The others were staring, their eyes opaque but for the glinting reflection of the taper’s light.
“I’d rather not…” Onora looked imploringly at Seton.
She didn’t need his permission to leave, nor could he force her into any action. Nonetheless, to protest would bring his displeasure, and there were ramifications to that, even if they were of the subtlest kind.
“Look into the glass, Onora.” Seton surveyed her through hooded eyes. “Afterward you mayretire, as your aunt has done.”
Trembling, she moved into the seat before the mirror.
All too soon, Madame Auvray returned. Onora made one last request to decline, asking if she might partake of the experience the following evening perhaps, but Seton would not be moved.
He instructed them all to link hands, forming an unbroken chain. “If you feel faint or anxious, squeeze the hand of either lady at your side, and we shall stop.”
Gardenia whispered softly beside her. “Your body is light, without worry or care. Your mind feels neither foreboding nor restraint.”
The gloom seemed to darken around Onora.
“You are looking into the mirror, beyond the flame,” Gardenia murmured. “You gaze into the abyss, but you do not fear the dark. Let it see you, Onora. It has been waiting.”
The words floated to her from far away. She was alone, outside, the night air cool upon her skin. Such freedom! On bare feet, she ran,strong and fierce, knowing she would never tire. When she lay herself down, the breeze lifted caressing grains, whispering over her limbs, claiming her piece by piece, making her part of the desert. She was safe there, buried beneath the sand, with the moon guarding her.
“With me now!”Gardenia’s voice startled Onora from the dream.
At first, she was too stunned to speak, unable to reconcile wherever her mind had taken her with where she was.
“What did you see?” Seton was unable to hide his eagerness. When Onora did not answer immediately, he pressed her. “Were you with her?”
The questions made no sense.
The feeling of lying outside, naked under the night sky while the sand moved over her was almost stronger than the knowledgethat she was seated here, but Onora was certain she’d been alone. That she was sure of.
“Did she come to you? Tell me!” Seton leaned forward, his expression intense.
“Who?” Onora’s hands were still being held by those either side. Hastily, she snatched them away. “I didn’t see anyone! Please, I…I must go to my room. I’m not feeling well.”
Mrs. Griffiths, the Reverend’s wife stood abruptly. “The men may enjoy their cigars as late as they wish, but it’s long past time for us ladies to retire.”
A bustling of skirts ensued as chairs were pushed back and someone lit a candelabra upon a side cabinet. The game, or whatever it had been, was dismissed, the mirror turned face down and the candle extinguished.
Onora dared not look at Seton.
She was grateful that someone had intervened and the other women had moved quickly in support of the suggestion, leaving no avenue for further persuasion.
“That’s it, dear. Lean upon me.” Mrs. Griffiths walked her across the courtyard.
“My aunt!” Onora came to a halt. “I must see her.”
“She’ll be asleep by now. Best not to wake her,” the older woman soothed. “I’ll see you to your bed then look in on her for you.”
Meekly, Onora nodded. In truth, she was so weary she could barely stand.
Someone had made her room ready; the lamp being lit and the covers turned down. She looked at the bed longingly, and would have fallen upon it as she was, were she alone.
Instead, with smooth efficiency, the Reverend’s wife helped Onora divest her clothes. She allowed herself to be turned and unbuttoned, as accepting as a child, then sat at the dressing table while her hair was unpinned, brushed, and plaited.
What had passed earlier seemed unreal.
Laying down, she said, “You’re very thoughtful, Mrs. Griffiths.Thank you for…everything.”
