Of Night and Dark Obscurity

Val said nothing but nodded. In each picture, which had immortalized the three dead women, there had been one thing left with them. A small white primrose with a yellow center was placed in each of the dead woman’s hands, and it could only have been left by the killer. There was no other explanation but that the killer had left it at the scene of his crime.

“What do you make of it, Sir?” Felix asked.

Val pulled a worn copy of The Sentiment of Flowers by Robert Tyas from a small shelf behind his desk and flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

“Primrose blossoms can mean many different things,” he read. “It’s a symbol for bashfulness. It’s a symbol for inconstancy. It can also refer to young love as well as neglected merit. However, the most popular meaning for primrose is ‘I can’t live without you’.”

Val closed the book and looked over at his sergeant. “Perhaps what ties these women together is a lover that they angered or spurned. Someone that didn’t take the rejection well. And in return for their snub, they paid for it with their life.”

“Three women all with the same man? Sounds implausible.” Felix shook his head. “They weren’t streetwalkers. These were women from good families and good homes.”

“Perhaps one of the women was murdered by one man and the others by someone else,” Val threw out. “We could have a copycat on our hands

.”

“The newspapers have been covering the murders quite heavily since the second woman was found and a pattern was established,” Felix nodded. “It’s possible.”

“Anything is possible,” Val nodded as he skimmed through the pages of the Tyas book, passing through the many illustrations of the flowers.

He looked up and saw Felix staring at him. He closed the cover of the book.

“But if you don’t mind me saying, Sir, we aren’t much better off since the first murder.”

Val sighed softly. “I don’t mind you saying so because unfortunately it’s true. We aren’t.”

Chapter 2

Caroline smoothed down the front of her blue chambray skirt with the white eyelet trim and waited for the maid to finish pouring out the tea before she began. She did not particularly enjoy embroidery but she was good at it. She found that anything she wanted to do, if she put her mind to it, it could be accomplished. She lacked the patience many times to sit still and complete the task, but it was a skill most women of her acquaintance achieved, and it helped her spend time with women of her acquaintances.

She took the tiny needle in hand and picked up the piece she was working on. It was an intricate embroidered collar that once completed she would gift to her grandmother. She looked across the table and saw another woman in the sewing circle embroidering a beautiful tobacco bag, and yet another woman was crocheting a garter for her daughter who was to be married.

When the tea was poured out, she thanked the maid and bid the ladies help themselves to the tea cakes and cookies.

Her grandmother, Malvina, who rarely attended her sewing circle, had arrived at the last minute and was seated before the fire knitting a scarf for her father. The dark colors were overtly masculine and she knew her father would be pleased. Her grandmother’s work was very fine and much admired as the stitching was small and elegant.

“Ladies, thank you so much for once again joining me this evening,” Caroline smiled at them. “I do appreciate your time and efforts,” she told the six women.

“Caroline. You know I do enjoy your circle,” an older matron named Cleo Goodey returned. “You’ve always included me and I appreciate it.”

Caroline smiled and nodded in understanding. Her friend Prudence Finch sat across from her and gulped down her tea and a second lavender cookie. Lady Victoria Lyttleton, a friend of her grandmother’s, was a wealthy woman married to an Earl, titled and very proud of her position in society. She had a daughter on the marriage market and a son who would inherit the title when his father died. She often sat at many functions looking down her nose at everyone, but she was influential and admired Caroline for her desire to change things around her.

“I know that this circle has been very informal up to this point, but I think it’s time to change that and in doing so make some great changes in the city we find ourselves in,” Caroline said excitedly.

“As a former lady-in-waiting to her majesty the Queen, I’m certain that no one cares more about our great country than I do. The plight of those less fortunate weighs even on my mind often.” Victoria Lyttleton said.

Prudence snorted in disagreement but said nothing as she took a third cookie.

“Each of you brings something different to our circle. Your knowledge is all that more important. My concern is those less fortunate,” Caroline agreed. “Those that live in the slums particularly.”

“I’m sure we can all appreciate your cause, Caroline dear, but some of these women that you aim to help are, well, you know what they are.” Gladys Clifton told the women.

Caroline sighed. She did not want her frustration to show. “Well, I can understand that we don’t normally associate with women of those lower classes, but we should show compassion. They need our help, our kindness all the more.”

None of the ladies said anything to this until Stella Oakley piped up. She was a governess at the local Holborn Union Workhouse. Caroline respected her tremendously. Her father was a country vicar and Stella had traveled to London with her brother to work and make a difference.

“I can tell you all quite honestly that conditions in the workhouses are atrocious, and the need to stave off starvation causes the women to turn to the streets,” Stella said quietly. “I have seen firsthand the dire circumstances they find themselves in. If it is a choice between death or that,” Stella said emphasizing the word, “most would choose that.”

“I never would,” Prudence said hotly, the notion of selling her body unthinkable.