by Ciar Cullen
George turned away. So, there it was. He would have to use force. Phillip would cover the same familiar ground, and how could George blame him? He’d destroyed his brother’s soul in one frenzied moment of hunger, need, and loneliness. His first taste of mortal blood.
“Marie may listen to you. I’m sure there’s some affection left in those icy veins. You are the father of her child. We think. Tell her, Phillip, ask her, beg her to let us stay in the dark alleyways of small unappealing towns. Tell her we are no threat.”
“If she has amassed the following you claim, you do indeed pose no threat. She was strong from the first day. Do you suspect her of attacking her own children?”
“There can be no doubt of it! She rules through fear. You must try to dissuade her, plea on my behalf, tell her that we are at peace!”
“Are we at peace, George? Truly? Now that you are in Baltimore, I must look over my shoulder constantly, wondering who you will strike next. I come home from New Orleans to learn my young neighbor died of an apparent suicide. The mayor also died of his own hand a few days before that, knife drawn across his throat and then cast aside in the same manner. Does no one own a pistol in this town? Baltimoreans evidently choose to slice their own throats when they can no longer stand to live. Can I expect my beautiful fiancée to slit her throat if I should go away for a night? The law might not have made the connection, but I certainly saw your modus operandi in those deaths. How are we at peace when I cannot trust you to be in the same city as my beloved?”
“You can trust me not to harm Kitty. Of course you can. I cannot undo what has been done, brother. I cannot give your short human life back, your funeral procession, and a grave in Saint-Denis. Don’t you think I’ve lived with regret?” George smelled the guilt wafting from Phillip. This tactic had always worked, and it would work now. “It is the one true shame of my life.”
Phillip held up his hand for silence. “I am sorry. I promised myself years ago not to lord it over you. I know your regret. We were young and you were weak and nearly insane with isolation, with betrayal over mother’s act. It was your way of hurting her; we both know that. But what of our bargain? What am I to do now? You would bring a vampire-eater down on me as well?”
He pushed his hand through his hair and paced the length of the room. “Kitty will turn you in if you continue to slaughter innocents. Her moral compass shows one direction only—goodness. She gives me leeway, as you know, only because I hunt the already damned. If you see her as a threat, you will kill her, I know it. Your loyalty to me does not outweigh your wanton desires. What would you have me do, George!”
“I’ve had time to think this through. I have weighed everything. I know Kitty loathes me. If I could change her mind, would you then help me?”
“Change her mind? Not a chance of it.”
“If I were to become like the man she loves, how could she not love me? If I were to haunt the docks and alleys, feasting only on criminals or their victims? What would she think then?”
“You could not do it, would not even try. This is a trick, and not so clever a one that she won’t see through it as well.”
“I can, and I will. If you swear you will help should Marie track me down, to help me gather allies in this godforsaken region of this godforsaken country, I will swear to be an upstanding citizen of this fair city.”
“Ridiculous.”
“Give me one week, Phillip. You will see.” But his plea came with a dose of command, and he saw his brother grimace with pain.
“How will I convince her? God, you are so frustrating!”
“Splendid!” George nodded at his sibling’s acquiescence. “You won’t need to convince her, she’ll see for herself. Do tell her I’m about, though, darling. Don’t want to scare her to death.”
“If you make one false move, George, one hint of a false move, I will not hesitate to help Madam Lucifer take you down. Am I clear?”
“Nonsense. You wouldn’t know how to begin.”
“But Marie de Bourbon would.”
“Touché. So, when will you get me out of this damned hotel? I would have my old rooms back.”
“You are truly delusional.”
“By Saturday?”
“Let me talk to Kitty first. She still lives with the Langhan sisters. We are to be married at Christmas, so you must be out by then. Unless of course I kill you first.”
“But you won’t. Do you know why, brother?”
When Phillip shook his head, George just waved him on his way. It was too painful to speak aloud.
He feels sorry for me. I used to rule the world, and now I have to use my control to gain his assistance. It was his brother’s weakness, this sympathy for him.
“So, there is something worse than being loathed,” he whispered to the last wink of fireplace embers.
CHAPTER THREE
Shallow men and handsome rakes.
Lillian fussed with her mother’s amethyst ring, the lone piece of jewelry she wore, struggling not to appear annoyed. The earnest and handsome suitor currently wasting her precious time made her skin crawl.
Part of her unwritten contract with Addie was that she would accept visitors, one a month. When she was younger, Lillian refused to be paraded like livestock at the balls the other girls lived for, and Addie had reluctantly agreed. But no amount of pleas could set her free from this duty.
No doubt it was the doing of the Jackal, as she called the solicitor Francis Pemberton. She’d heard Addie more than once arguing with him behind closed doors. The conversation never varied, though the last time had been the worst.
“Keep her behavior in check, find her a husband, or I will find one for her. If that doesn’t stop her delusions, I assure you I won’t hesitate to have her committed. You and your brother will then be out on the street, the house and the fortune reverting to the estate.”
“She is coming around, sir. And if there were an heir? Would the estate—”
“As we know, there are no heirs. I tire of this battle and these visits. Fix it, or I will.”
When the door slammed, Lillian had gone into the study to find Addie sobbing gently. She’d bent next to her and held her hand. “I will do better, I promise. You shall see. The Jackal will not be victorious.”
“Oh, Lil, I worry for you.”
Lillian shook off the memory of those difficult exchanges and tried hard to attend to the man droning on before her. Jonathan Aloysius Hoyt.
His finely cut features reminded Lillian of one of many dull portraits that graced the other homes in her fine neighborhood. Indeed, he would no doubt one day look down from a two-dimensional oil realm at his descendants carrying on their mundane existences in some well-equipped mansion. She would have nothing to do with the creation of that brood, though. She owned a mansion and wanted for nothing, except perhaps a chance to visit England again.
No, Lillian, for the first time. You have not been to London. And she wanted the Jackal to go away forever.
This man bored her to tears. When he blinked, she stole a glance at the mantel clock, wondering how time could have grown so sluggish. I must get back to my investigation of the Leaping Man, she thought.
Could someone actually die of boredom? The man who flew with ease from a second-story balcony would not bore her, of that she was certain. He might slit her throat instead. Of course, he would end up imprisoned someday soon, as the result of her investigation. Still, she thought Hoyt should be imprisoned for his polite drone and total disregard for the interests of his would-be object of affection. No, Hoyt could not jump from a fire landing with grace and then have the audacity to chuckle at a witness.
Lillian paused. She reminded herself that while the Leaping Man was no doubt quite clever, he was also murderer, a most loathsome creature…but clever enough to break into the mayor’s mansion without creating a stir, and quite handsome. Fingers of ice ran up her back as she pictured him. What if he had chosen her balcony instead of her neighbor’s? He must be stopped, quickly.
> Without looking up from her needlework, Addie cleared her throat to signal a call to manners. Lillian’s heart was to be won, she was being reminded, and her pockets were to be loosened.
Hoyt leaned in slightly—a practiced move meant to make him seem earnest. It turned Lillian’s stomach.
“I said, Miss Holmes, the blossoms are most lovely this year. Would you care to take a stroll with me in the Park? Saturday promises to be an exceptionally fine day.”
She caught his fleeting glance at her bodice before he sat upright and waited for her response. Damnation, she should not have let her maid pick this dress for her! It always brought excessive attention from men.
“Mr. Hoyt, I do find that blossoms are rather the same from year to year, don’t you? They are pink, white, or red, open or closed to a greater or lesser degree, and give off generally the same fragrance. I have no need to see them again this year for the sake of ensuring this remains so.”
Hoyt arched an eyebrow in surprise. “I see. You would perhaps rather take in the fine exhibit of Austrian paintings that is quite popular with the ladies of Baltimore just now?”
“How happy I am for the ladies of Baltimore.”
“The festival at the Park tonight? I understand it will be quite a spectacle.”
Lillian watched the mantel clock openly now. Her anger built. She thought of Jonathan Aloysius Hoyt’s fine words, and what it would be like to have a truthful earnest suitor ask her to attend such lovely events. One who had no knowledge of her fortune, one who actually sought love and affection. One who had no knowledge of her circumstances. “Mr. Hoyt, your manners will surely secure you a fine wife one day. I suggest, however, that in the future you attend to the particulars of your dress before you call make any such attempt.”
Jonathan Aloysius Hoyt blinked and sat back. “Pardon?”
“You came directly here from a house of ill repute.”
“Lil! What would make you say such a thing?” Addie dropped her stitching, the color draining from her face.
“An only child with no mother…is that correct, Mr. Hoyt?”
“Well, yes, but your accusation—”
“You arrived at my door sporting several long flaxen hairs on your waistcoat, the grey clay of Fell’s Point upon your soles, and the smell of rather cheap eau de toilette on your person. You are used to having your needs met by women and are exasperated at my disinterest. Sir, you are so ordinary, I will not waste a page in my journal on our meeting. Another cup of tea before you go?”
He stared at her incredulous, a flush creeping from his starched collar to his sideburns. Lillian rose and straightened her dress with as much composure as she could feign, and Hoyt stood and motioned for Thomas to bring his hat. He fled immediately thereafter.
A twinge of guilt stabbed through Lillian at her relief to be rid of him. It wasn’t Mr. Hoyt’s fault. It was no one’s fault. She would be a spinster, and not because of this man’s flaws but her nature. No man would allow his wife to pursue criminals, to favor scientific pursuits over artistic ones, to resist bowing simply because of her gender. And a husband would not want his wife to soothe her nerves with medicine, even if she were determined to give it up. Soon.
She turned to Mrs. Adencourt. “So, that is the last for the month? I have fulfilled my obligation, Addie?”
Addie covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. “I am ashamed of you, Lillian. That poor man.”
“You are not ashamed. You are amused. So I think you disliked him as well.” Lillian bowed and brushed her hands together in imitation of Thomas.
“Ah, my girl, what man has a chance with you?”
“The murderer has captured my full interest,” Lillian announced. “Have you heard of any more crimes in the area?”
“I know it’s not fear that makes you ask, and I thought we agreed you wouldn’t pursue this. I don’t understand your fascination with the sordid side of life, my dear. It is unnatural.” Addie paused. “Your obsession with those novels is to blame, of course.”
“I cannot understand your lack of interest,” Lillian snapped, but she regretted it when the governess wrinkled her brow. “But then, you are the closest thing to a mother I will see on this Earth, and no daughter would want a mother to be in distress. Leave the criminals to me.”
“Lillian, sit for a moment longer.” The governess put down her needlepoint and faced her square on.
Lillian’s heart raced, for as sure as summer would soon end Addie intended to dig deeply. Please do not tell me more. Let’s pretend for another year that we are a normal family, that I am a normal lady. “You have my full attention, Addie.”
Her governess leaned forward and put her hand on Lillian’s. So rare, this contact, this longing that burned at her throat and threatened to spill over her eyelids. It would not do, not at all.
“Dear, I agree that the young men of society seem to be lacking a certain…”
“Intelligence?”
Addie didn’t smile, and Lillian suppressed a shudder and turned to gaze out the window.
“Lillian, while you are too old to require instruction from a governess, I hope you still value my counsel. Is there nothing in you that desires…companionship? Do you not feel that there is a man in the world suited for you?”
“You are asking me to compromise so that the Jackal stops his pursuit.”
Addie frowned and clutched her hand. “This is not about…the Jackal. I love you. I want your happiness. You don’t have to be alone, Lillian. Have you never pictured yourself in the arms of some handsome fellow? Perhaps it is loneliness that causes some of your troubles.”
“Is this a proper topic of discussion?” Lillian used the question as a deflection. But her mother would have asked the same, she realized, and she wondered if she would have answered differently to the woman who brought her into the world.
“Your fantasy uncle would not allow you to slip off topic so easily, would he?”
Lillian pulled her hand from Addie’s and held it over her mouth to hide the quiver of her lips. Her governess’s question deserved a response.
“Yes, I have thought about it from time to time,” she admitted. When she was alone in bed, imagining a handsome lover hovering an inch away, pressing his lips to hers, running his strong hand down her hip. When she watched couples in the Park stealing kisses when they thought no one saw. When she read novels of love and longing… What would it be like to have a man love you and long for you?
“I know you might be afraid of men, Lil. Is it that? They are not all evil. There are good men in the world, noble men, like Thomas.”
“Please, Addie. Do not fret so.” Lillian forced a smile and stood to straighten her skirts. “It’s simply that the right man does not knock at my door. I am sure that it will work out in due course.”
Where was he, the man who did not want her money and her home, who did not require a mouse of a wife? The man who would care for a woman with a grown man’s sensibilities? The man who would defend her honor rather than steal it from her?
No, do not think about it. Think instead about the Leaping Man.
“I must rush, Addie. I will continue this conversation whenever you like.”
Addie sniffed out a laugh at the lie. “You have no more appointments, do you?”
“I am to meet Bess, for she would have me adjust some flaw of my appearance. I imagine it will necessitate the purchase of a new hat, as she is obsessed with hats. Then she desires to take in the Grand Festival in the Park.” Lillian sighed. “I hope there will be no milliners about. Or Mr. Jonathan Aloysius Hoyt.”
Addie let the last pass without comment. “You are kind, to appease your friend. I like Miss Wheeler. She has good taste in hats, and you could do with a new one. And I know you intend to buy something for her as well. You cannot hide your generosity so easily.” She paused then shook her finger. “Don’t go without Aileen!”
“Aileen is but twenty. She can do nothing to protect me, even though I do not n
eed protection, and I find it unnecessary to have a maid trail along. I can open my own parasol and buy my own lemonade.” And I can use a revolver.
“A hard life ages one. She’s older and wiser than her years, and you know it.”
Lillian sighed. Her maid Aileen O’Shaunessy could not emerge from their home without her ragamuffin little brothers and their friend materializing from thin air. The Musketeers, as the three boys insisted on being called, would hover around Lillian like bees on a sweet pie. Their presence brought snickers from the neighbors, but Lillian cared not. She had never found the heart to turn them away. They were good boys, despite their appearance. Still, they and their dog would not be welcome in Light Street’s expensive shops.
Well, she decided, perhaps she and Bess would settle for a turn in the Park after all.
CHAPTER FOUR
A chance meeting of great importance.
“I say!” Bess called to the youngest of the Musketeers, Paddy Moran. “Control your hound! He is drooling on my only parasol.”
Lillian laughed at the scene playing out in the bright midday sun. Tiny Paddy, only eight years old, struggled with Abraham, pulling at the dog’s collar, but the beast was nearly as big as him. Lillian’s maid, Aileen, abandoned her duties and leaned against a tree, deep in flirtation with Constable Johnnie Moran, Paddy’s much older brother. As Paddy tried to gain control of Mr. Lincoln, Aileen’s own younger brothers, Darby, age 11, and Billy, 13, ran along the bank of the pond, attempting to push one another into the murky waters.
The commotion of the boys was welcome to Lillian, as were the sights of the Park as it readied for the evening’s festival, which was truly only an advance taste of the traveling circus arriving in Baltimore within the week. Vendors passed by selling refreshments and newspapers, an Italian organ grinder with a chirping monkey on his shoulder played joyful tunes for a penny, and romantic couples strolled slowly to stretch out their time together in the late afternoon sunshine. Lillian practiced her observational skills with each passerby, looking for minutia that others would miss.
