Lillian Holmes and the Leaping Man (16 page)

“I do not think I’m cut out to be your Watson,” Bess said with a sigh.

“My
Watson
? Why, whatever made you say that? You instructed me not to call you that!”

“George Orleans used it. If he weren’t the devil, I’d say you were cut from the same cloth.”

“Hardly.”

But Lillian wondered. Where was he, the man who seemed to understand her more than she understood herself? Far away, no doubt. If he’d asked, would she have gone with him?

Why wonder? He is gone.

***

Lillian made a subtle motion to Bess to stay with her as Addie, Thomas, Aileen, and the three boys circled round her, Mr. Abraham Lincoln left to bark on the porch. She’d been gone only a few days, but the past now seemed like a different lifetime.

After tearful hugs and inquiries as to her health, she finally sat alone with Bess and Addie. The mantel clock seemed like a church gong, the parlor had become so quiet. Bess wanted to leave, Lillian knew it, but she needed her friend and now the two had no secrets. Well, one, but Lillian would take the identity of the father of her child to the grave.

“Dr. Schneider came by this morning, desperately concerned for you, Lil,” Addie said. Her tone of disapproval, usually amusing, made Lillian bristle.

“I will speak with him in due course. Please do not concern yourself with that. If he asks again, please tell him to speak with me directly and that I will see him when I have time.”

Addie sat up straight, a flicker of hurt on her face. Lillian pushed down the guilt that threatened to thwart her mission.
She
hadn’t been the secret-keeper.
She
hadn’t rewritten the past with silence. She’d just been a girl, a lonely, frightened girl.

“I love you, Addie, and I know you love me. But the time has come for us to speak frankly. I am no longer a child to be protected. No pain could be worse than this void I’ve carried for so long. Tell me the truth about my mother.”

The color left Addie’s face and she cast a quick glance at the doorway where Thomas lurked in shadow. “What do you mean, Lil? Why now?”

“Because I am ready to hear.”
Am I? Where is my Leaping Man to give me courage? How dare he open this wound and then leave me alone to close it!

“But we know nothing, Lil. Please, you will suffer another breakdown if you persist in this vein. I must send for Mr. Pemberton.”

“That threat will no longer work on me.” But Lillian shuddered and rubbed at her arms. The Jackal would never hurt her again; she would hire another solicitor and learn if she could free herself from him forever.

Thomas stood forward. “She’s not a child, Addie. She has made the choice. We knew the day would come. It is her right.”

“What do you know of such choices, Thomas?” the governess snapped.

“I know you blame me for our brothers’ death, but they chose to follow me to war. I cannot change that. You cannot change Lillian’s past. But it is
her
past, not yours. Secrets help no one.”

Thomas limped to Lillian and pulled her by both hands to stand. “Addie and I have loved you from the start. We were in the employ of the elder Mr. Pemberton, me just back from the conflict and Addie in a state over my brothers. Mr. Pemberton told us of a sad case of an orphaned girl who would never need for anything save a family. Because we are brother and sister, we could not raise you as our child, of course. Instead, we did our best. We were never told the name of your mother or father…”

His long hesitation made Lillian’s racing heart skip a beat. “Yes, go on, Thomas.”

“But I had suspicions. At the time we heard of a young woman of society who disappeared mysteriously. I cannot remember her name. That is all I can tell you. I am sorry it isn’t enough.”

“What about the solicitor?” Bess asked. “Could he tell us about his client?”

“The elder Pemberton has been dead for years. The case went to his son, Francis. I doubt anyone knows the truth now.”

“And was it the elder or the younger Pemberton who arranged for my baby to be taken from me? It was not you and Addie, I believe.”

Thomas wrapped his arm around her shoulder, but the gesture didn’t warm her. She felt cold and numb.

“No,” Addie whispered. “We gave your baby to the Hebrew Orphan Asylum, along with a generous donation, at the advice of Mr. Francis Pemberton.”

“How proper of you to give a donation as well. I assume the orphanage would have no knowledge of the name of the mother? No, of course not. Most improper.”

“She’s no doubt with a good family now, Lil,” Bess said. Then she shook her head. “Blazes, I do not know that. I won’t contribute to these awful secrets or try to soften them with platitudes.”

“Thank you, Elisabeth. You have proven yourself to be the truest of friends. Let us get you home. That will be all, Addie and Thomas.”

For the first time in her life, Lillian dismissed her guardians from the room. Addie rose, weeping, and left with Thomas holding her.

“It is not their fault, of course. But today I am angry. Tomorrow I shall make amends.”

Bess rested her head on Lillian’s shoulder. “I think I would be angry, too. And I understand why you drank those awful potions and ate those pills and…”

“And?”

“And why you pretended you were related to a man in a book.”

Lillian sat and let out a curse. “I did what I needed to do. Now I can do what I choose to do.”

“You will look for them, won’t you?”

“Yes, I will. I do not know how, but I will. And I believe all my longing to become a great detective will finally serve me well.”

“Then I will be your Miss Watson and help. To be truthful, a life spent longing after silly men and pretty dresses is leaving me a bit weary. If I am to live as an ugly crippled old maid, so be it. Perhaps it is time for me to learn how to shoot a pistol.”

“Nonsense.”

“I am glad to hear you say it.”

“You will learn how to wield a small blade.”

“Are you quite serious? Oh, my, why do I ask?”

***

“Damn it all!” George stared at the tunnel to the ferry to New York, knowing it was the last run of the evening, knowing what he should do, what he must do.

Get on it,
he repeated to himself a dozen times until the Jersey City train conductor blew his whistle and yelled “Final call!” for the train going back south. To Manhattan, then to points west? Or back on the train to Baltimore? One more time, the conductor yelled “Final call!” and George nearly screamed in frustration.

At the last second he leapt from the platform onto the slowly moving train, and the conductor reached out to secure his landing, although he didn’t need the help.

“Where to, sir?” he asked, withdrawing his ticket booklet.

“Straight into hell, no doubt.” George shoved five dollars at the man to be left alone and took a seat in back corner of the filthy sooty car, wondering if he had finally gone insane. Marie de Bourbon, Madam Lucifer, wanted to kill him and might be as close as New Orleans. He’d sworn to leave Phillip and Kitty in peace, and what did he do instead? Take a train right back to the first place Marie would look for him. All for a mortal woman.

He laughed as the train emerged from the Hudson tunnel, revealing dilapidated buildings and abandoned machinery left to crumble by the side of the tracks. No doubt only he could make out the carcasses of modern society in the inky dark. A carcass, that was what he’d become, too. A hollow shell, neither living nor dead, worth nothing to anyone, except perhaps the price Madam Lucifer had put on his head. Wouldn’t she be doing the world a service? One less monster draining innocents of life. One less threat to the safety of his brother.

He’d deteriorated into a laughable monster, though, drinking from criminals, resorting once to a few of the park’s fowl and night mammals. When was the last time he stooped so low? A century ago, at least. Now, with Marie no doubt a few days or weeks at most from ending his existence, he thought of his whole life, barely remembering the time before mother flew at him in a frenzy and took his soul. Had he been happy before then? Had he done anything worthwhile?

No, he’d been a worthless mortal as well. A failure, with one exception. He’d helped a mortal woman escape an asylum, and he’d pushed her onto a path she might otherwise never have taken. What had she done since? Re-indulged her dangerous drug habit? Gone back to her fantasies? Been locked up again? Or had he truly made a difference? He had to know.

Why, George? What will you do when you find out?

She’d asked him to stay a while, but he’d fled more quickly because of it. Not for his sake, but for hers. And now?

He didn’t know what to expect, what to do. But he would see her again, even if from the shadows, to make sure she was well. And then he would let Marie do her worst. It was probably far past time. He tired of running. He would stand and fight, and lose, for Marie was powerful and had a large and lethal following. George had no one. He made a mental note to write a letter to Phillip, who would no doubt take on supreme responsibility and guilt for failing to protect him. That wouldn’t do at all. Let the better brother have a few good years with a lovely wife.

The Altamont Hotel had unfortunately not changed in a week—had it only been a week? With the chill of fall starting to take hold, smoke curled from most chimneys. The night auditor nodded blandly as George signed the register under another alias and pocketed the key. This time he’d take a large suite on the top floor, still with a view of Eutaw Street below. He’d have to be a bit more careful in his approach to Lillian. It wouldn’t do to creep onto her balcony again.

George sighed and lit his pipe, stared into the fire and thought of her, hair fanned out across her pillow, white gown hugging her lovely form.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Coming and going.

The Musketeers lined up by height, wiggling in anticipation of treats and pennies, and Lillian folded her arms behind her back and paced in front of them.

Her nerves sizzled as she waited for any news of Madam Pelosi. The Orleanses’ butler had reported that Phillip, Kitty, and Annaluisa had left on a train for a destination he didn’t know. Lillian knew he lied—he knew where they had gone—but had stopped short of pleading with him. No, she’d instead sent the boys on a mission to scour the city for any sign of the trio’s whereabouts. Bess had visited the Langhan sisters to find clues, and to make gentle inquiries about the identity of the mysterious disappearance of a socialite twenty-four years earlier. They’d been no help, however; she had no doubt simply aroused the gossiping nature of Etta Langhan.

“Yes, Darby? What do you have for me?”

The boy pulled his cap off and rubbed at his nose, stalling. “I heard they’re gone, all of them Orleanses, and the lady artist and the lady with the veils.”

“We knew that, Darby.” He looked like he might cry, so she ruffled his hair and pressed a penny into his palm. “Billy, did you do better?”

Billy toed the ground and shook his head. “Paddy stole my idea. I told him they might still be at the train station, and so he went there. It ain’t fair, is it, Miss? Him taking my idea?”

Good Lord, why didn’t I think of that?
“A penny for your idea. So did you go, Paddy? Did you learn anything?”

“I didn’t see them about, but I saw the brother.” Paddy turned and punched Billy. “Wasn’t your idea, was
our
idea.”

“Paddy, stop that! Are you sure it was Mr. Phillip’s brother?”

“I’m sure.”

Lillian clasped her hands more tightly to stop them from shaking.
George.
He’d gone far away, never to be seen again. Her heart sank as she realized what Paddy had witnessed: He’d simply come back to Baltimore to say goodbye to his brother before leaving for good.

“You saw him board a train, Paddy? Do you know where it was going?”

“Is ‘board’ going or coming?”

“Going.”

“He was coming. Got off the train.”

“You are certain? He got off the train in Baltimore?”

“We’re in Baltimore, Miss Holmes.”

“Right. And being a bright boy, you followed him, didn’t you?”

Paddy rolled his eyes. “A course. I hopped the back of his cab. I’m good at that.”

“So dangerous, Paddy! Hasn’t Aileen talked to you about doing that?” Bess scolded.

Lillian sent her friend a look. “He obviously survived. So, Paddy, where did he go?”

Paddy pointed across the street and down the block. “That place, the hotel.”

“The Hotel Altamont? Are you very sure?” Paddy nodded, but she barely saw him, her vision blurring. She sat, overwhelmed with need to see him again. Why had he returned?
You will not cry. This is one of the symptoms; George warned you it might happen.

Bess paid Paddy, shoed the boys away, and joined her. “You love him.”

“Of course not.”

“Yes, you do. Or something quite close to it. I have never seen that expression on your face. I am not a woman of the world, and I don’t know much about men, but I know you. And my guess is that he has come back for you. When he came to ask me to help him free you from Spring Grove, I saw a man obsessed. With you.”

“I don’t know up from down right now, Bess. My thoughts and feelings are a jumble.”

“You are different, Lil. Life is no longer a game to you. I see it. George Orleans has a hand in this change.”

“True.”

“While I don’t think it wise to trust him, I believe he might help you further. I can speak to him if you are afraid.”

Bess shook her foot, and Lillian snickered. “You would brave the jungle beast for me?”

“Stop treating me like that! It’s most unfair. I will take your pistol.”

“No, I’ll go. I am afraid to see him again, but not because I fear he’ll kill me.”

“I understand.”

Bess squeezed her hand, and Lillian realized her friend did understand.

“Take me with you, at least?”

“No. This I must do for myself.”

Within two hours Lillian had finished writing in her Journal of Important Observations, with notations about George Orleans should things go amiss at the Hotel Altamont. She also penned notes to Addie, Thomas, and Aileen, thanking them for their love and support. A letter was addressed to Mr. Francis Pemberton, Esq., notifying him that he was no longer in the service of her estate. She did not mention her hatred of him, that she considered him the devil himself. And she copied her letter to Pemberton word for word and addressed it to a second lawyer, Bess’s cousin, Richard Wheeler, whom she’d met the previous day. He would ensure her wishes were followed.