Lillian Holmes and the Leaping Man

by Ciar Cullen

  “I am truly the most unlucky man ever born,” he muttered as he entered his home through the back door. And he was. Phillip was waiting for him, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, ready for a fight.

  “I hope you are satisfied. Because of you I hunted in the filthy alleyways tonight and was shot. Twice! I didn’t even get a taste before the police whistles sounded.” His thoughts still on Lillian, George fumbled a bit with his lies, but Phillip’s stern expression disappeared.

  “I told you to go with me. I feared that… Never mind. I’m off to bed. Kitty no doubt has waited up for me.”

  “Phillip?”

  His brother had started up the stairs. He turned and frowned.

  “You’re lucky to have Kitty. And you deserve that happiness. You were always a good man.”

  “Going soft on me, George, or do you need something again?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  His brother shook his head and headed up to the solace of his beloved’s arms.

  George picked up his pipe and sat, taking a moment to rest in case the police came to the front door. He rather doubted anyone would believe Lillian’s story, but he’d been surprised before in his long lifetime. He hoped his brother would miss him if that happened, just a little bit. But he doubted it. He’d earned Phillip’s disdain over so many years of flip remarks and broken promises. Perhaps after another fifty years or so, circumstances would shift and they could be together again.

  ***

  “Stop it!” Lillian shouted, unable to stand the chaos. Her head threatened to explode, and the pain in her neck matched that of her heart. How had she suffered this neck wound? He’d leaned in to kiss her…

  No. She simply wanted a moment to take in the truth of her attack, whatever that truth was. A vampire? Had George Orleans claimed to be a vampire? Then he was as mad as he was evil. Perhaps she could almost forgive him if he were mad, if he had no control over his actions. What she really wanted was for him not to be the murderer.

  If he meant to slit her throat with that knife, he’d surely have succeeded. And she’d felt no pain as she fumbled for the pistol under her pillow. But perhaps the pills were to blame for that.

  “I must stop the blood flow from this wound,” Addie chastised with a shaky voice as she pressed the corner of the light blanket to Lillian’s neck. “Oh, Lil. How did we let it get this bad? This is my fault. I should have…” She shook her head, devastated.

  “How is it your fault, Addie? That does not make sense.”

  “Aileen, take the boys away. All will be fine,” Thomas ordered.

  The maid was as white as a ghost and tried to block her brothers’ view of the scene. “Is Lil going to be all right?” she cried, the boys cried. Everyone but Lillian was crying.

  “Send the boys to fetch Dr. Schneider. Go!” Thomas shoed them off and closed the bedroom door. He picked up George’s knife from the floor and choked back a sob as he wiped the blood with a handkerchief.

  “There, Lillian,” Addie cooed in a tone she hadn’t used in years. “The doctor will sew up this wound and you’ll be fine. Now, give that pistol to Thomas.”

  Lillian looked at the pistol, having forgotten that she still held it, and dropped it onto the bed. “It didn’t kill him. Two shots to the chest didn’t kill him.” How could that be? “He said he was a vampire. He said he killed so that he could live.”

  Addie gasped and held her hand over her mouth.

  Thomas sat on the bed and put his arm around his sister’s shoulder. “Who are you talking about, Lil?” he asked gently.

  “My attacker, of course. The Leaping Man.” He caressed me, and it felt wonderful for a moment. He did so only so he could kill me as I slept. Or am I imagining that he wanted to kill me? He didn’t harm me, did he? He kissed me. No, my neck, my neck is wounded.

  Addie and Thomas exchanged a look and Lillian’s heart raced. Oh, no! What unimaginable events! Now the Jackal would swoop in and demand her rehabilitation. They would take her pistol, they would take her freedom. She pushed down a voice at the edge of her mind that wondered if they wouldn’t be right to do so. Her heart sank. Hadn’t she been tracking a dangerous man? Hadn’t he come to her door? What if he’d hurt Aileen or one of the children? This was all so much easier in the stories!

  “He came in from the balcony,” she hurried to say. “You see, I must have left the window open. I was so tired and it was so hot.”

  “Your eyes look wild, dear. Please calm yourself and lie back down.”

  “Did you hear me? He came through the window while I slept, kissed me, and then somehow…we must have struggled, for I wounded my neck. I shot him twice but he fled back through the window!”

  Thomas glanced at the knife.

  Oh, God, help me! “No, Thomas! That is his knife, and that is not my blood on it. Don’t you see? The mayor, the boy, and now me? They were not suicides. How could you think I would do such a thing? Why would I shoot my pistol? Is my neck sliced?” She pushed Addie’s hand away and felt at her flesh. “No, these are small marks…”

  “Did you use the tip of the knife, Lil?”

  “I did not use the knife!”

  “Who is this Leaping Man, Lillian? Is that his name?”

  “Of course that is not his name! Oh, please, you must listen to me! I can show you in my journal, the night he leapt from the balcony after murdering the boy…”

  The Adencourts’ stares were sad and incredulous. Lillian lay back on the bed and wept, her shock now giving way to a new fear. The people she loved most in the world thought her lost. Bess would, too. Dr. Schneider… He was her only hope—unless somehow she could find George Orleans and capture him, force him to tell the truth.

  Oh, how would I convince him? No one would believe me! If I accuse a wealthy gentleman of attacking me and then leaping two stories to the ground they will lock me away. No one will believe me. No one.

  “The bleeding has slowed. Lie still while I tie a cloth to it, Lil. The doctor will be here shortly. Rest now. Everything will be fine.”

  Stop saying that! Nothing is fine! A murderer is running loose in the city, and no one will listen to me.

  “Yes, you are right,” she forced herself to say. “I feel a bit better. Can I have a little privacy now before Dr. Schneider arrives?”

  Thomas and Addie looked at one another and then nodded. But Thomas took the pistol, the knife, and a letter opener on her desk, while Addie rifled through her drawers, evidently not for the first time. Thomas locked the window and lowered the lamp. They left her in peace, then, but not until after Addie picked Lillian’s purse from the dresser and took it with her. And with that purse, Lillian’s only solace, the little weak pills.

  “So be it, I need a clear head now.” But her body ached and her hands shook.

  Who would help her? Watson! Bess knew her methods, had heard her mention the Leaping Man, even thought the Orleans household to be odd. With a glimmer of hope, Lillian sat at her desk and wrote a long note. She folded it into a tiny parcel and waited for the visit she knew would come.

  When the maid finally tapped at her door, Lillian sighed in relief. “Quick. Come in, Aileen!”

  “Are you all right, Miss? I’m so worried for you.”

  “Listen, Aileen, I do not have time to explain it all. You must trust me and put aside your worries for me.”

  “I’ve always trusted you, Miss.”

  Lillian held Aileen by the shoulders and stared deep into her bloodshot eyes. “Whatever anyone says, Aileen, I swear by my Maker that I am not insane, at least not about tonight’s events. But I do need your assistance.” She shoved the note to Bess into the maid’s hands. “As first light, you must go to Miss Wheeler and give her this. Tell her nothing of what transpired tonight. Simply give this to her. Can you do that?”

  “Of course, Miss. I can go now if you like. Should I see Johnnie as well? He might be able to help, too.”

  “Constable Moran can read, can he not?”

&nb
sp; Aileen nodded.

  “Then promise you will not give this to him. Do as I say. Only Miss Wheeler should read this.”

  “Aye, I will do as you say.” Aileen hugged Lillian and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “If you are running away for some reason, Miss, please know that I love you, and I always will, no matter what you’ve done.”

  “Running away? Why, no, I’m not running away.” But the maid’s words made her pause. Should I flee? Where on earth would I go? Perhaps that is what I must do. But then the murderer will go free, continue to destroy life.

  “Good night then, Miss.”

  Aileen slipped out, and Lillian whispered to the closed door, “I love you, too, Aileen. And the boys. I should have done more for you earlier.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  A guilty conscience.

  George woke, clothes bloody, hair disheveled, wondering what could possibly have taken Lillian so long to report him, or if his plan to cover his attack had truly worked. His heart dropped at the thought that she might have died from her neck wound.

  No, it hadn’t been that deep, he hadn’t drunk much, and she’d been in full charge of her senses when he left. The entire house had stirred, and no doubt they had come to her aid. Could she actually want him to remain free? He doubted a few kisses had swayed her. She continued to be an enigma.

  It was morning. George heard Phillip and Kitty stirring upstairs, and he rushed to clean up and plan his next step. God, what he wouldn’t give to stay here. But Lillian would make that impossible. He might go back and kill her this evening, but she would likely be guarded. And she still had that damned pistol that could make a racket.

  As he finished shaving in his bathroom, he heard a conversation in the foyer downstairs. Who would be calling so early? Had Lillian finally visited the police? No, the voice was female, and familiar.

  He tiptoed down a few of the stairs and saw the blonde morsel who was Lillian’s friend. Warner? No, Wheeler. That was it, and she spoke urgently to Kitty. The two moved into the living room, so George descended as far as he could while remaining hidden.

  Miss Wheeler was crying and somewhat incoherent, but he quickly got the gist of her message. Lillian Holmes had attempted suicide last night, and had written a note to her best friend explaining her reasoning. So, the knife he’d dropped had done the trick. But Phillip would spot the scenario instantly. Nothing to do but run.

  “I’m so sorry, Bess,” Kitty exclaimed below. “She did seem upset when she was here, but I thought her perhaps a bit ill with the beginnings of a fever or some other physical ailment.”

  “Yes, it certainly took us all by surprise, except for Dr. Schneider, her physician. He’s admitted her…committed her, to the hospital. For observation only, I pray. I hope it is a short stay, but he is greatly concerned. She is sedated and heavily guarded, lest she try to hurt herself again.”

  George had told many tall tales and listened to many in his day, so he knew absolutely that Miss Wheeler was not an accomplished liar, although she was doing her best.

  “Heavily guarded?” Kitty repeated. “My, this is serious indeed!”

  George groaned at her naiveté. So, this was a message from Lillian directly: Do not try to kill me again, for I am now surrounded and you will not reach me so easily.

  “It is for the best.” Bess’s voice broke, and George realized the girl wasn’t sure of her facts at all. Perhaps Lillian’s spirit was broken.

  “So, how can I help you?” Kitty asked. “Why have you come here?”

  Bess took a deep breath. “As you say, she seemed rather upset last night. I wondered if you noticed what occurred during the séance that might have been…disturbing for her? I noticed nothing of obvious importance.”

  Oh, Kitty. Tread carefully here, lest you betray your beloved and his brother.

  “Perhaps the séance itself, as communication beyond the veil, might be upsetting to someone as sensitive as she seems?” George could practically feel Kitty’s discomfort, could practically hear the thoughts spinning in her head as she tried to find an acceptable reply. “You said the subject of her mother is difficult. I know Madam Pelosi meant no harm, as she told me she knew Lillian’s mother—”

  Damnation.

  “Did you say the woman knows who Lil’s mother is? Truly?”

  “No. No, I meant that she communicated with her spirit. She made that rather clear.”

  “Oh,” Bess replied, but doubt tinged her voice. She recognized that it was Kitty now who was that lousy prevaricator. So, she wasn’t a complete fool.

  “And begging your pardon, Kitty,” the Wheeler girl went on, “but I must ask. There is nothing about the Orleans brothers or this household that would have contributed in any way to Lillian’s state? She conversed a while with George. Perhaps something in their exchange?”

  “Of course not!”

  But the Wheeler girl looked around, and her mission became clear to George: find him, learn if he was still in Baltimore.

  “How long have you known Phillip? It seems no one knows much about him.”

  “I assure you, Phillip had nothing to do with Miss Holmes’s breakdown. He’s barely exchanged a dozen words with her!”

  “And George? Is he about? Perhaps he could assist me.”

  Kitty’s silence turned George’s legs to stone. Finally, his brother’s beloved stood so quickly that her chair tumbled over. “I am sorry, Miss Wheeler, but I must end this interview. I have many items on my agenda today. Please tell Miss Holmes that I wish her a speedy recovery.”

  “I see,” the blonde girl said, recognizing the lack of answer for the answer it was. “Yes, I will do so.”

  “Jameson will show you out.”

  George leapt up to the hallway and ducked into a closet as Kitty ran up the stairs, whispering curses to make a sailor blush. Bess accepted her coat and mumbled at Jameson as he helped her.

  “What’s that miss?”

  “I said that the game is afoot.”

  “I’m sorry, miss, I do not understand.”

  “No matter. I do now.”

  Once Miss Wheeler was gone, George hurried down the stairs and called to Jameson.

  “Sir?”

  “Did you hear what transpired between the women?”

  “I would never—”

  “I’ve no time for games, Jameson!”

  The butler nodded.

  “Is it true? That Miss Holmes has been sent to a hospital?” George knew the best source of gossip in any household. The butlers and scullery spread word faster than a telegraph.

  “Sir, yes. In the middle of the night. Quite tragic. A lovely, well-liked woman, so young—”

  “Where did they take her? To Hopkins?”

  “Why, no, sir. To the institution. Spring Grove Asylum, in the country. And not her first trip there, I heard.”

  “Blazes! What idiots.”

  So the first interesting mortal woman in a century had been swept away, by his actions, without him even having a chance to spend an hour in her extraordinary company. It wouldn’t do. How dare they take my Lillian!

  “What’s the racket, Georgy?” Phillip looked cross as he descended the stairs.

  “They’ve thrown Miss Holmes into the lunatic asylum, is the racket.”

  “Truly? Well, I’m surprised, but after all she did crawl around in the mud on Saturd—”

  “She was looking for footprints, you idiot! You’re as stupid and inattentive as these mortals!”

  “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

  Tread a little more lightly, George. You may need Phillip yet. “Oh, never mind. That will be all, Jameson.”

  When the butler was out of earshot, George grabbed his brother by the arm and pulled him close. “Look, I don’t have time for the full novel, so I’ll give you the captions. I’m certain Lillian is a morphine addict, and as you observed is a bit unusual in other ways for a woman of society. She is, however, not insane. She shot her pistol at a suspected intruder
, got a bit bloody, and they thought she’d tried to commit suicide.”

  Phillip sank into a chair and covered his face. “Oh, George, how could you? You followed her home? Do you understand what this means?”

  “Of course I do! Don’t be so selfish! Well, don’t be more selfish than me. Think of her, languishing in that awful place.”

  “How do you know she’s languishing? How do you know the place is awful? Perhaps they are healing her and she truly requires the attention.”

  George squatted before Phillip and rested his hands on his knees to keep their eyes level. “Phillip, I know you’ve given up on me. Many times. I don’t blame you at all; I’ve given up on myself. I was ready to leave Baltimore last night for good. I haven’t broken my promise to you and Kitty, although I came close. But in my heart of hearts I know I wouldn’t have finished the job. Lillian Holmes would still be alive, even if she hadn’t had a damned pistol in bed with her. I can’t explain why, but it’s the truth.”

  Why? For a moment I remembered what it felt like to be human, to want a lover, to want a partner. It will make this life so much worse, that memory. Damn her. I will put it out of my mind soon.

  “If doesn’t matter, George. You’ve unleashed hell on my household! Threatened my life with Kitty! We’ll have to leave Baltimore, and she loves it so. Damn you!”

  “Hate me or love me, we must get Lillian out of that place.”

  “How? Would you turn yourself in?” His brother’s eyes pleaded no, and George felt a bit of warmth and hope. Perhaps Phillip wasn’t ready to be free of him quite yet.

  “I don’t think that would do the job. Not without revealing what I am. What we are.”

  “Does Lillian know about us? Does she know about her own mother?”

  “Annaluisa loves to flap that loose tongue of hers, doesn’t she? But, no. I don’t think so. Well, I’m not sure.” Why did you feel the need to tell her what you are! Could she have remembered it in her state?