Page 54 of Mesmerized

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MADAME VALENSKAYA RUBBED her hands together as she paced up and down the floor of her bedroom, as she had been doing almost the entire time since Mr. Babington’s collapse.

“I don’t like it!” she burst out, shooting a glance at her companion that was both wary and ill-tempered. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. And I hope never to see it again.”

“Calm down,” the other woman said quietly. “I didn’t expect it, either, but it will work to our advantage. As long as you can keep your mouth shut. Babington’s performance is bound to scare Lady St. Leger into doing whatever the ‘spirits’ tell her.”

“What if she can’t get it? You said her son is the one who controls it.”

“He will get it. I could see that even he was shaken this evening. And if his mother is scared out of her wits over it, he will do it for her. He hates you, but he will do it just to get rid of you.”

The dumpy medium made a noise of disbelief. “I’m not so sure of that. That one’s a hard man. I’ve known men like him before, and there’s no scaring or bullying them.”

“It will work,” her companion said flatly. “As long as you don’t lose your nerve.”

“I don’t know what’s so special about this Martyrs’ treasure, anyway. I was getting coin and jewels just fine without all this. Lady St. Leger will continue to give me money as long as I can give her her ‘Roddy’ to talk to,” Madame Valenskaya said, sneeringly mimicking Lady St. Leger’s pet name for her son. “I don’t know why we have to try to get this gold casket.”

“You don’t have to know why.” The other woman’s voice was sharp and disdainful.

“It’s not worth it,” Madame Valenskaya whined. “I want to leave. I want to go back to London.”

“Don’t even think about leaving. I have put far too much time and effort into this—seducing that lack-wit Babington into helping us, dragging you along, producing those tricks—to let you ruin it all because you are a coward. You are staying right here, and you are going to keep on giving your séances until we get what we want. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, yes, all right,” Madame Valenskaya said grudgingly. “I will stay. And I won’t give us away.”

“All right. That’s better.” She gave the medium a last piercing look, then turned and walked out of the room.

Madame Valenskaya closed the door after her and turned the key. Letting out a shaky little sigh, she leaned against the door for a moment, then walked across the room and pulled open one of the drawers. She rummaged around in it for a moment and triumphantly pulled out a bottle of gin. She poured a healthy amount into a glass, her hand trembling so badly that the bottle clinked against the rim. Then she lifted the glass and drank it down greedily, giving a little shiver afterward. The heat exploded in her stomach, and everything seemed better.

* * *

OLIVIA DREAMED THAT night of the woman she and Stephen had seen in the great hall, the woman who, in the dream she and Stephen had shared, had been called Lady Alys. She was dressed as she had been in that dream—in a plain blue tunic and undergown, with a simple veil holding back her hair. She was folding clothes and putting them in a trunk, gracefully bending and turning. She turned and looked straight at Olivia and smiled.

“It’s very important, you see, to make sure one’s precious goods are saved,” she said, her voice softly accented.

She turned back and picked up a gold box, about a foot long and seven or eight inches high. It was ornately engraved along the edges. She set it down on the bed and opened the lid. Inside, golden objects gleamed. Lady Alys lifted out a necklace of gold beads, then a cross the size of her hand, centered by a dark red stone, and laid them on the bed. Inside lay a tangle of gold chains and several rings, some engraved and some with polished colored stones. She opened a large wooden trunk and reached inside, pulling out a belt, or girdle. It was long and made up of links of gold, and in the center of it, three of the links were embedded with polished stones. Carefully she folded the girdle and put it into the golden box, then replaced the large cross and the gold necklace and closed the lid.

There was the sound of shouts, and she turned and ran to the narrow window and looked out. “Soldiers!” she cried, her face filled with panic. “There are soldiers in the bailey!”

Suddenly they were no longer in the same room but in another one with rounded walls and no square corners. A tower room, Olivia knew. There was smoke, and outside the air rang with the clash of swords and the shouts of men. Lady Alys was wearing the same clothes, now dirty and torn and stained with blood. The smoke grew thicker, and the lady coughed, her face taut with fear. Olivia felt the woman’s fear, and her own throat tightened.

It was hard to breathe; she felt as if she was suffocating. Olivia’s eyes opened, and she realized that she was in her own bed, not some medieval tower room. But still she could not breathe. Something dark and heavy lay in the air all around her, pressing her down, pushing her into the bed, crushing the air from her chest.

Panic filled her. She could not move... All around her the air hung like iron, filled with menace. Squeezing her. Killing her.

Olivia finally broke the paralysis that enveloped her, swinging out wildly with her arms. She sucked in a breath and shrieked, tumbling out of her bed, still swinging. There was nothing there. She encountered no resistance except the bedclothes tangled around her. But she was still gripped by the terror that had seized her, and she ran for the door and flung it open, stumbling out into the hall.

Stephen came running toward her from his room, his chest bare, wearing only a pair of trousers hastily pulled on. “Olivia! What is it? What’s the matter?”

“Stephen!” Olivia flung herself into his arms, and he held her close, stroking her hair and bending his head to hers, murmuring soothing endearments.

She held on to him, trembling, as her fear slowly subsided. His arms were tight and strong around her, and she wanted to stay inside their safety forever. But finally she stepped back from him, letting out a shaky little sigh.

Olivia glanced around her. Up and down the hall, several other doors had opened, and she found Lady St. Leger and Belinda, as well as Irina Valenskaya, watching them with great interest. Olivia blushed and brushed back her hair with her hands.

“I’m sorry. I’ve made a terrible fool of myself,” she said.

“Don’t worry about that.” Stephen took her arm and led her back into her room, away from all the interested eyes. He lit a lamp and turned the wick up, giving them light. “Now, tell me, what happened?”