Blood Rites

by Sharon K Gilbert

  Victoria Stuart paused, appreciating her nephew’s keen sense of propriety and depth of feeling. “You are so very much like your father, Charles Robert. But what’s past is past. She did try to visit you, and the train was boarded just after the water stop at Faversham station. Two gunmen attempted to take her. As I said, the earl had three of his London men watching Elizabeth at all times then, including Sir Thomas Galton, and he’d followed her onto the train and shot both men in the head. It was a dreadful business. The circle managed to keep it all out of the press, but your police contacts probably heard about it. Beth fainted immediately, and I’m told she remembers none of it, which is probably why she’s not mentioned it to you. I advise you never to tell her what she has forgotten.”

  “I would never do that, Aunt, but how did she manage to sneak aboard the family train with no one stopping her?” he asked.

  “You make it sound as if we neglect her, Charles. We do not, but Elizabeth is independent and headstrong. When she takes it into her mind to do a thing, it is nearly impossible to stop her. I pray you never have to learn that lesson.”

  Charles started to say more, but Tory suddenly rose to her feet. “I believe our guests are on their way up. Charles, do you see the tall man with the red rose in his lapel? That is—well, he’ll be here in a moment. Paul! On your feet, Nephew! Our guests are arriving. Do pay attention.”

  Still watching the strange shadow looming behind the singer, Aubrey had been completely lost in thought, but his aunt’s remonstrance drew him back to the present, and he stood to apologise.

  “Forgive me, Aunt Victoria. My mind wandered.”

  The elder lady’s left brow rose in a manner that always reminded the earl of Duke James. “Has it?” she asked sharply. “Has your mind indeed wandered away, or has your rash decision to leave your sling at home left you brainless?”

  Paul laughed gently, his blue eyes dancing. “I’m not sure how one belongs to the other, Tory, but if that is your deduction, then who am I to argue against it? And my doctor believes the shoulder healed sufficiently to remove the sling, if you must know.” He pulled aside the thick velvet curtain to the box just as a uniformed usher arrived with their guests.

  “Welcome and good evening,” Paul said cheerfully to the elegantly dressed man and woman. “I am Lord Aubrey. My aunt tells me, sir, that you are Prince Anatole Romanov of St. Petersburg, and your entrancing companion is Contessa di Specchio of Milan.”

  The man nodded, his icy, blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. “I am indeed that person,” he said with a curious British accent mixed with Russian overtones. “And the contessa is pleased to see her Parisian salon companion once more; as am I. Good evening, Lady Victoria. I am charmed by you as always.”

  Tory blushed and put her arm through the prince’s. “Your Highness, we are delighted you could join our little company this evening, especially with such short notice. When my brother learnt you had arrived in London, I simply insisted we invite you out for the evening. Countess, your dress is exquisite, as always! My dears, allow me to present my niece Elizabeth, Duchess of Branham; her fiancé, Charles, Marquess of Haimsbury; and of course, you’ve already met my brother, Duke James. That lovely young girl standing next to him is my other niece, Lady Adele Stuart.”

  The prince bowed and kissed Adele’s hand. “I am charmed by your beauty, Lady Adele,” he said.

  Della smiled and curtseyed as she’d been taught by her aunt. “You are most kind, Your Highness.”

  Charles bowed to the countess, who offered her ungloved hand, which he kissed gallantly. She stood tall, matching Victoria’s height, but with a voluptuous silhouette, accented by a low-cut, jet-beaded gown. Her glossy dark hair was arranged in an intricate mound of loose curls upon her head, her full lips crimson and moist, and her smouldering eyes and soft skin reminded Charles uncomfortably of wild passion and exotic flowers. Though said to be in her fifties, di Specchio looked much younger to Sinclair. He struggled to maintain objectivity, particularly whenever she spoke, for the rich tones fell like musical velvet upon his ears.

  The countess stepped closer, the whiff of strong perfume rising into the marquess’s nostrils and tickling a distant memory. “Have we met before?” he asked her.

  “I do not think so, for I would remember a man as handsome as you, Lord Haimsbury. My, but you are beautifully made. Is he not, Anatole?”

  Sinclair actually blushed, and the contessa laughed at his discomfiture. “I embarrass you!” she exclaimed. “How divine you are, Lord Haimsbury! So very sweet. Deliciously handsome. Even more than I had been told,” she whispered into his ear as she pressed her body close to his.

  Charles stepped backwards, intentionally distancing himself from her brash advances. “Delicious?” he asked. “That is a curious way to put it, Countess.”

  She pulled him close once more, stroking his hand, and Charles suddenly wished he’d not removed his own gloves. “It is just a saying from my country,” she purred. “Think nothing of it. It only means you are—how you say in English—good enough to eat?”

  Sinclair felt no relief at this explanation; in fact, it sounded even stranger now, but he bowed nonetheless, endeavouring to be polite. “Thank you, Countess. I’m new to this world of gala openings and glamourous gatherings.”

  “Oh, but you fit into this world so very well! The prince has spoken of you often,” di Specchio told him. “He greatly admires you.”

  “Why would a Russian prince have cause to say anything about me?” he asked.

  Her forefinger slowly massaged the area ‘twixt his right thumb and forefinger, and it seemed to Charles that his mind began to drift. “Because you are so very special,” she whispered huskily.

  “What?” he asked, his hold on reality slipping slightly.

  “I mean only that the prince admires what you and your brave policemen have accomplished in your tireless pursuit of this Ripper demon.”

  She abruptly stopped the strange, circular motion, and his mind snapped back into focus. “Did you say demon?” Charles asked, noting a curious gleam in her eye, as if she found the topic delectable. “I assume you mean that figuratively.”

  Di Specchio smiled easily, her ruby lips curling into a quarter moon shape, and he could see brilliantly white teeth with unusually sharp canines. “Of course. But as I say, you are a very handsome man, my dear marquess. Far more attractive in person than mere imagery may represent. Your eyes, for instance. Their azure colour is most unique! They shine dramatically, inviting one to gaze longer, deeper,” she finished, still caressing his hand.

  Charles found the woman eerily disquieting and sexually enticing all at once—a very dangerous combination. “I’m not sure what you mean, Countess,” he bluffed.

  “I pay you a compliment, my lord! And you must call me Selena.”

  “Thank you. It’s a lovely name. Is it Italian?”

  “Greek actually, as is another of my names. Sophia. After my mother, who was born on Crete. The prince and I have seen all your photographs in the newspapers these past weeks. Your engagement and upcoming marriage have taken up much ink.”

  Charles bowed once more, using the movement to disentangle his hand from hers. “Then, I thank you both, but it is Elizabeth’s photograph that has garnered all the attention.”

  “Indeed so,” the prince agreed, casting his ice-blue eyes upon the duchess.

  “That is most generous, Your Highness,” Beth answered politely. “Contessa, we’re pleased you could join us. Shall we all sit?”

  Charles helped the countess to a chair, but cast a worried glance towards the duke. Something about this pair heightened his detective senses, and it was clear from his uncle’s sober expression that he, too, had suspicions.

  Prince Anatole sat nearest the stage in the front row of chairs, and he leaned against the gold embellished railing with Elizabeth to his left. The co
ntessa had assumed the seat twixt Paul and Charles, who regained his own chair to Beth’s left, touching her hand as he did so. As promised, the duchess had removed her elbow-length gloves, and her skin felt cool to the touch. Sinclair was certain her hand trembled.

  “Are you all right, little one?” he whispered softly.

  She nodded her head tightly, her small hand in his. “Yes, I think so, but stay close,” she told him. “And be wary of that countess. She clearly has eyes for you.”

  “My eyes are ever and only fixed upon you, my darling,” he assured her. “We may leave if you wish. I’d relish an hour at home, just the two of us.”

  She smiled at this last. “As would I with you, Captain, but Victoria would probably insist on returning with us—as chaperone.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she would,” he laughed. “But the offer stands.”

  “I’m all right, really, so long as you are nearby, Captain,” she replied, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

  The prince, for his part, appeared to have noticed nothing of this hushed conversation. Instead, his cold eyes swept the stage, and after a few moments, he turned towards Elizabeth, his classic features lifted into a curious smile. “I’ve been to the Lyceum many times, Duchess,” the prince began, his muscular body leaning boldly towards hers as he spoke, “but never have I enjoyed the company of so beautiful a companion. I hope you do not think me forward, but Lord Haimsbury is a very lucky man.”

  Charles nearly interrupted, but Beth squeezed his hand, and then turned towards the prince, replying politely. “Your Highness is far too generous. May I ask how it is your accent bears so little trace of your native Russia? Your English is perfect, if I may be so bold.”

  The prince smiled broadly, his chameleon eyes sparkling from icy blue to a cold grey. “You may indeed ask. My family hails originally from the Carpathians, an ancient and warrior race of princes, but we relocated to St. Petersburg in the time of the Great Tsar, Peter. We did, in fact, help the tsar to erect a shipbuilding enterprise near Archangel. Later, when the young ruler shared with my family his dream for a warm water seaport, we helped him finance that as well. It was there in that magnificent city St. Petersburg, that I was born, but my parents wished me to understand the greater world beyond Russia, so I have studied in your England from my early years onward. Now, I work with the War and Foreign Offices as advisor on many things.”

  The contessa leaned forward, cooling her face with a silk fan. “True, Duchess. All true. Prince Anatole attended Eton and then Oxford, studying a wide variety of disciplines, including chemistry and anatomy. He is a brilliant man, in addition to being a powerful and most regal one.”

  “The sciences are but one area of interest,” the handsome Russian noted, casually. “I have a great passion for improvement of the human condition and even of the species itself.”

  “Do you speak of Mr. Darwin’s theories?” Charles asked, noticing again that Paul’s attention had wandered away. “Tell me, Your Highness, how do you reconcile the notion of a species descent with that of creation, as recounted in the Bible?”

  The prince laughed, and his eyes shifted colour once more, dancing from grey to deepest charcoal. “Well, Lord Haimsbury, whilst I know the scriptures by heart, I do not agree that all knowledge resides there. Mankind has much to discover yet. Much knowledge to gain. Consider the advances we see all around us in London alone. Electricity is now being installed in many of the great houses, as well as in the new, underground rail system. This remarkable energy source powers the telegraph, propels streetcars, and I am told that, soon, it will light up entire cities, permitting safe travel by night, something which must appeal to a policeman.”

  “The night is already brightened by gas lamps, Your Highness, and it has only encouraged crime, not the reverse.”

  Romanov smirked, though it was intended as a smile. “Is that so? Perhaps, the more knowledge mankind accumulates, the more his inner beast cries out for adventure and release. Robert Louis Stephenson’s recent book illustrates such a truth, does it not? The animal nature of man’s fractured soul reveals itself beneath the relentless pressure of modern society. Good versus evil is a false choice. Every act is evil in someone’s eyes; therefore, every man is potentially evil.”

  “You don’t believe humanity capable of altruism?” Charles parried. “Of selfless acts?”

  “I think mankind capable of many things, Lord Haimsbury. Some you would call altruistic, but perhaps altruism is merely a veneer for a deeper drive for self-direction and improvement of the species. Science races towards a golden dawn, standing upon the brink of a new age! The tiniest particles within the human cell are being discovered and catalogued, and modern medicine opens many fascinating aspects to this Darwinian doorway of opportunity. Perhaps, God never imagined such advances. Perhaps, man is more divine than he might think.”

  “Divine and yet evil? You speak dangerous words, Prince. Some might even call them blasphemous,” Beth cautioned as Paul suddenly rose to leave the theatre box.

  She turned to see where the earl was headed, but Charles stood as well, touching Aubrey’s arm. “You’re worried about something,” he whispered to his cousin, who nodded—his eyes fixed upon the velvet curtain behind their box.

  “Darling, we’ll be right back. Your grandfather is here to keep watch,” Sinclair whispered into her ear, touching Elizabeth’s shoulder and then kissing her cheek. “If you will excuse us, ladies, Your Highness, Uncle James. The earl and I have just seen a friend with whom we need to share a few words. We shan’t be long.”

  The duke nodded as if to add tacit approval, and the two cousins disappeared into the access hallway. Paul led Charles to the end of the passageway, nearest the stage, and then stopped. “I doubt that either of our guests can hear us now. Charles, I want to show you something.”

  Paul opened the door that communicated with the fly space, pointing into the interior of the backstage loft. “Last month, when I brought Elizabeth here, I saw a figure, more like a looming shadow, watching her from this position. I tried to follow it, but it fled through this door—a door which was then shut fast—and this shadow then disappeared into the rigging area you see beyond.”

  Charles thought for a moment, digesting this disturbing news. “It moved through a closed door? A shadow? Could it have been only that? Something cast by the electric lighting?”

  “No, I don’t think so, especially now that we have a greater understanding of the supernatural capabilities of Redwing’s operatives. As I watched the soprano singing just now, I saw this same shadowy figure appear and then disappear behind her. Perhaps it’s only my imagination, but I think not. Come with me. There’s a man I hope to find.”

  The cousins entered the backstage area, and Charles marvelled at the cavernous fly space with its vast web of pulleys and rigging that wove across the entire upper region, rimmed by a perimeter of three-foot wide planking that provided access for scene shifts and special effects. Down the centre of this spectacular rectangle, ran a similar suspended walkway, where now stood a squat man with a melon head and dirty eyeglasses.

  The stagehand glanced over as the door opened and closed, his callused hands clasped ‘round two thick ropes. Paul recognised the man to whom he had previously given his card, and it appeared the man in turn remembered the earl, for he tied off the ropes, left his post, and dashed ‘round the perimeter towards them, wiping at his face with a dingy handkerchief.

  “Yer Lordship! Am I ever a glad and fortunate man to find you so appointed at this hour, sir!”

  “You remember me?” Paul asked. “This is my cousin, Lord Haimsbury. Have you something to report, my good man?”

  The man removed his sweat-stained hat and bowed stiffly. “Yer Lordship,” he said to Charles. “Two lords in one place. Well, I reckon that’s two more’n I’ll ever meet again in my life. And, yes, my lords, I did, and I do! I tried, sir, ta send w
ord ta the address ya gave ta me,” he explained, reaching into his pocket for the calling card, now creased and ragged, “but you was not there, or so I were told. But that strange man—or beast, or, well, I’ve no words ta describe it, do I, sir?—‘e were ‘ere that next night and again the followin’. But I’d not seen it—nor ‘im—since, until this very night, not ‘alf an hour past. Loomin’ o’er the stage whilst that pretty girl were singing. Bu’ then ‘e disappeared again, like so much mist! I ain’ been drinkin’ neeva, no’ a drop. What could it be, my lords?”

  “That remains to be seen. What is your name?” Paul asked as he handed the man two sovereigns, which the man quickly pocketed.

  “Gus, yer lordship. Gus Tawbry. I been a flyman ‘ere more ‘n ten year now, but I never seen nuffin’ like tha’ shadow thing. I ain’ the only one what’s seen it neeva.”

  Charles added two more sovereigns to the man’s take for the night and passed his calling card to the flyman. “Will you contact me or the earl if ever you see this creature again? Any details you might add will help us immensely and may bring you riches beyond this.”

  The man’s gap-toothed mouth widened into a grin. “You’re both true gen’lemen,” he said. “I must return to my post, sirs. I shall bring you word, iffin I find myself able.”

  The cousins withdrew and returned to a quiet spot near the staircase, behind the curtained theatre boxes. “Paul, what is it you suspect?”

  “I cannot yet say, but Elizabeth’s continued insistence upon a shadow—a creature she calls ‘the Other’—who was present the night of her mother’s murder, has preyed upon my mind, and now I find myself connecting this creature to the Shadow Man she saw as a child.”

  “The tall man at her window, you mean?”

  “The same. I know you must have thought me cruel on the train that day, Charles, but I have always tried to keep Beth from knowing too much about the dangers surrounding her. Perhaps, that was wrong of me, and it may have brought her more danger, rather than less. As her husband, you will need to know all that affects her life and yours. That is why I wanted you to hear this man’s confession for yourself. Please, Charles, your mind is accustomed to gathering and interpreting evidence. With tales of wolves in the east and the body count rising ever higher, you and I must discern Redwing’s next move before they strike our duchess again. Even the smallest clue may help to decipher the next phase of that hideous group’s infernal plans.”