Capturing the Devil

by Kerri Maniscalco

  “Your invitation was sent, Grandmama. I cannot help that you’re harder than a ghost to track down.” My brief levity popped like a deflated balloon when I pictured Miss Whitehall marching in with her letter. “Plus, the wedding…” I swallowed a lump that suddenly formed. “You know it was…”

  My grandmother drew back, and her gaze softened. “You love him very much.”

  “Yes.” I fiddled with my gloves, unable to meet her eyes for fear I’d start bawling again. “I love him in ways that sometimes frighten me.”

  She pulled me into the circle of her arms, stroking my hair as she used to do when I was a child. I didn’t recall them starting, but tears now streamed silently down my face. Grandmama pretended not to notice as she cooed to me.

  “There, there, child. Much as I dislike admitting it, you were named for two fierce women. Your grandmother Rose and me.” She held me tighter as the sobs grew worse. “Your mother loved the name Audrey, you know.” I could hear the smile in her voice, and while I’d heard this story many times before, I found myself straining to listen again, as if it were the first time. “‘Noble strength.’ Malina wished for you to be strong of will and mind. I think she would be pleased, seeing you pursue your passions. She wanted you to be kind like your grandma Rose. As outspoken as your favorite grandmother, me. And unafraid to be yourself. Like her. Do you remember what she used to say, about roses?”

  I swiped the last of my tears and nodded. “They have petals and thorns.”

  “Do not be afraid now, child.” Grandmama’s confident voice was a balm to my broken heart. “You hail from a long line of women with bones made of steel. Your mother would tell you to be brave when you feel anything but. She would want to see you happy.”

  “I miss her,” I whispered, realizing I hadn’t said it aloud in so long. “Every day. I worry if she’d be pleased with the life I’ve chosen. It’s not conventional—”

  “Bah! Convention.” Grandmama batted the word away. “Do not trouble yourself with something as boring as convention. I know my daughter. She was proud of you and Nathaniel. You were the brightest stars in her universe. She loved your father without question, but you children were the twinkle in her soul.”

  We were quiet for a while, each of us probably lost in our own memories of her. My last ones haunted me. My mother had stayed by my side while I’d burned with fever, several years ago. She’d refused to give the task to someone else, insisting on tending to me personally.

  Thanks to her tireless nursing, I’d recovered from scarlet fever. She hadn’t. Her already weakened heart couldn’t fight the infection. She’d battled long enough to see me well before she passed away in my arms. Even surrounded by my father and brother, I’d never felt so alone as I did that day. Her death was my main motivating factor for pursuing science and medicine.

  Sometimes, in my most private moments, I’d wonder who I might be if she’d lived.

  Grandmama finally exhaled, and I tensed for what I knew had been the true reason for this visit.

  “I’ve made certain… arrangements… to my will,” she said. My focus shot to hers. This was not at all what I thought she was about to say. She gave me a sly smile. “It was to be shared between you and your brother evenly, but now with him gone…” She inhaled. Her sharp gaze cut into me like a knife—we’d kept details of Nathaniel’s death from her, and her expression let me know she was more than aware of it, but she’d allow me to keep my secrets. For now. “You will need to guard yourself against anyone who whispers pretty words in your ears.”

  “What on earth do you mean?” I couldn’t even consider carrying on a flirtation with anyone. It was unthinkable. “Who will be wooing me so soon?”

  Grandmama snorted. “Hopefully not soon. I don’t have any plans on departing the world just yet. But when I do, many moons from now, you will become an heiress. All of this”—she motioned around the room, though I knew she was also speaking of the house—“will be yours. As will the properties in Paris, London, India, and Venice.”

  My heart rate slowed. “Grandmama… I cannot… that is very generous of you, but—”

  “But what? Will you have me stuff my pockets on my deathbed and carry my money into the next life?” She sniffed as if injured. “The correct response is ‘thank you.’”

  I shook my shock away and clutched her hands in mine. “Thank you, Grandmama. Truly.”

  By remaining unmarried, I’d inherit my grandmother’s property in full. I might not marry the love of my existence, but I would be happily wed to my profession and live comfortably, dependent upon no one. I got choked up again for an entirely new reason.

  “There, there. Don’t cry on the silk, dear.” She handed me a handkerchief that was a yellow so bold it almost dared anyone who used it to remain sad. “Tell me about your Thomas.”

  I sagged against the settee, letting my head drop back. I stared at the ceiling—it had been painted to match the night sky. I picked out constellations before I recognized some from the orchid painting Thomas made for me while we were in Romania.

  “As you know, he’s betrothed to another,” I said, not wishing to elaborate. She pinched my knee and I yelped in surprise. Glaring, I rubbed out the throbbing spot and gave in. “It isn’t the most pleasant subject for me at the moment,” I said. “What does it matter if you know more regarding him or not? We cannot proceed with our marriage. He belongs to her by law. Thinking about it is only making me feel worse than I already do. And I’m exceptionally miserable.”

  “Good.” She jerked her chin in approval. “You need to let those rancid emotions out. They’ll only fester the more you lock them up. You don’t want infection spewing into other areas of your life, do you?”

  My lip curled in disgust. What an attractive thought. Comparing heartache to an abscess in need of lancing. “What’s done is done. I have no more control over the situation than Thomas does. He cannot go against his father; the duke has made it nearly impossible. So then what, pray tell, do you suggest reliving those putrid emotions will do? It only makes it worse—dwelling on things I can never have.”

  Grandmama grabbed my cane from me and stamped it against the floor imperiously. “You fight. You fight for what you want. You do not wallow or surrender. The lesson is not in lying down and allowing yourself to be stabbed, child. It’s in pushing yourself up and battling back.” Her eyes flashed. “You fell down. So? Will you stay there, weeping over skinned knees? Or will you brush off your skirts, adjust your hair, and carry on? Do not relinquish your grasp on hope. It’s one of the best weapons anyone possesses.”

  I shut my mouth. There was no need to argue. Grandmama clearly didn’t understand how impossible our situation was. I sipped my tea and forced a smile. I wouldn’t destroy her optimism the way mine had been destroyed. She shook her head, not fooled by my performance, but we didn’t speak of impossible things again.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  A STUDY OF CONTRASTS

  GRANDMAMA’S GRAND FOYER

  FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY

  7 FEBRUARY 1889

  The sun had long since relinquished its reign to the moon when Thomas returned to my grandmother’s house. Silver shafts of light played across his face, giving him an otherworldly look as they cut jagged lines in his already angular features. Light and dark. A study of stark contrasts, much like our work.

  If he hadn’t walked in of his own accord, but required an invitation, I might soon believe vampires roamed the earth. He seemed to have aged a thousand years since the last time I saw him. I wondered if I appeared the same.

  Tension swarmed in as if it had followed him in from the cold. His overcoat dripped melted snow onto the hexagon tiles in the foyer, nudging a slight frown onto the butler’s face as he took the offending garment and derby hat.

  I’d been caught halfway between the corridor leading from the parlor and the grand staircase when he’d barged in, his attention falling on me instantly. For a moment, we both stood frozen, unsure of what t
o say. He didn’t look like he’d hoped to see me so quickly. A piece of my heart withered. Thomas and I were never at a loss for words.

  Silence stretched uncomfortably as I took in his wary expression and the slight tightening around his mouth. I swallowed down my sudden rush of emotion.

  “My grandmother is home and wished to say good night to me.” I held up a cup of tea by way of explanation, making the situation even more uncomfortable. “Rose and hibiscus with a spoonful of honey. It’s quite nice for a winter’s night.”

  Thomas didn’t so much as blink. His face was devoid of all emotion, leaving me nothing to read. I should have left him alone, clearly that’s what he wanted, but I couldn’t help but draw out our time together for one more moment.

  “Where are Daciana and Ileana?” I asked, trying to sound pleasant. He lifted a shoulder, toeing at the floor his eyes were now fixed upon. I gave up. It was difficult enough being in his presence without his cool behavior. “Well, then. I-I’m glad you’re home. Well.” I silently cringed. I needed to flee immediately. “Good night.”

  “Audrey Rose, wait.” He held his hand out, nodding at my refreshment. “May I?” I longed to be alone in my misery but passed the cup over, watching as he winced a bit from the temperature. “Where would you like me to bring this?”

  I waited half a beat before responding. Surely my Thomas would have some inappropriate quip, some untoward suggestion. He’d hint about my bedchambers or other more salacious nooks and crannies to steal kisses in. His expression remained perfectly blank.

  Unshed tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t stop imagining him calling on Miss Whitehall. Spending an afternoon getting to know her, giving her the smile he’d used on me.

  “There’s a study on the second floor,” I said, slowly making my way up the stairs. It was particularly drafty tonight, and the cold seeped into my bones, causing my ever-present stiffness to worsen. “You can leave it there; I’ll be in shortly.”

  Footsteps above pitter-pattered back and forth, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. I tilted my head, hoping Aunt Amelia was looking for her bedtime spirits. I internally shook myself. Things were truly horrid between us if I was wishing for my aunt’s interruption. We halted on the second-floor landing and I nodded to the right. “It’s the second door down.”

  Fire crackled and snapped as Thomas opened the door. I stood on the threshold, admiring the room while a bit of heat kissed my face. The chamber was quaint in size and cozy, though the furnishings were straight out of a gilded palace—the fire blazed cheerfully, chasing any hint of coldness away. It was the next best thing to soaking in a tub. My muscles unwound in increments, though my leg still bothered me.

  I settled onto a cushioned settee and accepted my tea. “Thank you.”

  Instead of rushing from my newly acquired sitting chambers, Thomas glanced around the space. He might have been carved from marble, given how cold and unreachable he seemed.

  I examined everywhere his focus darted. From the bronze wallpaper to the intricate weave of the Turkish rug. Each chair had a rich emerald pattern that blended together enchantingly with the gold and silver thread. The most dramatic piece, however, was the settee I sat upon. Curtains of cobalt velvet hung from the ceiling, gathered in the center by a golden crown, then flowed to either side, appearing almost as if I were tucked into a waterfall.

  His attention skipped over me, which only increased the pressure mounting in my chest. I wished he would speak or leave. This remote Thomas was almost as unbearable as the thoughts and questions that kept swirling about my head.

  Where have you been? Why won’t you look at me?

  He stepped toward another wall that featured floor-to-ceiling shelves stuffed full of jewel-toned leather spines, their titles etched in gold. Books ranging in subject matter from science to philosophy to romance—Grandmama collected them all. Liza had already chosen several romances and locked herself in her room to read the blustery night away. I would have joined her, but I had much more macabre things to study and didn’t wish to ruin her good time.

  “Uncle shared a rather interesting new find about the Ripper today.”

  “Your grandmother must love books,” Thomas replied, his voice stiff. Formal. Unfeeling. He ignored the Ripper matter altogether. I wondered if that meant he’d decided he wouldn’t be assisting with the case anymore. A knife twisted in my gut.

  “My grandfather used to gift her with a book from each place they traveled,” I said. “He didn’t realize she’d already gifted herself with ten or more by then, but he never complained when they’d have an extra trunk or two packed entirely with books.” I lifted my cane, pointing out the shelves, though it didn’t matter. He still wasn’t looking at me. “These are the extra volumes, the ones that don’t fit in the main library downstairs.”

  Sir Isaac slinked in and found the pillow I’d left for him on the floor. He inspected it thoroughly before plopping down to wash. I didn’t wish to say so aloud, but I’d been comforted by his little catly presence all afternoon. He helped fill in that wretched hollowness as I fretted over Thomas and Miss Whitehall and all the terrible thoughts about them that assaulted me.

  After scratching behind Sir Isaac’s ears for a bit, Thomas walked over to the shelves, running his fingers across the spines. “Are you going to inquire about my day?” he asked, not looking at me. “You’re not the least bit curious? I’ve been gone for hours.”

  His question caught me off guard with its directness. Was he foolish enough to believe I hadn’t nearly gone mad with wondering? My mind conjured up all sorts of scenarios. From him confronting Miss Whitehall to them discussing their future to him grudgingly accepting their fate. I’d barely remembered we had other massive issues—such as the Ripper-like murders—to contend with. Or the news of Rose Mylett’s brutal killing that Uncle had shared. Almost every one of my waking thoughts today had centered on where he was. I loathed how distracted I’d been.

  “Of course I’m curious, Thomas! I… I fear if I discover one more unpleasant thing—” I inhaled deeply, collecting myself. “My heart already feels as though it’s been forcibly removed. Is it not enough, having our wedding destroyed? Must I now suffer by hearing about Miss Whitehall?” I could feel tears building, hot and embarrassing as they spilled down my cheeks. “Unless you’re about to tell me that she has abandoned her scheme to marry you, I don’t wish to discuss her, or your father, or hear any more suggestions about having an affair behind your betrothed’s back. I cannot take any more disappointment. It is destroying me.”

  “Do you think I was with her today? Carrying on a courtship? After what happened yesterday? Have you gone mad?”

  I bristled at his tone. “How should I know when you haven’t been around? What am I supposed to think?”

  “You shouldn’t think; you should know I love you.” Thomas spun around, his eyes wild. “What if I don’t follow through on the marriage and stay betrothed? Why won’t you consider being with me, no matter what? Why is it that Mephisto’s brand of debauchery and lifestyle was less appalling than my offer? Do you regret not leaving with the carnival? Do you regret leaving him? No matter that he used manipulation tactics, preyed upon your goodwill, and would have continued doing so. Why is my offer not enough?”

  If he’d slapped me, it might have stung less than the utter devastation I heard in his voice. My pulse raced. His untamed behavior was much worse than his coolness. I now realized he’d been using it to cover up the depth of his own hurt. Thomas had finally lost his grip on his emotions and it seemed they were pouring out.

  “Thomas…” I stared at the ceiling, searching for cracks or fissures. Surely it was about to come crashing down like everything else around me. “We’ve been through this. I cannot change the fact that I made mistakes during that investigation. I thought I could playact a certain role, and I lost myself in the process. Clearly it was the wrong decision. I am not perfect, nor have I ever claimed to be. All I can do is try my best to l
earn from my mistakes and grow.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.” His voice was too quiet.

  I dropped my attention back to him. He was staring at me intently. “Do you honestly wish to speak of Mephistopheles? Now?”

  He jerked his head in what was supposed to be a nod. “Why would you toss away society’s rules for him and not me?”

  I exhaled. He was hurt and I’d helped to inflict this wound. I wished there wasn’t such a gaping chasm between us. I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and kiss his fears away. And I wanted him to hold me close, too, to make me forget the pain and misery of the last twenty-four hours. But those were not appropriate actions for us now. I needed to remember that.

  Even if it went against every natural urge in my body.

  “You know I never truly considered Mephistopheles as a suitor. It was never him that I’d been taken with. It was the idea of completely living outside of society. Tossing each rule and restriction in the rubbish bin and living life on my terms and my terms alone. Sure, he might have been the one who introduced me to that idea, but I’m afraid you and I are forever going to relive that week. Mephistopheles didn’t almost win my heart. He wasn’t so clever and beautiful and mysterious enough to entice me away from you. If you want the whole truth, I was afraid of the kernel of doubt in my heart. I was terrified that I might not ever be good enough for you. You’re so sure of us and have had romantic experience—”

  “I’ve had no experience where love is concerned, Wadsworth.”

  “Oh?” I raised a brow. “Miss Whitehall simply sprang forth from our imaginations, waving that betrothal agreement about?” I sighed as his shoulders slumped. We were not mending our broken hearts this way. “The truth is, yes, he was able to use my naïveté against me. Until recently, I’ve lived a terribly sheltered life—I had no friends aside from Liza. You were the only young man I’d ever spoken to apart from my brother. I’m still learning about myself. While I was playing that role, trying to garner information about the murderer, I… it was the first time I’d made other friends. People outside of my tiny little part of the world. They liked science and they danced without a care, and they were so extraordinarily free. A part of me wanted to be like them. Even if it was a lie and it made a mess of things. I wanted to forget about who everyone wanted or expected me to be. I’m dreadfully sorry you were hurt in the process.”