Loving Lily: Fair Cyprians of London: a Steamy Victorian Romantic Mystery

by Oakley, Beverley

  “He already took me mistress wiv ’im afore Miss McTavish arrived, sir.”

  Hamish rose, casting a final glance at Lucy, who was crouched by the chair, her unfocused gaze fixed upon the flock wallpaper. “Show me these powders.” A fearful thought assailed him as he added, “Presuming you did not give the last to my sister.”

  “No, sir. Dr Swithins give me ’nuff ter last a good long while,” said Grace, leading the way through to the scullery. “’E said she’d need ’em wheneva she were feelin’ poorly or, ev’ry few days if she didn’t complain o’ anythin’. ’E said the powders would build up ’er constitution.”

  “Did he?” replied Hamish with bitter irony as he took the bag of powders Grace handed him.

  He tried to think clearly, distracted by another shriek from the parlour.

  Obviously, he had to get Lucy home and looked after, but in her current state, he didn’t know that was possible.

  But, in view of everything Sir Lionel had told him, he realised his greatest urgency was to find Lily.

  One woman was dead already.

  “Where did the doctor say he was taking Mrs Eustace?”

  “’E didn’t say, sir.”

  “Did he take her forcibly?”

  Grace shook her head. “No, sir. ’Tis in the note,” she said, handing a piece of paper to Hamish. “Me mistress went wiv ’im ’cos she said it were the kindest fing ter do fer ev’ryone, unda the circumstances.”

  Chapter 31

  Lily awoke in a rather chilly chamber which she took to be that of a tavern.

  In a room where the fire had been allowed to die.

  Shivering, she drew the counterpane round her shoulders as she sat up, looking for something with which to orient herself.

  By the window was a writing desk, covered with some correspondence which, she knew, wasn’t hers.

  She looked about to find Teddy, but the room was empty.

  Her eyes felt gritty, and her head throbbed. That, of course, was due to her recent attack.

  Despair washed over her once more. Once the insanity took hold, there was no saying when it would strike. She was completely at its mercy, and it was only because Teddy loved her that he was prepared to look after her.

  But for how long? He’d taken her to the maison in Brussels, after all.

  Climbing out of bed, she went to the desk. She needed to write to Hamish and apologise properly. A small sob made her shudder, and she put her head in her hands. She’d have given her soul to have been with him.

  A letter half out of its envelope fell to the floor, and when she reached for it, the sheets fell loose upon her lap, the salutation and an endearment making her gasp, just as the door opened and Teddy stepped in.

  “Lily—” He stopped when he saw what she had in her hands, and the pleasure drained from his face.

  “You told me you weren’t married,” Lily whispered.

  “It doesn’t change what I feel for you,” he said quickly, crossing the room to take her in his arms. “I knew you’d not come with me if you knew.”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t have,” she whispered, drawing away. “How could you possibly have thought you could help me if your obligations are naturally with your wife?”

  She felt quite clearheaded right now. It was as if the illness had completely fallen away, like a cloak, from her shoulders, and she could see Teddy for what he really was.

  “Lily, don’t be angry. It’s because I love you so much that I was afraid to tell you.” He bent over and wrapped his arms about her, kissing the top of her head. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come with me.”

  “You’re taking me to the maison, aren’t you?” The thought was like a bolt through her, and she reared back.

  “You were well at the maison, Lily. They cured you, didn’t they?” He straightened and looked her in the eye. “Don’t you see? I want what’s best for you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Think back to how I loved you. Cared for you.”

  Lily bit her lip as she dropped her gaze. He did look tortured and sincere. And he had been there for her, caring for her, loving her, when Robert had been so cold and distant. “You never had another bout like the ones that had caused you such distress before I took you to the maison. But I know how much you hated it there. I wouldn’t take you if you didn’t want to go. I want to do whatever makes you happy.”

  She wavered at the pleading in his tone. Teddy really did look as if he would do anything for her, and it was true that, for all its evil, the maison had wrought some kind of cure.

  She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of seagulls through the window. “What do you suggest, Teddy?” She was in his hands now. Once again, her fate was in the hands of others.

  “I think you need to get dressed into some fresh clothes, comb your hair, and then go for a bracing long walk with me.”

  Despite herself, she smiled at the encouragement in his voice.

  “And what will a walk achieve?”

  “Hopefully some enthusiasm for the future.” He drew her against him once more and gently stroked her cheek as she put her head upon his shoulder. “There’s a brisk wind coming over the sea, and the fresh salty air and the smell of the sea will be a tonic in itself. You’ve not seen this part of the country before. We’ve travelled quite some distance north. But it’s very beautiful. There are majestic steep cliffs, and all manner of sea birds.” Putting his face close to hers, he smiled. “Come for a walk with me, Lily, and we can discuss the future. Our future. You can have faith in me to do only what’s best for you. I won’t send you to the maison if you don’t want to go.”

  “If I don’t go, where will I go, Teddy?” She was on the verge of despair, but was determined not to cry. “And you are married, now. It changes everything. We can’t be as we were.”

  For a long time, he gazed into her eyes. She wanted to think he cared for her, but really, the truth didn’t matter. She just needed someone to love her. To have her best interests at heart, for once.

  And maybe she’d misjudged Teddy.

  When he lowered his face to kiss her lightly on the mouth, she let him, though her mind conjured up Hamish and all the sweet memories of what it had felt like to be in his arms.

  But Hamish deserved so much more.

  “Come for a walk by the cliff with me, Lily. I may be married, but so are you. And I want to discuss a way that we truly can be together. Forever.”

  Chapter 32

  It had been one of the hardest decisions of Hamish’s life to leave Lucy wailing and moaning, locked up in the parlour, albeit in Grace’s care and waiting for Dr Makim while he hurried back to the waiting cab and continued his journey.

  He’d experienced doubt and fear, wondering what he should and could do. Feelings that were very similar to when he’d concluded that there could be no future between himself and Lily because she was married and mad.

  Now, he strongly suspected that only one of these was true.

  Lily may well not be mad, and an analysis of the powder in the bag Grace had given would prove, he feared, that Lucy also was a victim.

  But if Dr Swithins had committed evil acts in the past, he may well be on his way to committing the most evil of all unless Hamish discovered Lily in time.

  Though where would he even begin looking?

  Inspector Ryan would under no circumstances allow Hamish access to Celeste’s diary, he was told when he was shown into his office. That had been his first idea. Not that Hamish thought Igor Novichov had any link with the doctor.

  No, Dr Swithins was a man from Lily’s more distant past, and the only person Hamish could think of who might be able to wield some influence and who possibly might suggest other avenues lived in a handsome residence in Hampstead.

  Hamish leapt out of the hackney when it came to a stop. Although the hour was late and Lord Lambton may already be in bed, the urgency for action was too great.

  At first, there was no response to his loud knocking, but finally he was admitted
by the butler and, after a lengthy negotiation, Lord Lambton himself appeared in the drawing room where Hamish had been led to wait.

  The old man looked distinctly out of sorts when he entered, and his first words after Hamish had done his best to explain his visit indicated his scepticism. Nevertheless, his curiosity was piqued.

  “What is this information you have for me that it can’t wait until the morning? You might not be as bad as the grubby newspaper reporter after a story, but that’s your trade, isn’t it?”

  “Morals & Manners is hardly hack journalism,” Hanish protested, trying not to show his awe, for he’d never been in such a splendid home.

  Hamish saw him wince. “Cassandra died eight months ago. There’s nothing more to be said on the matter.”

  “I’m not talking about that daughter,” Hamish said, trying to contain his agitation and to keep his voice calm. “I’m talking about your daughter by—” He sought for a name. “I’m talking about your daughter by Sir John Taverner’s wife.”

  Indignation left Lord Lambton’s body like a deflating balloon. The strength also seemed to have left his legs, for he collapsed very suddenly upon the nearest chair. “Susan?”

  Carefully Hamish clarified, “Sir John Taverner’s wife was called Susan? Yes, Susan. She bore her husband a child eight months after the duel you fought with Sir John.”

  Lord Lambton blinked rapidly. “Susan said nothing to me…” He trailed off, looking bewildered. “She went to the Continent where I learned she’d died.” Jerking his head round to face Hamish, he added sharply, “If this is a ploy to extract money from me—”

  “No, my Lord, please hear me out.” Hamish knew he had to tread carefully, but time was of the essence. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the photograph of Lily and Celeste.” “Look carefully at the blonde woman.”

  “But that’s Mrs Eustace. Yes, the likeness is extraordinary.” His expression softened. “It gives me pleasure to look upon her face and imagine it is my own Cassandra communicating with me from beyond the grave.”

  “It’s more than a likeness, my Lord.” Hamish leaned in, tapping the photograph in his excitement. “This woman may go by the name Mrs Eustace, but in truth, she is the daughter of Susan, Lady Taverner.” He sought to curb his impatience. “Sir Lionel told me of the duel in which he was your second. It was he who voiced his suspicions about Mrs Eustace’s parentage when he came to my office with a photograph of Cassandra.” He waited, watching the confusion flit across the old man’s face. Slowly and clearly, he repeated, “Mrs Eustace is the daughter who was born eight months after that duel, and I’ve only just learned the truth of it.”

  Of course, it was difficult for Lord Lambton to grasp the entirety of it all.

  He shook his head then fell back into his chair by the fire, his hand to his heart. “And if she is my daughter, why knock so urgently upon my door at such a late hour?” He sent Hamish a narrow look as he added perspicaciously, “Unless you had a very good reason for doing so.”

  So, Hamish explained the police inspector’s visit, investigating the murder of a young woman whose diary had outlined the threat one of her male friends had made against Lily.

  “But why now? Why tonight?” he asked peevishly. “This does sound rather far-fetched, Mr McTavish. Normally I would send you away. But knowing your father and the periodical of which you are highly esteemed as its editor, a god-fearing man of moderated impulses, I will indulge you. Why do you suppose this young woman, who may or may not be my daughter, is in danger?”

  It was only through repeating to Lord Lambton all that he’d learnt this afternoon, that Hamish had been able to piece together the possibilities that might outline crime and motive.

  “Because your daughter married Lord Bradden, who, believing her dead, has now married his long-time mistress.” He was growing excited. “And I suspect that the doctor who cared for Lady Bradden during her marriage, and who himself delivered her to a lunatic asylum in Brussels, has a vested interest in ensuring that the fiction of her death becomes fact.”

  Chapter 33

  Lily did not want to go walking by the cliff with Teddy. She felt frail and emotionally exhausted. And his insistence was grating on her.

  Yes, he’d rescued her and declared he was going to look after her into the future, but he’d said that before.

  So many men in her life had reneged on their obligations or their promises to look after her.

  “Please, let me sleep a little, Teddy.” She sank down upon the window seat by the open casement of the tavern where they had arrived that afternoon. After so many hours on the road, she didn’t think she could keep her eyes open. “I’ll walk with you when I’ve regained my strength a little.” She tried for an ameliorating smile, but he seemed anxious.

  “It’s not sleep you need; it’s exercise,” he said peevishly. “I’m the doctor; I know what’s good for you. Come, you’re wearing walking boots. Come for a walk with me and tomorrow we’ll buy new clothes for you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A nice new hat with ribbons and flowers?”

  He spoke as if she were a child with limited faculties. But then, that’s how people spoke to a madwoman. That’s how he viewed her.

  She covered her face with her hands and glimpsed the bed through her interlaced fingers. That’s where she’d spend the night. With Teddy.

  Once, it would have been a dream come true. Teddy’s comforting arms round her, his tenderness at such odds with Robert’s callous disregard for her feelings.

  Finally, after much grumbling, Teddy went out, and for the first time in a long while, Lily felt the tug of obligation lessen. She stood up and opened the casement windows, breathing in the fresh sea air. Alone, she felt healthy and invigorated. Healthier than she had in a long time.

  In the distance, she could see Teddy walking down the road. There was a swagger in his step, and she squinted as she saw him doff his bowler to a couple of young ladies approaching from the other direction.

  Teddy was married, she reminded herself. He would not offer her the future she wanted.

  She began to pace, testing her faculties. Her strength of body. And mind. Right now, she was well. Quite possibly she wouldn’t suffer another episode in months.

  She couldn’t go back to Hamish, but…

  Pushing aside the pang of longing at the thought of him, she questioned her other future. Did she have to remain under Teddy’s care?

  The moment she fell ill he’d send her right back to the maison. Or worse.

  And Robert? What would he do when he found her? He was angry enough as it was that the wife he’d though dead was inconveniently alive. Worse was the fact she was in just as poor a state of mind as she ever had been.

  Though, right now, Lily felt her faculties were sound. The brain fog had gone, and her energy was returning.

  A chilly breeze was blowing through the window, lifting the papers on the small writing table, tossing them to the ground. She went to close the casement, picking up the envelope that had fallen on the floor, recognising it as a letter Teddy had been writing. And a name. Robert.

  Cold, clammy fear rushed through her. Teddy was in communication with Robert? She scanned the letter. He was accepting a dinner invitation. Teddy and his wife to join Robert and his wife. Next Thursday, at Robert’s Norfolk home.

  Shaking, she dropped the letter upon the table.

  Teddy wasn’t going to look after her. Teddy wasn’t going to be saddled with her.

  Lily was, as ever, an inconvenience.

  And Teddy could be ruthless. She knew that.

  The breeze had picked up a little. She heard it rattle the casement and, outside, the mournful cry of a seabird. In two hours, it would be dark once more. In the distance, the sea tossed itself in a white-topped frenzy upon the rocks at the base of steep white cliffs.

  Teddy may try to cajole her into a walk at dusk. She could see him in the distance, returning to the inn, a scowl upon his face as he appeared deep in thought.r />
  It was not a pleasant resting face. He looked cossetted, ill-tempered, petulant. He’d want a return on what he considered was his care of her.

  And, glancing to her right once more, at the crisply made-up double bed, Lily was not in the mood to be called upon to perform for anyone else.

  Taking a long, slow, sustaining breath, she clenched her hands, looked at the bed, then at Teddy in the distance, and made a decision.

  It was time for her to strike out on her own.

  Still, it took a second for her to move, so debilitating was her terror at seeking help from the only person who truly owed her protection.

  Then, throwing her shawl about her, and tying her bonnet upon her head, she cast about for anything of value she might possibly use to aid her on her journey, and left the room.

  Chapter 34

  A distance of roughly a hundred miles separated Lily from the estate where she’d grown up. It might as well have been a thousand.

  After a long journey by train and pony cart, Lily knew she looked as bedraggled as she felt. She’d bartered what she could in order to feed herself along the way, but by the time she’d walked the last mile towards the house, she couldn’t remember when she’d last been so hungry.

  Well, of course, that was at the maison. Living on thin gruel and very little else had meant she was perpetually hungry. But the last four months had seen the flesh return to her bones, and the lustre to her hair. She’d been called beautiful again.

  She stopped and gripped the wrought-iron railings of the large gates to the entrance of the driveway that wound through parklands to the familiar stone pile in the distance, and took in the familiar sight through tear-filled eyes.

  Nostalgia was not behind her emotion. Instead, she felt exhaustion and fear. She’d barely been alone in his company her entire life. How would he receive her now?

  If she had anywhere else in the world she could go, she’d turn around and seek a reception less icy than the one she knew awaited her.