The Black Lotus (Night Flower)

by Claire Warner

  “Yes... you see I know that Justin has not gone to a duel in the last decade or so and Alistair told me that he had lost interest in such things.” He positively beamed as he continued the explanation. “No I would take this as evidence that he has found someone to be interested in.”

  “Alright, do you know who he was watching?” A flicker of annoyance rushed through her; she knew what she would have to do to know. He would have her scouring the countryside, following whoever he named. Setting her teeth against the scowl that would surely incur his wrath, she waited for his instructions.

  “Well I know that one of them was injured and it happens that he is closer to town.” He reached over to a small carved box and opened it. As he picked up the enamel flower, she bit her lip in anticipation. “Now you know what you have to do, get this man’s story, find out the reason for the duel and if there is any need.” He handed her the flower. “You know what to do.”

  She picked up the enamel and felt its cool surface with pleasure. A glance up at her ‘Father’ however, dispelled her happy feelings.

  “And then fetch me Alistair, I want a word with him.”

  Nodding, she clasped the small item to her chest and headed for the door of the room.

  “And come straight back,” She glanced over her shoulder at the man behind her. “You know I can find you if you don’t.”

  Katherine nodded and headed from the room, clasping the small brooch as though it were made of gold.

  Chapter 16:

  “Yes. I hear that Lord Malison gave the boy a thrashing,”

  “Is that why he isn’t here?”

  “Of course, he wouldn’t show his face like that. He knows that he is the only real suspect.”

  “Yet Malison has not brought him to the magistrate.”

  “I think he has his reasons,”

  The conversation boiled around her like ripples in a storm tossed pond. Rumours and lies, titbits of gossip and lewd laughter battered her ears as she navigated the sea that was Lady Shearingham’s ball. Melissa was dressed in blue today and she moved across the floor in the company of one young bravo, listening to the talk around her. There was no sign of Lestrade this evening, yet that was only to be expected. News of Malison’s visit to his town house was the talk of the town and it was anticipated that Lestrade would not be present for some time. In his absence however, rumours flew about the room and he was the talk of the event. As Sarah had predicted, Honesty’s death had pushed thoughts of her personal scandal far from those attending and despite a few exceptions, she had not experienced a lack of male company.

  “So my angel,” Her companion towards her and smiled. Beneath exquisitely powdered hair, his brown eyes watched her with delighted interest. “Do you fancy taking a turn about the room?”

  Melissa slowly nodded, with the absence of the one person she would have preferred to dance with; she had flung herself back into the whirl of the night’s events. Peter Cornell, her current partner, had snatched her from the clutches of Laurence Baptiste much to her relief for Laurence had been an unmitigated bore. Peter himself wasn’t particularly sparkling and he had a tendency to call her angel or beloved yet he was a fount of knowledge. He had filled her in on the latest rumours and had talked with her knowledgably about the current state of the capital. As such, Melissa had spent a fair amount of the evening in his company.

  “So is Lestrade going to face charges for the murder?” She asked as he led her through a slow, courtly dance.

  “Hmm no,” Peter answered quietly as he moved expertly through the movements of the waltz. “He could not have been responsible. He was at Whites until the early hours.”

  “Could he not have gone to her after?”

  “Possibly but I think not.” The music ceased and they both applauded before crossing to a pair of seats in the corner of the room. “Why are you so interested Lady?”

  “Oh I’m just curious.” She attempted a vacuous smile and was rewarded by the indulgent gleam she saw in Peter’s eyes. “All this talk is quite fascinating. Just think we have a killer in our set.”

  “It’s not something for you to worry your pretty little curls about.” Peter answered in a patronising tone. “Just enjoy the party.”

  “Of course.” Melissa answered prettily enough, yet her thoughts were ranging out over the problem. The rumours were damaging, granted Justin had power yet his lack of parentage, his reputation as a cad and his connection to all the murdered girls was damning evidence. Melissa did not know what to think; in spite of all the talk during the evening she was convinced that Justin was not responsible for the girl’s death. It was clear however that she was in a minority. Peter for example seemed to believe Justin was innocent, yet he was practically the only one. During the last half hour alone, she had heard many insist that Justin should be hanged for the crimes; despite the fact the no one could link him beyond his familiarity with the women. Wondering about the dilemma as her eyes roved about the room she found her gaze alighting on the larger than life form of her host, Isabella Shearingham. The lady in question was fast approaching her middle years yet she was a formidable dame who kept up with the latest fashion and trends. Despite the fact that she had given birth to two children, she hadn’t retreated from the social whirl. Ordinarily she was the life and soul of the event, greeted newcomers and flirting outrageously with all and sundry, yet this evening she seemed tense. Melissa puzzled at the change in her. The start of the evening had progressed as normal, Isabella greeting her guests with a smile and witty comment, yet as the evening wore on the smile became strained. Keeping this perturbing thought in mind, Melissa ran her eyes over the saffron clad form of her host. At this present moment, Isabella was stood next to a young man and talking. A glance at the fan held in her fingers, revealed the depths of her agitation. Melissa’s eyes travelled upwards from the twitching fan towards the smiling yet tense features of her host. Slowly she tracked across and looked at the man opposite Isabella. He was young looking and well dressed. His clothes were expensive yet sombre in tone and his wig was plain and unadorned. Melissa aimed a long searching look at his profile and a stab of recognition found her heart.

  “Who’s that?” She asked Peter in a hushed tone, nodding over at the strange man with a subtle inclination of her head. She watched as he lifted Isabella’s hand to his lips and kissed it. Once again the troubling sensation that she knew the stranger trickled down her spine. The man moved off into the crowd followed by Melissa’s eyes, she knew she was being rude yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

  “I don’t know.” Peter murmured, setting down his canary and picking up his quizzing glass. Bringing the glasses to his brown eyes he stared at the departing figure for a few moments.

  “He reminds me of someone.” He ventured finally before releasing hold on his glasses. The fragile collection of wire and glass bounced lightly on his chest as the sturdy chain halted their downward flight. “But I fancy I’ve never seen him before.” Reaching for his glass, he took a long sip of canary and began to lose interest in the stranger.

  “I daresay we’ll find out who he is soon enough,” Peter’s hand settled onto her arm drawing her attention from the stranger. “But until we do, would I be too forward if I asked you to walk with me on the terrace?” A smile lingered on his lips as he looked down at her.

  “Umm,” Melissa stumbled over her words as she looked up at her partner. Indeed she liked his company, he had kept her amused for the best part of the evening, yet she was in no mood to traipse outside on his arm. Searching her mind for a credible reason to decline she settled on the simplest lie.

  “I’m terribly sorry but I’m rather fatigued after all this dancing,” The words flowed easily from her lips, startling herself with the ease that she lied. “I fancy that I need to sit and rest for a time.”

  “Of course my angel,” Apparently ignorant of her deception; Peter led her across the floor towards a set of spindly and less than comfortable chairs. He proffered a seat f
or her and took the one opposite. Gracefully she sat, smoothing her skirts with one practiced motion as she settled unto the hard piece of furniture.

  So will you be attending court this season?” Melissa started to speak, her fingers automatically straightening the lace on her sleeves as she spoke. Her eyes still drifted around the room in her search for the strange man she had seen earlier.

  “Yes. I find country life remarkably dull after spending time at court. There’s never enough to do.”

  “Oh? I always find the country most entertaining.” Melissa unfurled her fan and began waving it gently before her face.

  “Well there is riding to be had I suppose and you can hold your own parties, but you never get quite the same breadth of choice that you do at court. I mean look at Tollchester,” He waved his hand towards a short rotund fellow by the punch bowl. “I only see him in London. He’s a wonderful conversationalist, wouldn’t see him for dust if I were in the country all the time.”

  “Hmm,”

  “Of course that doesn’t mean that I don’t have an estate outside of London. My Wiltshire estate is roughly ten thousand acres of prime land…” Schooling her expression into one of polite interest Melissa prepared herself for a long winded conversation. Quite how Sarah could enjoy these men waffling on about their money and eligibility was quite beyond her. Wafting thin streams of lukewarm air about her, she allowed her vision to drift about the room. Over by the punch bowl stood Amelia Danforth and her current favourite, next to them the formidable form of Lord Asquith ranged over the parquet floor like a restless lion. Behind Lord Asquith and stood between two stone pillars was Emma Dawlish, an old friend. Melissa shut her fan with a snap.

  “I’m sorry Mr Cornell,” She interrupted his flow of words with as much gentleness as she could muster. “But I’ve seen someone that I simply must speak to, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Why of course.” Peter replied with a slightly startled look on his face. “Maybe I can find you later.” Melissa smiled and stood up. Leaving Peter with barely a backwards glance, she headed across the floor towards Emma.

  “Excuse me,” A woman’s voice interrupted her mid stride and she turned to face the young widow who had captured Justin’s interest at the Palace. A twinge of irritation flowed through her as she stared at the blonde perfection of Emily Saint-Clair.

  “Yes?” She asked, looking at the woman with mild curiosity. The blonde was dressed in exquisite and expensive cream brocade and staring at her with an amused expression.

  “I’m Emily Saint-Clair,” The woman announced, her voice cheery. “And you’re Melissa De Vire,” Melissa nodded, wondering why Emily had chosen to speak with her. The blonde smiled again and reached for the fan dangling at her waist. Melissa took this moment to properly gaze at her companion. The woman’s hair was concealed beneath an elaborate wig and a delicate choker surrounded her throat. With some surprise, she noted that the choker was similar in appearance to the brooch that Justin wore on his cravat. Emily looked up and noted the direction of her eyes.

  “My father’s,” She answered Melissa’s unanswered question. “I believe there are only a few of these.”

  “Lestrade had one like it.” Melissa noted, wondering how close Emily and Lestrade were to have matching jewellery.

  “Yes, our fathers were old friends,” A note of humour thrummed through her tones that Melissa did not understand. “In fact they were members of a select club. They all had one of these; I wear mine to remind me of my father.”

  “Oh,” Melissa nodded, convinced that she had not been told the truth, yet unsure how she could pursue the matter. “How did..”

  “I saw you at the Palace,” Emily spoke suddenly, cutting off Melissa’s questions as her fingers snapped open the fan. “I was most impressed with the way you handled that swine Montjoy,”

  “Thank you,” Melissa muttered, wondering if she should accept any congratulations for an episode that almost ruined her. Also, Emily’s fan was close to her face, hiding the choker and Melissa knew that Emily was attempting to distract her from the enamelled bloom.

  “After all, one of us needed to slap him, he’s a terror. If he had got you outside of the room and debauched you,” Melissa snapped her eyes to Emily’s face in shock at the directness of the woman before her. “It would have been more than your ruin.” Emily waved the fan gently, negligently as though bored by the entire conversation.

  “Others do not think so,” She said quietly, hoping that the woman would take the hint and stop talking. The other patrons at the party could hear their discussion and she had no wish for the gossip to flow about her again.

  “I beg to differ,” The woman leant forward and whispered. “Justin was most impressed.” Melissa stared at the woman’s blue eyes in shock.

  “What?”

  “You know, Justin Lestrade, handsome, arrogant,” She spoke as though Melissa were a simpleton and that fan kept flapping before her face. “The man who asked you to dance?”

  “Yes I know who he is, what are you getting at?” Melissa felt her temper rise as she stared at this porcelain skinned beauty. Was she rubbing in her relationship with Lestrade?

  “Nothing,” The woman smiled, snapping shut the fan with a decisive snap. “I know he is handsome Melissa and like others, you’ve probably fallen for him,” Unbidden she linked her arm in Melissa’s and began to walk. To prevent the room seeing the spectacle of her falling over, she followed the woman to one of the outer corridors.

  “And you’re here to tell me to leave him alone right?” Melissa guessed as they walked past the gaming rooms and out into the garden.

  “No.. no of course not,” Emily came to a stop and faced her. The polite, cultured smile dropped from her face and it took on a more serious cast. “I’m here to look at you more closely.”

  “Why?” Incredulous now at the strange road the conversation had taken, Melissa stared at the blonde in confusion. Who was this woman and why did she feel it necessary to talk about Lestrade to her? She had only met the man once and that had not been a glowing success. With growing impatience she stared at the other woman and waited for her to continue.

  “Because my dear,” Emily’s vaguely patronising response set Melissa’s teeth on edge and she forced down the urge to slap that confident, almost mocking face. “I’ve known Justin for some time and I haven’t seen him this taken with anyone for a while.”

  Really?” Melissa finally responded, her patience almost gone. “I only met him the once and he seemed completely bored by the whole experience.” Her voice snapped out across the space, waspish and sharp. “I hardly think that he gave much thought to me, he certainly failed to return for a dance.” She took a step away from the woman and prepared to move on. “If Lestrade wishes to find his way back into my good graces, then he need not send you to tout for him. I would say that it’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance, but truthfully, it hasn’t.” Taking another step back, she turned and started to walk towards the main hallway. Emily’s hand closed once again around her arm and stopped her. “What?” She hissed, her patience gone.

  “Miss De Vire, I’m not touting for Justin, I just felt the need to see what had seized his attention.” She stepped forward, almost uncomfortably close and whispered. “Now I have seen you and I can understand his attraction.” Melissa swallowed nervously as the woman stepped even closer. “It might even be fun to see how this plays out.” She released Melissa’s arm and stepped back. “Have a pleasant evening Miss De Vire.” And with that, she walked away. Melissa watched her go with a sense of confusion and relief, despite the many questions she had, she did not wish to follow.

  With several quick steps, she walked back into the room and crossed to a servant, taking a drink from a silver tray, she downed the burning drink in one go.

  “Go easy, the night is young and you don’t want to pass out.” She turned to face Emma Dawlish and she smiled at her.

  “Em,” She embraced the other girl quickly in joy an
d they linked arms. “How is it?”

  “Utterly dreadful, my abigail insists in putting me in yellow.” She waved her hand over the dress she was wearing with a helpless smile. “I really don’t suit yellow but I can’t seem to get it through to her.” The two made their way over a set of seats beside the door to the gardens. A cool breeze flowed through the open doorway, cooling them after the stifling heat from the room. “So how is it with you?” Emma asked seriously as they settled down.