Garden of Lies(13)

He needed to walk the labyrinth.

He pulled on a pair of trousers, took his dressing gown off the wall hook and picked up the key ring he kept beside his bed. He left the bedroom and went downstairs. Opening a door off the kitchen, he descended a set of stone steps into the basement.

The vaulted chambers beneath the ground floor of the house were very old. Much of the masonry work was medieval in origin but there were other sections that dated from the days when the Romans had controlled Britain. It was easy enough to distinguish the two eras if one paid attention. The Roman construction work was orderly and refined—the bricks well made, uniformly shaped and aligned with great precision. In comparison, the masonry of later generations was nothing short of sloppy. Nevertheless, it had all stood the test of time. He wondered if modern construction would hold up as well centuries from now.

At the foot of the underground steps he picked up a lantern and lit it. He continued down a low-ceilinged stone corridor and stopped in front of a thick wooden door.

Selecting a key on the iron ring, he opened the door, moved into the chamber and set the lamp on the small table near the door.

The glary light illuminated the pattern of blue tiles set into the stone floor. The tile path formed an intricate, convoluted pattern that eventually led to the center. Some would have said that it looked like a maze. But a maze, with its many pathways that ended in dead ends, was designed as a puzzle, created to confuse and bewilder. His labyrinth had only a single entrance and one true path that eventually brought the seeker to the center of the complicated design.

The very act of walking the labyrinth was a form of meditation requiring concentration and focus. The exercise helped him to see patterns hidden in chaos.

Here in this chamber there were no stone walls and no paintings lining the path so he created the illusion in his mind. He tightened his concentration until he could see only the ribbon of tiles beneath his feet.

When he was ready he walked the path through the invisible caverns of his mind. He could hear the whispers of the old dread that had threatened to rob him of his sanity. The unnerving voices were always there, waiting for him, when he began the journey. It did no good to try to suppress them. Instead, as he had been taught, he acknowledged them from the perspective of a disinterested onlooker and returned his focus to the pattern.

Time did not matter when he walked the labyrinth. If he tried to hurry the meditative process he would not see the pattern. It was only when he ceased to care about finding the answer that it would come to him.

He concentrated on each tile, noting how it was connected to the one that had gone before and the one that came after. With each step he went deeper into his thoughts, deeper into the complex pattern.

And then he was there in the very heart of the labyrinth. He opened his mind and saw a truth that he had known from the start—Ursula Kern might be on the verge of putting herself in harm’s way.

He contemplated another glittering shard of knowledge—allowing Ursula Kern into his life came with a degree of risk. She had the power to alter the balance of his carefully constructed world. The truly harrowing part was that the prospect of taking the risk thrilled him.

The words of the Master of the Labyrinth whispered through his mind. “There are many paths to many answers. Some paths must be walked alone but other journeys cannot begin unless one has a companion of the heart.”

He picked up the lantern and let himself out of the chamber. He paused to lock the door and then he went up the stone steps.

There was something to the gossip about exotic rituals in the basement of his mansion. Not all of the rumors about him were wrong.





SEVEN




Lilly Lafontaine banged the delicate china cup into the saucer with so much force, Slater was mildly surprised that both the cup and the saucer survived the impact.

“I cannot believe what you just told me,” Lilly announced. “What on earth did you do to my Mrs. Kern that caused her to terminate her employment with you?”

Slater winced. He was on the far side of the drawing room, standing near one of the tall Palladian windows but Lilly’s voice had been trained for the theater. It was rich, resonant and inclined toward melodramatic undertones even when she whispered. When she was annoyed—as she was now—she could infuse her words with enough power to reach the cheap seats in the last row of any theater in London.

Lilly’s drawing room complemented her strong voice. It was decorated in a lavish, ornate style that put Slater in mind of a stage set or a very expensive bordello, depending on one’s taste in interior design. Heavy crimson velvet draperies were tied back with thick gold tassels. The background color of the patterned carpet matched the red drapes. The graceful settee and the gilded chairs were covered in red velvet and satin.

A portrait of Lilly, done at the height of her career as one of the most celebrated actresses in London, hung above an elaborately sculpted marble mantel. She had been a raven-haired beauty in her younger days—her fine-boned features enhanced with mischievous eyes and a glowing personality that had evidently attracted everyone in her orbit, male and female alike.

There had been a time when most of the wealthy, distinguished gentlemen in town had vied for an invitation to Lilly’s exclusive salons. Edward Roxton, heir to a fortune and a title, had been among that crowd of men.

Edward had been married when the liaison with Lilly had begun. Ten years ago the first Lady Roxton had died, leaving Edward without a legitimate heir to the title and the fortune. Although everyone knew that he would do his duty by the family name, there had never been any question of him besmirching the distinguished Roxton lineage by marrying an actress. In the eyes of the Polite World it would have been tantamount to wedding a courtesan. He had, instead, married a young woman of impeccable breeding. The second Lady Roxton had fulfilled her marital obligations, providing Edward with an heir and a spare—Slater’s two legitimate half brothers.