Darker Still
Page 22
I cannot mention where we’re going. While Denbury is innocent, I can’t expect the police to believe a word of this and must protect him until he can be absolved of any wrongdoing.
Please keep in mind that Mrs. Northe suggested that lingering traces of the magic may still be upon us, a beacon, if we remained in New York. Please realize we have both taken ourselves from the area in the interest of safety. While you may not believe us on account of magic, I hope you will believe that we mean you no disrespect or harm. As for public opinion, as an “unfortunate” anyway, I daresay this won’t ruin anyone’s expectations of me as I had none to begin with. Please do be careful around the Metropolitan. It unwittingly housed a curse. We’re sorry we brought it upon you.
Mrs. Northe will corroborate as much of this as she may see fit, and she is attending to the loose ends of this odd case so that all may be put to rest.
I love you always,
Natalie
Dear Mr. Stewart,
While I imagine you may hate me for all that has transpired and are surely as baffled by the turns of events as I am, please believe that I am a gentleman, and upon my life, I shall do right by your daughter. While you’ve never met me, I look forward to meeting you in the future and proving that I deserve the kindness and bravery your daughter has shown me.
She is the most incredible young woman in all the world. Surely you know this. I promise you that she will be well cared for and provided for. I intend to live out my life in the service of others, and there is no better partner in this than your daughter, a gift from the heavens who saved my life. I am more than indebted to her, I love her. We shall make you proud, we promise.
With utmost sincerity,
Jonathon Whitby, Lord Denbury
June 20, 1880
New York City Police Record Case File: 1306
Missing Person, Vandalism
Report of missing person, described to and taken down by yours truly, Sergeant James Patt, on this day, June 20, at one in the afternoon.
Reported missing: One Natalie Stewart, age seventeen.
At noon on June 20, Mr. Gareth Stewart came into the precinct and asked to speak to an authority, as his daughter had gone missing the night prior. Mr. Stewart is a lean man of average height, with hazel eyes, close-shaven beard, and russet hair. He is of average means, an employee of the Metropolitan Museum of Art with no criminal record. Mr. Stewart reported that his daughter was not in her room, not with another guardian with whom she had been close, a Mrs. Evelyn Northe, nor was she at the Metropolitan, where she had been apprenticed.
Additional concern: Mute status of Natalie Stewart. Adept at sign language but no known vocal capacity.
Behavior of late: No different from average for a girl her age—save for her voice. Mr. Stewart grew red in the face as he described a certain obsession with a painting. A painting he described as now lying in shreds in a downstairs storage room of the Metropolitan Museum.
Case development: Case of vandalism of painting of one Lord Denbury, portrait. No museum guards expressed anything out of the ordinary but confessed to having been present only at front entrance, and other entrances might have admitted the vandal.
Mr. Stewart here concluded that there was a connection between the painting and his daughter’s disappearance but that he could not, “for the life of him” imagine what.
I questioned him about this friend of the family, Mrs. Northe. Here Mr. Stewart’s face again grew red. My suspicion of both Mr. Stewart and the widow Northe was piqued. He said that while he knew Mrs. Northe would never harm the girl, she may know something he did not as they had grown “close as mother and daughter.”
It was around this point in the narrative that the very woman in question, Mrs. Evelyn Northe, was escorted into the room.
“What the devil’s gone on, Mrs. Northe?” Stewart stated before anyone could be properly introduced. “Where the hell is my daughter? The guards report that Denbury’s portrait is grotesque and all in shreds!”
Mrs. Northe turned to me then and said, “It’s a domestic matter, Sergeant, not a criminal one, and there’s much to explain to Mr. Stewart.” Here she turned to him. “Your daughter has confided in me, but I think it best to discuss her future elsewhere.”
“You’ll tell me right now—”
“Your daughter is safe, Mr. Stewart. A criminal investigation would prove fruitless as there is no harm or threat involved, save for a case of young, impetuous love.”
“Young love?” he cried. “With whom was she in love?”
“All will be explained,” Mrs. Northe stated.
Here Mr. Stewart appeared confused and began to protest that Mrs. Northe should have stopped his daughter. But Mrs. Northe stated that no matter what, Natalie would have done what she wanted. Mr. Stewart seemed unable to argue this point. Clearly he trusted Mrs. Northe, and it did seem she cared for the girl. But the two were undoubtedly odd. Northe in particular. She put me in mind of some gypsy fortune-teller, even though she was dressed as any fine lady might be. She kept staring at me with odd scrutiny. It was uncanny and I didn’t like it.
She blamed Mr. Crenfall—whom her agents had been spying upon ever since he and an unidentified man broke into her home—for the destruction of the painting. (Refer to case file under Northe for reference to this breaking-and-entering charge.) I shall have him brought in for questioning and call upon Mr. Stewart and Mrs. Northe next week to see if there are developments in this case.
July 5, 1880
Sergeant James Patt, New York City Police
Notes on follow-up visit to Stewart residence
Mr. Stewart immediately assured me all was well, and I caught him tucking into his pocket a little note card that read “I love you” in feminine script. There was something nervous in his voice as he tried to shoo me out the door.
“Glad to hear you are well, Mr. Stewart, but I’ve a few more questions. Due diligence and all. I’m sure you can understand, sir,” I explained.
“Of course,” Mr. Stewart said, glancing about. “But the matter is resolved.”
That’s when I noticed the diary upon the desk with the subject’s name upon it. “What’s this? I think I’ll have to examine this, sir, if you don’t mind.”
“There’s really no need,” Stewart said quickly—which increased my curiosity. “It was sent to me just this week from Natalie herself, proving she’s fine.” He flipped through the pages and took out the separate letter addressed to him and, with cursory inspection, I saw that the penmanship did match. “You can see that she’s still alive. And that it didn’t come from New York. The postage bears a seal of Chicago.”
“Indeed, so she’s not dead. But I’m still taking this diary into the station. There’s a file for her, you know. Just in case something else comes up.”
The man’s nerves made me not trust the situation. Mr. Stewart was loath to let it go, which I suppose is understandable, but it remains with us nonetheless.
“And do you approve of your daughter’s actions?” I had to ask.
“No…but…but I’ve been overruled.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“My late wife…she…well…” Mr. Stewart coughed uncomfortably. “Well, she told me she quite approves of the situation and I need to let it be for the time being.”
“And just how did you find this out from your late wife?”
“Séance, Sergeant,” Stewart murmured, flushing.
“A séance?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I doubt words of a dead woman would hold up in court,” I retorted. “But it doesn’t look as though this is going to court, so go ahead and have fun with your magical parlor tricks,” I stated, having had quite enough.
I will peruse this diary, though, in case there’s something I should attend to, or if it may indicate that Mr. Stewart is lying and the girl is being kept somewhere against her will.
July 6, 1880
Sergeant James Patt, New York City Police
<
br /> Notes on Stewart Case/Five Points Murders
Good God.
After having read this mad account, I must now turn the diary over to the detective investigating the Five Points murders.
• • •
I spoke with the Five Points detective, and he told me they’d nabbed a man named Crenfall for the crimes—got him out of a local madhouse after he’d been reportedly wandering the Metropolitan Museum like a mumbling bum. Seems he killed an artist in France, too, before committing murders in England, some young lord, and then here in New York. He confessed to all of it, though I’m unconvinced he has enough wits to speak to a woman, let alone kill her. Mrs. Evelyn Northe brought his name to their attention. Seems she shot the man in the leg when he broke into her house after a painting. What a lot of fuss over brushstrokes and canvas!
Crenfall. I recognized the name from the diary pages, and I now saw it was all connected. I’m going to pay a visit to Mrs. Northe then. This very afternoon.
• • •
I will say this; the woman is charming.
“Mrs. Northe, I have no jurisdiction to arrest you but I’m almost inclined to.”
“Yes, I was told you took Miss Stewart’s diary. Since you’re here, I assume we all look guilty in your eyes because you don’t believe the girl.”
“You do?”
“Wholly.”
“Crenfall did it, did he?”
“Well, he assisted. The possessor did the rest, sir. And I’d be wary. This is only the sign of more to come. So don’t waste your time following a young girl and her lover. That’s not the problem. There’s a society of people calling upon forces of evil and amassing dark magic practices. What you read in that diary was only one instance of a host of bad omens. The society is who I’d worry about. You need to think about a different sort of battle on a different sort of battlefield.”
“Whom and what should the precinct employ, then, Mrs. Northe, a battalion of mediums and fortune-tellers?”
“That would be a very good start, sir,” Mrs. Northe replied.
I shook my head and begged her leave.
I stand by my decision to give these materials over to the Five Points detective, who likely will see it closed, satisfied enough to have a conviction in Crenfall. I want nothing to do with the case; it makes my head hurt.
Should you be curious about devils, societies, séances, etc., please call on Mrs. Evelyn Northe, Fifth Avenue. I’m sure she’ll be glad to oblige you. If there is such a thing as a society of devils, then I hope to God they stay patrons of the arts and leave the rest of us regulars alone.
Should anyone who has followed this narrative to this conclusion regret doing so, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Acknowledgments
My dear Oscar Wilde, thank you for Dorian Gray and for your genius. I’d like to think that if I had the privilege of knowing you, we’d have gotten along famously. Regardless, I am eternally your fan.
Thank you, Biz Urban, for going through this book line by line with me; your presence in my life has been so helpful in so many ways.
Thank you to Lexie for your time, care, and insight. This book goes out in particular to you.
Thank you, Christina, for your valuable thoughts and many windows onto communication.
Thanks to amazing author and friend Sarah Maclean for spot-on advice and support.
To my dear writer gals—Hanna L., Sammi W., Lizzie W., and Akasha H., don’t you ever stop writing or dreaming, girls. You’re talented, and don’t you ever forget it.
Marijo, it’s your turn.
Thanks to my angels in the book blogging community who have been so thrilled about the prospect of this series. You’re more valuable to me than you can ever know.
Thanks as always to my hero of an agent, Nicholas Roman Lewis; and to my fabulous editor, Leah Hultenschmidt, for the opportunity of this new adventure and the joy that is working with you; and thank you, Dominique and Sourcebooks, for being as excited as I am.
About the Author
Leanna Renee Hieber aims to be a gateway drug for nineteenth-century literature. Having graduated with a theater degree and a focus on the Victorian era, she’s adapted works of Victorian literature for the stage, and her one-act plays have been produced around the country.
The Strangely Beautiful Tale of Miss Percy Parker, the first in Leanna’s Strangely Beautiful quartet of Gothic Victorian fantasy novels, hit Barnes & Noble’s bestseller lists and won two 2010 Prism Awards (Best Fantasy and Best First Book). Option rights have been sold for a musical theater production currently in development.
A member of Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, International Thriller Writers, and Romance Writers of America, she’s the RWA NYC 2010 Author of the Year. A member of actors’ unions AEA, SAG, and AFTRA, Leanna occasionally works in film and television. A devotee of ghost stories and Goth clubs, she resides in New York City with her real-life hero and their beloved rescued lab rabbit, Persebunny. Visit her at www.leannareneehieber.com, and follow her @LeannaRenee.