“Fair enough,” the woman said as she extracted a small dark brown bottle from her reticule, uncorked it with trembling fingers and lifted it to her lips. She then recorked the bottle but did not replace it in her reticule. “Opiates, the true refuge of cowards. Yet all that keeps me sane, you understand. Ah, yes, that’s better. It was Archie’s idea. He keeps me generously supplied, but that won’t be for much longer. I’m very careful, you see. I drink half, and hide the rest away, watering what is left. He wants me insensible, but I’ve fooled him there. I don’t need this,” she said, holding up the bottle. “But I know I’m needing it more. I heard him speak of Ringmer last week, with his valet. You know of the place?”
Jessica looked to Gideon.
“A discreet asylum for those of weak minds, yes.”
“You’re too kind, my lord. A discreet dumping ground for those with enough money to rid themselves of their problems,” Felicity countered, seeming to gain courage. “Problems such as wives who no longer suit their needs. I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t follow his good friend Lord Charles’s lead. But, then, there are no soggy cliffs on our property to break away whilst I’m out for a solitary stroll.”
Again, Jessica snapped her head round to look to Gideon, who merely shook his slightly, as if warning her to remain silent.
Felicity shrugged and slipped the bottle back into her reticule. “You were wearing the rose. Was I wrong to believe it was because you wanted to make contact with the Society?”
“No, you were correct.”
She nodded. “I thought as much. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. You’ve been discussed, my lord, and let that be a warning to you. They’re watching. And then you sent your wife to us last night. You really should be more careful, my lord. You and your bride both, her being who she is. What did you think to gain? You wanted, perhaps, to learn more about Your father? I can tell you all you need to know, for I’ve heard the stories. Your father was a terrible man, a monster. Your mother was right to shoot him, put him down for the animal he was.” She shook her head. “But he wasn’t a patch on what’s happening now. Oh, no. Not a patch. None of them were.”
“Is that why they’re dead? The members who date from my father’s time, or soon after? In order to make room for members more in agreement with whatever in hell they’re doing now?”
The woman looked up at Gideon, her mouth gone hard. “That’s not why they’re dead, and you somehow know it, or else your wife here wouldn’t have come to us last night, asking such obvious questions, and we wouldn’t be here now, talking. But, yes, that is what happened. I’m afraid we began something without considering the possibility we were aiding the Society, giving them a chance to finish building a thirteen more suited to their purpose. We thought we were so clever, just as your mother was so smart, so wise to see there was only the one answer for her, and damn anything else.”
Only the one answer for her. Jessica felt a shiver climbing her spine. How often had she sat at night, watching James Linden sleep, and thought there’s only one way I can be truly free of him. What was this woman saying, really saying? Could it be…?
Gideon sat down on the edge of the low table in front of the couch. “I’m sorry. I’m don’t understand. What does my mother have to do with any of this?”
“You understand. You just want me to keep talking, don’t you? But I’ve seen the packet, I believe the coach, so you might as well hear it all, the both of you.”
Felicity sat back against the thin cushions. “They use only prostitutes now for the most part. None of the newer members include their wives, save for Lord Charles, who finds it amusing. For their games, you understand. Wives were more convenient over the years, less prone to carry tales. But wives grow long in the tooth, or they cry, or they kill themselves. The thirteen never cared. They have their games, just as I have my little brown bottle. But they can’t give them up, they don’t want to give them up. Devil worship. Ha! It’s all a hum, you know, an excuse.”
“Go on,” Gideon urged, when the woman seemed to get lost inside her own mind.
“They’re filthy, dirty bastards, every one of them, and they like it. They feel powerful, and important, and show off in front of each other like little boys. Look at me, look at what I can do, listen to her beg for more. No, not that one. I had her last time, and it’s like falling cock first into a hole. By Beelzebub, pass me one who’s still tight. One by one, we were pushed to the side, barred from the ceremonies. We were only whisked to the ceremonies and then banished back to our homes, never to see anyone not wearing a mask. After that, one by one, we were gone. Oh, yes, I know. It’s Ringmer for me, and very soon.”
The brown bottle appeared once more.
Jessica realized she had laced her hands together, squeezing so hard her knuckles had gone white.
“Ha! Look at your bride, Saltwood. I’ve put her to the blush. Now that’s a talent I lost long ago. Should I tell you about their toys? The spanking horse, the stocks? Oh, and the whips, the paddles. Sometimes for us, sometimes for them, or else they couldn’t—”
Gideon repositioned himself slightly, blocking Jessica from the woman’s sight. “I believe we understand, Mrs. Urban, and you have our complete sympathy. But your husband, all of the members, also used these so-called ceremonies of devil worship as a way to lure guests who could be used to further their true purpose.”
The bottle was recorked once more. “Their true purpose, my lord? They had no true purpose beyond their filthy desires. Not since your father was killed, him and his supposed plan for England to rise in its own revolution the way the Froggies did. I heard it said he’d already ordered a guillotine built, but that may be only rumor. No, there was just the opiates, the costumes and chanting, the rutting. Not until he showed up. Oh, he’s sly, he is. Playing one against the other, bringing up all this nonsense about the rights of the most gifted and the freedom of man. How the French had it right as far as it went, but Napoleon has it better, and will reward those who help him gain the greatest prize, wretched England itself. He has promises from the French, he has a plan, and we’ll all share in the glory. The thirteen, the deserving. Who needs an invading army if England can be rotted from the inside?”
Jessica listened carefully as the woman explained in more detail.
The few surviving members since Barry Redgrave’s time and several of those who had been “invested” soon after had objected, saying treason was a dangerous game to play and would lead to exposure and disaster. But they’d been overruled by Orford and the others. The Society began to change. Proofs of loyalty were demanded.
“Like you,” Felicity Urban said, leaning to her side so that she could look past Gideon to Jessica. “That was certainly a debacle, wasn’t it? Your father barely escaped with his life over that one. But he’d made the gesture, hadn’t he? He’d agreed to turn you over to the new Leader the night the man was to be formally invested in his role. Of course, your father couldn’t have known the man’s true plan.”
“Him,” Gideon said, snapping his fingers twice to draw the woman’s attention back to himself and to the moment. “I’m assuming you mean the current leader of the devil’s thirteen?”
Felicity sighed. “Yes, yes, who else would I mean? And now you’re going to ask me his name, and I have no answer for you. The Society is the Society, and the Leader is the Leader. Orford introduced him, first brought him as a guest, and none of us women ever saw him in anything but a full-face mask and a hooded cloak. I can tell you his eyes are dark, like the depths of hell, but that’s all I can tell you, except to say he never did more than sit on his throne and watch.