Page 154 of The Seven Rings
When Catherine stood with the other brides, they all stepped back.
“It’s stunning,” Cleo said. “Visually stunning. The art, of course, and the subjects. It’s also a history of fashion. You can see the changesgeneration by generation. The shape of the gowns, the sleeves, necklines. The hairstyles.”
“Seven women spanning over two hundred years since the manor was built. Seven brides. There would be eight if Patricia hadn’t taken the warning.”
“Maybe she didn’t want eight. Or six.” Cleo angled her head. “Another reason she scared Patricia off? Maybe. Seven’s a number of power.”
“She got six with Clover,” Owen pointed out.
“Yes, then one more for seven. Seven and two hundred years. Not six in two hundred and thirty or forty—I’m not doing the math.”
“Thirty,” Trey told her.
“Okay. But by skipping that one generation and waiting. Seven over the two hundred and thirty years since the manor was first built.”
“When she first started to covet it,” Sonya murmured.
“You don’t actually think she’d stop because, what, seven’s her lucky number?”
Cleo shook her head at Trey. “No. There are other numbers of power, and she got her two hundred years and seven. If that’s something. She amassed that power. She’s got no reason to stop, does she? And she’s insane on top of it.”
“She’s not getting a chance for eight.” Trey’s eyes hardened as he scanned the portraits. “We find the answer. And if the answer, or an answer, is on that wall, we need, and we’ll find, one more portrait.”
“Commonalities,” Sonya began. “Oil paintings in the same style. All wedding day portraits, all wearing white. All holding flowers, all wearing a wedding ring. Opposing that? Different backdrops, not all wear veils, two are pregnant—Clover visibly. Only two are Pooles by birth. Of the six we have, three died wearing that dress. Clover and Marianne died later in childbirth, and Catherine in a nightgown on her wedding night.”
“Sometimes they’re not wearing them.”
Sonya turned to Owen. “What? The wedding dresses?”
“The rings, in the paintings. Sometimes they’re not there. I’ll walkby, glance in, and for a couple seconds, they’re not there. Then they are.”
“I know.”
“It’s happened a few times so I know it happened, right?”
“You’ve caught glimpses of their reality,” Cleo decided. “Because they’re not wearing them. Dobbs is.”
“Interesting” was all Trey said.
“Weird, but you know?” Owen shrugged. “You get used to weird.”
“Weird’s one thing. Murder through sorcery’s another.”
Cleo raised her brows at Trey. “And on that happy note, I’m going up, let all this simmer.”
“I’m with Lafayette. So’s Jones.”
Sonya lingered even when Yoda and Mookie followed the others.
“You see the rings.”
“Yes, I see them.”
“It has to mean something that Owen doesn’t always see them—everything means something. It’s the figuring out what that makes you crazy. And to think I always liked puzzles.”
“Nobody solves a puzzle with pieces missing. And there’s more missing here than one painting. If Dobbs is wearing the damn rings, and she is, how the hell are you supposed to get them back? And what are you supposed to do with them if you do get them? Why in all the time I spent in this house over the years didn’t she pull any of her bullshit?”
Frustration built, spilled over.
