Lillian Holmes and the Leaping Man (12 page)

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?

“My God, what will I tell Kitty?”

“Tell her to ready a guest room.”

“You are not serious?”

“At least she will see that I can help save a mortal instead of murder one, if indeed I am lucky enough to succeed. I caused this situation, and I have the rare inclination to fix it.”

Phillip leaned back and sighed. “I don’t know what is more shocking. That you say you give a damn about the woman, or that I believe you.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

An unwelcome getaway.

“I want to see her,” Lillian mumbled, but the doctor either didn’t hear or ignored her. Perhaps she hadn’t actually spoken? Her eyes were shut, and everything was awhirl.

“My uncle will not tolerate this… You must speak with him… I will give you the address…”

What is his address? What is his name?
Her head throbbed and her stomach turned as she opened her eyes to the dimly lit room. She saw only shadows at first but heard the low murmuring of a woman. She strained to hear the words then found them baffling: The stranger repeated a nursery rhyme in a precise cadence over and over.

The stench of soiled bedclothes made her stomach worse, and Lillian tried to sit only to find herself restrained with burlap straps. How long had she been asleep? And why did things look fuzzy? She tried to blink the blurriness away, but she still saw two of everything: Dr. Schneider at the foot of her bed times two, a stand with a pitcher on it doubled, a lamp that flickered side to side.

And there, off to the side, the most horrifying sight. The Jackal, watching, arms folded across his chest, a grin upon his twisted pocked face. Or was it a frown?

In horror she realized she couldn’t feel her legs and tried to kick the blanket away. The blanket moved slightly and she understood she still had legs; they only felt dead. The Jackal moved toward the doctor and whispered something.

“What did you do to me? What did you give me?”

Someone behind her moaned and babbled incoherently, but she couldn’t turn to see who stood there.

“Listen to me!” she shouted. But no one understood or cared. For she was the person babbling incoherently, she realized in horror. How had she lost the ability to speak? Would she be trapped in this Purgatory forever?

A prick at her arm made warmth flood through her vein and she faded into dreamless twilight.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Miss Holmes is rescued.

“I’d like to speak with Miss Wheeler, please!” George requested curtly.

There’s little time, so little time.
Angered by the details that made his life tiresome on a mundane day and impossible today, he barely had patience for the butler who requested George produce a card. He’d sprung out of his house the moment the sun set and literally flown the ten city blocks to the Wheeler house. He’d first considered venturing out in daylight, then weighed that he needed his full strength to rescue Lillian and decided that the rescue would be best under cover of night.

“It’s rather late, sir, but I’ll see if she’s in.”

The butler turned his back, and George held the door open and pressed past.

Bess stood in the foyer behind the servant, shock and horror etched across her face. She nonetheless found the nerve to take a deep breath and motion for the butler to leave. “Come in, Mr. Orleans. My father and mother are home, as are both my brothers.”

“We don’t have time for that, Miss Wheeler. I am not here to accost you, no matter what you might believe. You must listen carefully, as Lillian’s freedom may hang in the balance.”

Bess held her hand to her mouth. “That is exactly what she wrote in her letter to me. She told me to find you, but to—”

“To be careful? I imagine she told you not to come alone, but being nearly as pigheaded as she, you did anyway. Well, you found me. I’m here now.”

“It’s very confusing. On the one hand she said you threatened her, but it seems on the same night she wrote me to find you. I hear that she had a gash on her neck and fired her pistol several times. That was your doing, wasn’t it?”

George grimaced. “Yes. I misinterpreted her feelings for me and pursued her. She mistook me for a robber, or for that terrible murderer loosed on Baltimore, and she fired at me. Fortunately she is not a good marksman. She tripped and hurt her neck on the andiron.” Pausing, he chastised himself for not thinking the story through thoroughly. Did the woman even have a fireplace in her room?

“That was a terrible thing to do to her! I am glad she shot at you—and missed.” Bess’s face changed as the picture crystallized. “Oh! Then you can corroborate her story, and they will know she was not about killing herself. We must hurry to see the Adencourts. They must hear what you have to say and contact the doctor. That is why Lil wanted me to visit you.”

“No!” Bess jumped at his tone, which George immediately softened. “No, Miss Wheeler. I cannot open myself up to that kind of scrutiny. More I cannot say about it, except to assure you that I have Lillian’s interests at heart. In any case, it seems that the…Adencourts, did you say their name was? Yes, the Adencourts and the doctor rushed quickly to judge her actions and might not be so quick to have her released.”

“That is likely the Jackal’s doing.”

“The Jackal?”

“A Mr. Pemberton, the solicitor in charge of Lil’s fortune. They treat her as if she’s a child instead of a brilliant, mature…well, perhaps she’s unusual, but nevertheless—”