“Miss Sullivan, would you oblige us?” Gardenia rose from her chair, inviting Clodagh to seat herself upon it, directly infront of where the lamp and mirror were placed.
“Oh! I don’t know if I should.” Onora’s aunt clasped her hands in her lap. “It all feels rather…”
“There’s nothing to cause alarm,” Gardenia soothed. “You gaze into the mirror, watching the movement of the flame, and tell us what comes to mind. All of us here have tried it, at one time or another.”
“Well, I suppose I can do that.” Clodagh gave a faltering smile.
Onora had a strong urge to intervene, to say that her aunt should do nothing unless it was her own wish. However, to object to this parlor game, as she supposed it was, might seem churlish. Besides which, her aunt was a grown woman, fully capable of making her own decisions. She did not need Onora to prompt her one way or the other.
She glanced at Seton. Unlike the others, he was lounging back in his chair, seeming almost uninterested. Catching her eye, his gave a smallsmile, then raised a finger to his lips.
It was a clear sign, asking her not to interfere.
CHAPTER 9
There were words of encouragement until Aunt Clodagh moved into Gardenia’s place.
Miss Feathermount spoke gently, the words keeping a steady rhythm. “That’s it, dear. Now, focus not on the lamp itself but upon the reflection and the space beyond. You are relaxed, sleepy even, your eyes wanting to close, but keep looking into that dark place, in which there is nothing but the slow burn of the taper and the flicker of the living flame.”
Onora felt her breathing slow, her eyes growing tired. If she rested her headupon the wing of the chaise, she might drift off.
No one will notice if I rest for a minute.
The room was so warm and dark, and she was so sleepy.
No! Stay awake. Make yourself do it!
Onora pinched her wrist, hard. Something told her she mustn’t give in to the urge, no matter how tempting.
Perhaps she’d let her mind wander, for Gardenia was asking Clodagh what she could see, telling her to look deeper, to look with more than her eyes.
Her aunt’s answers were no more than mumblings. Her mouth was slack, her eyelids drooping. She was trying to speak, but the words were incoherent.
“Help her!” Onora tried to call out, but her voice emerged weak, more a whisper than a shout, as if some force held sway, subduing her throat. She looked urgently from face to face, to Gardenia and her sister, to Reverend Griffiths, to Dr. MacGregor.
They’re looking straight at her!Can’t they see she’s not well?
Even Seton was ignoring the situation, as well as Onora’s attempts to gain his attention. Looking at Miss Feathermount, he shook his head.
“Back with us.” Gardenia clicked her fingers, then touched Aunt Clodagh’s cheek.
“Oh my!” Clodagh blinked wearily. “Did you ask me something, Gardenia? Was I dozing off? My apologies. Perhaps I should retire.” The candle and mirror upon the table seemed forgotten; she attempted to stand, somewhat unsteadily.
Onora rose immediately, taking her aunt’s arm, but Seton said, “Madame Auvray will accompany her.” He spoke directly to Virginie. “Ask your maid to assist, then return.”
“It’s no trouble.” Onora retained hold of her aunt. “I’m worn out myself. I ought?—”
“Nonsense.” Seton stopped her from speaking. “You can spare a few more minutes for me, can you not?”
Onora wanted to refuse, but Clodagh made no objection as Madame Auvrayguided her away. With a sense of dread, she resumed her seat.
Gardenia gave a broad smile.
As if nothing has happened, nothing untoward or strange.
A simple lamp and mirror could surely do no harm; yet the way her aunt had looked…Onora needed to see her, to make sure she was alright.
“Your turn, my dear.” Mrs. Griffiths indicated the seat vacated by Clodagh.
