Madame Zorastra affects an air of mystery and mysticism which, to some, adds weight to her claims of frequent and intimate congress with “those beyond the veil” and “forces beyond mortal ken.” To others, and here I must make it clear I express no specific view on the matter, it increases primarily her ludicrousness. I expect the schools of thought on this matter divide largely, but not entirely, along the lines of belief in not only the after-life but in the interest our dearly departed ancestors would have in hanging about and communing an individual so prone to histrionics and hyperbole.
One might surmise that young Sarah Morgan, for so she was named by her parents, of simple but sturdy Welsh farming stock, when born to them in the closing years of the century past, was overly fond of absinthe and the sweet dragon’s breath. Even where it not for her manner of speech, she has by preference spent much time in the company of artists, musicians and actors, certainly enough to call her credentials into question for any reasonable person. Indeed, she came into Lord Andrew’s acquaintance by way of Sir Anthony Rossiter, an open and unrepentant rake if ever there was one.
For my part, I cannot speak to the accuracy of such suppositions regarding her “abilities”, but I can say that I have noted her seeming-excellent vision in the dark and her uncanny habit of departing a location immediately prior to the occurrence of an unfortunate event, something to which upon questioning she attributes to the warning whispers of her spirit guardians.
All of these things aside, I cannot but distrust her motives at the very least. As I said, she moves in circles inappropriate for one of such low birth and her methods of rising the social ladder, neither innovative nor inspired, argue strongly against her professed affections for the Baron but only for her ambitious aspirations. She is one to watch closely.
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