“In my country it is a great honor to be chosen as the Pearl of the Moon. There is no other way a girl of my class can hope to escape the daily struggle of trying to find enough to eat. And when a girl is chosen, she may select eight other young women to be her maids. In all, nine young women get relief from their agony, I forever and my chosen friends have enough to eat for five full years. It is the greatest honor a girl can hope for. I was most fortunate to have been chosen.”
Claire gave Nyssa a patronizing look. “Yes, I am sure it was a high honor, but you escaped. You have been able to get free of that dreadful place and now you can do what you want.”
Nyssa tipped her head back to look at Trevelyan. “She will not understand, will she?”
Trevelyan gave a brief shake of his head.
“It’s you two who don’t understand. You act as though this pagan religion has some merit. I can’t imagine such a thing as this! Young, beautiful women being killed to honor some idol. I can’t—”
She stopped because Trevelyan had reached out to her, his face angry, but Nyssa put her hand on his arm. “No,” she said softly, then she lifted her head to look at the two men by her tent. “Leave us,” she said, then nodeed toward Trevelyan, too.
When the men had walked to the bottom of the hill and the flute music had stopped, Claire took a deep breath. “Now you’re out of danger,” she said. “If we run—”
“No!” Nyssa said sharply. “Can you see nothing but what you already know? No one is forcing me to do this. I do this because I believe in it.”
Claire could feel her own anger rising. “You want to die so you will be beautiful forever? I hardly think that a rotting corpse is a beautiful sight.”
“I do this because it is what I believe.”
“But it’s wrong!” Claire half shouted, and Trevelyan started toward them, but Nyssa waved him away.
“It is different, that is all, and I am ashamed for you that you think I would give up my life for physical beauty. The death of the Pearl of the Moon has happened every fifty years for centuries and it has kept my city safe. If the tradition is broken then Pesha will be broken.”
Claire gave a sigh of relief. “It’s not the death of women that has kept Pesha hidden, but lack of communication, lack of transportation. Someday there will be trains into Pesha. And it will happen in your lifetime.”
“Not in my lifetime, for I die today.”
Claire’s apprehension returned. “Pesha has already been found,” she said quickly. “So your death will be useless. Captain Baker found it. If he can get in, many others can. Queen Victoria will send hundreds of soldiers to Pesha. It has already happened. You can’t stop it. And certainly your death can’t stop it.” Claire’s face brightened. “You could go around the world telling people of your religion. You speak English so very well. You can educate the world. You can—”
Claire stopped because Nyssa had motioned to Trevelyan to come forward. Trevelyan walked to Claire, then picked her up by the waist and held her to him.
“Stop it!” Claire said to Trevelyan, trying to kick him. “Release me and go get help. I think she means to stand by and allow those savages to kill her. You have to stop this.”
“No,” Trevelyan said into her ear. “This is what Nyssa wants to do.”
Claire stopped struggling and twisted to look at Trevelyan. “This is what you’ve meant these last days, isn’t it? You kept saying that Nyssa is to be allowed to do whatever she wants.” She pulled back from him. “You’ve know about this all along, haven’t you? You’ve always known that she meant to die.”
“I knew in Edinburgh when she wanted her cup.”
“Cup? What cup?” Claire’s voice was rising in pitch. “What cup?”
Trevelyan nodded toward Nyssa. One of the dark men was pouring a liquid into the crude cup that Nyssa had made Trevelyan get from Jack Powell’s house in Edinburgh. For a moment Claire was absolutely still, Trevelyan’s arm about her waist. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, what she had just heard.
As Nyssa put the cup to her lips, Claire screamed and began to fight Trevelyan. Claire kicked and clawed at his hands, she twisted and turned and tried with all her strength to force him to release her, but he held her strongly and firmly.
Only when Nyssa had drunk all that was in the cup did Trevelyan release her. Claire practically fell on Nyssa, grabbing her, sticking her fingers down Nyssa’s throat, trying to force her to vomit. All the while, Claire was screaming, “Help me! Help me!” but not one of the three men moved. They just stood there watching.
Nyssa didn’t vomit and the poison stayed in her.
Claire was by now holding Nyssa, and she could feel her small body growing limp. “Take care of him,” Nyssa whispered. “He loves you.” Nyssa took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and looked toward the setting sun. “Be sure that my cup is returned to the next Pearl of the Moon.”
With that, Nyssa’s body went limp in Claire’s arms. “Nyssa,” she said, then louder, “Nyssa!” Claire began to shake her.
Trevelyan pulled Claire away from the body. “They will take care of her now.” To the side the man began playing the flute again in that hideous, mournful tune.
Claire was dazed. She had just witnessed the suicide of a woman she had come to love. She looked up at Trevelyan. “You could have stopped this,” she said. “You knew she was going to do this. You heard that man play the flute at the theater.”
“Yes,” Trevelyan said softly. “I knew it was time. The Pearl of the Moon performs her dance of death no more than three days before she dies.”
Claire turned away from him to look at Nyssa. If possible, she was more beautiful in death than she had been in life. Claire turned back to Trevelyan. “How could you have allowed this?” she whispered. “How could you have stood here and allowed this to happen?” Her voice was growing louder. “You could have stopped this. You could have done something.”
“I do not decide other people’s lives for them,” he said, his eyes sparkling.
Claire knew he was referring to the two of them as well as to Nyssa. “You don’t care, do you? You don’t care enough about me or about Nyssa. You let her die because you don’t care about anyone or anything except your precious books.”
Behind her the flute had stopped playing and the two men were beginning to move. Claire turned and when she saw the men, with their hideous blue stripes painted on their dark bodies, she couldn’t bear to see them touch Nyssa. It was these men and their primitive religion that had persuaded a simple girl like Nyssa that she had to die for their beliefs.
“Get away,” Claire screamed at the men. “Don’t you touch her. Do you hear me, don’t touch her!”
The two men stepped back, not understanding Claire’s words but understanding her tone. One of the men reached for the cup, but Claire grabbed it first. She held it and looked at it, set with its crude rubies, and she hated the cup. She saw a rock nearby and she thought she would smash the cup.
Like a sleepwalker, she stood up and walked toward the rock, the cup held in her outstretched hand. She raised her arm to bring it down against the rock but Trevelyan caught her wrist and held it.
“You cannot,” he said quietly. “It was Nyssa’s wish that the cup be taken back to her people.”
“So someone else can die from it?” Claire half yelled at him.
Trevelyan still held her wrist and locked eyes with her. “Yes. The cup is older than we can imagine.” He looked at the cup, his eyes sad. “They put a ruby on it for every Pearl of the Moon who has drunk from it and died.”
With horror on her face, Claire looked at the cup she held, at all the many, many rubies on it. She opened her hand to let the disgusting object fall. Trevelyan caught it before it hit the rock.
Claire took a step away from him, looking from him to the cup then back to Trevelyan’s face. “You knew all of this and yet you allowed it to happen,” she whispered.
Behind her the two men were again moving
toward Nyssa’s body. “Get your filthy hands off of her!” she shouted then moved between Nyssa and the men.
Trevelyan walked to Claire. “They will take her now and care for her.”
Claire looked up at him. There was no disguising the anger, the hatred she felt for him.
Trevelyan’s dark eyes did not change. He looked down at Nyssa. “There is a ceremony they must perform, then the body will be cremated and her ashes taken back to Pesha. It is a long journey for the men and—”
Claire could bear no more of his coolness. She stood up abruptly, then turned on Trevelyan and began to beat his chest with her fists. “I hate you, do you hear me? I hate you. You killed her. You may as well have shot her. You killed her!”
Trevelyan made no attempt to stop her from hitting him. He just deflected her fists when she started to hit his face. He stood where he was, allowing her to vent her rage. And when Claire’s strength left her and she began to cry, she turned away from him, but he made no attempt to touch her.
When she looked up she saw the two dark men walking away. One of them was carrying Nyssa’s limp body and the other was holding the horrid cup.
Claire lifted her skirts and ran to the men. “You can’t put another ruby on there for Nyssa,” she said to the man.
He neither stopped walking nor looked at Claire.
“Rubies are for blood. Nyssa wasn’t just one of the women you’ve killed; Nyssa was special.” Claire grabbed at the necklace at her throat and tried to wrench off the emerald that hung down from it, but she was too weak to tear it off and her eyes were too full of tears to be able to see clearly. She started becoming frantic. The men were walking away with Nyssa.
Trevelyan was beside her. “What do you want to do?” he asked softly.
“Get away!” she said, tearing at the emerald and scratching her skin at the same time. “Nyssa will have an emerald for her life. This emerald. It’s called the Moment of Truth. She can’t have a ruby. I don’t like rubies. I have never liked rubies.” She started crying again.
Trevelyan brushed her hands away from her necklace, then with a quick, hard twist, he broke the tear-drop-shaped emerald away, then strode ahead to the two men. Claire followed him and listened while he talked to the men. They shook their heads.
“They have to take the emerald,” Claire said. “They have to.”
Trevelyan began to argue with the men and she could hear the growing anger in his voice. The men, for the most part, were silent, just standing there, Nyssa draped across the arms of one of them, and shaking their heads no.
Trevelyan’s voice grew more urgent; he began motioning toward Claire. Still the men shook their heads no. Trevelyan’s voice lowered into a tone that could only be a threat. After a few more words, one of the men held out his hand and took the emerald, then they started walking again.
Trevelyan turned back to Claire. “They will put the jewel on the cup. They have agreed that this Pearl of the Moon was special.” For a moment he was silent, looking at her, then he held out his hand to her.
But Claire couldn’t take it. She could not forget and certainly could never forgive that he had just allowed a woman to die. She turned her back on him and started down the hill.
“I think she’ll sleep now,” Claire said to Harry as she looked down at Brat. Sarah Ann had been so upset at hearing of Nyssa’s death that a doctor had been called and laudanum given to the child to make her stop screaming.
“You look as though you could use some sleep too,” Harry said, glancing down at Sarah Ann. He had stayed with her and Claire every moment until the doctor had come. At one point he’d hugged Sarah Ann to him, rocking her, soothing her while she cried.
Claire tried to smile, but she couldn’t. The last few days, and especially the last few hours, had been more than she could take.
Harry took her arm, led her to a chair, then handed her a glass of MacTarvit whisky.
“He’s gone, you know,” Harry said softly.
Claire looked at him. “Who?” she asked but knew very well whom he was talking about.
“Trevelyan left a few hours ago. Right after you returned. He and that man of his.”
Claire nodded. No doubt he had remained at Bramley because of Nyssa. He had been waiting for her to die so he would be free to go to his next conquest, his next adventure, to find his next subject for his books. “Good,” Claire said. “I’m glad he’s gone.”
“I think you judge Trevelyan too hard.”
Claire looked at Harry with anger. “He killed her. He stood there and watched her die. You should have seen him. He made no effort to stop her. He couldn’t have cared less about her death. I’m sure he was planning how to write about it in one of his damned books.”
“I’m not so sure Vellie—”
“Don’t call him that! He’s Captain Baker, the man who has seen everything, done everything, and has felt none of it. It’s what I thought before I met him and it’s what I’m sure of now. I never want to hear of him again.”
Harry frowned and looked down at his whisky glass. “All right,” he said softly.
Chapter Twenty-four
When Claire heard the knock on her door, she thought it was the footmen come to take her trunks downstairs. It had been four days since Nyssa’s death and she had decided it was time to leave Harry’s house. Harry had tried to talk to her of wedding dates, but Claire had been too despondent to speak of a wedding. Much to their parents’ chagrin, both Claire and Sarah Ann were dressed in full mourning. But then, in the last few days her parents had complained a great deal about many things. Neither her mother nor her father wanted to leave Bramley.
“I don’t see why you can’t be married from here,” Arva said. “I like this place and I want to stay here.”
Claire had said that they had to leave, that she could no longer remain in the house. Arva had complained that her two daughters looked like nuns in their black and it was a wonder the duke still wanted to marry Claire.
“There are hundreds of leaky roofs in Great Britain,” Claire had said. “Everyone wants to marry me.” Arva had wanted that remark explained but Claire hadn’t bothered.
But now, when Claire turned toward the door, it wasn’t a footman but Leatrice standing there. Claire couldn’t help smiling, for Leatrice looked wonderful. Instead of the drawn, frightened expression she used to wear, her cheeks now blossomed with color and she wore a very pretty, very plain blue dress, not an adolescent ruffle in sight.
Leatrice smiled and went forward to kiss Claire’s cheek.
“You look very good,” Claire said. “Marriage agrees with you.”
“It does. I had no idea how much it would agree with me. James and I have so much in common, and after living here I find him very easy to please.”
Claire smiled. “I’m so very glad for you.” She could think of nothing else to say so she turned back to her packing. “I’m glad I was able to see you before I leave.”
Leatrice walked to Claire and put her hand on her arm. “I came back to see you. Harry wrote to me.”
“How kind of him.”
Leatrice put her hands on Claire’s shoulders and turned her around. “Harry is very worried about you. He says that a great wrong is being done.”
“I can’t imagine what that could be.”
Leatrice gave Claire a hard look and her eyes reminded her of Trevelyan’s. Claire looked away.
“I really must finish packing. I have so much to do. My family has imposed on your hospitality for so long. Much, much too long.”
“I want to tell you about Trevelyan and my mother,” Leatrice said.
Claire’s hands paused for a moment then she began again. “I really don’t have time. The footmen will be here at any moment and I must be ready.”
“No one is coming. I’ve told them to wait.”
“But I must leave,” Claire said. “I can no longer stay here. I have to go. I have to…” She trailed off because she knew it was useless to argue. She
wanted to hear what Leatrice had to say and at the same time she didn’t want to hear. At the moment all she wanted in the world was to get out of that house that held so many good, as well as so many horrible, memories for her.
Slowly, Claire walked to a chair, seated herself, then looked up at Leatrice expectantly.
Leatrice took a deep breath. “I never wanted to live here with my mother. I never wanted to become the cowardly spinster who you first met. But what I don’t think most people understand is that hate is as strong as love. Maybe stronger. Hate can keep people together just as much as love can. My mother and I hated each other.”
“I don’t think you should say that about your mother,” Claire said.
“I merely say the truth. You see, I knew something about my mother that no one else did and she hated me for it. More than hated me.”
Claire didn’t say anything.
“You’ve done something for me that I’ll never be able to repay. You’ve given me something that can replace the hatred that has ruled my life.”
“Love.” There was cynicism in Claire’s voice.
“Yes.” Leatrice smiled. “It does sound melodramatic, doesn’t it? I think that since you helped me, I should help you. I want to tell you about my mother.”
“You don’t have to.” Claire was somewhat afraid of what she was going to hear about the formidable Eugenia. She thought she might believe anything she heard about the woman.
“I want to tell this story. I’m tired of carrying the burden of it.” Leatrice took a deep breath. “When my mother was a young woman, she was very beautiful and full of passion.” She smiled at the look of disbelief on Claire’s face. “Yes, it is difficult to believe, isn’t it? But she was. She fell madly in love with a handsome young man who was an officer in the navy. She loved him more than she loved anyone or anything on earth. She worshiped him.”
Leatrice sighed. “Unfortunately the young man was no one. He was from a middle-class background and had no money at all. But Mother didn’t care about any of that. All she wanted was the young man.