Lillian Holmes and the Leaping Man (7 page)

“Annaluisa is not so bad. I might be able to stomach it. Are Kitty’s ‘new friends’ attractive in any way? This diet of rotting male flesh doesn’t satisfy any of my appetites.”

“You will stomach it, and you’ll be kind to our guests. And do make sure you fill up before they arrive.”

George groaned and brushed at his sleeves. “I offer no guarantees. I thirst, verily I thirst.”

“Yes, well, verily satisfy that thirst in Fell’s Point. And remember our agreement. I don’t have time to watch you every second.”

“I will find the most heinous criminal in Baltimore.”

“Yes, well, that would be
you,
now, wouldn’t it? Just be bathed and dressed before the party.”

CHAPTER SIX

The Talking Cure.

Lillian closed her eyes and listened to the tapping noise from the secretary’s type-writing machine in the next room. Fretting that the work might contain the doctor’s notes about her, she wondered if she could determine what was being typed by the distinct sound of the keys.

No, impossible. It was not Morse code, which she had studied in the summer should she ever need to send secret messages to an assistant. She snickered, remembering how infuriated Bess became when she insisted she too learn the system. “When you learn to dance, I will learn your secret code.” Bess hated Lillian’s sleuthing, hated everything about it. No, that wasn’t quite true. Bess worried that her sleuthing would cause more trouble for her. Of course, it seemed she might be right.

Dr. Schneider tapped on the door and entered the subtly lit sitting room, and Lillian forced the topic of sleuthing from her mind. It would not do at all to mention it to this gentle but astute man.

“And here we are, my dear.” He pulled a pencil from his jacket pocket, squinted over his glasses at his notes, and seemed far away.

“
Guten Tag
, Herr Doctor Schneider,” Lillian offered her hand.

“Yes, yes indeed.” Instead of shaking her hand, he took her pulse. “How are your nerves, Miss Holmes? Did you race here today?”

Oh, blazes! Now the talking cure will commence. If he tries to hypnotize you, you will resist, you will play the role but stay alert.

“Yes, yes, I did race. So many people about at this time of day. I had to dodge between carriages… Oh, such a rush!”

He sat across from her and peered over his glasses intently.
Damnation.
But the man didn’t read minds, although he likely tried.

“Tell me what transpired since we last met. Are you sleeping well?”

“Except for those few frightfully hot nights, yes, I am.”

“And what else? How have you spent your time?”

“On feminine pursuits of the ordinary kind: shopping with my friend Elisabeth, taking in the festival, that sort of thing.”

The doctor sat back in the chair and lit his pipe. “Indeed, I am sure you have done those things. And I would be pleased if that were the full extent of it. But Mrs. Adencourt, as you know, is somewhat concerned for you. Should she be? I must make a report to Mr. Pemberton on your progress, you know.”

Lillian sighed. Of course. As she’d expected. Addie meant well, would probably die for her. A shiver shimmied up her spine. Why had she thought of Addie dying?
I must find the Leaping Man. Now I worry for my loved ones.

“What are you thinking about now, Miss Holmes?”

“That Addie should not fear, at least where my well-being is concerned.”

“What should she fear? God knows the criminals have been quite busy. Has this affected you at all?”

“Not at all.”

“And you’ve been writing in your journal as we discussed? Has it helped calm your nerves?”

“I have written daily.”

“Wunderbar! Tell me one topic you committed to your journal.”

Mr. Nosey Parker.
“Nothing comes to mind of any import.”

“I see. Lillian, dear, we have known one another for several years. I have bandaged cuts from daggers, a bullet wound to the foot…”

“I was just learning to shoot!”

“As I was saying, knife wounds, a bullet wound, a severe episode of wasting when you forgot to eat for many days, so absorbed in your studies were you. You are among my most intelligent, adventurous patients. But I cannot help you if you don’t let me.”

Ah, so he will not even mention the worst of it. As if it never happened, as if my baby never existed. But she did, certainly she did.
The awful possibility that she’d imagined her too made Lillian sit up straight, her nerves on fire. No! She was certain.

“I do not need help! I am fit, healthier than most; I do not suffer in any way! I value your help, Doctor, but I assure you, I would know if I were ill.”

“When was the last time you bought a medicinal of any kind?”

There, he’d finally gotten to it. The moment she knew would come. She’d steeled herself for it. “I don’t remember. That is no longer an issue for me.”

“This morning, Miss Holmes. You have forgotten an important part of deduction, of the observation that you love so much. You have forgotten that others may practice it as well. It is my profession. The signs are there, in your pupils, in the way you moisten your mouth, in the quick movements of your hands, in your rapid heartbeat.

“We are both too intelligent to continue this game. I know you, and you will try to stop taking the drug on your own, quickly. That will make you sick, and very weak, and—listen carefully, Lillian—if you have been indulging frequently and stop suddenly…you could die. Your heart could stop beating. Is this not the business of your physician? Do you see why I pry?”

Lillian nodded.
I started to stop the Melancholies, but they never went away.
“The Melancholies never went away.” She put her hand over her mouth, shocked that she’d uttered the words. A tear slipped down her cheek and she brushed at it.

Dr. Schneider sat back and tented his hands on his large stomach, tapping his fingers together. “These melancholies, as you say. Do you know what causes them?”

“I am not sure.” The tears horrified Lillian, as they would not stop no matter how she willed them to do so.
Please do not lock me away with the lunatics. I am sane.

“We cannot cure a disease until we identify it. Surely your Mister Holmes would concur.”

“True.”

“Good, we have a goal. We will strive to understand these melancholies, and we will plan a course of treatment to free you from your ‘medication.’ It will necessitate the slow weaning off of opiates. You are to only take pills that I prescribe for you, and in the precise number and at the precise times I instruct. Are you willing to try?”

No. Leave me alone. But you will not. Addie will not. Bess will not. The Jackal will hound me until I cannot stand another day of it, and he will convince you to send me away. I must appear agreeable.

“I am willing to try.”

“Wunderbar!” Dr. Schneider took both her hands and squeezed them in a fatherly way that made her tears flow more. “It will be fine, my dear. Now, how did you get that cut on your wrist?”

“I… Oh, I may as well tell you. I was poking about on a neighbor’s fire escape and slipped. A nail was protruding. It is a long tale.” And she wasn’t going to tell him that she’d been examining the dirt left by the Leaping Man’s shoes.

“Ah, an investigation. You are worse than my youngest son. Please be more careful next time. It looks inflamed. Let’s get more light on it…”

Lillian smiled, for he had not reprimanded her for her investigation. What would it be like to talk freely of her studies, to live openly, to be alive, fully alive? Perhaps he could help her. But could she trust him?

“Yes,” she announced. “I will be more careful.”

***

“Enter,” Lillian answered Aileen’s peculiar four-tap knock, and the maid immediately walked to the armoire to pick out a dress for dinner. Lillian had spent the last hour writing at her desk, putting to paper all she knew of the Leaping Man. Her heart raced with the thought of seeing Mr. Orleans this evening. He
could
have a connection to the Leaping Man. The resemblance was there.

“The sapphire, Miss?” Aileen’s voice bore the mildest tone of reproof, as if to add, “Won’t you please buy another evening dress!”

“I take your point, Aileen. No doubt you and Miss Wheeler go on behind my back about my disregard for fashion.”

“Never! I wouldn’t treat you so, Lil. I mean,
Miss.
Please, tell me you don’t think that about me.”

Lillian took her seat before the dresser to allow the maid to fuss with her hair. She looked up and smiled. “I’m teasing.”

To her shock, Aileen seemed to be holding back tears. No, there it was: a lone drop trickled down her freckled cheek. And Aileen’s pale blue eyes were rimmed in red to match the fiery red curls that often escaped her white cap.

Lillian turned and took the maid’s hand. “I assure you, Aileen, I was teasing! Your position is secure here. I know how badly you need this work. You are my friend, are you not?”

“I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t mean trouble.” She broke into sobs and covered her face.

Lillian pulled her hands away and led her to the bed, forcing her to sit. “You must not take things to heart so.”

“It’s not you, Miss. It’s the boys,” she managed between sobs. “They’re being turned out. Old Breuner is closing his tannery and can’t use them. It’s not only the pittance he pays them; they’ve been sleeping there. Johnnie would take them in to live with him and Paddy, but they are not allowed to have four live in the one room.” Aileen covered her mouth to stifle her sobs.

Orphans to poverty, Lillian thought. Aileen’s parents had died of tuberculosis within a few months of one another, shortly after the birth of their youngest, Darby.
I too am an orphan
. Without her inheritance, she might be in the same position as Aileen. Or worse. With no skill in dressing a young lady, she would have no doubt been as good as a slave, scrubbing floors or working in the oyster cannery.

She strode to the door and called loudly for Thomas.

The butler appeared as quickly as his lame leg would carry him up the grand staircase. Eyes wide, he looked inside the room. “What’s the racket, Miss? I thought you saw a murderer!”

“Clear the storage room, Thomas. Put the things in the kitchen, or anywhere you like. Put down two pallets and a stand. The room has a small window, does it not? Addie will know what to do. The remaining O’Shaunessys will be employed here, for room and board, starting this evening.”

“Miss, you cannot mean those rapscallions… Beggin’ your pardon, Aileen, but—”

“Let them do the work that causes your leg to hurt. It will be a boon for all involved. That is enough, Thomas.”

The butler cursed softly and turned.

Lillian called him back. “By the way, have you finished that collapsing spyglass I fancy?”

“Not yet, Miss,” he replied, with a tone that said he’d prefer to finish it when pigs took flight. Then he limped and mumbled all the way down the stairs. He would not mistreat the boys, but he would likely need to replenish his whiskey stock more often.

Aileen fell upon her with hugs, clutching at her shoulders and sobbing still. “You have a kind soul, Lillian Holmes. If there were any other way, I would turn away your offer.”

“This is nothing, put it out of your mind. Now, hurry with my hair, for we’ve wasted a good amount of time with all this fretting.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Aileen, one more thing. Mr. Abraham Lincoln does not enter the house. It is one thing to replace Bess’s best frock, another to answer to Addie over ruined furniture. You may keep him in the yard. When the cold weather arrives…well, we shall formulate a plan then for the hound. We both know that, while I am the lady of the house, there is one above me.”

“Oh, you aren’t lying! I mean, yes, Miss.”

“Next week, I will give you money to buy new dresses, one day dress and one evening. You know my measurements. Bess will be thrilled to help you. You may buy yourself a little something as well, and I do owe one to Bess in addition. And some new shoes for the boys, if you can convince them to wear shoes. Yes, let us make that a house rule. The boys will have shoes.”

“Oh! A lovely emerald silk, cut low and… This mane of black will shine against the green.”

“Why must it be cut low? Everything you have made for me is cut low!”

It seemed the maid was in a hurry to see her married as well. What a horrid way to find a husband, exposing one’s bosom.

Aileen hummed as she pinned Lillian’s hair, one long lock at a time. “Mr. Orleans is quite handsome, Miss. And so is his older brother I hear from Johnnie, as far as men can be trusted in such matters. Johnnie says they have a good deal of money. More than a good deal. They own a shipyard. And it’s said that their home is filled with priceless…obj…
things
, especially French things.”

“
Objets d’art
. How nice for the Orleans brothers. Does Johnnie also believe I should find a husband in the Orleans household?”

Aileen flushed and dropped the subject.

Ah, I hear Bess. And if I’m not mistaken, my Musketeers are trailing along. Hopefully Mr. Lincoln has not come inside.”

Lillian descended to the parlor, kissed her friend and lined the boys up by height. Billy, Darby, and Paddy. They each saluted.

“Yes, my Musketeers?”

Paddy wiggled in excitement, barely able to contain himself, but as usual Billy would speak for the trio. “The baker Jacob Eisner says that he heard from a maid who lives near Orleans that a carriage driver saw—”

“Stop right there. Did you forget the definition of the word hearsay?”

Billy stared at the ceiling for rescue. Darby looked at his feet.

Lillian paced with her hands behind her back as Uncle Sherlock did when he lectured on a topic. It felt quite right to, she thought. She made a mental note to add the practice in all appropriate situations.

Paddy squirmed and squealed for more attention, finally raising his hand and jumping up and down.

Lillian nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I did the best, I really did! You promised a penny, but this is worth at least two. I followed him and another man. They’re brothers, that’s what they call each other. I followed them all evening, and they didn’t see me once, no they didn’t. What do you think of that?” He put his hands on his hips and bit his lip, anxious to tell the rest.