London, England
1880
Chapter 1
The fog filled with the crisp Autumn air. He watched her elegant gait as she moved in front of him. Her long black hair fell down her back and it contrasted sharply with the emerald green color of the woolen coat she wore.
She turned slowly and looked over her shoulder at him. His heart filled at the sight of her brown eyes and her smile.
“Aida.” He said softly.
She smiled back at him.
He reached out to touch her but in a second she vanished into the fog. His blue eyes scanned the horizon between the trees and the brush, but he made a small circle turning about and there was no one there. He was quite alone. She was gone.
The fog hung heavily in the air and he felt choked by it. Suffocated by it. He called her name once but it only seemed to echo in the loneliness of the green expanse of Hyde Park.
He felt a sickness in his gut as he watched the fog thicken and the sky darken. His black wool coat was warm but he felt the beads of sweat form on his brow. He took a step forward and called her name once more. This time he said it much louder and with force. A scream filled the air and he gave a start.
He began running toward the sound, the fog swirled about him even as he cut through it. He was almost blinded by the thick of it and stumbled on something but kept moving. He saw something on the ground just before him and realized it was a green piece of fabric.
He picked it up and recognized it as the green coat that Aida had been wearing. His heart pounded in his chest as he saw deep, red blood that stained the coat. Blood.
“Aida!” He yelled into the fog. “Aida!”
Valentine jerked awake at that moment. His eyes adjusted to the dark room that was his own. He guessed it must be early morning as the grey light filtered into the cold room. The logs placed in the fire before he had retired had long since burned down into embers. He pulled the blankets around his shoulders and gazed into the room staring at nothing in particular.
Aida.
He closed his eyes and then opened them again. He had not dreamed about her in several weeks so this dream had been jarring and disturbing. This time there had been blood and that had not been at all the way she had died.
Aida.
He recalled her long black hair and warm brown eyes and her smile. She had been so full of life. He had been prepared and ready to spend his life with her. He would have made her his wife and she would have been the mother of his children. Instead everything had changed. He laid back upon the bed.
But there had been no wedding. No honeymoon. No night spent making memories, and a lifetime spent with love and affection building a foundation of a home. No. They would never be anything because Aida was no more. Aida was dead.
???
Caroline Derry listened as her sister Irene prattled on about a farce she had seen by the dramatist James Albery called The Pink Dominos at the New Royalty Theatre with her friend Nell Lewis. Irene was telling the premise of the farce to her sister and her sister’s friend Prudence while they enjoyed their afternoon tea.
“It was the story of two wives trying to test their husbands’ fidelity at a masked ball,” Irene told them both. “It was very amusing, Caro,” she said using her sister’s nickname.
“Two wives testing their husband’s fidelity?” Caroline asked. “It sounds a bit scandalous, Sis.”
“Not really,” Irene shook her head. “It was a silly bit of nonsense.”
“It sounds most imp
roper for an unmarried young lady to attend a play of such a subject. I’m surprised your grandmother allowed it,” Said Prudence who, though she was Caroline’s friend, could be very judgmental and caustic in her remarks.
Caroline looked back at her dear friend trying to find the right words to respond. Her mother had died when the girls were young and all that remained were her father, Hubert, and their paternal grandmother, Malvina, who took care of their raising.
Malvina Derry was a force to be reckoned with. She had been born the same year as their great Queen Victoria, and much like the queen, Malvina was a strong force within their small family. Caroline knew her grandmother allowed her sister Irene more freedom than she often had, and as Malvina had approved the play she thought nothing of it. She had been in the company of her friend and there was no harm done.
“I’m sure it was harmless Prudie. You know how much Irene enjoys the theater,” Caro tried to smooth over the hiccup and place the conversation back on even ground.
“Perhaps,” Prudence admitted, pressing her pale-yellow skirt down. “But it’s best to save those more salacious plays until you are married. So there’s no talk, dear,” she directed the last bit to Irene.
Caroline felt the room cool and looked at her impetuous younger sister. She saw Irene’s eyes narrow and then heard the words directed to Prudence.
“At least I’m certain my prospects will be favorable. There’s nothing worse than a spinster. Don’t you agree, Prudie?” With that remark, she excused herself and Caroline gritted her teeth.
“Prudie, I’m sorry. You know Irene. She’s young. She’s doesn’t think before she speaks.”
Prudence’s angular thin face looked pinched and drawn. “That was uncalled for. She can be so cruel.”
Caroline sighed. “I’m sorry Prudie. I’ll speak to her. I will.”