‘It’s late,’ he said at last, ‘and it has been a long day. I should return to my hotel.’
She looked up, her dark eyes studying him. ‘Perhaps you should stay,’ she said softly.
His heart raced suddenly. He didn’t speak, not wanting to break the moment.
‘It would not be a promise of anything,’ she continued, as if they were discussing a business contract. ‘It would not mean that I am not still considering my obligation to Thomas.’
Obligation. She had used the word herself.
‘I just wish to feel alive again.’ Her fear and loneliness shone from her eyes. She had been without a man for a long time. He got to his feet without saying a word and followed her upstairs to her bedroom. They peeled each other’s clothes off with increased urgency and fell on the bed, barely able to stop kissing long enough to gasp in a breath. Edward Kane thought he would explode at the feel of Juliana’s silk-soft skin on his. He held her full breasts and took a nipple in his mouth, teasing her expertly with his tongue. Her hands ran through the curly dark hair on his chest, no doubt very different from James Harrington’s smooth, boyish skin, and as her back arched under his touch any initial shyness she might have been feeling vanished. This was truly a woman in his arms, not a girl. He slid his head down further, relishing the taste of her, and despite his own desperate need to be inside her he held back, instead concentrating on pleasuring her, until she was hot and moist and panting with desire. She pulled him back up the bed and opened herself fully to him, grasping his buttocks to pull him in deeper. He groaned as they grappled with each other, trying to hold back, until with a cry, he forced himself to withdraw, dragging himself out of her just at the last moment and spilling his seed across her smooth belly.
It had been pure animalistic sex, all grunting, urgent need and want, but as they lay there in each other’s arms, the summer night’s heat caressing their cooling skin, Edward Kane knew that they had also been making love, perhaps for the first time in his life.
He was content. He was more than content. He was ecstatically happy, and he made a silent vow that he would always protect Juliana Harrington and keep her safe, no matter the paths their lives might take.
25
Leavesden. August, 1897
Aaron Kosminski
Assessment
The patient appears to be making progress. He is calmer and his visible tics have lessened. He allowed himself to be washed, although this heightened his anxiety levels. His sense of distraction has decreased although his fear of water is not diminished. He is still mainly wary of touch.
He has requested that Dr Bond not be allowed to visit him again.
26
London. Spetember, 1897
Dr Bond
It was a relief to be finally feeling myself again, even though my energy was drained and simply moving around my house exhausted me. Charles Hebbert had done me a great service, caring for me throughout the worst of my fever, but now that I was on my way to recovery I enjoyed having some time to myself.
My head was finally – thankfully – clear. A month confined to my house and under the close supervision of my friend and Mrs Parks had cured me of my growing opium addiction, and I was determined to avoid even the laudanum where possible, although I had to accept it when the racking pains in my chest were at their worst. I was determined that I would not be dragged into that place again. The priest was dead and Kosminski was in the asylum, and now that I was rational once more, it was clear to me how the poor Polish hairdresser could have been so deluded. I did not doubt that the priest had visited him, but after much contemplation I had concluded that he was suffering from his own delusions – he clearly was a member of an order whose role it was to fight supposed demons – and he must have convinced Kosminski that he had transferred the Upir to him. It would not have been a difficult task, not given the state of paranoid delusion that gripped that unhappy young man so firmly.
Now that I was free of the opium haze I had been locked in, I could see the ridiculousness of the fear that had overwhelmed me on my return home. When I had awakened in a fever and feeling so ill it was not caused by any mythical Upir – I did not doubt that I had caught some sickness from the asylum. Kosminksi was far from a healthy man and he had pulled me close to him. It pleased me to find that I could think of such madness with a calm head; I could even feel amused by my own involvement in it.
Mrs Parks had brought me soup for lunch and left cold meat and salads prepared for me in the pantry, her regular routine. My appetite had shrunk considerably during the weeks of my illness, and rather than worry her by not eating her repasts, I had started taking much of it to the back door and feeding the cats that wandered the streets. I had collected several regular visitors in the ten days or so since I had started leaving my bed and they allowed me to stroke them, wrapping themselves around my legs and purring as I fed them morsels of pork and beef.
This warm evening was no different. When I opened the door, three or four appeared out of nowhere, vocally expressing their eagerness as I tore bits of chicken from the breast that was supposed to be my supper. I murmured at them, finding an easy joy in their presence, even if their affection was based entirely on the food in my hands. A cheeky-looking black and white chap leapt over the back of one of his fellows and sat at my feet expectantly, and I could almost see his eyebrow raised in an expression of Oh do hurry up, I haven’t got all day. I normally tried to ensure each got an equal amount but I do confess I gave him a little more than the others, simply for his attitude.
The air was sticky and humid, but it was a pleasant change from being inside, so I took a kitchen chair and sat there for a while enjoying the heat and the thrum of the city, not caring that I looked like a strange eccentric to any who passed me by. I must eventually have dozed off, for when I came to with a start, night was falling and the air was a little chill, making my skin tingle. My feline companions had vanished, no doubt back to the comforts of their owners’ beds, and I, in turn, sought mine out, where I fell into a sound and dreamless sleep.
*
Juliana visited me the next afternoon, and she was the final tonic required in my recovery. She told me she had been wanting to visit all month and scolded me for refusing her entry, but her reprimand was given with a smile and I could see she was happy to find me well. Mrs Parks fussed around her as she told me about little James’ new tutor and how that would allow her to spend much more time at the wharves, learning the business. She spoke with great joy, but she seemed slightly shy with me, which I put down to our having spent a month apart. I decided it would be best to leave some time before discussing our engagement further. I hated that I had been so ill – I hoped she would not see that as a sign of my age, just a simple bout of something unpleasant, which truly was all it was. I was older, certainly, but not yet an old man, and I fully intended to ensure I remained fit and healthy in order to be a good husband to her when we did finally wed.
‘I am very fond of you, Thomas,’ she said as she left. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’ She touched my cheek softly and then kissed it. Her lips were like butterfly wings, and they made my heart race.
‘I am very glad to hear that,’ I said, ‘for you know what you mean to me.’
Her lips lifted in something that was almost a smile, but her eyes dropped from mine. ‘I shall see you soon, Thomas. Now, make sure you get well.’
I had almost forgotten how beautiful she was, and now that my mind was clear of drugs and delusion I could not wait to make her my own. My spirits were truly lifted and when I fed the cats I added an extra two slices of thick ham to their feast from the larder.
*
I had hoped Juliana might call on me again the following day, but she did not. Disappointed though I was, I realised that with her new interest in Harrington’s business and little James to prepare for the tutor she was increasingly busy, and it was not a short trip from Barnes to Westminster. But now that I was recovering I was stuck in that Pur
gatory between being too weak to do very much, but better enough to feel restless and bored. I read for a while and wrote letters – one to Charles, thanking him for taking such good care of me, and another to Andrews, telling him he was welcome to visit whenever it suited him.
By late afternoon I was once again in my new spot at the back door, sipping tea and waiting for my feline companions to arrive. It had become so much a habit I was beginning to contemplate getting a cat myself – I smiled to myself as I imagined Mrs Parks’ face. But then I was sure that if she saw me sitting in the doorway, a blanket over my knees, feeding morsels of her lovingly prepared dishes to strays and wandering pets, she would probably call for the men from the asylum herself.
I relaxed back into my chair and shrugged my shoulders, trying to ease my back, which still ached from whatever had plagued my chest. I was happy to see the first of my fellows trotting towards me, the others soon following, but sadly there was no sign of the cheeky little black and white tom. He must have found a better offer somewhere else, I thought to myself, which made me smile.
*
Within a few days I was feeling well enough to leave the house, and although I did not wish to walk too far I took a hansom down to the wharves to visit Juliana, which served a two-fold purpose. I was curious to see how she was doing – and I missed her company, of course – but I knew this was the last of the ghosts of the past I had to expel. If Juliana was determined to become a businesswoman and I was determined to make her my wife, I was going to have to make my peace with that place, though it held so many bad memories. Even so, as resolved as I was, my heart was beating fast as I made my way to the offices I had not seen for so many years. Thankfully there was no dockers’ strike today, and instead of the eerily empty space I saw on my last visit, this time the place was abuzz with men loading and unloading crates and ferrying them to and from the various warehouses and out to the dock, filling the gantries and workspaces with noise and life.
‘I hope you don’t mind my calling in,’ I said, smiling, as I opened the office door. ‘I thought I would like to see the magnate at work.’
Juliana was behind the desk, with Mr Barker leaning over her shoulder, obviously discussing a document with her. She leapt up as she saw me, crying, ‘Thomas! What a wonderful surprise!’
She looked beautiful, less formally dressed than normal, and in more severe colours than the bright clothes she usually favoured, but nothing could dull her own natural shine.
‘I shan’t stay long,’ I said. ‘I know you have much to do.’
‘Stay as long as you like. It is so good to see you looking so well.’
She swept out from behind the desk and came to kiss me on the cheek, and it was only when I closed the door after her embrace that I saw Edward Kane standing behind it, leaning over an open filing cabinet drawer. My heart dropped. I had known that Juliana would forgive the young man, of course, but I certainly had not expected to find him here.
‘Dr Bond.’ He smiled at me, and I struggled to return the gesture. Was there something a little false in his own too, I wondered?
‘Mr Kane.’ I nodded at him, and from the corner of my eye I could see Juliana looking nervously from one of us to the other. My heart melted slightly. She was obviously worried that I would not be happy that she had forgiven him – and I would not want to cause her any worry. And it was perfectly reasonable that she should want his assistance now, for he could help her far more in the world of business than I. Perhaps this was his way of making amends.
I smiled again, more naturally this time. ‘I am glad to see that along with Mr Barker here, Juliana has another expert advisor on hand.’
‘I feel I owe you an apology, sir,’ the American started. ‘You were right in what you said, and I should never have—’
‘It is forgotten.’ I waved the rest of the sentence away. ‘And I was perhaps a little sharp myself.’
Beside us, I could almost feel Juliana relaxing, and I was glad. Her happiness was more important to me than my petty jealousies of the younger man, surely just paranoia on my part, for after all, it was me she had all but agreed to marry, and surely she would not have done that if she did not love me.
With harmony restored, Juliana took me on a tour of her new empire. I was pleased to see that the workers already treated her with the correct deference, no sly looks as she walked away, and for her part, she was gracious and courteous to all. I felt immensely proud to have her arm linked in mine as we walked through the noisy heat. My back ached, but the pleasure of her company far outweighed my discomfort. I was also immensely relieved when we bypassed the warehouse where James Harrington had committed his terrible deeds, and where I had put an end to his tragic life.
By the time we returned to her office, I could not have been more pleased with how the visit had gone.
‘I shall come down with you,’ Edward Kane said, as I left to find a hansom cab, and although I was quite capable of finding one myself, I did not wish to appear rude, especially in light of Juliana’s forgiveness.
We strolled out from the hubbub and then he said, ‘I fear I have another favour to ask of you, Thomas. I have to return to New York for two months or so – I’m leaving next week.’
My heart leapt with this news and my shoulders straightened. My jealousy might have been misplaced and foolish, but that did not stop it existing, and the idea that the younger, richer and more handsome man would no longer be around Juliana for a while filled me with joy.
‘I hope to be back in time for Christmas,’ he continued, ‘but in the meanwhile, I hoped you might keep an eye on Charles Hebbert? I might be talking out of turn here – in fact, I probably am – but he seems not entirely himself. His moods are erratic, and he has been visiting Juliana and James less, perhaps drinking at his club a little too often.’
‘Well, Charles does enjoy company,’ I said.
‘I know,’ Kane said, ‘but the past two weeks or so he’s been – well, different. Juliana hasn’t said anything, but I think she’s worried about him too.’
My hackles rose slightly with his mention of Juliana, and once again I cursed my ill-health for keeping me from her for so long.
‘Would you look out for him?’ he asked again, and there was such earnest good intention in his expression once again I felt guilt for my bad feeling towards him. Edward Kane was a good man and he cared about the friends he had made in London – myself included, I had no doubt.
I shook his hand firmly. ‘Thank you for telling me, and have no fear, I shall make sure I get to the bottom of whatever is troubling my old friend.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I have to say, I’m sad to be going home, but let us hope we can all celebrate a good Christmas together.’
‘I’m sure we shall,’ I said, climbing into the waiting cab. ‘I’m sure we shall.’
I waved my farewell and then sank, contented, back into my seat. I did not think much about his concerns over Charles, for I was too busy being overjoyed at the thought of a few months without Edward Kane’s presence making me feel old and foolish for loving Juliana.
*
‘I’ve been through the kitchen and I cannot find what’s causing it,’ Mrs Parks said, two days later. We had thrown open the windows to ventilate the house, but still the vaguely sweet-rotten smell permeated the rooms. Mrs Parks, with her sharp eye for cleanliness, was being driven to distraction by it.
‘You go home,’ I told her. ‘These past few days have been exceptionally warm and humid – no doubt whatever the stench is, it will fade as the temperature cools down.’
She did not look convinced. I had spent most of the day in bed reading, exhausted after overdoing it because of my keenness to be back on my feet, and although I too could smell the tang of something odd in the air, it was not plaguing me as it did her. ‘I can take care of my own supper – I think you have earned an afternoon off after your care of me this past month.’
On days like this I could see how much Mrs Parks had
aged. She had been in service with me for many years and where she had once been matronly, now she was becoming an old woman and, though I hated to admit it, she had started to fuss like one too. Not that I would ever say such a thing to her. She would be appalled.
‘Nothing’s quite right,’ she said, her brow furrowing. ‘Are you sure you haven’t had any visitors in the evenings? I’m sure things have been moved – and that awful smell …’
I sighed, suddenly feeling like a frustrated boy in conversation with my own grandmother, many, many years before.
‘No, Mrs Parks – perhaps it is just the heat affecting you. Or maybe you have a touch of my fever coming? Although I sincerely hope not.’
She sniffed at that and straightened her back, clearly not pleased with my tone. ‘Well, there is plenty of food in the pantry, and some of that chicken broth on the stove.’ She peered at me over her spectacles. ‘Are you sure you’ll manage? Is Dr Hebbert calling on you later?’
‘I shall manage perfectly well, for I am feeling much better,’ I said, with a smile. ‘I have no visitors coming so when I have finished my book I promise I will eat, and then I shall retire early. So please’ – and I tried hard to keep the exasperation from my voice – ‘go, enjoy your afternoon. I shall see you tomorrow.’
She bustled out and I was sure I could hear disapproval in the rustle of her dress, but a few minutes later I heard the front door firmly closing and I settled back against my pillows, happy to have some peace and be alone with my book.
An hour or so later my stomach rumbled and I realised that I was suddenly famished. I ventured downstairs in search of food and as I reached the ground floor I suddenly understood why Mrs Parks had been so disturbed by the smell. In my bedroom it had been a vaguely unpleasant tang in the air, but by the time I reached the hallway it was so thick I could almost taste it.
My appetite temporarily suppressed, I wandered from room to room trying to find the source and eventually I stopped outside the door to the small cellar under the stairs and pressed my nose against the gap around the hinges. I pulled back quickly as the scent overwhelmed me. I frowned, looking down at the small mahogany occasional table that partially covered the doorway. I was sure it had been further along the wall than here. Had I moved it? Or perhaps Mrs Parks had done so in order to polish the floor … ?
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