Lillian Holmes and the Leaping Man

by Ciar Cullen

  Ah, there! The woman in purple and black stripes fidgets with her bag, looking for something while her husband surveys a toy sailboat. She deftly puts something tiny—a medicinal—into her mouth. She smiles broadly when he turns around to speak to her. A morphine addict! I, however, am not addicted to morphine, and will stop all medicinals within the month.

  When the breeze blew from the west, Lillian could hear the faint strains of carousel music. The Musketeers would no doubt beg for a ride before the day was over. Everything was perfect. Except that her dearest friend was angry at her.

  Bess shook her foot in annoyance, a sure sign of looming trouble. “Did I mention the hat sale was for today only?” When Bess fretted, her naturally rosy cheeks flamed, her deep blue eyes grew fierce, and her diminutive yet rounded figure seemed larger than life. The feathers of her elaborate bonnet seemed ready for flight. She would not be ignored.

  “I’m sorry, Bess. I will make it up to you.”

  Lillian realized herself a dreadful friend. Bess asked so little, and being of a family just back from the brink of financial ruin, a sale was an important thing to her. Fashion and eligible men figured high on Bess’s agenda, even if they were two topics Lillian knew nothing about.

  “You will make it up to me? Of course you will. You always say that.”

  “I think you look quite pretty in that hat.”

  Bess sighed. “We both know that I am not pretty, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “You don’t understand, Lil. You are so beautiful. How could you know what it is to be a cripple, to not have fine features and a perfect figure? Once again, I didn’t receive an invitation to the Swanson Ball. They would not have an ugly girl dragging her club foot around their dance floor.”

  “Nor would they have me, thank God. I suppose they think me a lunatic. So we’ll spend that night doing something marvelous, how would that be? We could take in the symphony!”

  Bess’s eyes grew glassy and Lillian dreaded the coming tears. She had run out of platitudes since the day they’d become friends. She’d pulled the slow and clumsy Bess away from an oncoming trolley. The poor thing had tripped, cut her head and torn her dress. Lillian had hailed a hansom cab and helped patch and clean the stranger up in her nearby home. The bond was since unbroken.

  The two loneliest women in Baltimore, Bess liked to say: one too ugly and poor for a man of society, one too intelligent. But in truth, Lillian admired Bess’s quick wit and sharp mind, and treasured her loyalty. If only she could persuade Bess to begin learning about science and human nature, she would have the perfect ally for her investigations.

  “Where are you, Lillian? You’re already dreaming about some phantom adventure, aren’t you?”

  “I am sorry. How can I make it up to you? Name the day and time.”

  “Aha! I will!” Bess’s scowl turned to a mischievous grin and she turned to face her, one gloved hand on Lillian’s sleeve. “I know you will not approve, but you gave your word.” Her cheeks dimpled with her smile, and her curls bobbed with her excitement. She pulled a folded flier from her bag and handed it over.

  Lillian unfolded the flier littered with mysterious symbols and sketches of the constellations. “Madam Pelosi? Oh, no!”

  “Do read on.”

  “Spiritualist extraordinaire. Urgent messages from the dead… Oh, Bess, no, no. Why do you invest your energies this way?”

  Bess pulled Lillian’s book from her hands and tapped the frontispiece in reply. “A Study of the Poisons of Indochine. I wish you would read something less…deadly. Haven’t you memorized that book yet? How can you invest your energies this way? Why must you know about poisons, the weapons of India, the nature of soils? I know you are brilliant, but you must also live.”

  Lillian didn’t know what that meant anymore. “It is my life, Bess. I don’t know another way to live.”

  Her friend sighed and squeezed her arm. “I do not mean to be cruel. You teach me to reach for more than a pretty hat and a slick-tongued suitor. Still, I imagine I will spend my days as a hatless old maid, chiding you and accepting your charity.”

  “I will not let that happen,” Lillian said. She closed her book and withdrew a smaller notebook from her bag. “I will find you a suitable companion. I will put it on my list.”

  “Your list?”

  “My list of life goals. You must start one. How do you prioritize your time? I will put finding you a husband above learning German.”

  “You are incredibly thoughtful.” Bess wiggled her foot vigorously.

  A loud commotion broke their argument as Abraham barked and one of the boys splashed in the pond, cursing at his brother. Johnnie and Aileen rushed to sort out the chaos and pull him from the water. Lillian just shook her head in amusement.

  “Constable Moran seems to spend all of his time rescuing the same three young men from themselves,” Bess observed.

  Lillian nodded. “He’s a good man for Aileen. They are in the same predicament, are they not? Trying to raise younger siblings on their own. I approve of the match and have told Aileen as much.”

  “Oh, no! Abraham now drips with mud. My dress is doomed.”

  Lillian barely heard her friend, as her attention was drawn from the ragamuffins to a couple passing from beneath the ornamental arch. The pair emerged and stopped up the path to enjoy the comedic scene at the pond. Lillian was drawn to the man, as something in his figure struck a familiar chord. About her age, he radiated a calm ease rather than practiced poise.

  Bess held her hand up to her mouth and whispered behind it, “Do you know him? I must meet him. Who’s the girl? Hopefully a younger sister. What shall I do to meet him?”

  Lillian glanced over. “Why must you meet him? You are confusing me, Bess.”

  “Are you blind? Don’t you think he’s the most handsome fellow ever?”

  “Ever? Surely you do not mean that literally.” Though, he might be the most handsome man Lillian had seen that day or the day before. “No, they are surely not brother and sister, as their coloring could not be more unlike. Betrothed. In love. But something is off here… Ah, she is new to wealth. She does not wear the hat properly, has not been trained to walk properly. Her boots are scuffed, even though the dress is new.”

  He is comely, Lillian admitted to herself, watching further. Coal-black hair and brows, bright blue eyes and fine jaw line. He cut quite the figure as he leapt to the aid of Paddy, who struggled once again to control Abraham, and an unfamiliar flutter in her stomach made her blush. Lillian pushed down an urge to straighten her hat and ensure her dress was unwrinkled. No man was worth that vanity.

  He jumped again to retrieve the hound, and Lillian’s blood ran cold. Surely there was more than one young man in Baltimore who moved in such a graceful, athletic manner. He was the same height and build as the Leaping Man…

  No, this man was an inch or two shorter.

  Don’t be ridiculous, Lillian. This is not your man.

  The stranger held the beast firmly as he chatted with the constable, whom he seemed to know. Then Lillian’s bench was suddenly surrounded by her maid Aileen, Constable Moran, the wet and chagrined Musketeers, and their muddy hound. Bess jumped to her feet and scurried to the back of the bench in an attempt to stay clean. Lillian rose to greet the strangers who approached just a few steps behind.

  What should I say, what should I ask? He might recognize me if he is the murderer. And if so, would he dare approach me in broad daylight?

  The stranger regarded Lillian for a fleeting moment with a subtle bow of the head before speaking again to the constable, and Lillian understood for the first time what a twinkle of the eye meant. This man’s eyes had come alive when he glanced at her, if he quickly hooded them in mystery, his long dark lashes brushing his very pale cheeks. He was quite unusual, and his aura toyed with a distant memory of early childhood, one Lillian couldn’t bring into focus. Could he be a long-lost relative? She would have to ask Addie, if
indeed her governess would speak on the subject.

  Constable Johnnie Moran rubbed at his chin in confusion, as if he were desperately trying to remember a protocol he probably never learned. Lillian liked Johnnie, and she decided it was time to rescue him.

  “Allow me to introduce Miss Elisabeth Wheeler, my dear friend.” She indicated Bess, who had suddenly overcome her fear of mud to scurry forward to stand before the strangers. The man bowed deeply and touched her hand when she offered it. “I am Lillian Holmes. Aileen O’Shaunessy, in my employ. Her brothers, Darby and Billy. You seem to know Officer Moran and his young brother Paddy. You have certainly met Mr. Abraham Lincoln.”

  Johnnie snapped out of his stupor. “So sorry, Miss Holmes. May I introduce Mr. Phillip Orleans and Miss Mary Catherine Twamley.”

  Lillian stared into Mr. Orleans’s eyes, daring him to exhibit a flash of recognition. The man held her stare for a moment, until Bess pulled at her sleeve.

  “Lillian, please, what has gotten into you? We are happy to make your acquaintance. Are you from Baltimore, Miss Twamley?”

  “No, Miss Wheeler, but it has been my home these many years.” The woman smiled broadly, matching the expression in her lovely lilting voice and eyes.

  “Twamley, Twamley…” Lillian noticed Kitty’s smile widen. “Ah, the artist Kitty Twamley?”

  Bess squealed. “Truly? You were the talk of the Artists’ Tent at the Exhibition this year!”

  Kitty beamed. “You are too kind. I am still learning.”

  Lillian blew out the breath she was holding. This couple was not murderous in the least. The young lady, although not born to society, was pleasant. Her companion seemed a bit more aloof but not her Leaping Man. Too short, too thin, and somehow lacking the devilish quality she’d seen that night.

  Kitty whispered something into the man’s ear, and he took a moment before nodding and turning to address Lillian.

  “Ladies, an acquaintance of Kitty’s graces us with a visit for one week only and will be entertaining us on Saturday evening. I know we have just met, but Kitty is quite anxious to complete the party, and we do seem to be neighbors.”

  Lillian’s heart dropped. A social engagement. One that required small talk with shallow, boring strangers. But Bess, oh, Bess would want to go.

  “She sings? She dances? Pray tell, what kind of performance?”

  “Madam Annaluisa Pelosi is a popular medium we befriended while on a recent trip to New Orleans. While I have little interest in such things—”

  He was drowned out by Bess’s squeals. “Oh! We’ll come. Lillian, you promised me. What an amazing coincidence.”

  Kitty clapped her hands happily. “Do come, Miss. I rarely have visitors, so preoccupied with my painting… I…”

  Ah, she lacks female companions. Lillian pushed down a sigh. How could she be so dour and selfish with two other young ladies giggling with excitement?

  “Splendid, then!” Phillip said. “I will send a carriage for you. Johnnie, would you like to come and bring Aileen?”

  “Would you like to attend?” Lillian asked the maid, but she also warned Aileen off with a quick movement of her eyes. While she did not feel the need to keep the girl in her place, such an outing would regretfully elicit another tiresome conversation with Addie about propriety.

  “Oh, no, Miss, I have other duties.” Aileen curtsied quickly, and Lillian knew she understood.

  “Then you needn’t bother with a carriage,” she said to Phillip, “as Bess and I enjoy walking.”

  The man handed her a card with his address on it, and then, with a quick tip of his hat, he ushered Kitty down the path and away.

  When the couple was out of earshot and Johnnie returned to his beat, Lillian gathered the Musketeers. The filthy crew got in line, Mr. Lincoln at the end, wagging his muddy tail. Lillian smiled inwardly, knowing how excited the boys were. Whenever she lined them up, it meant the promise of sweets or pennies.

  “Listen carefully, boys.”

  “Musketeers,” Paddy corrected and then sucked at his thumb.

  “That’s quite right, Patrick Moran! One penny to each of you who brings to me a stunning piece of information about Mr. Phillip Orleans before Saturday. What are the rules?”

  Aileen’s brother Billy jumped up and down.

  “Yes, Billy, before you burst.”

  “Not one bit of hearsay. No gossip from young ladies. No gossip from old ladies, unless they are servants in his employ.” He paused and scratched his head as if the effort were almost too much.

  “And the greatest rule of all?”

  “Be safe! We are not to be seen, to leave the neighborhood, or to steal.”

  “Very good. You will stay together, obey Aileen and Constable Moran, and stay out of trouble.”

  Paddy moved forward and pulled at her skirt. “Can we come to the dinner with you? Abraham will stay outside.”

  “I am sorry, but you may not come. However, I will ask Addie to have a fine cake made for you on Saturday. And you all may have dinner at my home with Aileen that evening. Perhaps Aileen will ask Constable Moran to join her. Please be sure to wash before Saturday, boys. You smell of pond.”

  Abraham chose that moment to rid himself of the mud he’d acquired with a vigorous shake, transferring most of it to Bess’s yellow dress.

  “I say, Lil! Now you owe me a new dress as well as a husband. Please put that on your life list.”

  “I will replace the dress,” Lillian said. “Of course I will.”

  Bess seemed mollified. “Kitty is sweet, isn’t she? If she weren’t, I would poison her drink on Saturday to free Mr. Orleans to be my husband. Do you think I could manage it? You know all about undetectable poisons from your Sherlock Holmes books, do you not? Of course, he would have to be daft or blind to want me.”

  Lillian frowned and adjusted one of her friend’s blond ringlets. “I do not think him suitable for you or for Kitty. You do not want that man.”

  “Why do I not? I think I would very much like that man. He is handsome, certainly wealthy, and he seems kind and intelligent.”

  “Bess, a lion in the jungle is rather handsome as well, except to the gazelle he takes down with his sharp claws and teeth. Phillip Orleans looks very much like someone I saw recently…” She stopped herself. Not even Bess would believe her. Or, out of concern Bess would speak to Addie, and then Dr. Schneider would lower the boom. Thinking swiftly, Lillian changed tack and said, “Perhaps we will seek the counsel of Madam Pelosi in matters of your future husband. Now, let’s attend to that dress.”

  ***

  The evening was as hot and cloudless as the day. Bess pulled Lillian along from this tent to that vendor, every which way, so excited to be out and about in a crowd. She squealed in front of a colorfully striped tent and squeezed Lillian’s arm. “Oh! We found her!”

  “I see why you are here, Elisabeth.” Lillian pointed to the sign announcing Madam Pelosi’s talents and sighed. Wasn’t it enough that they would be entertained by this charlatan on Saturday night? There was a short line of people waiting to experience the magic for themselves. “Your romantic life is not in the hands of the spirit world. I entreat you to walk with me and save your coin.”

  Bess frowned and stomped her good foot. “Your promises are very short-lived, Lil. You owe me several gay evenings, a dress and a hat, and if memory serves—”

  “And it always does.”

  “—a trip to the seaside as a reward for dressing as a charwoman and following that poor, innocent Chinaman about last summer.”

  “Well, I was mistaken about him. I was certain that was a disguise. In any case, I suggest a compromise. Walk with me a bit, and we will return shortly to end our adventure at this tent. I would like a cool drink first.”

  “You know I do not like to walk far.”

  “Just a bit. Come now, be brave and proud!”

  Lillian marveled at the transformation of her neighborhood park—indeed, it belonged to all of Baltimore, though
she’d come to think of it as her personal garden, as it nearly fronted her home. Tonight strains of calliope music fought with a marching band playing the latest Sousa tune in the distance, and were punctuated by the squeals of children’s laughter.

  Bess clapped as a juggler threw flaming torches high into the air. A man dressed in Chinese silks and a grotesque mask walked past them on stilts in the unsettling gait of a giant insect. “Perhaps he is your criminal. Would you have me follow him as well?” she chided.

  Their attention was drawn to a hundred marvels, and Lillian, much to her own surprise, found that she was enjoying the night immensely. She only thought of the Leaping Man every half hour or so.

  Bess adjusted Lillian’s feathered hat and linked her arm through hers. “Isn’t this better than reading a pamphlet on soils or mollusks or the history of the Hindus? Why must you always wear deep blue? You look as if you’re in mourning. How lovely you’d look in white. I know, quite impractical. You’re so beautiful, Lillian. Why must you ignore your appearance? Now your hat has gone quite floppy again.”

  “I’ve gone quite floppy in this heat. At least I didn’t wear a corset. You must be ready to faint. Although I must say you look rather pretty in all that pink, like a small party cake from Eisner’s bakery.”

  “No corset?” Bess’s blonde curls bobbed as she shook her head in frustration. “Didn’t Aileen dress you tonight? What am I to do with you?”

  Bess regaled Lillian with details of the coming circus, but Lillian only took in half of what she said. Several feet away, a young boy of no more than eight, dressed in near rags that hung limply on his thin torso, pretended to watch a shell game at a nearby table. He was giving quick glances at a gentleman whose senses were entirely focused on the chap running the game.

  I see you, little man.

  In a practiced nonchalant move, the urchin backed into the gentleman, apologized, and moved deftly behind a nearby tree. Lillian dashed after him and clamped onto his arm before he could flee. She squatted down and stared into his widened eyes.

  “Yes, miss?” He trembled, eyes darting about to plan his escape.

  Lillian held her palm out. The boy bit at his lip and dropped the watch and fob into her hand.