Nine Buck's Row (33 page)

The laughter followed. It seemed to come from all around. It was the most horrible sound I had ever heard, low, mocking, menacing. It swelled in volume, grew shrill and hysterical, and then it died abruptly. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the pounding of my heart. I swayed, dark wings closing over my mind, and it was only through the sheerest of effort that I kept from fainting. I took a deep breath. Then I ran, plunging headlong into the darkness, racing wildly toward that shaft of light that glowed like a beacon. He stepped out of the shadows, extending his foot directly in front of me. I stumbled over it, hurtling to the path with bruising force, my hands in front of me to break the fall. He stood over me, laughing quietly now. It was several seconds before I could force myself to look up at him.

The moon came out from behind the clouds. Milky rays poured down, banishing the darkness, affording a weak visibility. On the ground, staring up, I saw the dark boots and trousers, the wide cape fluttering about his shoulders, but the brim of his cap was pulled very low, hiding everything but the wide mouth curling in a mockingly amiable smile, the mustache neat and trim.

“Let me help you up,” he said pleasantly.

He reached down for my arm and pulled me roughly to my feet, and then he let go, moving back a few steps to get a better look at me. He nodded his head in satisfaction.

“Yes, you're as lovely as ever. Pity. You know I've come to kill you, don't you?”

I nodded, too stunned to speak.

“I was in love with you. Did you know that? Oh yes, it's quite true. You were not like the others. You were pure. That's why I couldn't paint your portrait.”

“You,” I whispered.

“You never suspected, did you? No one did until that little whore—I intend to get her, too. She got away the first time—” He frowned, his brow creasing deeply, and he had the petulant look of a spoiled child who has been denied a piece of candy. There was madness in his eyes, a wild gleam that had probably been there all along. He was mad, stark, raving mad, and he intended to murder me.

A strange calm came over me, a numbness I couldn't comprehend. Panic was gone, and in its place was this terrifying paralysis of the nerves, the kind of passive resignation a small bird must feel when confronted by a cobra. I stared at him, watching the cape flutter about his shoulders, fascinated by the curve of his mouth, the glitter in his eyes, but Susannah was far away, looking down on this scene with cool objectivity. It was a nightmare, misty, blurred, not really happening at all.

“I was too clever for them,” Daniel Lord continued. “I had them all fooled, your guardian most of all. I knew he was looking for me. From the beginning I knew. What better joke than to be right under his nose all the time. I moved into the attic at Nine Buck's Row, and he never suspected. Not once, until—he never even took a good
look
at me. I was beneath his notice, an irresponsible young artist. It was a jolly good joke—”

He chuckled to himself, stroking the neat blond moustache with his index finger. The gray-blue eyes glittered with satisfaction. He had an incredible ego, and I dimly realized that I must play on it. I must keep him talking for as long as possible. His laughter had been loud and demonic. Perhaps someone had heard—Vic or his father or even Damon. It was a faint hope, but I clung to it desperately. He was proud of his accomplishments. He wanted to brag about them. I must encourage him.

“You murdered Marietta,” I said. My voice was surprisingly level, almost conversational.

“That was a pleasure, a great pleasure. She was a whore—the worst kind, beautiful, mercenary, corrupt. I wooed her. I gave her a diamond bracelet. I built up her hopes, toying with her.”

“Marietta would never have had anything to do with an artist,” I said firmly.

“Ah, you think
Daniel Lord
wooed her? It wasn't he. No, indeed. I made promises, and she believed everything I told her. She thought I was going to set her up in a town house, lavish jewels on her—I laughed. How I laughed at that gullible bitch. I waited for her in the alley. She came rushing out, her eyes sparkling. She smiled. I clapped my hand over her mouth and whispered sweet phrases into her ear as I plunged the knife down. I was just finishing up when you came outside.”

He paused, sighing deeply. Tilting his head to one side, he stared at me with a thoughtful expression.

“I wasn't really surprised when you came to stay at number nine. True, it was an incredible coincidence, but they aren't nearly as uncommon as one would expect. Happen every day, all over the world. When I saw you, so young and virginal, so lovely, I was even gladder that I had hacked her up. She had no business being in charge of someone like you. She was rotten to the core. She would have corrupted you. I loved you, Susannah. From the moment I saw you standing there in front of my door with the kitten in your arms. Women are whores, but you—you were different. It's a shame I have to kill you.”

He actually looked distressed, and his beautifully modulated voice was filled with sadness. The paralyzing numbness I had felt earlier was beginning to wear off. Sheer terror caused my flesh to creep, yet it wasn't as shattering as it had been before. Before, I had been faced with the unknown, a shadow on the wall, invisible evil, demented laughter. Now I was looking into a familiar face. I could feel my blood beginning to circulate again, could feel nerve ends tingling as they came alive. My brain worked rapidly, casting about for some means of escape. Keep talking … get him off guard … run.

“The night you murdered Annie Chapman, I—I heard you in the alley,” I said. My voice wasn't nearly as calm as it had been before. I spoke too rapidly, the words betraying panic. “You—you slipped into the house. I heard noises in the storage closet.”

“I kept my knives there—kept 'em in a black bag—stuffed my cape and cap in one of the old trunks. They took 'em away. I had to buy new gear yesterday after I broke out. I bought this knife too.”

He reached under the folds of the cape and pulled out a long, glittering knife. The blade gleamed silver blue in the moonlight, and I could see the razor-sharp edge. He examined it fondly, running his finger over the cold steel with a soft caress. I shivered. It took superhuman control to keep from fainting. I forced myself to look away from the knife.

“Millie—” I whispered. “Why—”

“Saucy little bitch, that 'un. Came on like a regular tart, making eyes at me, hinting how pleased she'd be if I'd condescend to paint her. I agreed, gave her the money to buy a suitable outfit. She made a red dress, got a black feather boa, came sneaking up the backstairs to my room. Didn't want you to know about it—ashamed of herself, knew it wasn't proper for her to be seeing me alone like that.”

“She—she didn't let you—”

“I never touched her—not that she'd of put up any fight, mind you. Fancied herself in love with me, she did, said it was just like something out of one of those cheap novels she was always gulping down.”

His voice grew hard. The anger mounted. He was seething with it.

“I almost had her. The bitch kicked me. I dropped the knife. People were coming. I had to run for it. I knew the masquerade was over. She got a good look at me.
She knew who I was
. She told your guardian everything. He posted policemen all around number nine. I intended to slip back in and gather up a few things, but there was a bobby in the back alley.

“She's the one!” he cried furiously. “If it hadn't been for her they'd
never
have found me out. I intend to get her. As soon as I finish here, I intend to go after her.” He gripped the knife tightly and looked up at me with enraged eyes.

“Nicholas—Nicholas found you—” I whispered.

“She told 'em who I was. They came after me. They found me, took me to that place—bars on the windows, human animals screaming all night long. I waited. For over a month I waited, and then yesterday I saw my chance. The guards were taking me for a walk on the grounds. I was being very mild and submissive. They weren't expecting anything—” He smiled, remembering. “I fooled 'em good. I got away—”

He grew silent, immersed in thought. Moonlight spilled down, turning the flagstones to flat dull silver, creating shadows that danced like dark black cutouts. Leaves rustled. The crickets still rasped. Tall shrubs isolated us from the rest of the gardens. Daniel Lord sighed deeply and shook his head. My heart pounding, I began to edge backward, hoping he wouldn't notice. He looked up sharply.

“I'd only have to chase you,” he said gently. “I'd catch you. It would be very unpleasant. Be good, Susannah. Be reasonable. Don't make it difficult.”

“You—you're insane—”

“That's what they said. That's why they put me in that place. It was a dreadful place, Susannah.” His voice was sad now, hurt, the voice of a child who has been unjustly punished. “They kept me in a padded cell. I screamed and clawed and bit, but it did no good. They refused to
listen
to me. I tried to tell them who I am, but they wouldn't listen. Every night I heard those animals shrieking, and one of them was in my cell. It was going to hurt me. I cried. For a long time I cried, and then after a while I learned to be crafty. I stopped crying. I was a good boy. I didn't try to bite the doctor. I sat quietly and smiled, no matter how ugly they were to me. I fooled them. They said I'd become a zombie, and I let them think that, but all the time I was making plans, waiting—”

He gave a short laugh, relishing his joke.

“They were taking me for a walk over the grounds, two of them. They were talking as though I weren't there, making plans for their day off. I waited till we got near the fence. I hit one of 'em, knocked him out. The other one tried to grab me. I didn't have my knife, but I bit his jugular. He screamed like a pig. I lifted his pocketbook so I'd have some money, and then I scrambled over the fence and ran and ran and ran.”

He waited for me to make some comment, a clever child expecting words of praise. I grew faint. My head was spinning. The ground seemed to waver under my feet. He held the knife up, examining the gleaming blade.

“I bought this knife. It isn't as good as the other one, but it'll do. I tried it out last night. Her name was Mary Jane Kelly. She was young, pretty, too, a lot prettier than most of 'em are. I let her take me up to her room—squalid place, filled with trash, face powder all over the carpet. I asked her questions while she undressed. Regular talker, she was, that one, told me all about her profession, bragged about her talent, and when she'd finished, when she was naked, I asked her if she was afraid of Jack The Ripper. ‘Not likely, luv,' she said. She laughed, and while she was laughing I took out my knife. Blood splattered all over the walls.”

My knees buckled. Thrusting the knife back in his belt, he grabbed my arms before I could fall. He held me away from him and looked into my eyes, his own full of tender compassion. His voice was a soft caress.

“This morning I went back to number nine and had a brief conversation with my former landlady. She was delighted to see me, asked me all about Scotland. A few casual inquiries elicited the information I wanted. She told me Craig had brought you here.”

He let go of my arms and touched my cheek with his fingertips, lightly, tenderly. A gust of wind caused his cape to billow. It made a silky, fluttering noise. He spread his legs wide apart, holding his head down, the brim hiding his face. The wind grew stronger, limbs lashing, leaves rattling furiously. Thunder rumbled. Jagged streaks of lightning ripped at the sky. Silver blue flashes exploded all around us, shadows leaping over the ground. When he looked up, his eyes were grave, his mouth grim.

“I don't want to kill you, Susannah, but it's something that must be done. To punish him, you see. He loves you. The night you came back from the ball I was standing on the attic stairs, in the shadows. I saw him kiss you. Ah yes, he loves you, and he must be punished. He sent me to that place. He must suffer. He must lose you. I regret this, Susannah. I do indeed.”

He pulled out the knife. I tried to scream, but no sound came. My vocal cords were paralyzed. Daniel Lord looked down at the knife in his hand, then looked up at me. He shook his head sadly, eyes full of woe. Lightning exploded. Limbs lashed. The shadows leaped and danced in frenzy, taking on solid shapes, crashing through the shrubs.

“Susannah!” Nicholas cried.

Daniel Lord let out an anguished cry. He swung his arm back, the knife glittering as it slashed the air. Jamie Caine leaped on him, flinging a forearm around his throat, pulling him back. Another bobby seized his arm with both hands, wresting the knife away from him. Nicholas jerked me into his arms, crushing me to him. Daniel Lord struggled like the wild man he was, gasping, gurgling as the arm tightened around his throat. It took the two of them several minutes to get him under control.

“Don't hurt him,” Sir Reginald Belmount said. “Careful—”

“Nicholas!” I sobbed.

“I stopped by the house at seven o'clock. Maggie told me he had been there. We got here as soon as we could, almost killed the horses. If we'd been a few seconds later—my God!—if we'd been a few seconds later—”

“Let go of me!” Daniel Lord shrieked. “
Don't you know who I am
!”

“Calm down, Your Highness,” Sir Reginald said gravely. “We're doing this for your own good.”

20

It was something I had to do, and I dreaded it. A servant had delivered my message to Roseclay half an hour ago. Ted would be here soon. I wondered how I was going to tell him. He had been waiting impatiently all this time, full of high hopes, eager to post the banns, and I had repeatedly put him off, refusing to see him, pretending to be ill. I couldn't pretend any longer. I had to be fair to him.

I stood in the gardens, waiting. It was a glorious day, the sky a blue silk canopy spangled with silvery sunlight, a gentle breeze ruffling branches of the evergreen trees. Now, in late November, the gardens were green and brown, a few blue flowers growing alongside the flagstone path. Dark, black-green ivy clung to the gray stone wall of the herb garden behind me, and, in the distance, a bird warbled merrily, celebrating the glory of sunshine and unseasonal warmth. Everything was peaceful, serene, and it seemed impossible that these very gardens had been the scene of stark terror only three weeks ago.