Blood Rites

by Sharon K Gilbert

  “A guest list?” the duchess asked wearily, looking at Charles. “Tory, we drew up a list and sent out invitations over a week ago. Have you names to add that Charles and I missed?”

  “I’m sure I do, my dear. The Stuarts, Sinclairs, and MacAllens—the MacAllens are my mother’s side, Charles,” she said as an aside, her thoughts wandering for a moment. “Such an interesting family, the MacAllens. Earls of Granddach, you know. I’m told the new cooks you’ve hired for Haimsbury House used to work for Major-General Richard MacAllen. He’s the current title holder, and he’s your great-uncle. His sister Charlotte was my mother; your grandmother. Well, each of these three lines has extended family living in all corners of the globe. I suppose we could just send them announcements, as most wouldn’t be able to make it in time. November eighteenth gives us only twelve short days to finalise a hundred details,” she continued. “I told my brother that I’m not in favour of so rushed an affair, but our friends, and those who wish to be called such, will keep their silence if they are to attend your nuptials.”

  Beth wiped at her face, surprised to find her fingers moist from unshed tears. Her disjointed thoughts kept circling back to the strange shadow in the garden. Worried that everyone might think her mad, she continued the conversation, praying her voice betrayed no hint of panic.

  “You make it sound as if it’s something people gossip about, but really, I don’t care. I never wanted a grand affair, anyway. I’d have preferred a small, family ceremony in Scotland.”

  Tory’s dark brows arched defiantly. “Elizabeth, you are one of the most important peeresses in England—perhaps, the most important, so we cannot make this a small affair. And Charles, my long lost nephew, you may not yet know it, but the Haimsbury marquessate is the oldest in all the realm, reaching back over five hundred years, so your wedding to Elizabeth is equal to that of royals! Despite the short notice, I’m sure everyone is scratching to be on the guest list. In fact, my brother tells me that the queen plans to attend, which guarantees a full house.”

  “One might even say that Her Majesty set the date,” Charles replied with a wink and a smile, the latter directed at his fiancée. “The queen sent a letter to James that implied she’d attend, but only if the wedding took place before December.”

  “Yes, well, the queen always spends the Christmas season at Balmoral. It’s no surprise that she would attend the marriage of two such high ranking peers, but Her Majesty’s long been friend to our family. In fact, she once hoped to broker a marriage ‘twixt Elizabeth and her grandson, the Duke of Clarence.”

  “That was never going to happen,” Beth whispered, slowly recovering composure. “Eddy is a rather clingy sort, and—well, there are things about him I should keep to myself. He was always a gentleman and quite a good friend, but suffice it to say that we were never to be a match.”

  Charles considered this odd revelation, but he noticed Victoria’s stern expression and somehow instinctively understood that he should say no more. “I shall endeavour never to be clingy,” he promised.

  The doors opened, and this time it was the butler who entered, bearing a small sheet of white paper on a silver tray. “A commissionaire just delivered this, Lord Aubrey. From Buckingham Palace.”

  “Perhaps the queen’s ears are burning,” Aubrey said with a grin. The earl took the note and opened it. “Ah, it’s from James,” he said to the company. “He’s been delayed in meetings with Salisbury and Her Majesty, but he asks me to remind everyone that he’s hosting a small party this evening after our theatre outing.”

  “Theatre outing?” Beth asked, her dark eyes rounding with dismay. “No one mentioned seeing a play tonight, and I’ve heard nothing of any party. Do I no longer control my own diary? What other surprises await me today?”

  “Only pleasant ones, I hope, little one,” Sinclair said reaching for her hand and kissing it.

  “We’ll need to visit the shops later, if you’re up to it,” Victoria added. “Is Madam du Monde fashioning your wedding gown?”

  Elizabeth nodded, fighting the return of errant tears. “Yes, I had the first fitting yesterday morning. Tory, I’m really quite tired. Must we shop today?”

  “Of course, we must! Good heavens, we’ve your trousseau to plan, plus shoes and hats and a host of other items to order. And you’ll need jewellry to go with all that, as well. Speaking of jewellry, where is your engagement ring, Elizabeth?”

  Charles answered for her. “It is still being designed, Tory, but Beth will be wearing it very soon.”

  “Will I?” the duchess asked, her eyes brightening at last. “You’ve been talking about this ring for a fortnight, and it’s all very mysterious. I do hope it fits.”

  The stick figure shadow returned, this time walking right past the gatehouse guard, strolling towards the house, his long strides measured and steady. Beth’s breath caught in her throat, for the creature looked directly at her and bowed.

  The earl reached for her hand. Assuming her mood was because of the dream, he spoke gently, doing his best to help. “The ring will fit perfectly,” he assured her. “I told Charles your size, but to make certain, I asked Alicia for one of your best-fitting rings. Call me a conspirator, if you wish, but Charles only wants your happiness, Princess.”

  Sinclair glanced up at his cousin, wondering just what Aubrey knew that he did not. “That’s right, darling. You may call us your conspiring cousins.”

  The shadow creature stepped onto the south portico, sitting into each of the chairs, one after another, and Beth wondered how no one in the garden noticed them move, for each time the monstrous entity rose, it intentionally tipped them, nearly causing the last to topple onto its side.

  Her breathing quickened, despite her best efforts, and Sinclair placed a finger on her wrist, gauging the pulse. “Beth, perhaps, you should lie down for a bit. Your heart’s racing.”

  “No, Charles, I’m fine. Really.”

  “We needn’t go to the theatre, if you’re unwell,” Victoria said. “I can make your excuses, or we can even cancel.”

  “No, I’ll go. It’s just all this talk of a ring,” she admitted, suddenly wishing she’d said nothing. “I’m anxious to see it. That’s all. What bride wouldn’t be? When will it be ready?” she asked, sweetly.

  “Soon. Perhaps, even tonight,” Sinclair told her, kissing her hand. “I have to stop by Hatton Garden this afternoon and check with the jeweller. Kepelheim assures me that the ring’s colour will compliment any of the dresses in your wardrobe. I’m told it’s a shade you prefer in roses.”

  “Well, that’s all very exciting,” Victoria said as she took a sip of the tea, making a face. “Oh, my! This is very weak, my dear. However do you drink it?”

  Beth seemed not to notice, turning instead to Sinclair. “Are you working today?”

  The detective nodded. “I’m afraid so, but not at Whitehall. As I’ve not seen anyone there in a month, Reid asked me to stop by Leman Street to discuss some new evidence his men have gathered, and he has a suspect in lockup that I plan to interview. I’m afraid I shan’t be home for luncheon.”

  “A suspect?” she asked, her face paling slightly. “Is it... Ripper?”

  “I wish it were, but no, it is not,” he told her. “You’re not to worry, little one. I won’t allow anyone to harm you. Not ever.” She squeezed his hand, and he could feel her trembling again. “Tell you what. Would you like to go with me?”

  Her face grew hopeful. “Are you sure? Oh, but only if I won’t be in the way,” she replied in a soft voice.

  Victoria Stuart set down her teacup. “Elizabeth, we really should spend the afternoon shopping, but if you’ll allow me to act on your behalf, I could offer suggestions to Madam du Monde regarding your trousseau. I wrote to Maisie Churchill before I left Paris, and she’s promised to help as well. But you are the bride, so you must let us know your wishes. If you plan to go abroa
d for your wedding trip, Maisie and I are familiar with all the latest styles worn in Paris, Rome, and Milan. We cannot have you looking unfashionable, my dear.”

  “Wedding trip? I’d not thought that far ahead, to be honest,” she replied, clearly disappointed by the realisation. “I suppose I should stay home, Charles. Might I go with you another time?”

  He kissed her hands. “Of course. Whenever you wish. Now, if you will excuse me, ladies, I must send a wire before breakfast. Aunt, it’s been a pleasure,” he said, bowing and kissing Victoria Stuart’s hand gallantly.

  “For me as well,” the spinster replied. “You’ve grown into a wonderful echo of your father, Charles Robert. And quite handsome, too, if I may say so, no doubt thanks to the Stuart blood. Where did Samson go?” she muttered, looking about for the terrier.

  Aubrey stood politely as Beth rose to her feet. “I think he ran out with Miles a moment ago. I’ll see if I can find him.”

  Victoria dunked a chocolate biscuit into her tea. “Well, if you see him, he might need a walk. Josette is very poor about tending to Samson’s needs.”

  “I’ll make certain one of the footmen is aware of it, Aunt,” the earl replied with a dimpled grin.

  Elizabeth turned to her fiancé. “Charles, might I have a quiet word before you leave?”

  “Of course.” He took her arm in his, and the two of them left the morning room.

  Once in the foyer, Elizabeth led Sinclair down the hallway and into the library, where she shut the doors and turned to face him. “Is there something I should know?”

  “What about?” he asked, perplexed. “With regard to the Ripper investigation, you mean?”

  She nodded. “I understand that you might not wish to speak freely in front of Victoria, but if you’ve learnt anything more about Ripper, or if there’ve been any new crimes, I want to know.”

  He put his arms ‘round Elizabeth’s shoulders and held her close. “Darling, there is nothing new that concerns you—no new crimes, no new theories. You’ve received nothing more from that Saucy Jack person, I hope?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t still out there,” she replied darkly. “I know it makes me sound hysterical, Charles, but I’ve this awful feeling that a great shadow lies across the city. One that has fixed its eye upon us; stalking us like a hunter stalks prey.”

  “Come here,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to one of the sofas near the fireplace. “It was here, you know,” he said, his handsome face dimpling into a wide smile. “Right here in this room, where I first kissed you. Second of October. Five weeks ago to the day.”

  “Not exactly here,” she whispered, visibly relaxing at his touch. “Actually, it was over by that bow window. Oh, Charles, I know you must think me overwrought and imaginative, but I tell you that something evil has awoken in London. I had no such fears at Branham. I wish we’d remained there.”

  “Have you begun to dream again? Have the old nightmares returned?” he asked, concerned. A tear slid down her cheek, but before Beth could reach for it, Charles had wiped it dry. “Do you want me to stay with you today?”

  “Yes,” she admitted, “but I know you must work, Charles. It’s just that something happened in the garden this morning. Something very...” she started, intending to tell him, but then stopped.

  “Something very what, Beth? Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course, I trust you. Oh, Charles, in truth, I’m suddenly terrified!” she admitted, her entire body trembling. “We had such a lovely time at Branham, but since we arrived back in London, it seems the whole world has turned to darkness. I’ve had very strange dreams the past two nights. And then there is the man in the garden. An odd sort of creature, though I’m not sure if he’s even real. I think he talked to me, but I cannot remember what he said. Did you see him?”

  “What man? When?” Her lower lip quivered, and he knew her inner strength was dwindling, so he pulled her close. “It’s all right, little one. You needn’t tell me just now, if it’s too much. Just tell me what you can remember. Will you do that for me?”

  She clutched at his waist, drawing strength from his embrace. “He looks rather like a sort of spider,” she began, and Sinclair listened carefully, forcing himself not to react with anything akin to disbelief. “I’ve seen him before. As a child. Whenever my mother brought me to London, he used to climb up the side of the house and sit on my window sill. He has a deep, gruff voice, and he said something about the wedding, but though I try, I cannot remember precisely what he said! I’m so sorry, Charles. For a fortnight, it’s been so very nice. Getting to spend time with you at Branham, introducing you to my friends in Kent—it made my life seem beautifully ordinary. Now, all of a sudden, I’m falling apart again. You must regret ever proposing to me.”

  “Nonsense! I love everything about you.”

  She sighed. “Surely, not everything. Redwing’s operatives and plans cannot be something you’re happy to have acquired.”

  “Everything,” he said again. “No exceptions. No exclusions. Everything. Now, tell me what else is on your mind. You said you had a nightmare?”

  She leaned against his shoulder, nodding. “Yes, but I’d rather not speak of it. Not just yet. I don’t want to cause you more worry.”

  “Beth, it’s my job to worry about you.”

  “Yes, I know, but it’s my job to help you, is it not?”

  He kissed her cheek, cupping her chin with his fingers. “Then help me by being honest with me, darling. Would you prefer to go with me today, rather than remain here with our aunt?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “Then, I’ll let Tory know that she’ll have to make decisions without you. Now, stop fretting about this darkness you feel and look only to me. I shan’t permit anything to hurt you. Do you believe me?”

  “Yes, Captain. Always,” she said simply, her eyes much brighter.

  “Good. Now, give me a moment to send a wire to Reid, and then we’ll join the others for breakfast.” He started to go, but then he remembered the postcard in his pocket. “Elizabeth, one thing more. Look, I hope this doesn’t sound like I’m intruding too much into your privacy, but I found this inside your Verne novel.” He held out the postcard for her to see. “Who is Rasha?”

  Elizabeth snatched the small card, and without explanation tore it into several pieces, letting the bits fall to the carpet. “No one,” she said plainly.

  “I’m made you angry,” he said. “Understandably so, for I’ve overstepped. I’m very sorry, Beth.”

  She started to walk out, but then turned back suddenly and threw her arms around his waist once more. “No, my wonderful Captain, it is I must apologise to you! Please, don’t ask me to explain about this man. I just want to forget all about him.”

  “Then why put his postcard in a book you read nightly?” he pressed, confused by her reaction.

  “I’d not realised I’d done so,” she said, though the answer made no sense to Sinclair. “Now, please, let’s not speak of it any longer. I just want to forget all about him. You know, I think I will send a message to Mr. Blackwood and ask if I might reschedule. I’ve a dreadful headache suddenly.”

  She pulled away and left the room without saying anything further. Charles picked up the torn pieces of the postcard, placing them into his pocket.

  Despite her objections, he had no intention of allowing this topic to drop.

  Once Charles and Elizabeth left the morning room, Paul Stuart waited a few moments to make sure they’d moved out of earshot before speaking to his aunt. “You heard about all what happened in Scotland, I take it?”

  Victoria’s face grew businesslike and lined with worry. “I have heard. James wrote to me about your woeful adventures, and he told me about Adele and Elizabeth’s encounter with the wolf! Was it the same one? The one that killed Connor?”

  He nodded. “I’m
sure of it, though Beth still remembers nothing of how he died.”

  “Nor should you help her to remember it,” she said with authority. The elder Stuart selected a small brown cigarette, which the earl lit for her, and she puffed thoughtfully. “Beth has asked me many times to stop this habit, but I find these calm my nerves. I’m loathe to admit such frailties to anyone else, but you’ve always been a very good listener, my dear.” She tapped the cigarette against the edge of a silver dish and continued. “Your uncle said the creature lured Della into the night, and that Beth protected her.”

  “She did,” he said. “Elizabeth is brave to the point of foolishness at times, but she saved Della’s life, Tory. I shudder to think of how it might have gone, if Beth had not awakened and rushed out there. If that wolf now threatens my daughter, then I must do all I can to protect her.”

  His aunt reached out and brushed the earl’s forearm with her fingertips. “You are a wonderful father, Paul, though Adele may not know you as such. And you’re to be applauded for your courage that night, as always, but especially for giving up Elizabeth to Charles. I know how much that cost you, child.”

  “Thank you, Tory, but you give me too much credit. Truthfully, I could make no other choice. Either I insist upon marrying her myself and risk Elizabeth’s death, or I yield to my cousin and risk my heart. I prefer the latter.”

  “Your heart is a noble one, as was your father’s,” she replied, the smoke held betwixt two fingers. “How I miss him! Robert Stuart had such a mind! As does his son—and now, his son’s cousin. I perceive that Charles has a lot of Stuart in his blood, but I confess that, although James had warned me of the resemblance, I was truly startled when I first saw him.”

  Aubrey laughed heartily. “Yet, you nearly tossed him out on his ear!”

  She tapped more ash into the dish. “Yes, well, he should not have been sleeping near Elizabeth’s bedroom. You needn’t remind me of the reason. I agree with the need for guardianship, but it is most irregular.” She paused for a moment, exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the room. “Your cousin is very like you, or both of you are like your mothers. Charles has more of his father in him, I think; hence, his black hair. You even have similar noses, though his appears never to have been broken, unlike your own. Does it still bother you?”