I'm following them quickly through the realms, to the top of a hill. I can hear cries. Fast, we're going fast. The hill falls away, and there is the most magnificent cathedral I've ever seen. It shimmers like a mirage. The Temple.
"Hurry . . . ," the girls whisper."Before they find it."
Behind them, dark clouds gather. Wind blows their hair about their pale, shadowed faces. Something's coming. Something's coming up behind them. It rises up and over them like a dark phoenix. A great black winged creature. The girls don't look, they don't see. But I do. It opens its wings till they fill the sky, revealing the thing inside, a churning horror of faces crying out.
And then I'm screaming.
"Gemma! Gemma!" It's Simon's voice I hear calling me back. His hand is over my mouth to stop my screams. "I am sorry. I meant no harm."
Hurriedly, he hands me back my gloves. It takes me a moment to come back into the room, to realize that Simon was kissing my bare shoulders and that he thinks the screams are over this. I am still woozy from the drink but now I feel as if I shall be ill. I vomit into the maid's washbasin. Simon rushes to bring me a towel.
I am mortified, and my head aches. I am also shaking all over, both from the vision and from what has happened between us.
"Should I send for someone?" Simon asks. He stands in the doorway, coming no closer.
I shake my head."No, thank you. I wish to return to the ball."
"Yes, at once," Simon says, sounding afraid and relieved at the same time.
I want to explain to him, but how can I? And so we walk down the stairs in silence. At the first floor, he leaves me. The bell is rung for supper, and I simply fall in with the other ladies. Supper is a long affair, and gradually, with food and time, I feel more like myself. Simon has not come to supper, and as my head clears, my embarrassment rises. I was foolish to have drunk the absinthe, to have gone with him alone. And then that horrific vision! But for an instant, I saw the Temple. I saw it. It's within our grasp. It is not the greatest comfort on this night, but it is some comfort, and I shall hold fast to it.
Mr. Worthington makes a toast to Christmas. Ann is introduced and asked to sing. She does, and the assembly applauds for her, none more loudly than Tom, who shouts, "Bravo!" The governess comes forth with a sleepy Polly, who clutches her doll.
Admiral Worthington beckons to the girl. "Sit upon my knee, child. And am I your own good uncle, then?"
Polly climbs up into his lap and gives a shy smile. Felicity looks on, a grim set to her mouth. I cannot believe she would be so childish as to be jealous of a little girl. Why does she do such things?
"What? Is that all the payment due unto uncles these days? Let's have a true and proper kiss for your uncle."
The child squirms a bit, her eyes darting from person to person. Each one gives her the same eager expression: Go on, then. Give him a kiss. Resigned, Polly leans in, eyes closed, and gives Admiral Worthington's handsome cheek a kiss. Murmurs of approval and affection float about the room: "Ah, well done." "There we are." "You see, Lord Worthington, the child does love you like her own father.""Such a good man."
"Papa," Felicity says, rising. "Polly should be getting to bed now. It is late."
"Sir?" The governess looks to Admiral Worthington for his orders.
"Yes, very well. Go on then, Polly dear. I'll be up to sprinkle fairy dust on you later, darling, to make sure you have beautiful dreams."
Felicity stops the governess. "Oh, do let me take our Polly to bed." The governess gives a slight bow of her head. "As you wish, miss."
I don't like this. Why does Felicity want to be alone with Polly? She wouldn't harm the child, would she? Making excuses, I slip from the room in order to follow them. Felicity leads Polly upstairs to the nursery. I stand just outside the door, watching. Felicity's crouched low, her arms on Polly's slight shoulders.
"Now, Polly, you must promise me something. Promise me that you will lock your door before you go to bed. Promise?"
"Yes, Cousin."
"And you must lock your door every night. Do not forget now, Polly. It is very important."
"But why, Cousin?"
"To keep out the monsters, of course."
"But if I lock the door, Uncle can't sprinkle me with fairy dust."
"I will sprinkle you with fairy dust, Polly. But you must keep Uncle out."
I don't understand. Why would she be so insistent on keeping her own father out? What could the admiral do that could possibly . . .
