The Black Lotus (Night Flower)

by Claire Warner

  “Is he dead?” Melissa spoke, her voice trembling and out of breath as she pulled the shredded nightgown closer to her body with shaking fingers.

  “No!” Marcus pulled away from the window and strode across the room, his rapier loosely held in his fingers. “The bastard’s running away.”

  “What?” Melissa flew over to the window and stared out. Beneath the window, the broken remnants of the window shimmered in the moonlight and there was no sign of a body. Casting her eyes around in disbelief, Melissa caught sight of her assailant running along the yew path.

  “Impossible!” Watching as the figure headed across the lawn with not even a limp to show that they had dived from a first storey window. “How?” Turning, she caught sight of Marcus heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Melissa felt her heart leap into her chest. Her assailant had walked free from a fall that should have broken his legs. What could her brother hope to do against someone like that?

  “Jane!” Marcus stopped her flow of words as he called to the maid. “Fetch Jeb and Simon, we’re going after him!”

  “He just dived out of the window.” Melissa called after him,

  “And?” He glanced over at her, at the torn nightgown and tangled hair. “He would have…” Casting his eyes downward, he stopped talking. “No arguments Melly, you stay here with Jane.” He nodded at the shattered window. “Close those shutters and move into a safer part of the house.” He watched her start forward. “At least until we make sure that he isn’t left on the grounds alright.”

  “Melissa!” Her parents rushed into the room, eyes wild. What the devil is going on here?” Her father’s thunderous voice rose above all, as he took in the broken window, Melissa’s state of dress and Marcus’s rapier.

  “Someone broke in.” Marcus answered shortly as he pushed through his parents to the door. “They had a knife.”

  “Oh lord Melissa.” Her mother clasped her hand to her forehead and sank into the chair.

  “I’m going after him.”

  “Not alone you’re not!” Their father uttered shortly as he turned with purpose towards the main body of the house. Marcus looked as though he would protest, but after a moment he nodded and followed his father out of the room. As they left, a strange silence settled over the room. Melissa took several deep breaths, feeling the adrenaline from the struggle fade slightly as normality kicked in. Were it not for the shattered window and tumbled bed covers, she would have thought that the whole episode was a dream. Behind her, her mother finally got herself under control and stood up.

  “Come on dear, let’s get you downstairs.” Melissa’s mother slid her arm about her shoulders and led her towards the door. Nodding, Melissa followed; a strange numb sensation drifting over her as the realisation of what had happened began to sink in. In silence, she traipsed downstairs after her mother to await the return of her father and Marcus.

  Chapter 30:

  Justin reached the edge of the De Vire estate and cantered over the boundary, heading for the large manor in the distance. The moon flooded the grounds highlighting each yew and elm in silver. He cast his gaze over the gardens, heart beating hard within his chest as he looked for his quarry.

  A loud meaty thump drew his attention and he turned towards the sound. On the gravelled walkway that ran the length of the house, a man lay broken. Justin took a step forward and the man stirred, slowly dragged himself to his feet and started to move. A fast walk turned into a loping run and then the man was sprinting. “John.” He murmured, watching the familiar figure run across the garden. Justin glanced up at the second floor window and his heart stopped beating. “Dear god no.” He whispered brokenly as he watched the figure head through the hedges with uncanny ease and speed.

  “Come on.” He nudged the horse forward and broke into a canter. Beneath the dappled moonlit, he urged the horse onwards, catching up with the figure as he reached the yew avenue.

  “John!” His voice whipped out angrily as he vaulted from the horse’s back, slamming into the shadowed figure. They both fell to the ground, rolling over and over in the dirt.

  “You bastard!” Justin managed to drag himself upright and he aimed a heavy kick to his opponent’s stomach. “How dare you come here? How dare you draw her into this?”

  “I?” John ignored the searing pain to his stomach and stood up. In the silvery light, his dark brown locks appeared almost black. “I didn’t bring her into this, you did, the moment you turned your corrupted eyes on her.” They circled each other warily, both looking for openings in the other’s defence. “You don’t deserve a moment’s peace.” Noise distantly erupted from the front of the house and John moved, his right hand slamming into Justin’s nose making his eyes water as his left dove for the lotus at his throat.

  “No.” Justin struggled through the watering eyes and numbing pain in his nose to seize John’s hand. For a long moment they wrestled, John’s clenched fist holding the enamel brooch tight within his fist as Justin aimed punches at his side, face and stomach. With a sharp twist, John wrenched the brooch free, tearing Justin’s shirt at his neck. His right hand snaked around Justin’s throat closing into a deathlike grip.

  “You’re not as strong as me Justin and you know it.” John ignored the blows that rained down on his side as leaned in and whispered softly into his ear. Justin raised his hands to prise himself free as John’s grip grew stronger making spots dance in his vision as he began to black out. Through the haze of he saw John flick the lid of the locket open. Beneath the silver and gray light of the moon the pictures within were dark and indistinct. He knew what John was about to do and in desperation he used all his strength to claw at the hand fixed at his throat. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, he succeeded in freeing himself just in time to see John tear through the picture on the left hand side of the locket with his thumbnail. Justin gasped, the shock of the connection between him and his donor breaking, catching him like a punch to the gut. “Especially not now.”

  John released him and let him fall to the floor as he threw the garments he had been wearing at Justin’s feet. Shaking from the separation, Justin tried to pull himself upright, but John placed a foot on his chest and forced him back to the floor as he glanced back towards the house and smiled. “Enjoy yourself Justin.” He smiled as he reached up and seized the reins of Justin’s horse. Vaulting his way onto its back, he waved the lotus locket in Justin’s direction before touching his heels to the horse’s sides.

  “John!” Justin dragged himself upright and started after him, a staggering figure in muddy and dishevelled clothing. Behind him, the sounds of a pursuing crowd grew louder. John disappeared into the copse, leaving him alone for the baying mob that followed.

  “That’s him!” Within moments he was surrounded and seized, several heavy punches landed on his already battered body and he fell to the ground, unable to heal from the wounds without the charm. He was pulled upright and struck again, fists flying in from all directions as he tried to protect his head and body.

  “Alright that’s enough,” From the depths of the crowd, Marcus De Vire pushed his way to the front and stared down at his captive.

  “Lestrade..” His face was grave as he stared down at Justin. “I might have known.” Marcus drew back his fist and the blow sent Justin’s head into a spin. “That’s for my sister.” He looked at the men holding Justin and nodded. “Get him into the stables.”

  “Marcus” Justin found his voice. “It wasn’t me. I would never hurt her. Please let me know she’s alright?”

  “Don’t you dare speak to me about my sister.” Marcus whirled around and there was hate in his eyes. “I should kill you right now but I think you have a date with a noose. You can’t wriggle your way out of this one.”

  Justin struggled futilely against the hands holding him as he urged Marcus to listen to him. “I saw the real assailant; he beat me and left me here. Damn it man, I’m being set up.”

  “You must think me a fool.
” Marcus replied, turning back to the house. “We saw no one but you. Your estate is next door; don’t conjure phantoms to explain away your guilt.” He turned to the stable hands and waved them away. “Get him out of my sight.”

  As one, the grooms pulled Justin to his feet and they dragged him across the ground towards the large stone building that housed the De Vire horses. Bodily they threw him into an empty stall and lashed his hands and feet together. Leaving him in a heap on the floor, they walked out, leaving a man on guard. Justin tried to move, but the grooms had skilfully hogtied him, leaving him little room to manoeuvre. As the reality of his situation sank him, he wondered how he could have been such a fool. Alistair would have played mind games but even he would not have murdered innocents purely to inconvenience him. Really that’s all it was, John meant to see him hanged or sent on permanent exile, depending how De Vire wished to handle it. Whatever the odds, it would make it impossible for him to continue operating in England. Even if Edward and Marcus De Vire allowed him to run to France, he would not be able to return to England for many years. He closed his eyes and felt his head hit the stable wall. Melissa was in terrible danger now and the only way he could save her would mean an uncomfortable death.

  Chapter 31:

  Melissa lay on the chaise longue, a blanket wrapped around her frame and a glass of brandy clenched in her fingers as her mother fussed about her.

  “I don’t understand it.” Her mother muttered as she paced up and down the parlour in agitation. “Why would anyone want to kill you? Why?” Plucking agitatedly at the sleeves of her robe, she continued to pace, as if she could walk the answers out of the floor.

  “Mother, I’m alright.” Melissa’s voice shook slightly, a lingering reminder of her frenzied fight for life. “Marcus will catch him.”

  “But who would do this?” Her mother stopped pacing and she stared down at her daughter, concerned tears filling her eyes. “There’s no reason for it.”

  Melissa bent her head; she had no answers for her mother, for she wanted them for herself. She had an idea of who it might have been, but she couldn’t tell her mother about Alistair, after all she had not mentioned the letter that she had found on her pillow. She took another sip of the burning brandy and stared into the freshly stirred flames of the parlour fire. Why was Alistair doing this to her? She and Justin were finished, if indeed they had ever started, what was Alistair hoping to accomplish by attacking her? The loud bang of the front door drew her from her thoughts and she stared at the parlour door, wondering what state her brother would be in. The handle turned and Marcus walked into the parlour, his hair mussed and bruises across his knuckles.

  “Well?” Their mother broke the silence as Marcus headed for the drinks cabinet and a stiff brandy. “Did you catch him?” Her son glanced over his shoulder as he poured the drink, he stoppered the bottle and turned back to face his mother and sister.

  “Hmm.” Marcus nodded in affirmation as he knocked back the slug, savouring the burning sensation as it travelled down his throat. “It was Lestrade.” He sat on one of the chairs and leant back, closing his eyes, suddenly exhausted by the night’s events.

  “Justin Lestrade?” A horrified note entered her mother’s voice and she reflexively squeezed Melissa’s hand. “That cad?” Lydia racked her brains and finally came up with an image of the man.

  “Yes.” Marcus left his eyes closed as he replied, the empty glass of brandy hanging loosely from his hand. “He’s in the stables. I have the grooms watching him.”

  Melissa did not hear the rest of his sentence, her mind had stopped working when he had confirmed Justin’s name. The room swam before her eyes and she had to struggle not to faint. This couldn’t be true, Justin wouldn’t, he couldn’t have been the one to attack that evening.

  “Are you sure it was him?” Her voice was low, frightened and Marcus opened his eyes to stare at her.

  “I’m positive.” Marcus replied as he finally gave the empty glass in his hand to Walker. “He was on the edge of the estate and that disguise he wore was on the ground beside him. Of course he claimed he didn’t do it.”

  “It might not have been him.” Melissa argued, her heart in her mouth as she tried to process what her brother was saying. A strange sick feeling settled over her and she gripped the arms of the chair tightly, steadying herself.

  Marcus glanced at her sharply, his green eyes measuring her reaction. “There was no one else there, he was bruised and in a mess.” He sighed and continued. “I have no doubt in my mind that he was responsible.” Moving to the edge of the chair he pushed his hair free from his face with a distracted hand. “But I don’t understand it.” He glanced over at Melissa, noting the tense set of her shoulders. “You barely know the man. All the others have been his fancy.”

  “Walker!” Melissa’s mother turned towards the servant, her voice bell clear and sharp. “Send for the constable. I want him here as soon as possible.”

  “Yes Miss.” The butler nodded and headed out of the parlour.

  “Melissa my dear.” Her mother was once again at her side, her hands shifting the coverlet with agitated motions. “It will be fine. When the constable gets here, Lestrade will answer for this night’s work.”

  “Mother I don’t think it was him!” Melissa argued, throwing aside the blanket and standing up. “I’m sure my attacker was heavier set. You can’t hang a man because you hope it’s him.”

  “And you can’t save the man you desire from lawful justice.” Marcus’ voice drawled from the corner of the room, turning Melissa to stone and drawing a wrathful glare from her mother.

  “Marcus you’re not suggesting..” Lydia De Vire’s voice was shocked and taut with fear. “That Melissa has…” Her eyes darted to Melissa and her daughter was shocked to see shame mingled in with the horror in her gaze.

  “No that’s not what he’s saying!” Melissa cut across her mother’s words, her eyes sending a silent plea to her brother. “Justin saved me from a horrible accident on the road and that is all. If you must search for someone to blame for this then why not look at Montjoy? He definitely had a grudge against me.”

  “Because much as I personally despise the man, Montjoy was not discovered at the edge of our estate, armed with the instruments used to terrify you.” Marcus pulled himself upright. “I know you don’t want to believe it Melly but you must face the truth. This is not his first offence…”

  “That has never been proved.” Melissa was almost shouting, her voice cracking with anger. “In fact we know that he could not have killed Honesty. He could have fought with the real attacker..”

  “Enough the pair of you!” Lydia’s voice snapped over their bickering and they both looked at their mother in surprise. “I believe it’s time for bed. Melissa you will sleep in the parlour and Marcus..”

  “I’ll sleep in the hall,” Marcus interrupted as he dragged himself out of his chair. “Keep an eye out.”

  “If you’re convinced you have the right man,” Melissa’s retort sizzled across the room. “Then you will not need to keep an eye out,” She sank back onto the cushions and crossed her arms. “Because the danger is apparently locked in the stables.”

  “Don’t be sharp dear.” Her mother reprimanded as she fluffed up the pillows on the long couch. With gentle but brisk movements, she tucked Melissa into the makeshift bed. Turning back to her older child she directed him out of the room with an imperious gesture. “Go to bed Marcus. In a couple of hours the constable will be here and Lestrade will be off the property. I’m sure the grooms and those ropes will stop him escaping,” Marcus opened his mouth to protest. “Not another word Marcus, your sister will be quite safe here,” She stood with a swish of fabric and walked toward him. “It’s been a long night and you need to sleep.” Resting her hand on Marcus’ shoulder, she squeezed gently. “I’m proud of you.” Gently, but with firm determination, Lydia ushered Marcus from the room and shut the door. Turning back to her daughter, she sighed and sat in a chair.
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  “Now what about Lestrade?” The glance she gave her daughter was piercing and Melissa bowed her head, unable to stare directly at her mother.

  “Mother I.” She started to speak, wondering how she could lie her way out of this. Lydia was not a fool; she could pull the wool over her eyes for only so long. As Marcus had planted the seeds in her mind, it was only a matter of time before her mother dug the truth out of her.

  “When I was younger,” Her mother interrupted and she looked up, surprised to see compassion and understanding in her gaze. “I fell in love with Lord Jonathan Gabardine. He was a scoundrel of the highest order but exciting and different. I was madly in love with him. When he asked me to elope I jumped at the chance.” Lydia’s voice was soft, kindly and lost in an old memory, Melissa listened enraptured, wondering what had occurred to prevent her marriage and why she had never heard of the tale before. “It was almost the scandal of the year.”