“I—”
“We will,” she said.
“Excellent.” He rose from the chair. “Drinks are on me tonight, Lockhart. I will see you tomorrow, then.”
“We are much obliged to you, Pritchard,” I said. “We shall see you tomorrow.”
He dipped into the throngs of young people hovering in the café's vicinity.
“Oh, and Lockhart...” His face emerged from the crowd as he turned back. “Have you met the Red Devil yet?”
The Red Devil?
“Not to my knowledge,” I said trying hard not to let his choice of words impress me further as he had expected for certain.
“You will, tomorrow!”
I stepped off the coach. Vast green grounds stretched everywhere I looked.
This was my first time at the King's Garden. The symmetrical designs of majestic proportions laid before me made my heart skip a beat. Not only was I in awe of its aesthetics’ perfection, but also overwhelmed by the daunting thought of covering its grounds afoot.
It was a hellish day to begin with. And beneath the many layers of clothing that I wore, the heat built up even more. I looked at my black leather shoes and dreamed of dipping my bare feet into the cool waters of the first fountain I met during this petite promenade.
“There they are,” Alisa said as she moved past me.
They?
My eyes glanced away from my feet to look ahead when inches away from me they met an entirely unexpected image.
A pink satin dress with a revealing round cleavage, long and delicate neck, pale skin and strawberry-red hair arranged into soft curls. She carried a pink satin parasol, which drove the heavy sun rays away from her face.
Her green eyes ran their curious gaze on my figure from head to toe as she held her parasol's canopy with exquisite white kid-gloved hands. Delicate chiseled nose and full pink lips—I studied her face without a care for decency, and she did not seem to mind if I did.
“You?” I said.
It was her! The woman at the crash scene, the hoity-toity aristocrat—she was... “The Red Devil.” The words rolled out of my tongue before I could stop them.
“I see Pritchard has revealed to you my true identity,” she said with unmistakable pride. “Fear not, monsieur. You may come to like me, in spite of it all.”
The gleam of her green eyes would have held my gaze spellbound if not for that hint of a teasing smile she gave me. Who was this intriguing woman? Her personality was free from demure, polished and refined, yet with every bit of entitlement to her cynical ways... A puzzle, indeed. And I did love solving puzzles.
Death and I had been closely acquainted for twenty-four years; I was certain there was room in my life for the Devil too.
“I believe I will, mademoiselle... in spite of it all, as you say,” I teased.
“I am glad to hear it, for it is not in my nature to hold a grudge. We may start anew then.”
“Lockhart, you have come! Have you two met already?” Pritchard said as he joined us. “Allow me, please. We must follow the rules of decorum and propriety, right Miss Lockhart?”
“Indeed,” Alisa said in a playful tone.
“My dear, may I introduce to you Mr. Ivan Lockhart,” Pritchard said.
“Enchantée, monsieur.”
“Lockhart, please meet my dearest friend in all of Paris, Miss Juliette Deveraux.”
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Deveraux.” I did not lie.
“I say, what a glorious day for a promenade! Care to join me, Miss Lockhart?” Pritchard cocked his elbow.
“Of course.” Alisa's hand wrapped around his arm, landed on the cuff of his coat, and off they went.
Bitterness built up in my throat. “I see nothing glorious about this hellish day, except for your presence of course,” I muttered.
“Astonishing!” she said with widened eyes.
“What is?”
“Why, your clever frugality with words, monsieur. In one sentence, you have managed to convey your disdain towards this outing and praise me at the same time!”
Badly done, Ivan. “Please, forgive me, Miss Deveraux. That was not my intention...”
“You regret your praise of me, sir?”
“No! I would never—” A flash of her devilish smile warned me of her fiendish game. I laughed in spite of myself.
“This weather… It amazes me how women carry themselves with so much ease under such unbearable conditions.”
“It is our one strength, I expect,” she said. “It is rather warm... Come with me!” Holding my hand tight, she pulled me away from anyone's sight, into the gardens. And as we ran across the lawn, my cares for the weather faded. The radiance of her smile filled my heart with joy as we crossed the street and left behind the Jardin du Roi.
“Monsieur!” She hailed a coach.
“Where are you taking me?” I closed the door. In truth, I did not care to know. The secrecy flowed all too well with this sudden sense of freedom brewing in my spirit. But it came from her. Juliette’s carefree attitude spread to my heart without remedy.
Her glistening green eyes gazed at mine. “You will see.”
A few minutes after our escape, the coach stopped in front of a large gated courtyard. Water purled inside. Buried deep within the savage arrangement of giant exotic green leaves, there must have been a pond or fountain concealed from where we stood.
“Allez,” she whispered. Juliette opened the gate without making a sound. Once inside, her beckoning gloved finger appeared and lured me to follow.
I smiled. Trespassing private property had not been in my plans for the day, and yet my heart raced at the thrill of crossing that threshold and discovering what lay inside.
Through masses of wild vegetation, we moved towards the garden's core. A giant green leaf obstructed the narrow footpath, and as I drew it back, the Garden of Eden unveiled before my eyes.
A vast array of bromeliads and multicolored orchids enclosed a grand fountain. In its center stood the most impressive feature: a human-size marble angel with intricately detailed chiseled wings, carrying a tilting vase from which a stream of crystalline water sprung in heavy drops.
A strong desire compelled me to strip away every shred of clothing from my body and take the plunge into the luscious water, but somehow, I refrained. With a child's wonder, I paced on the grass as my hungry eyes fed on this precious oasis carefully hidden from the world.
She sat on the fountain's stone verge and raised her skirt. Her hands moved quickly as she untied her shoelaces. “Well? Is this not what you wanted?” she whispered. “Vite, monsieur! Vite!” Batting her hand in the air, she urged me to do as she did.
I turned around searching for any threat to our mischief—nothing but dense green foliage encircled us. We were safe. As I sat beside her, my eyes landed on her flawless countenance; sunbeams struck the water's surface and mirrored on her smooth skin.
“You must take off your shoes,” she insisted. Juliette dipped her bare feet into the fountain and laughed as her toes sprinkled water in the air.
I removed my shoes and stockings quickly. But then, just as I was about to submerge my feet in the spring's refreshing water, I stopped. A few minutes ago, I had envisioned this precise moment and now my wish had come true… How strange. I was certain I had not mentioned it to her. How could she have known? A wonderful coincidence.
No longer did I resist. The minute I splashed my feet into the water, I moaned. “Ah, you cannot imagine how much I wanted this.”
She blushed. Her timid glance landed on me while she repressed a smile. “Yes.” She paused. “Now you are happy.”
“I am,” I said. “But I am also concerned... whose grounds are we trespassing exactly?”
“Does it matter, monsieur?” she said. “Does harm's degree answer to the rank of its victim?”
“It probably does, although it shouldn't... but please, call me Ivan.”
“Very well. But let us confine this precious gestu
re to the extents of this garden.” Her eyes glistened, and finally, she smiled. “You may call me Juliette or Glorious Juliette, whichever you like best.”
Glorious Juliette, indeed.
Hours passed. Every minute of her company, I cherished, along with our secret, this hidden Garden of Eden.
Within the first minutes of our conversation, Juliette had cast off all layers of social pretense. Beneath the lavishly-dressed jeune femme of seventeen, I discovered a woman of free spirit. No further intent engaged her mind other than to dive into the depths of my own.
“It was you who pulled me into the carriage, I had absolutely nothing to do with it!” I laughed as I recalled her outrage when I landed on top of her.
“Oh! Of course you did!”
“I merely acted out of the goodness of my heart,” I teased, delighted by her spontaneous charisma.
“Goodness? I assure you, I heard every naughty word you said!” She dipped her hand in the water and sprinkled it on my face.
“It was goodness, nevertheless. Or at least, it was in the beginning, before you...” ordered me around as if I were your servant. Best to avoid the subject for now. “But who amongst us is free of evil? Surely, your nickname must account for something.”
“You are right about that,” she said. “The Red Devil must live up to its name; otherwise, Parisians will have nothing more to discuss at dinner other than the weather.”
“It cannot be that bad. I cannot believe anyone would find a single flaw within your charming character.” I meant every word.
“You are too kind...” Pensively, her gaze drifted. “But I fear there are those who would disagree with you.” She slid on her shoes, tied their laces, and picked up her gloves before standing. “Well, we have caused them enough worry, I should imagine. Our point has been proven, no doubt.”
“And what point would that be?”
Her eyes fixed on mine and narrowed. “That life without us would be an unbearable nightmare.”
Fascinated as I was by this stunning creature, she spoke the truth. It was time to return to the Jardin du Roi. And though it caused me great sadness to abandon this paradise and the rich atmosphere of freedom it conveyed, I put on my shoes, shackles to the sordid reality waiting outside.
As we hopped into the carriage on our way back to the Jardin, my spirit lifted and rejoiced. Minutes went by swiftly until we reached the monumental landscape.
A few feet away from us, Pritchard and Alisa's figures soon appeared. “Care to take my arm, mademoiselle?” She nodded. “Shall we spy on them?”
Juliette agreed to my scheme with a mischievous smile.
We followed their steps, keeping enough distance to enable us to discuss our thoughts and impressions of what they did and where they went without their knowledge.
“Your sister is in dire need of a proper parasol,” she mused.
“Why do women flee from sunlight as if it were the plague? Is there anything wrong with catching a little sun?” I mocked.
A hint of shock loomed in her eyes as her lips parted. “Such a question might be undeserving of my answer, sir,” she said. “Nevertheless, I will say that although I much appreciate the sun's warmth and the general veil of splendor it grants to my gowns, I do not care for its burning touch on my skin.” Finalizing the subject, she returned to our spying game. Her eyes lingered on Pritchard and Alisa for a few minutes.
“Have you ever seen a pair more in love?” she said in the swiftest chant of pristine French.
“I am not sure I quite follow...”
“Regardez...” Look, she mused.
They ambled along the garden's pathway in all leisure and then stopped aside. Pritchard pointed at the trees. His fingers almost brushed Alisa’s gloved hand. Bearing an irrepressible grin, he tilted towards her and smoothed a lock of her hair away from her face.
I realized then what Juliette meant. I saw what she had seen with all the keenness and depth of perception her sex granted her.
He was in love.
Pritchard's eyes lingered about Alisa with irrevocable admiration, passion—who knew what else his eyes concealed! How could I have been so blind? Was it possible that she returned his affections?
“There you are. We wondered where you had gone!” Pritchard said as they approached us. “This wonderful promenade has built us quite an appetite. Shall we eat something?”
His preference for the words we and us irritated me. “No,” I said.
Alisa's eyes widened.
“I mean, we cannot join you for dinner Pritchard, not today. We are already engaged with the Forrester's.”
“What a pity,” Juliette said.
“It is...” I mused. Without a doubt, Pritchard had overstepped his welcome into my family.
The pair extended their farewells, exchanging smiles and whispering short phrases in each other's ears. An invisible grip squeezed my stomach. Distraction came only when Juliette's hand landed on mine and softened my clenched fist.
“I look forward to seeing you again, Ivan,” she whispered.
“I do too.” The words rolled off my tongue by inertia while my brain struggled to unravel the scene I had just witnessed between Alisa and Pritchard.
“What was that all about? Dinner with the Forresters?” Alisa slammed the parlor's door behind her.
With no humor to entertain her childish tantrums, I turned to the desk. For the past few days, I had neglected our correspondence. My hasty hand searched inside the desk’s drawer and collected bills, all sorts of invitations, and a personal letter. I opened the small envelope, placed the letter against the window's lighting and began to read.
“And who are the Forresters?” Alisa planted before me, both hands on her waist. I had only witnessed such demeanor as a child, when Mother grew upset by one of my mischievous games. Knowing full well her inquiry would reach no end until satisfied with an answer, I prepared myself to be battered by her words. But I would not give up this fight so easily.
“Bertrand Forrester, my dear, is our landlord.” The spite in my voice flowed unhindered. I raised my brow as I finished reading the letter in my hand. “And he has written to say that he will arrive today, and would very much like to dine with us... so you see, I did not lie.” If there had ever been better timing to win a discussion, I did not know of it.
Alisa frowned. Furious, her eyes wandered across the room, seeking the means to rekindle our discussion. But she knew she had lost the argument already. And frustrating as it must have been for her, she huffed and went upstairs.
“Mr. Forrester is here.”
“Thank you, Leix. Send him in.”
“Mr. Lockhart, how good of you to receive me upon such short notice!” he said. “I am so sorry to have come so late; my journey took longer than anticipated—a broken wheel on the carriage, you see.”
Bertrand was a man of heavy build, with a robust voice and pinkish cheeks. He wore a powdered white wig and was dressed according to Parisian fashion's old trends—ruffled sleeves, small cravat, and flat lace collar, breeches baggy enough to arouse confusion as to the whereabouts of his legs, and a luxurious embroidered waistcoat. He carried his coat on his arm.
“Dreadful heat today,” he said as he cleared tiny drops of sweat from his forehead with a laced handkerchief.
“Very true,” I said. “But come, you must be hungry.”
“I am actually quite famished. Much obliged, sir.”
“Your visit comes to us as a blessing,” I said as I gave Alisa a malicious look across the table. “Indeed, I dare say it has been my salvation.”
She narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips.
Bertrand laughed. “Come now, good sir! It cannot possibly go as far as that!”
“What news have you of England?” Alisa enquired. Her voice hinted undeniable dissatisfaction. So, she was still crossed, was she?
“Shocking news, I’m afraid,” Bertrand said. “I assume you’ve heard of Captain Blood’s failed attempt at stealing t
he royal regalia—”
“Of course.” I leaned closer; his words caught my full interest. “Last I heard, the man demanded an audience with the King.”
“That sir, he did.” Bertrand tugged at his wig, fighting the need to scratch the top of his head. “And, his wish was granted. Such despicable boldness! The man is nothing short of a traitor, I say. And yet, His Majesty has seen it fit to pardon his crimes…”
I smiled. Captain Blood’s shrewdness amused me greatly. “He charmed his way out of his execution, I’m certain.”
“I’m sure he did,” Bertrand said with a grave nod of reprobation, “for not only did he receive the King’s pardon for all of his past crimes, but the restoration of his estate, a place in Court, and a pension of five hundred pounds a year in Irish lands!”
“Uncanny…” I mused in awe of Blood’s audacity.
“Why, yes,” Bertrand reposed. “Evil bears a friendly face. I’ve said it always, I’m quite sure.”
“Mr. Forrester,” Alisa said while holding her glass of red wine. “Do you have other news to convey?” Her eyes widened as if she expected to hear no more of the present subject.
“Oh, but of course,” Bertrand said willing to comply. “Yes, yes... You must be anxious to hear of your family. You will be happy to know that your parents send their regards, Miss Lockhart. Your mother is in good health and your father has returned to his old self, back in business he is. Good fellow, jolly good.”
“I am pleased to hear that. Thank you, Mr. Forrester.”
“You are most welcome my dear Miss Lockhart. Tell me, have you enjoyed Paris?” he said before taking another swig of wine.
“Yes, we have,” I said. “Just today, we visited the Jardin du Roi...”
“Wonderful! Was the garden to your liking?”
My mind wandered off to another garden, the Garden of Eden, and the precious hours I had spent in it with the enticing Red Devil. “Very much.”
“I am glad. Paris has so much to offer to young people,” Bertrand said. “Tell me, have you made any acquaintances as of recent?”
“Oh, we have,” Alisa spoke. “We have met Mr. William Pritchard—”
Written in Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part One. (The Unnatural Brethren Book 1) Page 9