Shrouded Passions

by Faye Hall

  He couldn’t explain what it was, but this woman seemed far more serious than he remembered Lotte Higgins being; almost like what she was doing was rehearsed for some play. This woman was also much stronger than he ever thought a woman of fortune like Lotte Higgins would know how to be.

  Walking into the Pioneer Hotel, Devon took his usual seat at the bar.

  “I wasn’t expecting you tonight, Devon,” Patrick, the bartender, addressed him casually, reaching for and pouring him a glass of brandy.

  Devon poured the entire contents of his glass down his throat, swallowing it in one sip. “What do you know about my wife’s new handmaiden?” he asked, staring into his glass. “She’s the girl I spent the night with here. She goes by the name of Lotte.”

  Patrick shrugged. “I’m not sure what you’re asking me, Devon.”

  Devon shook his head, feeling a fool for even asking.

  “Patrick, we need you out here,” a feminine voice called out.

  “Excuse me, Devon,” Patrick said, and quickly retreated out the back.­

  * * * *

  “What are you doing here?” Elizabeth asked the young aboriginal woman.

  “My name is Sarah,” she replied. “It was me who sent you the message.”

  “Message?” Elizabeth asked, trying to pretend ignorance. “Who is to say I didn’t just come out this way to get away from the bustle of the town?”

  Sarah didn’t falter. “I know why you are here, Mrs. Munroy. When you read my note I can only imagine the fear that filled you, realizing there were still more people that knew your murderous past.”

  “Murderous?” Elizabeth chuckled, though not from any humor. “A dirty aboriginal has no right to accuse a godly white woman such as myself of murder. I can have you hung for such a thing.”

  “And what of your sins, Mrs. Munroy?” Sarah asked. “What do you think the authorities will do with a godly white woman who has killed more people than the bush rangers have?”

  “All you have is accusations,” Elizabeth spat at her. “You have no proof, and no one will believe your word over mine.”

  “But I do have proof,” Sarah said. “I have proof of where all your money came from. I have proof of the men and women who were butchered just so you could have the life you do.”

  Elizabeth stepped nearer to the young aboriginal woman, studying her. “You are a brave one,” she muttered. “You came out here alone to confront me though, and that, my dear, was very foolish.”

  “I will prove you killed those people!” Sarah shouted at her, and Elizabeth could see the fear filling her face.

  Reaching into the pocket of her riding skirt, Elizabeth gripped the handle of the dagger hidden there. Pulling it forth, she smiled at Sarah as she started to back away.

  “You will take your proof to the grave it seems, Sarah.”

  Running toward the young woman, Elizabeth watched as she stumbled and fell to the ground. Though Sarah tried to fight her off, Elizabeth plunged the knife into her stomach, pleasure filling her as she saw a blood oozing through the blouse of the other woman.

  Stepping away from her now injured opponent, Elizabeth stood by the edge of the dirt track, wiping the blood from the knife on the dress of the young aboriginal woman.

  “H-help m-me!” Sarah gasped, blood spilling from the corner of her mouth.

  “You dare threaten me, telling me you know where my father got his money. Telling me you saw me kill Charles Davern. You will never again blackmail me, you bitch!” Elizabeth spat at the dying woman. “And you shall die with your lies.”

  “I-I...” Sarah coughed, blood still flowing from her wound in her stomach. “I know it was you, Elizabeth. It was my mother who saved Charles Davern’s life when your father shot him in Victoria.”

  Rushing to the dying body, Elizabeth pulled forth the knife again, this time slitting the aboriginal woman’s throat to the bone.

  “Die!” Elizabeth screamed at her, stumbling back away from the now dead body. “You will not take my money from me!”

  Elizabeth then stumbled back to her carriage and ordered her driver to return to her estate.­

  * * * *

  Lotte walked into the back of the Pioneer Hotel, needing to see her brother about what was becoming of her life while she searched to uncover the secrets Elizabeth Fanti was hiding. Lotte couldn’t help but notice many of the working girls huddled around Mary, the aboriginal woman who worked there.

  “What has happened?” Lotte asked, approaching them.

  The girls stood back, allowing Lotte to walk up to the tearful image of Mary.

  “What has happened, Mary?” she asked, kneeling before her, taking her hands in hers. “Tell me—”

  “She’s dead!” Mary cried out, cutting off Lotte’s words, tears pouring from her eyes. “S-Sarah was found a few hours ago on the side of the road near your father’s estate. Her throat was cut to the bone.”

  Tears filled Lotte’s eyes, horror consuming her at what she was hearing. “N-no. I just saw her the other day. She was meeting me today…”

  Lotte’s words trailed off, seeing the truth in Mary’s stare. Turning away from Lotte, Mary looked behind her to the still body of her sister laid out on the table. Following her friend’s direction of sight, Lotte’s gaze settled on the body of her childhood friend.

  “No!” Lotte screamed in horror.

  “What has happened?” Patrick demanded, rushing in the back. “The commotion is scaring the customers.”

  “I-it’s Sarah.” Lotte struggled through her tears. “Her throat was cut.”

  “What?” Patrick cried. “She was here just this morning, asking…” His words trailed off, his stare resting on Lotte.

  “W-what?” Mary asked, standing and walking toward the bartender. “Asking about what, Patrick? Do you know something about what happened to my sister?”

  Patrick hesitantly nodded. “She came to see me earlier today. Asked what I knew of her mother moving to Brandon.”

  “Why would she ask you that?” Lotte asked. “Her mother died in childbirth when we were only children.”

  Patrick looked to Mary then back to his sister. “There’s a little more to it than that, Lotte. Sarah was—”

  “Sarah would have come to ask Patrick because I never told her that David Higgins was our father,” Mary suddenly said, her words cutting Patrick’s off. “Sarah didn’t know I already knew.”

  “What?” Lotte gasped.

  Patrick nodded. “It’s true, Lotte. Our father met Mary’s mother in Victoria shortly after you were born. She was pregnant with Sarah when he sent for her to join him here in Brandon.”

  “I-I don’t understand,” Lotte stammered, confused by what she was hearing.

  “Our parents didn’t have a happy marriage. Father filed for divorce before he left us in Brisbane. He fell in love with a young aboriginal woman in Victoria.”

  Lotte stared at her brother, trying to make sense of things.

  “Sarah and Mary—”

  “We are your sisters, Lotte,” Mary finished for him.

  “That’s not a good enough reason to kill Sarah though!” Lotte cried, confusion and despair filling her. Lotte fell into a heap on the floor, her tears consuming her, her hands cradling her face. “This is my fault. It’s my fault Sarah is dead. She said she would help me prove Elizabeth was the one who shot me. I never thought…”

  “Elizabeth?” Mary asked suddenly. “Do you mean Elizabeth Fanti?”

  Patrick nodded. “My sister has been obsessed with proving her a murderer.”

  Mary turned to Lotte. “If you are right, if Elizabeth is the one who murdered my sister, murdered our sister, you find her. You make her pay for what she’s taken from us.”

  “I can’t!” Lotte cried, her tears taking control. “I have tried everything. I have asked everyone and nothing can prove Elizabeth is…” Lotte buried her face in her hands. “It’s hopeless.”

  Mary slowly walked toward her, her steps measured.
Stopping before her, she knelt down to her. “There’s a man. He came in here years ago looking for the Fantis. He said he was from Victoria.”

  Lotte looked at her. “His name was Charles Davern, but Elizabeth killed him. I know that story, Mary. But without proof, that is all it will ever be.”

  Mary reached for her hand, squeezing it hard. “He had a boy with him, his son. He lives on the outskirts of town heading south. He is a mad man, Lotte, but if you find him, you will be able to have your proof.”

  Mary was then helped to stand and led back to her room by the working girls of the Pioneer Hotel, leaving Lotte with her brother.

  “Lotte,” Patrick started, but Lotte stopped him.

  “I have to do this, Patrick, now more than ever,” Lotte said, forcing herself to stand. “Sarah was an innocent, she didn’t deserve to die.”

  Patrick stood, his stare holding on his sister. “If Elizabeth learns you’re alive, if she finds you, she will kill you, Lotte.”

  Lotte just nodded, knowing what her brother said was right.

  “The man Mary told you about, his name is Arthur Davern,” Patrick said in a defeated tone. “He comes in here occasionally. Some of the girls know where he lives.”

  Lotte slowly wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I will finish this, Patrick. I have to.”­

  * * * *

  Devon Munroy sat at the bar staring into his glass of brandy, his thoughts going to the mystery of the woman who worked for his wife. He wanted to know the truth of who she was, but he also feared what he may discover. What if she wasn’t Lotte Higgins? What if she was?

  Seeing Patrick coming back out to the bar, Devon smiled casually. “Girls having dramas tonight?”

  Patrick stalled for a minute. “Of a kind, Devon. A very close friend of theirs was found dead this afternoon.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It was the young aboriginal girl they called Sarah. She was found with her throat cut,” Patrick continued.

  “Sarah?” Devon asked. “The young girl who used to collect water chestnuts from the waterhole near my estate?”

  Patrick nodded. “It’s very sad. She was like family to us.” He reached for the bottle of Brandy he kept under the bar. “A refill, Devon?”

  Devon nodded, his eyes still focused on the girls out the back. Catching a glimpse of Lotte, he couldn’t ignore how his heart skipped a beat.

  “Is she working tonight?” Devon asked, returning his sight to his glass.

  Patrick glanced over his shoulder in the direction Devon had been looking.

  “If you mean the redhead, she doesn’t work here.”

  “What do you mean?” Devon asked. “She must have worked here. She’s the girl I spent the night with here.”

  Patrick seemed to stall in his reply. “Lotte has never worked here.”

  Devon didn’t try and hide his confusion. “But that night…”

  “She wanted you, Devon,” Patrick continued. “Lotte wanted you enough that she was willing to play your whore for the night just to have you in her bed.”

  “But why?”

  Patrick went back to wiping out glasses. “Why do you care so much?”

  Devon reached in his pocket for some notes to pay for his drinks.

  “You fell in love with her, didn’t you?” Patrick asked.

  Standing up, Devon shook his head. “There’s only one woman I love, Patrick, and she’s dead.”

  Devon turned to walk away, needing to escape.

  “What if she isn’t, Devon?”

  Devon stopped, turning to face him. “What did you say?”

  Patrick stopped what he was doing, all his attention going to the man before him. “What if Lotte Higgins didn’t die that night? What if she lived?”

  Devon tried to hold himself at bay, knowing he couldn’t listen to what the bartender was saying, in case his hopes again began to grow. “I held her. I watched her die.”

  “What if you didn’t?” Patrick tried one last time. “What if she lived, and is the same woman now working for your wife and begging for a place in your bed?”

  Devon wanted to stay, to ask Patrick what he meant, but just then Lotte turned to face him, their gaze holding for a few seconds. Watching as she quickly turned to run out the back of the tavern, he knew he had to follow her. He couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving with some other man as paid entertainment for the night. He couldn’t bear her thinking he had only come there to find a paid whore for the night.

  Devon was about to leave the hotel when Patrick called after him. “How do you know it was you who shot Lotte Higgins, Devon?” Patrick asked. “How do you know the bullet didn’t come from another person hiding outside of the cottage that night?”

  Hearing the sound of a carriage outside, Devon knew he would have to ask Patrick to explain another time. For right now, he needed to find Lotte.­

  * * * *

  “You shouldn’t have told him that, Patrick!” Abby, the madam of the Pioneer Hotel exclaimed, pulling Patrick by the arm. “Lotte begged you to let her handle things in her own way.”

  Patrick pulled his arm free from the madam’s hold. “In her own way? Her own way is going to get her killed!”

  “Your sister is a smart woman,” Abby tried again. “She will handle matters.”

  “My sister wants to go track down the man blackmailing Elizabeth, the man who lives on the south borders of town,” Patrick rebutted sternly.

  “The man on the south border of town?” Abby asked. “You mean Arthur Davern?”

  “Yes,” Patrick replied, nodding. “Lotte wants to go confront him about the night his father was killed.”

  “But he’s a mad man,” Abby gasped. “Even my girls don’t want to go to his estate.”

  “Lotte doesn’t seem to care about any of that. She is so determined to get proof against Elizabeth that she’s willing to risk anything and everything. I fear though, instead of her proof, all Lotte will find is her own death.”

  Abby went to Patrick then, her hand resting affectionately on his arm. “There might be another way, Patrick.” Abby’s tone softened. “We need to get Elizabeth to confess in front of a detective about what she has done.”

  Patrick laughed unhumored. “Get Elizabeth to confess to trying to murder my whole family?” he asked. “She won’t do that in a million years.”

  “She will if she thinks she has something to prove,” Abby hinted. “We set a trap for her, Patrick. We make her think she’s won.”

  Patrick eyed the madam carefully. “A trap? And pray tell who is going to be the bait?”

  The madam’s hand fell away. “Lotte.”

  Chapter 20

  Hearing Devon’s carriage pull up, Lotte began to feel sick to her stomach. She hadn’t thought to see Devon at the Pioneer Hotel tonight, so when their stares locked, Lotte’s heart sank. What if this time he wasn’t there just to drink? What if he went there tonight for a more personal reason? Thinking of him having gone there to find pleasure in the arms of another woman nearly broke her heart.

  She knew she shouldn’t, but Lotte had to go see Devon, to confront him about his whereabouts that night. She needed to know if he had in fact gone to the hotel to seek comfort in the arms of another woman.

  Using the excuse of bringing him a nightcap, Lotte walked hesitantly toward his room, dreading what she would find, and with whom she would find him. Knocking on the door, Lotte waited to be bid enter. Hearing Devon telling her to enter, she held her breath and opened the door.

  “I thought you and your guest might want some refreshments, sir,” Lotte uttered as she walked inside, kicking the door shut softly and walking toward the table with the tray she was holding.

  “Guest?” she heard Devon reply.

  She tried not to look at him directly, not ignorant to his bare chest and unfastened trousers.

  “Yes, sir. The guest you brought home with you from the Pioneer Hotel.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Lot
te watched as Devon slowly approached her. “I brought home no guest, Lotte. Did you?”

  Finally, Lotte looked at him. She was no whore, nor would she allow him to think her one anymore.

  “A young woman I knew was found dead, and the girls from the hotel were consoling me.”

  Devon stopped, his eyes narrowing as if studying her. “You were friends with the young native girl that was found?”

  Lotte nodded. “We used to swim together in the waterhole near the edge of the estate we grew up on.”

  “Did you really?” he asked, almost as if he didn’t believe her.

  Lotte looked away, no longer able to stand his constant stare. “Why did you not bring a girl home with you tonight, Devon? Was there none there to your liking?”

  He stopped before her, his hand gently brushing her cheek. “I was told the girl I wanted didn’t work there, had never worked there.” Carefully, he lifted her chin until their gazes met. “I was told she merely wanted to spend a night with me, so she pretended to be a working girl.”

  “Don’t do this, Devon, please,” Lotte begged him. “I’m not the girl you think I am. I’m not the girl you want me to be.”

  Leaning into her, Devon kissed her lips softly. “I don’t know who you are, Lotte, and I’m no longer sure I care. But whoever you are, whatever you are, you make me feel something I have never felt before.”

  Lotte tried to pull away from him, but Devon wouldn’t let her. “Surely you must feel it too?” he asked her. “I’ve felt you shudder in my arms. I’ve felt the passion in your kiss. I’ve seen the way you look at me after we’ve made love.”

  Lotte held his stare. “A man of your experience must know there is a vast difference between sex and love.”

  Devon smiled. “You can’t keep pretending. A woman of your experience must know that what we’ve been sharing with each other is more than just sex.”

  Silence fell between the two of them, their gazes joined.