The Devil & Lillian Holmes (17 page)

She had not yet chased down the members of Mr. Doyle’s Society, but she was sure that Doyle himself had more to tell. How could he help, and mightn’t he, if approached in the right way? There was something there, something left untold. Lil would visit him again tomorrow morning, she’d decided. Otherwise he might leave Baltimore before she got the chance to try. And she had never explained how he’d changed her life. Perhaps that would make a difference.

Opening her journal, she reread her notation of meeting the Leaping Man. How childish those writings now seemed, her desire to solve a mystery, to make Uncle proud. It had only been a few months ago but seemed a lifetime. Perhaps one day she would have the chance to do
real
good, to right the wrongs of the city, to solve crimes and come home to a wonderful man and a wonderful daughter. Perhaps—

She snapped both the book and the fantasy closed when George came through the door. He rushed over and pulled her in for a long embrace. “Bess is home, and is fine.”

Her nerves deadened. So, that was all he had to report. They were no further.

“Come, Lil, let us go to your room.”

His voice didn’t bear the provocative tone that usually accompanied the request for privacy, and Lillian was glad of it, as she could think of no physical pleasure to be had at the moment. She nodded and said, “Quiet, as the boys are finally asleep.”

They crept up the stairs and into her room, sat on the bed and held hands.

“Do you realize,” George said with a bit of a smirk, “that right here, only a few months ago, you shot me? Twice.”

“Tell me,” Lillian demanded. “It is not good news. But I would have the truth.”

“It is not the worst news. As far as we know, your child lives. But not at the orphanage.”

“We already know she isn’t at the orphanage,” Lillian snapped. “Why did you go there?”

“The director of the asylum confirmed that was where he was sent.”

Lillian pulled back to see more clearly the expression on George’s face. He was concerned, yes, but also interested in her reaction. Extremely interested.

“Did you hear me, Lil?”

“Of course I heard you.” She paused. “What did you say?”

“According to Spring Grove’s records, you had a son. I’ve learned they named him Jacques.”

“Son?”

“Indeed.”

“It’s not possible. I saw her. I…”

“Did you hold her?”

“No, they would not let me.”

“How do you know it was a girl?”

I hate you, Herr Doctor. I will hate you until the day I die, and then I will hunt you down in the next life. I hope you are in Hell so that I may torture you there.

“Lil? Did they
tell
you it was a girl?”

She nodded. “Schneider did. It never occurred to me that he would lie about that. Of course, it makes perfect sense now. They never wanted me to go looking for a boy. It worked.”

“No, it didn’t. You didn’t give up, and now we have the truth. You are victorious over the man.”

“But you don’t know where he is, or you would have brought him home to me. Isn’t that right?”

“Mostly. I have clues, but they are sketchy and we will have to work hard to unravel them.”

“Then we will. I will.”

“We will.”

“Are you disappointed that you do not have a daughter?”

Am I?

“No,” she realized. “I believe I will make the adjustment in time. No, I will love him dearly. I already do. But if he is as wild as my Musketeers, I may end up back in the asylum. Boys are exhausting creatures, George.”

“I was rather pleased, somehow, to hear it was a boy. I would have loved your child no matter what, but I would know what to
do
with a boy better, I think.”

George turned away, reaching for his pipe, and Lillian suddenly knew he hadn’t meant to share that thought. Why, it hadn’t really occurred to her that George would truly want a child, to be a father to hers.

“Where do you think he is?” she asked.

“I don’t know. But I’ll tell you all I heard, for you have a good head on those lovely shoulders. Lie back with me and shed some of those heavy clothes, and let’s talk through the night. I am tired of running about, and I want to hold you as we talk and plan.”

She glanced over at him, surprised. “I am sure you do not just want to hold me.”

“For once, that is exactly what I would like.”

Lillian let her gown fall to the floor and took George by the hand. He undressed, picked her up, and laid her on the bed.

“As I saw you that night,” he murmured. “Nude and beautiful, extraordinary and compelling. I’ve never encountered anyone like you, Lil, and I’ve met a lot of people in my days.”

“I know.”

“You never ask how many women. You are the first not to ask. Perhaps you are the first not to care?”

“You are saying I’m not a normal woman,” Lillian replied. “I suppose I am not.”

“It is not a criticism. You are above any woman I’ve known.” George blew out a deep breath and brushed a kiss along her jawbone. He pulled her against his body, nuzzled his face against her neck. “Do not look at me for a moment. Your eyes distract me, arouse me. I must speak my mind.”

His tone was serious, and Lillian wondered what new transgression she’d committed, what commandment she’d flirted with breaking. Was this George her maker, or George her lover? Or were they the same? It didn’t feel so.

“I want to talk about us, Lil.”

“I know,” she said.

“We are beyond you trying to shoot me, and I believe you’ve given up trying to understand me, which is splendid, as I don’t understand myself. You are adjusting to your new life.”

“Am I?” She shook her head. “I seem to falter constantly.”

“Time, it takes so much time. You are impatient, Lil. We enjoy one another’s company. At least I for one do not feel the need to be away from you at all. Quite the opposite. It’s humbling, embarrassing. And new. I’ve never needed—no,
wanted
—this closeness.”

“Are you asking me to marry you, George?” she blurted. She rolled over and stared at him, at his dark eyes that swallowed her whole, at his lips that took her breath away whenever they met hers. Would he have this pull on her if he weren’t her maker? She would never know. Did it matter?

Somehow, it did.

“No! I do not think so. Am I? It’s been bothering me a great deal, Lil.”

“Yes, it has bothered me as well. A most unwelcome distraction in a time of great stress and chaos. Even Bess nags me about it.” Lillian sighed and gave him an annoyed frown. “Please work it out and speak to me on the topic when you decide, will you?”

“Could I have your feelings on it?”

She snorted. “Have you ever read the romantic novels of Jane Austen, George? No, I didn’t think so. One of her heroes gets it quite wrong, you see. He tells his beloved of all the reasons they really should not get married, and then he proposes. You are reminding me a good deal of him right now.”

“I am?”

“As little as I know about love, romance, and marriage, I do believe that one should only make a lifelong promise because to not do so would be unthinkable. It is a grave commitment, don’t you think? Especially for one who might live for centuries or more.”

“You don’t want to marry me,” George said. “That is becoming clear.”

“That is a convenient excuse you are making. I have said no such thing. I can barely imagine tomorrow.” She paused. “Do makers marry their newborns often?”

“Why, I suppose not. I don’t know. What has that to do with anything, Lil? I’m talking about us.”

“I cannot separate the two, George. I cannot imagine being without you, but…” She saw the hurt in his eyes. How could she make him understand without hurting him?

“You can be difficult, even annoying. Why won’t you simply tell me what you want?”

“And you can be arrogant and infuriating.”

George looked aggrieved. “Of course I know that. Phillip reminds me daily of it.”

Phillip. Your brother, your other child. I would like to speak of these things with him.
And perhaps at some point she would. But for now she said, “Then I will not bother. Now, kiss me everywhere and exhaust me until I can stay awake no more, and I will sleep in your arms, safe from everything outside these walls for one night.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Where is the castle?

“What the blazes is wrong with you, Georgy? It’s unnerving.”

Lillian watched Phillip half-sip at a cup of tea. George and she were doing the same, while Kitty ate her breakfast of sausages and eggs. They were gathered at the Orleans house to plan their next move, although Lillian knew they weren’t much further than the day Annaluisa was killed.

“There’s a hell of a lot going wrong right now, Phillip. What do you think is wrong with me?”

Kitty waved her fork at George. “You’re not your typical annoying self. More annoying, in fact. You’re brooding again. You only brood when your ego has been damaged.”

George growled at Kitty, who growled back. He laughed and said, “Kitty, really, have I been that bad a future brother-in-law?”

She frowned. “You brought the wrath of the devil down on us, delayed my wedding, and I’m sure before I’m finished eating my meal will do something else disastrous.”

“There must be an Irish saying about this, eh, Kitty? ‘Marrying the whole family’?”

“Aye, and it’s true. Now show me that ring you’re hiding under the table, Lillian. It nearly blinded me when you came through the door.”

Lillian clenched her hands together and cast a quick glance at George, who rubbed at his temples. Kitty would make it all worse, she was sure. The woman lived to taunt George, protected as she was by his brother. And he seemed to quite enjoy their verbal sparring matches. “Show me, Lil,” Phillip’s fiancée pushed. “I’ll be seeing if George knows how to do anything properly.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kitty.”

The woman blew out an improper noise that sounded like a horse. “I heard you say your hero Mr. Doyle was a bad actor. He could not be worse than you. Or
you
,” she said to George. “Show me the engagement ring. I’d like to bring you down off that high horse of yours if possible. I’m sure you mucked this up.”

“It’s a gift, Kitty. Not an engagement ring.” But Lillian did as requested.

Kitty whistled through her teeth and pulled at Lillian’s hand to get a better look. “Unusual, but that is our George.” She looked at George and nodded. “That will do.”

He bowed his head and swept out his hand dramatically. “So glad you approve.”

Phillip looked up from a newspaper article that had caught his attention. “Wait, did someone say something about marriage?
Our
marriage?”

“Really, Phillip,” said George. “Try to keep up, won’t you?”

Kitty moved her chair next to Lillian’s and gave her a peck on the cheek. “When is the wedding?”

“It’s not an engagement ring, Kitty,” Lillian hissed. “Please, let it be.”

“Och! Are all you
dreách foula
so ignorant of normal things? You, at least, were mortal recently.”

“But I really don’t understand such matters. Bess mostly taught me what I do know. And Aileen.”

Kitty crossed herself. “Then Bess and I will have to teach you the rest.”

“Thank you,” Lillian said. There seemed little else to say.

George groaned and pushed back in his chair. “May we change the subject?”

Phillip put down his paper. “Of course. Now, what was the urgent matter you needed to discuss with us, George? I assume it involves Marie. What did you learn last night that has you in such uproar?”

“I met a vampire at the orphanage. Pathetic woman, slave to Marie. She’s likely taken her own life by now, as she revealed too much. Marie will be…vengeful.”

“Anyone we know?” Phillip asked. “I thought we were alone in Baltimore.”

“It seems she’s been here for a while. How long I don’t know. Her story was simple: Lillian’s
son
was in fact raised here, but he was taken by two men—to Marie, we surmise. She seemed to recognize the name Pemberton, ‘the Jackal’ who was Lillian’s solicitor. We know also that the Jackal is the father”—George squeezed Lillian’s hand in apology for his frankness, sensing her discomfort—“so it’s a fair working assumption that Pemberton and Dr. Schneider were the two men who took the boy from the orphanage.”

“To Marie?” Kitty repeated.

“This is where things become less clear. The woman mentioned that the boy—she called him Jacques—was part of some experiment of the men.”

Lillian shuddered. Seeing the concern on the others’ faces she admitted, “I believe that I was also part of an experiment. I do not know what, or why.”

“The woman believes that Jacques is still mortal, or he was when she last saw him.” George turned and looked at Lillian. “Although, of course Lil and I would love him no matter his state, and we intend to bring him home.”

“Of course,” Phillip concurred, but his voice was filled with doubt.

Lillian pulled out her Journal of Important Observations, which she felt she finally needed in earnest. How silly she had been before, how delusional. Now faced with a real mystery, the life and death of a loved one, every penned word leapt out at her. She examined her notations, her list of clues. Mustering the facts would help draw the larger picture.

“The Learned Order of Psychic Scholars. The Jackal and Dr. Schneider were members,” she began.

“Why, I believe my patroness Miss Etta was recently accepted as a member of that society,” Kitty remarked.

“And that is why it is critical that you never speak to her about us again.”

Kitty frowned and nodded. “Of course, Lil. In the early days, when I first met Phillip, my talk of vampires—”

“Was understandable.” Hadn’t she done the same with Mr. Doyle? “We must move forward and not waste time worrying about what has already transpired. But we must not make further mistakes.

“The other members of the Society are Baltimore notables,” she continued, “who claim to be interested in matters of life beyond human mortality and any and all matters of spiritism. Their newest member—well, in fact he’s only a guest—is the writer Arthur Conan Doyle.”