Of Night and Dark Obscurity

by Nicola Italia

  He moved down from the driver’s bench and into the buggy. He had draped her over the seat and her skirts had bunched around her thighs. He pressed the petticoat and skirt down and pulled her into his arms. She wasn’t that heavy and he lifted her up. He carried her into Hyde Park which he loved. The park was so still and green and the rain, which had just recently lifted, left the ground wet.

  He placed her at the foot of the tree. She was wearing a dark purple, almost black, dress that looked stark in contrast to her pale skin and dark hair. She looked luminous. He moved one arm across her breast, and then the other joined it to seem as if she was sleeping. In the dark night, her skin seemed translucent and he admired her. He brushed back her hair until he could see his handwork. Even in the darkness, he could see the dark bruising on her neck which had been caused by his hands.

  He smiled in the darkness. It was a thrilling thing to watch the life drift out of someone’s eyes. Her eyes, which had been so filled with light and life, were now cold and blank, staring at nothing. He felt a supreme sense of accomplishment.

  Finally, after he had arranged her hair to his satisfaction, he pulled from his pocket the white primrose he had brought and placed it in her delicate hands. A work of art. His own work of art.

  He brushed down his pants and returned to his horse and buggy, only turning back once to look at the dead girl lying at the foot of the tree. He smiled. She was perfect.

  Chapter 4

  Val knocked on the door twice. He was about to leave when Caroline opened the door looking flushed and out of breath. He almost forgot why he was there as he gazed into her sweet face with her expressive hazel eyes.

  “Inspector.” She greeted him.

  “Miss Derry. May I come in?”

  She motioned for him to enter and she closed the door behind him. The quietness of the townhouse enveloped them.

  “Have you come to see my Father? I’m afraid he’s at the college lecturing. My grandmother is also out paying calls. You find me all alone,” she explained as she entered the parlor.

  He looked around the room decorated in dark red and browns. It was a comfortable room with a couch before the fire and a small bar. Several book shelves lined the wall and windows overlooked a small garden.

  “Did you want something to drink? Tea or coffee?” She asked. “There’s the bar if you prefer something stronger.”

  “No. Nothing for me. Well yes. Maybe tea.” He changed his mind.

  Caroline smiled. “Tea it is.” She left momentarily to tell the Cook to prepare tea for two and then returned to him. “It will only be a few minutes. Shall we sit?”

  He watched her move about the room and felt instantly drawn to her. She looked cool and feminine in a blue striped cotton gauze day dress that emphasized her slender frame and wheat-colored hair. She took a seat on the small couch.

  “Your father sent me a note. Your sister did not return home,” he explained.

  Caroline looked down at her hands. “No. She did not.”

  “It doesn’t mean the worst,” he said coming to sit beside her.

  “Doesn’t it?” She asked.

  “No. There could be many reasons she’s not here. Perhaps she is in a hospital, but is unable to tell them her real name so we don’t know she’s there. Or she has sought shelter with a family from an accident. We just don’t know.”

  Caroline nodded. “She could be those things. And she could be much worse.”

  Val noticed for the first time she appeared tired. She had probably not slept well. He imagined it would not be easy to sleep knowing your sister was not under the same roof. She was most likely trying to think of where her sister could be and hoping she would be home safe very soon.

  A knock on the front door sounded and Caroline excused herself to answer it. When she returned, Sergeant Felix was behind her.

  “Sergeant?” Val questioned.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt Sir. I was told you would be here,” his eyes glanced at Caroline and then back at Val.

  “It’s quite all right, Sergeant. What brings you here?” Val asked.

  Felix glanced again at Caroline and then back to his boss. “I need to speak to you Sir. Alone.”

  Val nodded. “Would you please excuse us for a moment? We can go into the foyer,” he told Felix.

  “I’ll see what’s keeping the tea.” She disappeared down the hallway.

  She made her way down the long hallway and then turned right into the kitchen. She found Cook pouring the steaming water into the tea pot and the kitchen maid placing the iced cookies onto a plate.

  “Thank you Cook. I’ll need another cup and saucer and then I’ll take it in myself,” she directed.

  “Very good Miss,” the Cook said.

  Carrying the tray along the hallway, she entered the front parlor and smiled as both men turned to her.

  “Ummm, I’ll be outside with the carriage…uh…waiting,” Felix stammered awkwardly and then was gone.

  Caroline placed the tray down upon the table. “I brought him a cup as well. Please call him back so we can all take tea,” she said kindly.

  Val came towards her and took her hands in his. “Miss Derry. Please have a seat.”

  Caroline sank into the sofa as he suggested. “You don’t want tea?”

  He sat next to her and cleared his throat. “It can wait. I need to speak to you.”

  “Of course. More questions?” She smiled.

  Val was overcome with the strongest urge to take her into his arms. Not for pleasure, but to stem the intense pain that he knew was coming. He couldn’t stop it and it tore at him. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to protect her from the world and the dangerous place it was, and he knew he could not. Not only could he not protect her, but he was going to deliver the horrific news to her.

  He began to speak. “I need to leave now. I’m going to contact your father at the college. I need him to come with me…“ he stopped speaking as Caroline was looking at him intently. Innocently.

  “You need my Father? I’ll have the footman send for him.” She said willingly.

  “Miss Derry. I’ll go to the college myself to fetch him.”

  “If you wish. Is it something serious? Do you need his medical opinion or help?” She asked.

  “I need him to come with me to the morgue.”

  Caroline nodded. “I understand. I can send word. You need his professional help.”

  Val sighed deeply and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. She looked down at his hand entwined with hers and then up into his handsome face.

  “Inspector,” she asked him.

  “Caroline.” He said her name as almost a caress and it was jolting and very intimate. “Oh god, Caroline.”

  He couldn’t stop himself. He was only human. He didn’t want to say the next words. He would give anything not to say them.

  “What is it? You’re frightening me.”

  “They’ve found a body in Hyde Park. The description matches Irene.”

  ✽✽✽

  Caroline shuddered at the pungent smell of ammonia and blinked in the afternoon light.

  “She’s come ‘round,” Cook said, taking the smelling salts she had used to revive Caroline and leaving the room.

  Caroline blinked several times. She felt ill and uneasy and someone was touching her hand. It was the Inspector. Valentine Pierce.

  “I’m sorry. I seem to have fainted. That’s never happened to me.” She shook her head.

  His face was concerned and full of an unread emotion that she couldn’t place. “Miss Derry.”

  She felt her head spin and then remembered. “It’s not her Inspector. I know it’s not. She’s not dead. I would know it.”

  He was silent for a moment. “I don’t know anything for certain. All I know is what I was told. We have several missing persons. It happens in a city this size.”

  “Yes.” Caroline tried to make herself sound brighter but she failed.

  She felt at her throat
and realized several buttons had been unbuttoned.

  “Your Cook took the liberty of unbuttoning the top buttons at your throat. To help your air flow,” he explained.

  Caroline nodded in understanding.

  “You’ve contacted my father?”

  “Sergeant Felix did. He’s to meet us at the morgue.”

  Caroline shivered at the last word.

  “I’m sure he’ll return immediately to let you know what…to let you know how…“ he couldn’t quite finish the last part of the sentence.

  She said nothing as she buttoned her dress at the throat.

  “Miss Derry I’m sorry to have been the one to give you such news. After all we know nothing for certain. It was indelicate. Please forgive me,” his blue eyes were watching hers intently.

  “I’m not a child, Inspector. I don’t need to be shielded from life. In fact, I have spent the last several years helping women on the streets. I believe I mentioned that when we first met.”

  “You did. And what do you do for the women?” He asked.

  “Try and help them. They are at the mercy of the men who offer them coin but little else, and they have no resources.”

  Val looked at the lovely woman before him. “I’m sure that’s very noble but also dangerous. The streets of London can be hazardous even in the best of times. For a well-bred, well brought up woman—“

  “I’m careful Inspector. We can discuss my social work at a later time. My father I’m sure is on his way to meet you.” She deliberately avoided the word morgue.

  “Yes. You’re right. I’ll take my leave. You are all right? Well enough to be alone?” He asked kindly.

  “Our servants are here. They have been with us for years and look after us very well,” she told him.

  He bowed slightly. “Good day Miss Derry.”

  Caroline heard the front door to the townhouse close behind him and when it did, she sank onto the settee, a hand across her mouth. She closed her eyes and willed herself to stop trembling. It could not be Irene. She would not accept it. Irene was fanciful, silly, wild, lovely, but she was not dead. No. She was not dead.

  ✽✽✽

  Hubert watched as the coroner drew back the sheet and he stared down at the woman lying upon the slab. Her hair was in disarray and the wound around her neck was stark in contrast to her pale skin. He had watched the child grow into a woman and now the woman was dead.

  “This is my daughter. Irene Derry.” Hubert spoke the words softly.

  He was used to seeing dead bodies as it was his profession, but seeing his daughter lying in the cold morgue was overwhelming. Inspector Pierce was beside him watching his face, and the coroner was busy re-arranging the body and placing it back where it belonged.

  He leaned heavily against the door frame as they walked out of the room and Val placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Sir?” He asked solicitously.

  “I’m fine. Just a little—“

  “There’s a public house nearby,” Val said, concerned for the man.

  Hubert nodded, “Yes. I think I could use a drink.”

  They took the hansom cab to the nearby pub and once inside the darkened tavern, Hubert slumped against the table while Val ordered two scotches.

  “I’m not sure how I am even going to tell my mother and Caroline. They’ll be devastated,” he whispered.

  Val nodded remembering his own tragedy and the death of Aida.

  Val recalled hearing the words for the first time that Aida was dead. The pain had clenched his heart like a tight vise. It was not as painful now as it had once been, but it was still a sting and a loss.

  “I’m a man of action and admire the action of others. I want to know the next step of this investigation,” Hubert spoke firmly.

  Val cleared his throat. “I’m sure you can guess from the—from your daughter’s body that she has been strangled. So, this is a murder investigation. As this investigation is on-going, I can’t tell you everything but I will be leading it. We will be speaking with her closest friends to see who might have wished her harm.”

  “I can tell you the answer to that Inspector. No one. Irene was a lively girl with not a care in the world. She was well liked and loved,” Hubert said quickly.

  “Well someone wished her ill will Sir,” Val returned quietly. “Someone did and then saw their plan through.”

  ✽✽✽

  Caroline lay in the darkness of her room. She had declined the evening meal and even sent away a tray that Cook had kindly prepared. Her eyes were red and puffy and she felt sick to her stomach. She had heard the words her father had told her as she sat next to her grandmother; their hands clenched tightly together.

  But she had instantly fled to her room to cry and try to come to terms with the tragedy. How could anyone harm Irene? She was fragile, young. She was like a four-week-old kitten. She had caused no harm and done nothing to harm anyone else. Caroline tried to stem the flow of tears but they came again.

  Why? Why had this happened? Why had someone taken the life of her beloved sister? The anger erupted inside her and she threw her silver backed hairbrush against the window causing damage to the glass.

  It didn’t make her feel better and she wondered at her momentary stupidity. Now the window would have to be mended and the brush might have to be fixed as well. She looked out into the small garden that seemed asleep in the low moonlight and caressed the glass with her fingertips. Irene. Darling Irene. Her sweet sister was no more.

  ✽✽✽

  Val added Irene’s picture with the others and sighed deeply. There were now four victims of the Primrose Strangler. Though he had not told Irene’s father Hubert, the truth was there. A flower had been found with her body. Irene Derry was the fourth and he vowed the last woman to fall prey to the killer’s deadly hands. He must delve into Irene Derry’s life with a microscope and find the man who had done this to her.

  The key to the killer lay within Irene’s life. Somewhere there was a clue that would help him find the killer. He drank the scotch in his glass and contemplated the four women. They were like ghosts surrounding him all the time, always reminding him that they were there, unrelenting. They were relentless and he must be the same. He must never stop until the killer was stopped. There was no other way. The killer must be found.

  A knock sounded on his door and he looked up sharply. It was after midnight. Though he rented a room in a boardinghouse, his room was at the back of the house with a separate entrance for convenience and privacy. He placed his glass down and opened the door.

  “Caro—Miss Derry!” He said absently when he saw her on his door step. “What are you doing here?”

  Caroline entered the small room which was simply furnished with a bed, desk and chair, small armoire and a sink to wash in the mornings. He watched as she moved into the room and seemed to fill up the space. She was wearing a brown dress with lace at the wrists and a high neckline.

  “Our groom took you home after you went to the pub with my father. He directed me here at my insistence,” she told him as she stood facing him.

  “You shouldn’t be here. It’s late. This is my bedroom. It’s—“

  “If I shouldn’t be here, where should I be?” Caroline wondered. “Crying and mourning my sister’s death? Or doing something about it?” She said the words with strength but her eyes were filled with tears.

  Val pulled his jacket from the back of his chair and pulled it on. He was conscience of his state of undress even though he was wearing trousers and a shirt.

  “Miss Derry.” He began.

  “Tell me Inspector. What do you plan on doing? Really doing?”

  He looked at her intently. Her eyes were bright and looked red from crying. He ached to think that she might be in pain, but he knew she was. He knew the exact pain she was experiencing now. He knew it was like an open wound, red and oozing nothing but fresh pain over and over again. He wanted to pull her into his arms to comfort her. He wanted to press a soft kiss to h
er temple and tell her it would all be right even if it wasn’t. For one moment she would believe it.

  “I plan on doing my job Miss Derry. I plan on working very hard to bring this killer to justice. Secondly, you shouldn’t be in my room. So, I’ll escort you home.”

  Caroline look at him with wild eyes. “I shouldn’t be in your room?” She repeated.

  “No. You shouldn’t.” He said softly.

  “I shouldn’t be in your room. My sister’s dead and I shouldn’t be in your room.” She repeated again.

  Val took a step towards her. She looked delicate in the soft gas lights and he knew she was about to turn hysterical. He could hear it in her voice.

  “Where should I be? You tell me. I don’t want to stay home looking at the walls. Listening to my grandmother crying in the next room. Hearing the servants whisper. And no one dares say her name. No one will. Not my grandmother, not my father. Not the servants. Why don’t they say her name? Will it make it all right? Will it make it all disappear if we don’t say her name?” She could hear her voice getting louder and more shrill.

  She covered her mouth with her hand to stop the flow of words and then felt his arms surround her. She could feel his hard-muscled chest press against her body and his hands were touching her hair.

  “Calm yourself,” he said in her ear.

  “I don’t think I can bear it,” she pulled back to stare into his eyes. “I never imagined a world without Irene. She was so full of life. Silly and child-like and—“ she stopped.

  She could feel the tears on her cheeks as she remained so close to him.

  “You don’t have to be brave. You don’t have to be strong,” he told her.

  “Good. Because I don’t feel either. I feel helpless, lost and alone.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not alone.” He removed a light blue handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

  She dried her eyes with it and looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished with just the bare necessities.

  “You don’t like decoration?” She wondered aloud.

  “I’m rarely here. The police service takes up much of my time. When I’m not there I also have my club. This is only a place where I sleep.”