jekyll and—who were the others?”
“Diana Hyde and Justine Frankenstein. Not particularly. Mrs. Polgarth, was one of them very tall, taller than most men? Or very short, with wild red hair and a tendency to swear like a sailor?”
“No, ma’am. They were both perfectly ordinary, well-spoken young ladies. It must have been some sort of accident, that trinket getting into the sweets.”
Margaret frowned. “I don’t believe in accidents. Mrs. Polgarth, you may leave early today, and you need not come tomorrow either, although of course I’ll pay you as usual. We expect to be out all day, so we will not need our meals cooked. We shall see you again on Friday.”
“Very good, ma’am,” said Mrs. Polgarth, looking at them doubtfully, as though not at all sure she approved of the situation. Then she curtseyed and left the room.
Margaret turned back to Alice. “Lydia, one more time, do you know what these markings mean?”
“No,” said Alice. “I’ve never seen them before.”
“She is lying,” said Queen Tera, stepping forward. “I can see it in her energic field. There were two girls on the path this morning, searching for something. They passed one way, and then the other. I could sense their presence, so I altered the energic field around the house and hid it from their perceptions. When they passed a second time, I told Margaret and she observed them from the window of her father’s room. Perhaps they were trying to find the child.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?” asked Helen sharply. “I should have been told as well. What did they look like?”
“Just ordinary girls,” said Margaret. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time, or I would have found my father’s binoculars and observed them more closely. I thought Tera was being too suspicious. Now, I’m not sure. And I have a vague recollection that one of them had red hair. They could have been two of those meddlesome girls you captured in Soho. Alice, do you know who they might have been? Is someone trying to contact you?”
Alice shook her head. What could she say that would not cause Tera to accuse her of lying again? She did not know what the pendant was, not really. And yet, if she remembered the little Greek she had learned from Beatrice…
Tera walked over to Alice. As she crossed the room, the bells on her beaded cap tinkled. “We have more important things to do than attend to such trifles. And this particular trifle has already taken too much time.” She took Alice’s chin in one small, bony, seven-fingered hand, and raised it until Alice was looking directly into her eyes. They were so dark that they were almost black. “You do know… something. Tell me, child, or I shall send a bolt of energy through you that will stop your heart.”
“No!” said Helen. “You can’t do such a thing to my daughter.”
Tera looked at her calmly. “I can and will if she does not tell us what she knows.” She turned back to Alice. “What do you say, Lydia?”
Tera’s hand was so cold and hard! It held her chin with such strength that she could not turn her head, but had to stare into those dark eyes. “The letters are Alpha, Theta, and Epsilon,” she said, her voice quavering. She tried to steady it. “They are the first three letters of Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. And the owl is the symbol of Athena.” Beatrice had taught her that, when she was learning the Greek alphabet. She had not learned much Greek yet, but she recognized the letters. It must be a signal—members of the Athena Club must be in Marazion! Those girls Mrs. Polgarth described, and the girls passing by the house—perhaps the Athena Club was searching for her? Whatever she did, she could not betray them. “Other than that, I don’t know.” Tera let go of her chin—thank goodness, because it was beginning to hurt—and took the pendant from Margaret so she could examine it more closely.
“These symbols appeared on the Athenian drachma,” said Tera. “I have not seen one in two thousand years. If someone is attempting to signal Lydia, then she cannot be trusted. It would be safest to dispose of her now.”
“You can’t do that!” said Helen.
Tera looked at her with raised eyebrows, the way she might have regarded a surprising new species of beetle. “I will not be told what I can and cannot do.” Then she held out her hand, index finger pointed toward Helen, just as she had when she was about to blast Justine.
Without considering the possible consequences, Alice stepped between the two of them. “You leave my mother alone!” She was not at all sure how she felt about Helen, but she knew that she did not want her mother blasted by a resurrected Egyptian mummy.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, we don’t have time for this,” said Margaret. “Tera, if those girls were nosing around here today, they’ll be back. I think we should take the boat to St. Michael’s Mount tonight rather than tomorrow morning. We can spend the night in the harbor of St. Michael’s Mount, and then implement our plan before the Queen’s yacht arrives. I don’t think they’ll notice one more boat, but we’ll simply have to take that chance. We have a busy day tomorrow. Once our plans have been carried out—once the Queen is here and Tera has taken her place—we can get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, I suggest we put Lydia in the dungeon with Mr. Holmes. Helen, it’s only temporary, until we can establish that she really is on our side. I can make sure she has decent bedding, and some food.”
“The alternative I suggested is both easier and safer,” said Tera. “Long ago, I was merciful, as you are. Because of it, I lost Egypt to my own daughter. I do not trust this girl. I think we should kill her now.”
“No!” said Helen. “All right, I’ll take her down myself, and see to her bedding. Lydia, let’s go to your room and gather up your bedclothes. I’ll find you a warm blanket—the dungeon will be cold tonight. And we’ll stop in the kitchen to get some food. This is ridiculous, but it’s just for one night. It will all be over tomorrow, and then things can get back to the way they were before.”
MARY: I can’t believe your own mother would put you in a dungeon!
ALICE: She was not a very good mother, but she was the only one I had.
MARY: Still, a dungeon! That’s almost as bad as experimenting on your daughter, as Rappaccini and Van Helsing did.
ALICE: Remember that she was the product of an experiment as well. If things had turned out differently, she might have been a
member of the Athena Club.
LUCINDA: And she did her best for you at the end. That is, after all, what matters.
In the kitchen, Helen looked around. “There must be food—where does Mrs. Polgarth keep the food?”
“It’s in the pantry,” said Alice.
“She always leaves dinner on the sideboard before she goes,” said Helen apologetically. “I’ve never been down here before.”
“I have,” said Alice. “I’ll pack something for myself.”
“Yes, I think that would be best.” Helen sat down on one of the chairs and looked at Alice. “You interposed yourself between me and Tera when she threatened to kill me. Why?”
“I don’t know.” Why had she done that? Perhaps because despite everything that had happened, this was her mother. “Why did you kill Moriarty? Why are you helping Queen Tera? I don’t understand.…” There were so many things she did not understand.
Helen looked down at the table for a moment, as though lost in thought, then looked back up at Alice. “My father—Dr. Raymond. What he did to my mother drove her mad. But I was born possessing the power to perceive and manipulate energic waves, so he considered the experiment a success. I grew up in his household, cared for by servants. I saw my mother only when my nursemaid took me to visit her at the Purfleet Asylum, where she was confined on the third floor. He was one of the three asylum trustees. Lord Godalming—not Arthur Holmwood, but his father—and Professor Moriarty were the two others, at that time. Each time I came, she would be sitting on her bed, in one of those blue dresses they give the inmates—or patients, but as a child I thought the asylum was a prison because there were bars on the windows. She would look at the wall in front of her, or at the floor—never at me. I didn’t understand why she would not look at me or speak to me. I would speak to her, call her mother, tell her that I was her daughter, that I missed her. Only once in all those years did she respond. I must have been eight years old. I sat next to her on the narrow white bed and asked, ‘Mother, what do you see when you stare like that?’
The Sinister Mystery of the Mesmerizing Girl Page 31