The Lady of Secrets (41 page)

Meg quelled a panicked urge to jerk free, run to the window, fling open the casement, and scream for help. Amy was calm at the moment, but Meg sensed it would take little to send her into the sort of frenzy that had driven her to kill Mistress Keating.

Desperately, she attempted to probe Amy’s eyes, but it was hopeless. Reading the eyes of a madwoman was like trying to piece together images in a shattered mirror.

“I have waited so long for this moment when I would stand before you and pledge my love and loyalty to the Silver Rose.”

Meg tried not to cringe as Amy carried Meg’s hand to her lips and pressed a fervent kiss upon her knuckles. The woman’s eyes glowed with an unholy devotion.

“My granddam always promised me you would come one
glorious day to reward all of your true followers. She was the one who kept your legend alive long after the evil witch-hunters destroyed your coven in France. Granddam was one of the few who managed to escape, but she carried away all the secrets she had learned. She knew how to make those incredible silver roses and she taught me and Bea. Granddam was a great friend of your mother’s. Tamsin Rivers, surely you must remember her.”

Meg nodded weakly, although she had no recollection of any such person. She had been so young at the time, but she remembered quite clearly that Cassandra Lascelles had had no friends. There had been a few trusted members of the coven that Cassandra had allowed into her inner sanctum and taught the art of brewing the deadly poison, but Meg was certain Tamsin Rivers had not been one of them. If Tamsin had acquired the secret of making the lethal roses, then she had done so by spying upon Cassandra, a dangerous pastime. Tamsin Rivers would have had to have been a clever and brazen woman indeed.

“My mama and papa died when Bea and I were very little. My granddam was all the family we had,” Amy said. “After we had to flee France, we moved from place to place, Granddam always afraid the witch-hunters might find us. We finally settled in Edinburgh, where Granddam earned our keep by selling potions and telling fortunes. But she never forgot about her devotion to Megaera, even after she was arrested and condemned to burn.”

Amy’s eyes filled with tears. “Granddam was so fierce and brave, but when the flames rose up and began to scorch her skin, she screamed and screamed. I can never forget it. Sh-she died so horribly.”

“I know,” Meg said gently. No matter what Tamsin Rivers
might have done, being burned alive was a fate too cruel for anyone. She pitied the old woman, but even more she pitied the granddaughter who had been forced to witness such a dreadful spectacle.

“I am sorry.”

“Sorry?” Amy’s face flushed with anger. “She died for
you.
And how did you repay her? You removed her curse from James Stuart.”

Amy’s grip tightened so painfully that Meg gasped. “I didn’t. I merely made him believe that I did.” That was true enough as far as it went.

Amy glared at her. “You mean that you tricked him?”

“Y-yes.”

Amy blinked at her. “Oh.” Her face cleared like the sky after a sudden cloudburst. Her grip on Meg’s hand slackened, allowing Meg to draw away from her.

“That was very clever of you. I daresay you wished to lull him into a sense of false safety. I
told
Bea there must have been some reasonable explanation for what you had done. My sister and I would have preferred that the villain remain tormented and afraid, but it doesn’t matter. By this time tomorrow, James Stuart will be roasting in hell.”

Meg rubbed her throbbing hand. “Tomorrow? What is going to happen tomorrow?”

Amy ignored her alarmed question. “It is what is going to happen tonight that is important. The coven of the Silver Rose will be reborn. All that is required is your presence, milady. Come with me now. We must make haste.”

Amy opened the bedchamber door, indicating that Meg should precede her. But Meg hung back.

“Where would you have me go?”

“All of your followers have gathered, waiting to proclaim
you our queen. Tonight you will fulfill your destiny and assume your place as the most powerful sorceress in the world.”

A chill swept through Meg. It could well have been her mother talking, that same fanatical light in Amy Rivers’s eyes. Meg would as soon have marched straight into hell before accompanying her anywhere. But what choice did she have? In her impatience, Amy brandished her knife, gesturing Meg toward the door.

Meg hung back, trying to stall for time. Surely Seraphine would return at any moment. But the brief flicker of hope that thought aroused quickly turned to dread. Yes, Seraphine would return, but with no idea of the danger that awaited her.

The redoubtable countess would be more than a match for the likes of Eliza, but Amy had spoken of others. Meg had no idea how many more of these deluded women might be gathered below and Seraphine would be taken completely unaware.

The best course would be for Meg to go with them, get them all away from the house as quickly as possible. She would be safe enough as long as Amy and the rest of the coven regarded her as Megaera. And was this not the reason she had come to London, to uncover the truth, to stop any attempt to revive her mother’s coven? This gathering tonight might prove her best and only chance to do so. She could finally put an end to the madness that had stalked her ever since her childhood. All she need do was find the courage to play the part of the Silver Rose one last time.

THE NIGHT WAS BITTER COLD, BUT CLEAR, THE CRESCENT OF
moon suspended like a scimitar over the city. Meg’s eyes had
adjusted to the darkness, but she still stumbled as she followed Amy down a narrow alley, the rest of the group close at Meg’s heels. They consisted of Eliza and two other women, hardly the force that Meg had anticipated with such dread.

They were all cloaked in similar fashion to Amy, crude rose emblems stitched into the black fabric. Meg had been unable to make out little of their features beneath the hoods, only noting that they both seemed young. She could sense their nervous excitement, but beneath that she detected a threading of fear. It gave Meg hope that she might be able to gain control of them and perhaps Eliza as well. The maid had been far too abashed to look Meg in the eye, even going so far as apologizing for her deception, mumbling, “Sorry, mistress.”

“That is milady,”
Amy had reprimanded her sharply, then bade her hold her tongue unless spoken to, a command Eliza had done her best to obey.

As they hurried along the streets, Meg could hear Eliza behind her, panting for breath, despite Amy hissing for her to be quiet. Eliza moved much faster than Meg would have imagined the heavy woman capable of, but it was necessary in order to keep pace with Amy.

Undaunted by the darkness, Amy skittered through the maze of streets and alleys with all the stealth of a rat. Meg had half hoped they might be caught by one of the king’s officers charged to keep the peace, but Amy was adroit at avoiding the watch. No doubt she had had a great deal of practice.

It was just as well they were not stopped, Meg thought. She would not fare any better than the others if she were hauled up before a magistrate. Her tale of being kidnapped by a quartet of witches would sound most unlikely. Besides, if
the coven were to be stopped, Meg needed to see her mission through to the end.

She wondered if Seraphine had returned to the house by now. When the countess found both Eliza and Meg gone, she would doubtless be alarmed. Seraphine would know that Meg would never have been imprudent enough to leave the house after dark, certainly not with the fires unbanked and lit candles still burning. Only the direst of circumstances would have impelled Meg to do so. Seraphine would be nigh frantic with fear and would set out in search of her.

But Meg despaired of Seraphine being able to track her. Meg was not sure herself where she was, except somewhere in the environs of Westminster. When they emerged from the alley, Meg saw the distant outline of the majestic abbey.

Amy held up one hand, bringing them all to an abrupt halt. She scanned up and down the inky expanse of the street ahead before nodding with satisfaction.

“It’s clear. We are almost there. Come on.”

Amy led the way across the street, Meg and the others stumbling to keep up with her. Meg had formed no clear idea of where this gathering of witches was to take place. Perhaps in a graveyard, or an abandoned building, or some dark cellar.

When she realized where Amy was heading, Meg’s jaw dropped at the sheer audacity of the woman. Amy ran to the arched door of a small church, its stone walls covered in ivy. With a nervous glance around her, she scratched at the door, calling out softly.

A muted response came back and the door creaked open. Amy gestured to Meg and the others to precede her, whispering, “Hurry!”

Meg hesitated on the threshold, her courage faltering as she was overwhelmed by memories from her childhood, all
the horror her mother’s coven had inspired in her. She still had occasional nightmares about being surrounded by desperate women staring at her with hungry eyes, plucking at her skirts with greedy hands, their voices shrieking out all their impossible demands.

Megaera! Megaera! Make me young again. Make me beautiful. Curse the husband who beat me. Cure my sister of her deafness. Raise up my child from the dead.

She closed her eyes for a moment to remind herself that she was no longer that beleaguered little girl subject to her mother’s mad ambitions. Even nightmares had to come to an end.

Behind her, Amy made an impatient sound and shoved Meg into the church. She heard the others crowding in behind her and the door being pulled closed.

All the candles had been extinguished, giving Meg the sensation of plunging into the cold depths of a cavern. The nave that stretched before her was enveloped in darkness and she struggled to take stock of her surroundings. The church had to be ancient, perhaps as old as Norman times, the windows high and narrow, the air perfumed with ages of incense steeped into the walls.

A faint light flickered as a group approached from the front of the church. The tallest of them carried a lantern and growled at Amy, “About time you returned. What took you so long?”

“I had to be careful not to run afoul of the watch, didn’t I? Don’t you be snipping at me, Bea. This is our great and glorious night, the one we have waited for ever since Granddam died.”

“So have you brought
her
then?”

“Most certainly.” Amy gave Meg another nudge forward.

The lantern was raised aloft, momentarily blinding Meg as the light shone directly into her eyes. She blinked, focusing on the woman before her.

Unlike the others, Beatrice Rivers had made no effort to conceal her face, her hood flung back. Her resemblance to Amy was marked, although her features were gaunter and her eyes more close set. Her expression was hard, a hint of cruelty playing about the set of her lips. Her gaze spoke more of skepticism than Amy’s fervid adoration.

“Behold our Silver Rose,” Bea intoned, mockery in her voice.

Her announcement was received with disappointed murmurs from the two other women who had been waiting with Bea in the church.

“That’s the Silver Rose?”

“She doesn’t look so powerful to me.”

“I thought she’d be taller.”

“Silence!” Amy shrieked. “How dare you be so disrespectful. Of course this is Megaera. Do you think my sister and I would not have made sure of that before risking this gathering? Tell them, Bea.”

“Aye, she is Megaera, but whether she is as powerful as all the legends claim …” Beatrice shrugged, a challenge in the thin smile she directed at Meg.

“Most certainly she is!” Amy turned to Meg. “Show them.”

“Yes! Show us! Show us!” The chorus was taken up by other eager voices. Meg shrank back in dismay, but there was nowhere to retreat. She was surrounded by a crowd of expectant figures, although not as many as she had feared. Including the two Rivers sisters, there were only seven of them.

Meg moistened her lips and tried to infuse a note of command
into her voice. “First, draw back your hoods and show me your faces. I must see who dares to proclaim herself one of my coven.”

There was hesitation, then one by one, hoods were pushed back. Meg dreaded to discover that one of them might be Mary Waters, the poor woman they had tried to coerce into joining the group. She was relieved to discover that Mary was absent.

Most of them looked ill-kempt and ill-fed, their faces bearing the marks of a hard life, making it difficult to guess ages. The only exceptions were Eliza and a slender girl who could have been no more than fifteen.

When Meg approached her, the girl shrank back. But when Meg cupped her chin, she stilled, only the quickening of her breath betraying her apprehension. Meg’s skill at reading eyes was not as sharp as it had once been, but this child was all too easy, her eyes as wide and wary as a newborn fawn.

“The young man whom you loved betrayed you. As soon as he won you to his bed, he abandoned you for another. Now your heart is broken.”

“Ohh!” The girl quavered. “ ’Tis true. H-how did you know?”