Conspiracy by S. J. Parris

Author:S. J. Parris [Parris, S. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, thriller, religion, suspense
ISBN: 9780007481248
Goodreads: 21067255
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

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The next hour passed in a blur. The crowd dispersed, drifting back into the warm, and I followed, looking out for a woman in silver chain mail, or the man in the Greek mask. I took another drink from a tray and swallowed it down. Inside the Grand Salle, the light seemed dimmer as the banks of candles had begun to burn down and the smoke from the braziers hung thicker in the air, blurring my vision. Musicians were playing, dark, urgent pieces a long way from the airy tunes of the earlier singers; the drink and the incense were already having a visible effect on the inhibitions of the guests. On the floor between the stands of tiered seating, dancers whirled in frenzied steps, bodies pressed together, and in every alcove and behind every drape I saw couples entwining themselves with little regard for privacy. Through the haze and the milling outlines of people I thought I glimpsed a woman in silver chain mail; I followed her out of the Grande Salle and into a maze of dimly lit corridors and galleries lined with guests seeking darker corners. I wandered a room full of mirrors, starting each time I saw my own shape swaddled in the hooded cloak with the twisted mask of the Doctor leering back at me. A distant clock chimed.

I followed the sounds of the music back to the hall and stumbled out to the terrace. On the far side, by the wide stone steps to the gardens, the oily flames of torches revealed two figures, heads bowed together in earnest conversation: a masked woman in the costume of Joan of Arc, light rippling on her silver chain mail, and the tall man in the tricorn hat and the Greek mask. My blood quickened; I pressed myself back into the shadows by the palace wall and crept closer to see if I could catch what they were saying. They gave no sign of having seen me, and I was certain that I had been silent, but when I was a few feet away they drew apart with no warning, the woman walking quickly with her head bowed back to the hall, the man slipping down the steps to the gardens without a backward glance. I hesitated briefly, but decided my best option was to follow him; his behaviour had already given me cause for suspicion, and now I had caught him in intimate conference with a woman who matched Gabrielle’s description of the Duchess of Montpensier, I had all the more reason to watch him closely. This was not so easy in practice. The man in the Greek mask either had the night vision of a cat or knew the layout of the Tuileries gardens by heart; though he had taken no lantern, he walked quickly, with sure steps, through the formal borders where the paths were lit and on into the darkness beyond.

I hurried after him, with the uneasy sensation that he knew very well he was being followed and was deliberately leading me on.

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