The Black Lotus (Night Flower)

by Claire Warner

“Oh I’m sorry Melissa, but I promised Edward Marling a morning promenade,” She walked across and kissed Melissa on the cheek. With a swish of her skirts, she headed into the hallway and left the house.

  Melissa watched her climb into the carriage and returned to her desk, her thoughts on the news that she had just heard. It was troubling, who could have killed Honesty and why? She sat at the desk and tapped her fingers on the hard wooden surface, allowing her thoughts to roam over Sarah’s words. Honesty was the latest in a long line of gullible heiresses running out into the night supposedly to elope. What did it mean and was Justin Lestrade involved? She was under no illusions that Justin had been involved with Honesty because he seemed to be involved with most of the beauties on the social scene. But Melissa couldn’t believe it. For all the secrets she seemed to see in his eyes she couldn’t believe him involved in the murder of innocent, if stupid, women. Sighing, she returned to her sewing and attempted to lose herself in the mindless activity, away from the memory of Justin’s sardonic smile. Even so, the troubling thoughts remained; thoughts of Justin and Honesty, of Marcus and the other murders. And yet they were not the most troubling, there was also her vision. Had she really seen it, seen Honesty as a corpse? No, she shook her head, feeling the curls of her hair wisp softly across the back of her neck. She couldn’t have seen that, she wasn’t even sure that she recalled her dream correctly. No, she hadn’t seen a body in her mind. Melissa pursed her lips in mulish line as she banished her most worrying thought to the back of her mind.

  Chapter 14:

  It was in the bar that he heard the news about his last flame. Honesty Malison had been found dead on the steps of her own home. She had been stabbed several times and left almost on display besides the front door. There had been six murders in the last six months, all women from the upper middle class. He had heard that they had left their homes in the middle of the night and been found in lower class districts several days later to the shame and horror of their families. Yet this murder was prominent, more overt than the others, on the very front steps of her home. A niggling worry fluttered in his mind as he walked quickly along the street. It had not escaped his notice that each of the victims had been old flames of his. Could some of the others be here? Could John be here? Trying hard to dislodge what could conceivably be paranoia, he ascended the steps to his home. The large front door of his London town house swung open to admit him as he reached it. He handed his hat and cloak to a footman and walked along the hallway, admiring the rosewood and mahogany wainscoting. He slapped his gloves onto the hall table and looked up as his butler Hedge reached his side, drawing his attention with a small cough.

  “You have a visitor sir.” His voice was bland and uncurious. “A Lord Malison, I sent him to the parlour to wait,”

  “Thank you Hedge.” Justin nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes flickering to the parlour door and wondering what lay in store. Handing his cane to Hedge, he moved through the door and into the parlour. The parlour was decorated in blue, cream and rosewood. The marble surround on the fireplace was a creamy colour and seats decorated in deep blue brocade lay about the room. This room suited Justin well and usually it relaxed him, but at this moment he could not feel calm. Honesty’s father stood in the centre of the room, his eyes fixed on him as he entered. The man appeared many years older, his hair was grey and tied back with a single black ribbon. His dress was sombre, as befitted a grieving soul and a long black cane was held in an elegant yet shaking hand. Once again he wondered why he was receiving a visit from Lord Malison on the day of his daughter’s death. Still he could not just stand there silently; Justin stepped before his visitor and offered him a small nod of the head.

  “Lord Malison what brings you to my home” He asked mildly, noting the pain on the man’s lined face. His words had only just finished echoing in the calm air of the parlour before Honesty’s father drew back his cane and lashed out at Justin’s head, striking him a blow that made his head swim.

  “You killed my daughter!” His words buzzed dully in Justin’s head as he became aware of the second blow, glancing off his shoulder with a dull crack. “You utter swine!” Malison drew his cane back for a third strike and Justin reacted, seizing the wooden weapon and pulling it from his hands in one swift moment.

  “I most certainly did not.” He called back, feeling the pain in his head and shoulder fade as he drew upright. The cane in his hands was heavy and thick, it would have left a heavy bruise. With one swift motion he threw the cane to the floor “Why do you accuse me sir?” As he threw the question into the air, he realised that he had been halfway to the answer earlier. He was the perfect suspect. He was a notorious lover of women and someone that had been linked to all the murdered girls. Unwelcome thoughts of those best left alone, drifted through his mind and he tried to focus on his visitor .

  “Because you’re the accursed whoreson that she was going to elope with. We knew that you’d seduced her,” Malison was nearly shouting, tears standing in his eyes. “I’ll kill you for this Lestrade!” With a burst of speed he rushed forward seized Justin by the lapels. Malison drew back his fist and punched hard, splitting Justin’s lip, causing blood to flow from his mouth. Justin allowed him two more punches before he seized the other man’s hand and forced it down. He knew that Malison needed to face this tragedy with his version of action, but it didn’t mean he had to make himself a punch bag. Face to face with Honesty’s father, he stared him clearly in the eyes and spoke with a clarity and forcefulness that stilled the other man.

  “I did nothing to her I swear.” His gaze never wavered from Malison’s and truth shone through each syllable. “I was at White’s until the early hours of the morning, several people saw me there. After that I returned to my home on the outskirts, the publican at the Oak can vouch for my passing in the small hours. I was not near your daughter last night. I will admit that I had a fondness for her…” Malison snorted in disbelief.

  “but I swear to you sir that I did nothing to her. I never asked her to elope.”

  Malison stared at Justin’s dark eyes and said nothing, absorbing what he said. Behind Lestrade, Malison could see Hedge stood near the door. The taciturn butler stood ready to come to his master’s aid at the first signal, yet Justin did not summon him. Hedge merely watched as his master wrested control of the situation. For all his apparent youth, Justin Lestrade was in full control of his faculties.

  “If you are lying Lestrade,” Malison’s voice wavered as he collected the tattered remnants of his thoughts and attempted to regain control of his raging emotions. He had no proof that Justin had done anything to his daughter, yet he could not dismiss the knowledge that Lestrade had gotten close to her. He had come to the house, hoping to wring a confession from the young man, yet he was troubled by the boy’s reaction. Malison could see Lestrade’s eyes and it was clear that he was not lying. He swallowed and tried once again to drag control of the situation from the younger man. “If you are lying I swear…” The threat of violence seemed hollow as Justin seemed to have shrugged off the blows that would have cowed a lesser man. Whatever else Justin Lestrade was, he was no coward.

  “I am not lying.” Justin peeled the other’s hands from his lapels and stepped away. With an unconscious grace he sat in one of chairs, his bloodied face stern yet calm. “However, if you feel that I have,” a note of insulted pride crept into his voice, “please feel free to contact people to gain a perspective on my whereabouts last night,” He reached down and handed Malison his cane. “Or you can challenge me to a duel, whichever suits you.” He turned to face the fire, dismissing Malison with a wave.

  “Either way, I would like you to vacate my home. I feel for your loss but that does not give you the right to come into my house and insult me. I have done nothing to your daughter, yes I like the ladies but I do not kill them,”

  Malison opened his mouth and then closed it again, it was clear that Justin was not to be drawn any further on the subject. He had no proof and he was cert
ain that the man’s butler would stop him attacking his master further. Vowing to find some evidence to drag Lestrade to the gallows, he cast another glance at the boy’s back before he turned to face the door and Hedge.

  “This way sir.” The butler was polite yet his tone was iron hard and disapproving, clearly he felt that his master’s honour had been sullied. As the doors of Justin’s home closed behind him, the bitter tang of disappointment soured him and he moved through the courtyard with slow steps. He could feel the eyes of Lestrade’s butler on his back all the way down to the street.

  “Are you alright sir?” Hedge returned to the parlour where he saw Justin hold a handkerchief to his bleeding face.

  “Oh I’m absolutely fine,” There was a raw, bitter humour in Justin’s voice that Hedge had never heard before. “I just love being accused of murder after breakfast, damn him,” Justin held the blood stained fabric over his wounds concealing them from view.

  “May I see that sir?”

  “No!” His voice was emphatic as he turned away. “Just find me a piece of steak for this eye and cancel my trip tonight. I’m not going out like this.” He got up in one rapid movement and headed for the door. With light fast steps Justin swept past Hedge and walked towards the stairs. “Send my supper to my room.” Taking the stairs two at a time carried him quickly upstairs and towards his bedroom. Like a hurricane he barrelled through the heavy wooden door and into the room, shutting the door as he entered. With deliberate movements, he turned the key in the lock so that Hedge would have to knock before entering. Now he was alone. Beside the large tallboy opposite his bed, hung a gilt framed mirror. He walked forward and stood before the tall, shimmering oval. Concealed by the bloodied white of the handkerchief, his face looked back at him. Beneath the white folds of cloth, he could no longer feel the pain of his beating and he drew his hand away. The handkerchief fell away and he stared at his face, anticipating the sight that met his eyes. Despite the blood that smeared his lower lip and the snowy cotton in his fingers, his face was clean and unblemished. Around the eyes where there should have been a blackening of skin, a bruising of flesh, there was nothing. There was no evidence that he had ever been struck. Pulling open his shirt, he looked at his shoulder, at the unmarked flesh beneath the silk and a bitter, mocking smile inched across his lips.

  “Damn him! DAMN! DAMN! DAMN!” The words tore from his mouth as he dragged himself from the image. With a groan of frustration he whirled about and threw himself onto his bed. He would have to stay up here for several days, even if Malison kept his mouth shut about the beating, Hedge would certainly wonder about the lack of markings. It would make the task of staying inconspicuous even harder. He thought about Lord Malison’s visit with detachment, he should have known that he would be suspected. After all, he had met Honesty, made her love him. In other circumstances he may have asked her to elope but as the situation stood, he could not. He covered his face with his hands and tried to still his thoughts. If things grew too strange he would have to leave again and the notion disturbed him greatly. He could not leave now. This society was full of interest and wonder, it changed constantly and he felt alive within it. There was also the matter of Melissa De Vire. Justin’s fingers fell away from his eyes and he stared up at the canopy above him. What was the matter with him? He had met attractive girls before and none of them had got under his skin like this, none of them had roused forgotten emotions like she had done. Dressed in that striking colour, she had drawn his gaze as a moth was drawn to a flame. One glance revealed that she was a newcomer and so he had walked towards her, meaning to seduce her as easily as he had done with others. Yet she had seen through his pose and bluster. She had answered him with candour that was refreshing for the vapid society that surrounded her. Beautiful yet restless, he could tell she yearned for freedom and it intrigued him. Her slapping of Montjoy, acknowledged social suicide of the highest calibre, yet he applauded her guts.

  “Dear god I’m a fool,” He moaned softly as he drew his fingers back to his face, to the unlined and smooth skin. “What am I thinking of?”

  He couldn’t get close to her; he shouldn’t get close to her. It was too dangerous for both of them. And should she get close enough, she would learn his secrets and that could not be allowed. Anna had proved that he could not allow anyone to get too close. He could seduce whoever he wished but nothing beyond that. If John thought it had gone further, then there was nothing he could do.

  “Alistair was right. I am damned,”

  There was a knock on the door and Hedge’s voice sounded strongly through the wood. “Sir?”

  “I don’t want to be disturbed,” Justin called back, grimacing at the thought of having to spend the next few days pretending to be damaged.

  “I have brought the steak you wanted sir,”

  “Well leave it outside; I will get it in a moment.”

  “You should be looked at sir”

  Justin turned to face the door and shouted. “I said I wished to be left alone! Respect my wishes Hedge!”

  “As you say sir,” Hedge’s footsteps moved off down the corridor. Justin waited a few moments before opening the heavy door and picking up the silver platter with the slab of raw steak glistening on its surface. Retreating back into his room, he placed the platter on his dresser. The plate knocked against the enamel lotus brooch and he glanced at it with something akin to hate. Resisting the urge to pick up the accursed thing and throw it out the window, he turned away from the brooch and returned his attention back to the mirror. His reflection stared at him like a stranger.

  “She would never understand,” He repeated as his gaze roamed over the smooth unmarked skin of his face and chest; skin that should be bruised and bleeding. Who would understand that? Only the others knew and most of them hated him.

  “They have more than enough reasons to,” He muttered as his gaze slid over to the lotus involuntarily. The black blossom tugged on his mind, drawing him back to that dusty attic. It had been a game. They had been testing their courage against the tales that their family told. They had both seen the engraved box, both heard the stories. They had both climbed into the attic room on that fateful, rainy afternoon to look at the remnants of his Great Grandfather’s travels. They had both looked at the box with curiosity. Yet he had made the fateful suggestion; he had dared to open the box. He closed his eyes and dragged himself away from the memory. He had seen that dusty room and that box so often in his mind that he could describe it exactly. He had been a prideful fool and that had led not only to his downfall, but his younger brother’s and that of their closest friends as well. Once again he thought back to the dead women and wondered if John had returned to the country, but he dismissed the thought as worry. Had John returned to continue his torment, he would have known it for certain; even Emily could not fail to note John’s arrival.

  Justin turned away from his reflection and sat down on the edge of his bed. It was futile to think about things that he couldn’t change. No matter how hard he searched for the answer, he knew that it wouldn’t just fall into his lap. Sighing, he flopped backwards onto the covers and closed his eyes. As he drifted into an uneasy sleep, his thoughts once again turned to Melissa De Vire and he smiled as darkness swallowed him.

  Chapter 15:

  Katherine walked back into the foul study and stood before her ‘father’. He was smiling today and that seemed wrong. His lips never seemed right for smiling and she suppressed the grimace that threatened to swamp her.

  “You seem happy,” She didn’t whisper, though she felt like it. His last ‘lesson’ had given her a great deal to think about.

  “Indeed, I’ve discovered something interesting.” He got up from the chair and walked towards her. Katherine tried to stay still, but memories of the last time, echoed through her head and she took a step backwards.

  “What have you discovered?”

  “Well, it appears that our Justin attended a duel recently,” He sounded positively gleeful but Katherin
e could not understand why.

  “And why is that so interesting? I daresay Justin attends a lot of duels.” She watched him closely, hoping that his good mood would hold and that her question would not anger him.

  “Because,” He spoke the words as though she was simple, but she knew not to become offended by them. Her throat still ached, even though there was no sign that he had ever choked her. “Justin usually only attends duels that are for his friends. As my spies tell me, he has no connection with either of the participants.”

  “And you find that odd?” She had to admit, she was bemused. Justin attending a duel was not unusual, she was sure he had spent a good portion of time watching men slices pieces out of each other in the past. Why was attending the duel of a stranger such a thrill for her ‘father’?