Infernal Vices (Resurrectionist #3)

CHAPTER 32

THE EASTER BALL

It was nearing six o’clock and I was famished. A buffet was laid for the Easter Ball and so I would have to wait to eat. I’d requested that my dinner suit was ironed by Monkman and it was waiting on a hangar. I dressed myself, missing the conversation I would usually have with Mr. Troy. I hoped my servants were having a peaceful day with their families.

Before tying my cravat, I glanced out of the bedroom window to see the twilit night sky and that flaming torches were lit along the driveway and around the courtyard to guide the carriages of guests to Seabourn Abbey. The silhouette of St Fabians at the top of the hill gave me a shiver. Whatever came to pass tonight, it would end on that hill, away from the guests and servants of Seabourn Abbey.

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I attended the ball at eight o’clock when it was in full swing and was relieved to see as I took a promenade around the ball room, that everyone in our party was in attendance. I’d been concerned that Leo might have been scared off, or, like a fool in love, told Blake that he’d been betrayed. But no, he danced with Nissa, and then took a turn with each of the Cavendish girls while I stood with Mr. Fairfax, Lord Dancer, and Ashe. Cavendish was in high spirits, enjoying the attention hosting the ball got him from his powerful country neighbours. At ten p.m Cordelia Cavendish announced that she had set up a moonlight Easter Egg hunt which saw guests in their finery, many also in their cups, scurrying around the grounds searching for chocolate eggs, the sounds of frivolity and laughter echoing into the night.

Taking advantage of the egg hunt as a cover, at eleven p.m I left my compatriots. We decided to leave a gap of ten minutes between each of us exiting the ballroom. I returned to my bedchamber, and retrieved the Staff of Asklepios from behind the bath panel and then readied myself for the coming ritual. Sebastian and I both owned a copy of the red book and we’d learned the incantation and the stages of the ritual by heart, as it was important to know where Sebastian could intercede in the proceedings, retain anonymity, and prevent any harm from coming to Leo.

On leaving my bedchamber I could hear that the egg hunters were returning and revelry continued in the ballroom downstairs, a string quartet playing a jolly tune with clapping and cheers of guests. Nissa was in her room waiting for my sign. As arranged, I knocked four times, then twice. She knocked twice in response, informing me that she knew her part and our showdown was about to commence.

With the bottle casket containing the Greek phallus pressed under my arm I left Seabourn Abbey through the Orangerie and skirted the perimeter of the house, before crossing into the woodland. Much to my relief it was a pleasant spring night with a sprinkling of glistening stars in the heavens above. I drank in the fragrant night air and keeping close to edge of the tree line, I headed up the hill to the church of St Fabians.

Hundreds of lanterns had been set along the driveway and around the courtyard as a guide to carriage drivers as they delivered and collected guests. Lanterns were also used to create an Easter design over the wide expanse of front lawn. From the hill looking down it was a magical spectacle, but it also ensured that the lanterns set illuminating the path to the church blended in to the display. I paused, took a deep calming breath and listened to the evening breeze rustle the leaves around me. What happened in the next hour would be life changing in one way or another. I sent up a prayer that finally I would rid Lawrence Blake from my life and his victims would get their justice. It was a race against time for the teams from Scotland Yard, the Pinkerton’s from New York, and La S?reté from Paris. Whoever arrived first would claim their prize!

When I reached the church I turned and took in the innocent scene below at Seabourn, the party continuing while in the church an archaic sexual ritual was about to commence.

“Psst!” I turned to my right to see two figures in the shadow of the medieval church, Sebastian, who was still disguised as Fairfax with the long beard and unkempt hair, and Detective Inspector Jack Dancer.

“Are you ready?” Dancers whisper sounded loud in the silence of the night.

“Yes, come along.” We three strode down the pathway to the door for the vestry where I knocked three times. The weasley retainer from Charles family home Mr. Monkman opened the door and stepped back to allow Dancer and I to enter. Sebastian remained outside in the shadows.

“Do you have the Staff, sir?” Monkman asked me with his lispy drawl. I reluctantly I passed the bottle casket containing the Staff of Asklepios to him. He nodded succinctly and left the room with the casket clutched to his chest like a newborn. The vestry was frigidly cold with only a lantern for light. I could see a line of garments on hangers from those who had already changed, and red robes on pegs for those of us who had not, and on each peg with a robe, was an animal mask of Papier-maché made by Charles. The masks were exquisite creations inspired by Greek art. During our coach journey Charles had explained that the ritual was like a play and we were taking parts. Acolytes were to be Satyrs, and Fawns.

“Satyrs and Fawns represent the reciprocal incarnation of man with the deity,” he said speaking in a learned tone and I could tell that Charles was well-read on his Greek studies.

“Blake will play the bull. The bull is used to represent the power of the generative organs–the cock! Leopold will be Pan the Goat, the center of all things. Pan is the most ancient revered God of the Greeks. Pan of Arcadia is Pan the luminous, Pan is the vessel, the Lord of matter, and so during the ritual he must be bathed with our life giving spend,” Charles had explained with glee in his eyes.

I kept Charles’ assertion that this was merely a play fixed in my mind as Jack and I hurriedly changed. We kept our small clothes on. There was no way I wanted my escape later to be hampered by trying to climb into my smalls in a hurry. I pulled the red robe over my head and smoothed it down. Jack Dancer also threaded the red robe over his head and then picked up the fawn mask. It had small ears and huge doe eyes. He put it on, tying the ribbon behind his head. Monkman then returned to the Vestry and I was relieved he remembered not to touch me as he continued with his chore of collecting garments and placing them on hangers.

“I’ll be back in a jiffy, Monkman, one last smoke to calm the nerves aye!” Dancer said, moving to the hanger holding his garments, and rifling in his jacket pocket for a cigarette and box of matches. Dressed in his blood red robe and mask, he stepped outside and closed the vestry door behind him while I kept Monkman busy.

“Who are we waiting for Monkman?”

“Mr. Cavendish, Mr Blake, and the Blessed Vessel, sir,”

“We purposely timed leaving the party at ten minute intervals to negate suspicion, they should be here soon.”

“Understood sir,”

I knew that the man who stepped back into the anteroom minutes later wearing the red robe and fawn mask was not Jack Dancer. If all was going to plan, Jack was now in Sebastian’s clothes and with Charles calling in a favour from his stable boy lover, Jack should find a horse tied up in the woods to ride down to the village. There he was to meet with his men from Scotland Yard who were readying to arrest Lawrence Blake AKA international fraudster Darius Clements of New England. If Dancer could secure the arrest before the Pinkerton’s or La S?reté arrived it would be quite the feather in his cap. He could then accuse Blake of being the Gentleman Thief, which would ensure Detective Inspector Dancer earned a commendation!

Sebastian had removed the wig and false beard so he appeared closer to Dancer’s silhouette. He strode to Dancer’s jacket and put the silver box containing matches back into the pocket and then collected the red book Dancer had left in another pocket. We removed our shoes and socks and I shuddered with a chill of standing on the frigidly cold stone floor. Without a word, Sebastian then stepped forward and opened the door leading from the vestry into the church. I collected my book and put it in a pocket in my robe, then picked up my mask. According to Greek mythology, Satyrs were rustic fertility spirits, woodland creatures with the body of a man but head and legs of a goat. They were notoriously lecherous. My mask was goat-like with curved horns and pointed ears. I tied my Satyr mask on to my head, pulled it down to cover my face, and followed Sebastian.

The setting of this medieval church gave me a shudder of awareness. Stepping from the chilly vestry and into the church nave I found a liturgistic scene before me. Candlelight flickered and the oil radiators heated the room making it comfortably warm. This was a sacred space that had given refuge to monks, villagers, and wounded soldiers during the many skirmishes and battles that had been played out during the English Civil War. Even though it had been deconsecrated many years ago there was a tangible atmosphere of worship in this place, and now Fratres Seminis was about to sully this ground once again with an arcane sexual rite.

I still had no idea if Leo truly believed his life was in danger. Love was a kind of madness and inspired feats of bravery and absolute tomfoolery in equal measure! I hoped the boy had taken the time to think about the information we’d shared, and had not told Blake he was betrayed. I made the sign of the cross and said a private prayer asking that God would protect my beloved and me as we sought to protect Leo from his very nature. I stepped onto the Turkish rug that had been placed on the floor of the nave, and took in a breath of the damp, fragrant incense scented air. I immediately felt a little dizzied. I had only consumed fruit cordial at the party, so this was not from the effects of alcohol.

As it was written in the red book, four items of ritual furniture, a bench and three tables, were laid out; three were in a triangle shape reflecting the Greek letter Delta because Delta represented change, both in the mathematical and spiritual senses. The forth item of furniture was a long trestle table that sat in the center of the triangle. It had a cushion upon it where the vessel, Leo, would lay his head. All tables were draped with purple silk fabric fringed with gold. The bench was like those from the gymnasium at school, low and backless. To my shock it was affixed with four phallic protuberances spaced out along its length. When my eyes adjusted to the ambient light, I was aghast to realize that a set of Dr Young’s Ideal Rectal Dilators had been attached to the bench to create an instrument of torturous pleasure. I owned a set of these rubber phalluses. They were clearly designed for carnal usage but sold as medical devices to cure everything from constipation to bad breath! I had not used them as a cure-all, but to stretch myself, and ensure I was ready for my Sebastian. There were four sizes of bulb-headed phallus, varying in diameter from the smallest at half an inch, and the largest girth of two inches. I couldn’t manage the largest, but they were excellent for prostate massage, and, of course, that particular usage wasn’t mentioned on advertisements for the product!

One of the tables held the silver chalice that had been used for our last ritual at Exeter Hall, there was also a second, smaller silver cup, and an Athame —a long- bladed ceremonial silver dagger. The second table had what appeared to be some kind of leather harness upon it, and the bottle casket containing the Staff of Asklepios, placed there moments earlier by Mr. Monkman.

I stepped forward and the strange, slightly sulphurous incense made my senses swoop. Again, I was dizzied and so I hurriedly strode to one of the pews skirting the walls and sat. There were already four silent brothers in their robes and masks sitting in the pews on the other side of the nave, either clutching or reading their red book. One of the fellows gave me a shy wave. I knew then that the blue eyed fawn mask was worn by Charles Ashe. His fingers trembled and I understood he was as afraid as I was about what would occur tonight. As Charles and Lord Arthur Spencer were chums I supposed another of the masked acolytes was he. And so, the remaining two must be lawyer, Sir Percy Faulkner, and Judge, Sir Horatio Morehead.

My distracted, dizzied thoughts were pulled back to the present when the vestry door opened and a tall, heavy set robed man in a Satyr mask stepped out and strode to sit beside Sebastian and me. From his size and gait it could only be Benjamin Cavendish. We sat in silent trepidation awaiting the final players.

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