Cad shook his head. “No. Was she really killed the same day?”
“We think so, sir. Although her body was in such a badly decomposed state it hasn’t been possible to say for sure.”
“Well, I can vouch for the fact that my son did not arrive here in a bloodstained or dishevelled state that day, Inspector,” Lucy said. “Unless, if my word is not sufficient, you would like to check with the servants to verify that?”
“Inspector Miller is simply doing his job, hweg,” Tynan told her gently. “Let us not forget that a young girl has been killed in the foulest manner imaginable.”
Lucy inclined her head toward the inspector in acknowledgment of this, and he rose to take his leave. “If you do recall anything further, sir,” he said to Cad, “please let me know.”
“Poor child,” Cad said, shaking his head. “She looked so young and quite helpless. Her bonnet malfunction meant that all the mass of her pretty hair was blowing about her face. I hope you catch the bas—I mean the villain—who did it, Inspector.”
“That is certainly my intention, sir.”
Chapter Seven
She is the one he craves. He follows her through the narrow alleyways. It is daylight and he is courting discovery, but he is powerless to resist. He moves swiftly, catching her arm and drawing her to him, reaching for her neck and her hair, exulting in the quiver that runs through her. She would call it fear, but he knows better. With a swift movement, he slides the tip of his tongue upward to trace the length of her white throat.
“Please, sir,” she whispers, tears of terror choking her words. “Please don’t. I’ve never—” His blade silences her.
Gently, he guides her lifeless form down onto the cobbles. Her throat gapes wide now in a mocking red grin. It is only as he lifts her skirts and prepares to go about his business, that he realises she wears the garb of a lady’s maid. There is a heartbeat’s pause. Hollow nausea settles deep in his gut.
“They are all whores.” The words leave his lips, but the voice belongs to his master. “She is impure, like all the others.”
With a decisive nod, he gets to work. Each slash brings her closer to purity. Tenderly, he releases her from the pain that is womanhood.
* * *
A flurry of activity heralded Eddie’s return. We were just finishing a light lunch when he erupted into the room in his usual tempestuous manner. I rose to greet him, conscious that I had a part to play.
“You look a bit less like shit,” he told me with his mischievous grin. I moved to embrace him, but he held me off. “No, don’t touch me. I shared a train carriage with a relentless pipe smoker, and I stink.”
“Very loverlike,” Cad remarked to no one in particular. Eddie turned swiftly toward him, thunderclouds of anger darkening his face. Cad rose from the table, holding his palms outward to signify peace. They faced each other briefly, and I thought how alike and yet unalike they were. Like a mirror image viewed through slightly tainted glass. Tension hung thick in the air like a fog, before Cad said, “Good to see you again, Ed.” Some of the stiffness left Eddie’s frame and his engaging grin reappeared, dispersing the storm. Cad made a movement, half raising a hand toward his brother, but Eddie made no answering gesture. With a slight, terse nod to his mother, Cad left the room.
“Take your coat off, Eddie, and give Porter your bag,” Lucy said, pouring tea and holding the cup out to him.
Eddie shook his head as Porter scurried forward to take the portmanteau from his grasp. “No, I need to have a bath and change my clothes,” he said, by way of explanation. “Get someone to fetch hot water to my room, will you, Porter?” With his sweetly charming smile that encompassed us all, he followed the stately butler out of the room.
When I saw him later, he looked considerably brighter and appeared refreshed. He caught me up in one of his crushing hugs, and I rested my head against his shoulder gratefully. Other than my memories, he was all I had left of my life in Paris, and even he seemed to be slipping away from me.
“I missed you, Dita,” he murmured against my hair. “I need you close by to keep me sane and make me laugh.” Our friendship was like the ivy that clung to the walls of the old castle, drawing me into its clinging embrace. No sooner had the thought occurred than I dismissed it. Ivy was destructive, wreaking ruin and decay beneath its insidious tendrils. My feelings for Eddie were pure and unambiguous, free from damaging undercurrents. Nevertheless, I felt the weight of my responsibility to him descend once more.