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Authors: O. M. Grey

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They watched his every move.

He licked his lips, then sucked down another four fingers, never taking his eyes off the tops of my breasts.

“This is quite generous,” I said. “Thank you for all your help, Mr. McFerret. I don’t know how to repay you your kindness to me. Your belief in me.”

“We’ll think of something,” he said, laying his hand over mine, raising his eyes to meet mine. After the worm patted my hand a few times in a way that made my insides squirm, he poured himself more Gin and indicated that I should finish mine again.

“I truly must be careful, sir. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. It is my first time, after all. I’d rather not be sick. How humiliating that would be, indeed.”

“Nonsense. We have to harden you up, my dear. It’s a tough business, and you are still too soft. Although,”—he caught me with his wily eyes and flashed his sly smile, dragging a finger across my thumb—“soft is good, too.”

I picked up my glass, pulling my hand out of his reach. “The meeting is set for Saturday night? That’s Christmas Eve. Isn’t that a strange time to meet? I’m sure Mr. Chenery doesn’t wish to work on Christmas Eve.”

“There you go questioning me again!” His voice wasn’t in the least bit cross, though. He spoke with a huge grin and a twinkle in his eyes, amused if anything. “Are you going to trust me in this, Charlotte? This is how it must be done, at least for now. It can’t be done during regular business hours, darling. This is altogether unconventional all around. It will be fine. It’s just an introductory meeting, after all. But remember, it will have to be in private, as my wife, and his, will be on board, too. It is a party, after all, so discretion is imperative. This will be your first big break! I have no doubt Chenery will be as impressed with you as I am.”

“I shall buy a smart dress, worthy of a journalist of
The Times
.” I raised my glass and clinked with his, then forced it down, coughing afterward.

“That’s my girl,” he said again. “That’s my good, good girl.”

“Pardon me, but I must visit the powder room.” Upon rising, I felt woozy and had to catch myself on the table or I would’ve fallen right back down.

McFerret laughed again. “Easy there, my darling. Maybe you have had enough for one night. We’ll work on your ability to hold alcohol on the cruise.”

“I feel rather ill, sir. Is this normal?”

“It is. It will pass. Let’s get you some fresh air.” As he stood, his walrus belly hit the edge of the table and knocked over the bottle of Gin, nearly empty anyway. The neck shattered when it hit my glass, which also broke. “Damn it all!”

“I’ll get the barmaid,” I said, feeling a little steadier.

“No need.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, tossing several onto the table before offering his hand to help me out of the alcove. He picked up my wrap and draped it over my back. His belly pressed against my bustle, and my stomach turned again. He was a handsome man, after all, and although shaped like a sea mammal, larger in the middle and tapering off on both ends, it didn’t take away from his good looks. Even the strong jaw worked on him, especially adorned with those furry, dark sideburns.

Oh my, was this the Gin talking?

He led me out into the nippy air, and the cold sobered me up quite quickly. I turned back to McFerret, and he was looking down at his pocket watch.

“Damn it all,” he said again. “It’s later than I thought. I’ve got to get back to the missus, and I was so hoping for an evening stroll together, to talk writing, of course. I’m quite curious about your process. Your prose is inspired, Charlotte.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Ferret.”

“As I’ve told you before, call me Willie, my darling.” He leaned in for a kiss, and I let him peck my lips once before pushing him away. His mustache prickled my nose.

“Mr. Ferret—Willie—professional, remember? It’s not that I find you repulsive, sir. Far from that, but it’s just not proper. Besides, you’re married. I couldn’t do such a thing to another woman.”

“Balderdash! My wife,” he snuffed, then took both my hands and backed me up against the brick wall, pressing his walrus belly into me. “I only married her for her money.” He leaned in for another kiss, pinning me against the wall, and this time I turned my head. His lips pressed against my cheek while the curled tips of his waxed mustache tickled my nose.

“Sir,” I whispered. “Please.”

Clearing his throat and backing away, he said, “Yes! Yes. You are right, Miss Sopha. Of course. It’s the Gin, after all. Forgive me.”

“Already forgotten, Willie.”

“Excellent! Let’s get you in a hansom straight away. I think we’ll both sleep well tonight! Yes, indeed. That Gin’s got a kick!”

He led me down the dark alleyway back to the curb and kept a respectable distance the entire way. After finding me a hansom, he kissed my hand and held it as I mounted the carriage. He paid the driver, instructing him to ensure I was safely inside before riding off while I snuggled within my wrap, preparing for the cold ride.

“Thank you again for arranging the meeting with Mr. Chenery. It will be such an honor to just meet the man, let alone entertain the thought of working with him. I’m all a flutter already!”

“It will prove to be a splendid evening all around,” he said, tipping his hat. “Of that I have no doubt.”

CHAPTER SIX

 

ARTHUR

Christmas shoppers scampered from here to there. Thomas wound the brougham through the busy streets, stopping again and again for people with their arms’ full of packages to cross the road. Other carriages blocked the street, trying to turn around or waiting for their occupants to return from the shop.

“We should’ve walked,” I said to Avalon sitting beside me, but all I saw was her tiny black hat perched on her black curls. She looked out the window at the commotion around us. “It would’ve been faster.”

“Perhaps,” she said.

“It would’ve been faster.”

“They all look so happy, rushing about, don’t they? Places to go and getting goodies for their lovelies. We should get some gifts, Arthur. Don’t you think?” She turned to me, her eyes lit with hope. “We could exchange them on the dirigible. Wouldn’t that be fine?”

“If you’d like. One thing at a time, all right? We’re here to see about Nick, remember? Let’s get that done before we plan something else.”

“Do you think the police will still be there? It’s been several days, after all.”

“I doubt it, but if they are, you can practice pressing your will upon them. Compelling them, as we sometimes call it. Coppers are notoriously easy to compel, Ava. If all else fails, we do still have the uniforms dear Victor procured for us after our last caper.”

With the reminder of Victor, Avalon got quiet again, her smiled faded. “I miss Victor.” The sadness in her voice was palpable and altogether disagreeable. How dull indeed, and how very careless for me to mention him.

“Yes, I’m well aware. It has been months, Ava. You must move on from that loss one day.”

“It’s been less than a year, Arthur. Barely half a year, and one doesn’t have one’s best friend and confidant brutally murdered before one’s eyes all that often. And you’re telling me to get over it already? What happened to you, Arthur? One minute you are my love, the man who I adore. The next, you are a monster. Unfeeling, uncaring. Cruel.”

“Nonsense, Ava. I’m always the same.” My calm voice, with the appropriate amount of concern, of course, suggested she settle down and listen to reason. No need to be so emotional. “It’s no doubt your lady parts wreaking havoc on your mind, sweetheart. Perhaps you’re suffering from hysteria. Yes, the symptoms are quite similar. Perhaps I should call the doctor. I am worried about you, Ava. For all I know, you contracted a venereal disease from another man. You say I was the first, but an unmarried woman having sexual relations? It is questionable to say the least. Well, the doctor and Bedlam, too, would be suspicious of that. They haven’t yet repealed the Contagious Diseases Act, after all. Just a word from me, and you’d be required to submit to an exam, otherwise face imprisonment. The police do the exams, as you well know, and I understand they are far from pleasant. I would hate for you to be disgraced so, my darling girl. I just want you to be happy, Ava. To be well and genuinely happy. I’m just looking out for you, my love.”

Avalon’s eyes widened with horror. All of London knew what happened to women examined for venereal diseases. Humiliating exams. Unclean women were confined until perceived as cured. Many wound up in Bedlam.

The threat of such treatment served to keep them in line. Indeed.

Tears rimmed her eyes, jaw set. She spoke with determination. “I am not your property.”

No. Nor any man’s. Yet. With her new strength, she could rip any who tried to hurt her to shreds, but I’d done quite well to keep her ignorant of that fact.

“You have been dropping hints about marriage. Lady York, yes, I think that suits you well. I just love you so much, Ava. I want to ensure you are feeling your best. I miss my happy, loving lover, and I would like her back. Genuinely happy. Yes. I should very much like my cheery, cheeky Ava back. Ah! Here we are at Nicholas’s. After you, my love.”

Avalon took my proffered hand and stepped down onto the street. “Thank you, Thomas,” she said with the most pleasant tone. Good girl. “It is such a pleasure to have you drive us. Will you wait for us here?”

“That is up to M’Lord, M’Lady.”

“Yes, Thomas. Wait. We shan’t be too long. Shall we, Ava? Looks like the coast is clear of coppers, so there should be no trouble whatsoever. No more trouble. Right, sweetheart?”

“No more trouble, my love.” Her smile was not only bright and as genuine as could be, but she also leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. In public. Yes. This was much more like it. Just needed to put the foot down every so often, after all. Perhaps a wedding was just the thing. It had been ever so long since I was married. Over three centuries! Indeed! I had forgotten just how lovely marriage can be. Carnal pleasures whenever I wanted, no need to wait or search or put out the effort of seduction, but then…if I did find such pleasures elsewhere…well, it was to be expected! Especially by a man of my station. Yes! It was time to take a wife. Yes, indeed.

“Lord York! Miss Bainbridge! Funny seein’ you here.”

“Mr. Blackwolf, was it? Did you enjoy the gala last night?” His handshake was as strong as his husky appearance suggested. Dressed in much more comfortable attire than his relative finery of last night, he wore a standard-issue US Army shirt, braces, and wool trousers. Topped with a heavy wool coat and the same hat and goggles as at the gala. How very common.

Avalon stayed obedient and quiet. Good girl. Just a silent nod greeted our new friend.

“I did. I did. You do things up over here, don’t ya?”

“We do, indeed. Well, it was lovely seeing you, and I suppose we shall see you again this weekend.”

“I hope the weather is clear enough to see the moon over Paris. Ya almost forget there’s a sun. Texas is very sunny and hot. It’s always so gray here. ”

“That it is. One gets used to it.” Plus, we counted on it. Texas sounded like a miserable place.

“Although, you brighten up any day, Miss Bainbridge, if ya don’t mind me saying.”

“Oh, Mr. Blackwolf, how you flatter.” She curtsied and offered her hand for him to kiss, and he did. Peeking out beneath her white lace cuff, she wore black lace fingerless gloves. His lips touched her skin. Something inside me roared, and I had to exert extra effort to keep my face pleasant. She was mine, after all. Yes, must marry and make that undeniable to any.

“I only speak the truth, dear lady.”

Although Avalon smiled, her eyes held a sadness to them behind her round, purple-tinted spectacles. Her face showed nothing but pleasant calm, no sign of distress. Dressed in burgundy, fit for the season, Avalon’s day dress suited her quite well. The snugness around the waist showed off her lovely shape. Brass buttons centered down the bodice accentuated her curves. The pocket watch chain affixed on one side of her bodice, then again on the other, creating the most fetching drape across her bosoms. I should pay more attention to this beauty. The remainder of the chain dangled down her side and attached to the time piece tucked into its little pocket.

I suddenly wanted her. Right here. In the carriage. Although her dress had no bustle, I wanted to be buried beneath her skirts. Now. Perhaps inside Nick’s. There would be plenty of privacy there.

“We really must be going, Mr. Blackwolf,” I said.

“Of course. This weekend then!”

“This weekend, indeed. Good day.”

All three of us started to move at once, and all in the same direction: toward Nick’s house. “Excuse me, sir,” I said to him, indicating with my tone that I wished to know what the bloody hell he was doing.

“I’ve come to examine Lord Stanton’s place, Lord York. I have some experience in these things, and, well, my curiosity just got the better of me. My ship is getting the holiday touch by Lady Pearson’s decorators, and they needed me out of their way.”

“Fascinating. Well, Lord Stanton is a dear friend of mine, so we’ve come to have a look ourselves. Shall we?” So much for a quick romp with Avalon inside. I chucked to myself, or a quick romp inside Avalon. I was ever so clever. Perhaps it was for the best. It would give my desires a chance to build, and then I would have her tonight.

“We were concerned the police would still be here,” Avalon said as we approached Nick’s door. “But there are none in sight. I’m not sure there will be much to see inside.”

“It’s locked,” I said, trying the door. “Of course, it’s locked. Did I think it would just be open for all of London to explore? All his treasures would be gone by now. Never mind, we tried.” I could, of course, easily open the door, but not with Mr. Blackwolf standing about.

“I’ve come prepared for that,” he said, holding up a black leather pouch he had just produced from inside his coat. With a flick of his wrist, the thing unrolled, revealing a variety of tools. He chose a small contraption, similar to a turnscrew, only this had tiny gears where the tool met the shaft. Blackwolf flicked a switch, and the thing spread out and started to spin.

“Blimey! One didn’t expect that.”

“How very ingenious,” Avalon said, eyes wide with wonder. She let go of my arm to get a closer look. My Avalon always found new technology so intriguing. My lovely love. “How does it work?”

“I’ll show you.” Blackwolf turned the thing off again, and it collapsed back into a regular turnscrew. He scrunched up the leather tool case with one hand and pocketed it while delighting in Avalon’s curiosity.

“This is all quite captivating, but passersby are starting to stare at us huddled around the door. Perhaps you could show her another time, Mr. Blackwolf?”

“Eh. Call me Arron. Yer right. We’re drawin’ too much attention to ourselves. You two give me some cover, and I’ll get this here door open.”

Avalon and I turned around and faced the street. Thomas, just a ways up, sat on his driver’s perch, lanky legs at comical angles. I pointed to some Christmas decorations across the street and leaned over to Avalon, making an ostensible show of describing them. Instead, I whispered, “You look simply scrumptious this afternoon, my love. I was so hoping to taste you once we were inside.”

She remained composed at first, but as I continued whispering desires, her breath came faster.

Behind me, I heard a strange whirring sound followed by piercing squeals. I forced a bout of booming laughter, and invited Avalon to join me with a nudge. Even unnatural, her laugh was music to my ears. I nuzzled my nose against her cheek and whispered, “You’re so delightful. I love you.”

She turned to me, surprised with light in her eyes, which positively sparkled behind her colored spectacles. “Truly, Arthur?” she replied in hushed tones. “I love you, too.”

“We’re in, ya lovebirds,” Arron said from behind us, now standing in Nicholas’s foyer.

“Splendid,” I said, squeezing Avalon’s hand, which rested in the crook of my arm. “After you, my love.” Once inside, we shut the door behind us and waited a moment to ensure there was no one else inside. I even called out a “Hello?” No one answered. “The paper said the blood was found in the parlour. Follow me.”

There was blood here. I could smell it already, and Avalon could, too. She held a dainty hand up to her nose to help block the smell. The woman hadn’t eaten properly in months, after all. Animal’s blood only afforded so much strength. Must keep up the pretense that we didn’t hurt anyone. Her need must be insatiable before I told her the truth of our existence. Well, my existence. Still, she would remain under my control, of course.

We all stood in the doorway and took in the room. “Nothing seems too out of sorts. The upset table and some blood here.” I pointed just in front of our feet. A dark stain blemished the forest green rug. “It’s substantial, but certainly not a fatal amount. The rest rather seems the same. It has been months since I’ve been here, of course, and there are some new items, but then Nick was always for keeping up with current trends. That red sofa is new, but the darker maroon one isn’t. The chandelier, that’s new. An electric one, too, but we’re too far from Holborn Viaduct for electricity. He must’ve had this shipped from The Colonies. Optimistic of him.”

“There’s something off about that portrait of him, there.” Avalon pointed to the gold framed painting over the fireplace. “He looks too…
something
.”

“Indeed. It looks rather recent. That vest he’s wearing he had commissioned shortly before we lost touch.”

“Ugh! And that?” She pointed to a bizarre squatty statue, gargoyle like, but even more horrific than any gargoyle I’d seen. It squatted, legs spread wide, on Nick’s writing desk by the front windows.

“That looks like an African fertility god, even though it’s missin’ the obvious appendage,” Captain Blackwolf offered. “I’ve seen ones like that in the New Orleans Voodoo shops. It’s said to give the bearer an insatiable appetite. Forgive me for saying so, ma’am.”

“Nick had that without Voodoo.”

“What difference does the decor make anyway?” Arron asked. “This room is odd all around, and that portrait is right creepy.”

“It doesn’t really make a difference, just working it out,” I said, scanning the room again. “Getting a feel for the place. Something seems off, but I can’t put my finger on it. He was entertaining, as I can smell a hint of perfume”—and that unmistakable scent of sex—“but that’s not unusual for Nick.”

“There’s nothing here,” Arron said. “The blood suggests foul play, but, as you pointed out, Lord York, there ain’t enough for it to have been a fatal wound. Not much more than a bad cut, I’d say.”

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