Of Night and Dark Obscurity

by Nicola Italia

  “Maybe I needed to prove something to you, Miss Derry,” he said huskily.

  “And what was that? That after all I said, you and Charles Lyttleton are exactly the same?”

  “Oh, I see. You’ve kissed Charles Lyttleton too,” he said jealously.

  She jerked her arm away from him and left the carriage to enter her home.

  “Outrageous!” She sputtered as she entered the foyer. “Outrageous and insufferable man!” She fumed.

  Her grandmother came out to greet her but her eyes were narrowed. “Where have you been Caroline?”

  “Nowhere in particular. The park, the milliner shop,” Caroline lied to her.

  “I wish you wouldn’t go out at night any longer Caroline. It disturbs me for you to do so. After your sister—“

  “Yes Gran,” she agreed. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “You’ve received an invitation to tea from Lady Lyttleton.” Her grandmother handed the card to her. “It’s tomorrow.”

  Caroline nodded. “I’ll send Wilmot with a reply tomorrow morning.”

  “Good night dear.” She kissed her cheek.

  “Good night.” Caroline said heading to her room and closing the door behind her.

  She leaned against it for several seconds as she closed her eyes. She remembered the kiss in the carriage and she realized she was a fool. Just because he had goaded her into kissing him, she had done so and for what?

  Her heart had raced and she had been dazzled by the desire that had rushed through her blood. But what did it prove? She was human? She shook her head. She must keep her distance from the Inspector. He was not to be trusted. No that was wrong. She was not to be trusted when she was near him.

  ✽✽✽

  One thing Val learned that evening as he undressed in his room was where it concerned Caroline Derry he was not to be trusted. She embodied too many things that he found attractive and her sweet face was something he loved to watch. And her eyes. Her eyes were a beautiful hazel color that sometimes changed in the light. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel her lips underneath his and he could still taste her.

  Why had he asked her for a kiss? It had been reckless and he had been so certain she would decline. There was no reason for her to agree to the kiss except for the reasons he had thought. She must feel something for him too. She liked him more than she let on and at least that was something.

  When he climbed into his bed that evening, he knew he wouldn’t dream about corpses or a lost love. Instead he would dream of a world where he could hold Caroline in his arms all night long, and when he tired of that he could kiss her again and make her moan. It was a delightful world.

  Chapter 12

  The next evening, Valentine used the brass knocker to alert the household to his presence outside. The footman, dressed impeccably, greeted him and his overcoat and hat were taken.

  He had never liked this house. It was ostentatiously decorated with dark and heavy drapes, maroon and gold colors with cold marble on the floors and staircases. It reminded Val of a government building or a museum, and he oftentimes expected certain portions of the house to be roped off when he arrived. It was not a warm and welcoming place.

  He heard voices and the footman led him to the back sitting room which was adorned with book shelves along the walls and sofa and chairs in the middle of the room. His mother was seated on one sofa and his brother Rowland across from her in another. He was reading aloud from the Illustrated London News which was a weekly publication that featured pictures and shocking stories of society.

  When his mother saw him, she smiled and he bent down to kiss her cheek and nodded at his brother.

  “Rowland’s been reading us some silly drivel about Lillie Langtry,” his mother Arabella said. “Apparently she’s with child and her husband isn’t the father. There is talk it might be the child of Prince Louis of Battenberg,” she laughed. “She’ll ruin herself.”

  “Unless the Prince of Wales saves her,” Rowland said drolly. “He’s very fond of his ex-mistress.”

  “Hmmm,” Arabella said. She turned to Val. “How are you dear? You look pale.”

  “I’m well Mother,” he said helping himself to a whiskey as his father joined them.

  “Ah. Valentine.” Abram said shaking his hand. “Good to see you, my boy.”

  “And you father,” he said pouring his father a whiskey.

  “We’ve not seen you for some time,” Abram told his youngest son.

  “I’ve been busy,” he told them.

  “Oh yes, dear,” Arabella said. “I had tea a week ago. One of the ladies was asking about the tedious flower killer,” she shook her head.

  “Asking about a flower killer at tea? Surely not,” Rowland said wittily.

  “Indeed yes. And of course, they know what our dear Valentine does for a living so they asked if I knew anything about it,” she relayed.

  “And what did you tell them, Mother dear,” Rowland said kissing the back of her hand.

  “I said that our dear Valentine works on several cases and might or might not be working on it,” she shrugged.

  “Quite right,” Rowland said.

  “As if I would know anything about some killer,” she scoffed.

  “As it happens Mother, I am working on the flower case,” Val said just as dinner was announced.

  Arabella stood up and Rowland escorted his mother to the dining room with the two men following behind them.

  “Are you really dear? How interesting,” she said, but the words seemed to tell him it was anything but.

  “There are actually four women who have been killed.” Val said as they all sat down to eat.

  “Valentine. We’re sitting down to eat. Our dining room isn’t the place for that sort of talk,” she told him dryly.

  “I’m sorry Mother. I didn’t realize there was a special place to speak about death and murder,” he placed emphasis on his last words.

  “Your Mother only means not while we are about to eat, Valentine,” his father clarified.

  “Of course, Mother. I apologize,” Val said trying to smooth over his gaffe.

  After dinner over coffee and brandy, his mother monopolized the conversation with mundane gossip while his father sat reading the evening news.

  “Incidentally, Valentine, I did read about that fourth murder. Strange business,” Abram said to his son.

  “It is strange,” Val said as he sipped his coffee.

  “And the police think it might be one killer, who’s committed all four?” He asked his son.

  “That would be my educated guess unless the last victim was something different and not related to the others,” Val said.

  “Your profession is interesting Valentine dear, but not exactly talk for polite conversation,” Arabella said as she looked over at her son and husband.

  “Of course. And I must be going as it’s getting late. I have some work to attend to,” Val said standing up.

  “It was good to see you, Valentine,” Arabella said. “Take care of yourself.”

  “Good night Mother, Father, Rowland,” he exited quickly scooping up his coat and hat in the entrance way.

  Making his way to the coffeehouse as discussed, Val saw Felix waiting for him.

  “How was dinner with the Royals?” He asked, grinning as he stamped out his cigarette.

  “Fairly awful.” Val sighed. “Have you been trailing him?”

  “Just as you asked. He’s at the pub now and has been there for two hours as he did every night this week.”

  “Excellent. Let’s go.”

  They hired the hansom cab and pulled up to The Black Crow. It was a public house hidden on a dark alley that looked like it had seen much better days.

  “Seedy little place,” Val said as they ordered the cab to wait nearby and they took a hidden nook across the street to watch the pub and Odean Barton in particular.

  “He seems to like this place for whatever the reason,” Felix returned as they wa
tched Odean slowly drink an ale at a table that overlooked the street.

  “What has he done the last few nights?” Val asked.

  “Not much, Boss. He seems to be fairly boring. You sure you want us to trail him?”

  Val nodded as he removed his pipe from his coat pocket. “I can’t say what it is but there’s something not right about him. We’ll trail him a few more days and then decide our next stop.”

  “Right you are.” Felix nodded. “You don’t think he’s the killer?”

  Val tapped on his pipe and lit it with the wooden matches he carried. “No. But there’s something deceptive about him. Something not right.”

  “I’ll say!” Felix chuckled. “The man’s a pervert!”

  Val eyed the doctor seated in the window nursing his drink and shook his head. “There’s nothing illegal about what he’s doing. If it wasn’t for the fact that some high and mighty society matron took offense at him, he’d probably still be in the states practicing his cures. As it is, he’s here. Whether to escape censure or start afresh, he’s here.”

  “We’ll I’ll be damned if I ever let my wife go to see them quacks,” Felix voiced.

  “You’re not married,” Val reminded him.

  “Sweetheart then.”

  “Look sharp!” Val told his sergeant as Odean Barton looked to be settling his bill. “Go get the cab!”

  Felix disappeared just as Odean entered the dark street and hailed a hansom cab. His cab disappeared from view just as Felix appeared in their own. Val jumped inside and their driver had instructions to follow Odean’s cab.

  As the cab trotted along the cobbled streets and made several turns, Felix frowned.

  “He’s not headed home. He would have turned right at the last street,” Felix told him.

  “A lady friend?” Val wondered.

  “He hasn’t visited anyone before,” Felix remarked.

  The horses’ hooves made the familiar clip clop sound as they moved through the streets and the lantern attached to the cab swayed with the movement. Val watched the streets they passed and made a mental note, and then he knew where they were. Limehouse.

  Limehouse was a well-established slum with pubs, brothels and the seductive lure of opium dens. A small Chinese community had settled here and they catered to the poorest of the poor.

  When the hansom cab they were following stopped, Val was a little surprised. He didn’t take the doctor for an opium addict, but then many influential men and a few women liked to suck on the opium pipe. Odean paid the driver and entered the dark doorway of the opium den.

  Felix looked across at Val and Val returned the stare.

  “It seems our friend has an addiction,” Val said as he knocked on the roof of the cab for the driver to continue on.

  “Seems so,” Felix nodded and when they had gone a little bit more Val knocked on the roof again for the cab to stop.

  “Come.” He jerked his head to Felix as he left the cab.

  From the outside, the building was nondescript and looked almost abandoned. There was one red lantern hanging outside which Val guessed was what marked it as an opium den.

  “Are we going inside?” Felix asked as they watched two nicely dressed gentleman enter the building.

  “Not tonight. I don’t know what to expect inside but I want to be prepared. We’ll visit it tomorrow.” Val instructed.

  Felix nodded and the two men returned to the hansom cab, leaving the opium den and Odean Barton behind.

  ✽✽✽

  Caroline could feel the last of the buttons at the back of her neck being done up and she swallowed several times, hating the high neck and the suffocation she felt at it. Her hair was dressed simply with two combs securing it and her jasmine perfume at the wrists.

  Coming downstairs she saw her grandmother in the sitting room working on her embroidery.

  “Give Lady Lyttleton my best,” Malvina said smiling.

  “I will Gran.”

  The ride to the Lyttleton’s was short and she was admitted promptly by the footman and admitted into the parlor.

  “My dear Caroline,” Lady Lyttleton said kissing her on both cheeks. “You are the first to arrive.”

  “There are others?” Caroline asked as the timid maid poured out the tea.

  “My daughter Rachel, my sister Beryl,” Victoria told her smiling. “I believe you met my sister at a supper party a year ago,” Victoria recalled.

  “That’s right.” Caroline nodded.

  “And my darling Charles might join us as well,” Victoria added just as voices were heard in the foyer.

  The four women enjoyed a delightful tea and to Caroline’s relief, Charles Lyttleton did not make an appearance. They talked of the latest gossip and Rachel’s upcoming engagement, and Beryl seemed very interested in Caroline’s housing project. By the end of the tea, Caroline had gained another financial backer.

  “You seem to be my champion,” Caroline said smiling at Lady Lyttleton.

  “It’s because I believe in you my dear. And also, because if I were a little younger, I’d like to think I would be by your side helping those less fortunate.”

  “Well you are Lady Lyttleton.”

  As they were saying their goodbyes, she saw Charles Lyttleton walking up the street. He looked disheveled and she hoped he wouldn’t see her.

  “Caroline!” He called out coming to stand before her.

  Victoria excused herself leaving Charles and Caroline alone on the street.

  “You don’t look well!” She said concerned. “Are you ill?”

  “Not ill,” he said smiling.

  “I’m sure the gambling halls now have all your allowance for this month,” she said disapprovingly.

  “And then some,” he added grinning. “Let me escort you home.”

  “I’m not going home. I’m going to visit my estate agent.”

  “Then allow me.” He said as he hailed a cab and helped her inside.

  “You know Caro. You’re lovely to look at despite your odd ideas,” he said.

  “Yes. It is so odd to want people to have good, safe housing,” she rolled her eyes.

  “And I can overlook much. Do you ever think of marriage?” He asked her.

  “No. I don’t.”

  “I don’t either but the blasted family. They want me to marry. As you are attractive and have money from your father, we would make an excellent match.”

  “Would we?” Caroline asked.

  Up until this time she had been ignoring his prattle as he seemed to talk about things of little value. But she knew he was probably still a little drunk from the night before so she humored him.

  “Marry. We should marry.” He stated.

  “Ummm, no?” She said in a question.

  “We should. We should marry. Your sister was too flight and silly but you are the right kind of woman a man needs in a wife. Come now. Don’t start to think about it. Just say yes.”

  The cab was pulling up in front of Mr. Davies’ building.

  She smiled. “No, Charles. We wouldn’t suit.”

  “Really? You think not?” He asked.

  “I think not.”

  “Why not?” He asked.

  “We just wouldn’t.” She smiled.

  She climbed out of the cab and he stuck his head out the window. “Give it some thought!” He told her.

  “I thought you said not to think,” she smiled back.

  “Well this one thing, yes. Think on it,” he said as the cab moved along.

  “Think on what?”

  Caroline turned to see Val standing in front of the building.

  “What brings you here?” She asked, her heart thudding at the sight of his face.

  “I came to return this to you,” he handed her a glove she realized she had dropped in the cab the night before. “I did come by your home and your grandmother said you had planned to be at your estate agent at this time.”

  She took the glove in her hand. “You didn’t need to make th
e trip here. I’m sure it was out of the way.”

  “It was nothing. The police station is nearby. It was not that far out of my way,” he said.

  Caroline tried to meet his eyes but felt flushed at the thought of his mouth on hers. She remembered his hands when he pressed her body into his and she looked away.

  “So, what are you to think on?” He asked again.

  Caroline frowned and then smiled. “Oh that. Charles is an idiot. I think he asked me to marry him.”

  “Marry him?” Val tensed.

  “I think he must have had quite a night and he is still enjoying the remains of it,” she smiled.

  “Not something to take lightly,” he told her.

  “Charles is flippant and not ever serious about much.”

  “Well I’ll leave you to your appointment,” he nodded to the estate agent’s name on the building.

  “Good afternoon Inspector,” she told him.

  Val looked back at the building once and then took the few steps down and thought about hailing a cab when his name was called.

  He turned to see his sergeant striding toward him.

  “Sir! I happened to see you from the cab. I was wondering where you had gone.”

  “What is it Sergeant?”

  “A body was fished out of the Thames. They’ve taken it to the morgue. Superintendent Osgood asked us to visit the morgue and see if it fits with any of the other murders,” Felix told him.

  Val nodded and joined Felix in the hansom cab which took them straight to the morgue. Dr. O’Brien was busy examining a body when the two men entered the cold morgue.

  “It’s cold in here,” Felix complained.

  “I like the cold,” O’Brien smiled. “I always have, even as a boy.”

  “To each his own,” Felix returned.

  “There’s been a new murder?” Val asked the man.

  “They just fished him this very day. He didn’t have any identification on him. I don’t see any scars or tattoos so I’m at a loss. If he’s married or has a sweetheart, maybe they might notice him gone,” O’Brien said popping a humbug into his mouth.