For the next week, Clarissa tosses and turns at night, unable to find relief in sleep. Images of Daniel Cavendish haunt her mind. His dangerous eyes manage to creep into her thoughts and shake her core. Most nights she wakes up before the sunrise, his face etched into her brain. She won't admit it but putting that face, to that name, has created a deep fear in her. On top of that she hasn't spoken to Florence since their dispute, it pains her not to be on speaking terms but neither girl is willing to break the silence.
Around 8:30 on Friday morning Alice enters the bedroom. Clarissa sits up, discarding the book she has been buried in for the last 2 hours.
"Anything good this morning?" She asks, settling into her pillows and stretching.
"The newspaper as always and a letter from your sister I believe," Alice says placing the paper and envelope on the bed. She picks up the forgotten book and frowns at the title as she moves to put it away.
"L'art de la Guerre?"
"The Art of War, it's a Chinese military strategy book," Clarissa says as she opens the paper, scanning the articles. She requests the paper every day to keep up to date with any dodgy happenings that have made it into headlines. The last few days have been clear of bodies but as she turns to the first page her heart sinks. Another girl has been found dead in Gowers Walk, a back alley in Whitechapel, but there is something different about this murder; it isn't a murder, it's a suicide.
The message is clear. Whitechapel has been claimed.
"Well I hope you aren't planning a war any time soon," Alice says.
"It's on my mind." Clarissa murmurs, folding the paper and picking up her sister's letter.
"I'll fetch your tea," Alice says before leaving the room. Clarissa reaches into her bedside table draw and pulls out a small ruby knife, she runs the blade along the seam and unfolds the letter.
My dear Clarissa,
It has only been two weeks since I arrived in Paris with Victor and yet I have so much to tell you. I saw our cousins in Versailles, they send their best wishes and seem to be well, however, I believe life in France hasn't recovered from the treacherous reign of Louis XVI and Marie Antionette. Everywhere I look there are faces that conceal the pain of revolution and debt, it seems to have left no one unscathed.
I have spent many days walking around the city streets, the bakeries here are something of a slice of heaven, I don't think even Celeste could dispute how delicious their pastries are. I spend the rest of my time in the Bibliothèque Nationale, it is simply delightful to read the books that for centuries have only been reserved for the eyes of the French Monarchy, the wonders that have been revealed to me are beyond description. I dine with friends and friends of friends most nights, the conversation had is starkly different to London, I am allowed, nay encouraged to have an opinion on everything from politics to sport. I cannot tell you how happy I am to be here.
On Friday I begin my travels to St Petersburg, Victor will see me to Vienna where I will meet a friend of mother's, Lady Karoline Pichler who will accompany me all the way to Russia. I have enclosed the address of my lodgings in Vienna, I would be grateful for a letter from you as I shall be staying there for at least 2 weeks.
Victor also tells me that he will be writing soon but not to expect him to return to London before Autumn, I think he plans a small vacation for himself in Austria. I must go now, I have an engagement with our cousins to celebrate my last night. I do hope you, mother and father are well, I miss you greatly. Stay out of trouble my darling sister. Much love,
YOU ARE READING
To Deceive A Duke
Romance{Shortlisted for the Wattys 2022} It's 1798 and The Lenoir family controls a significant part of London's dreaded and violent underworld. They reap the rewards in high-class society but Clarissa Lenoir has little interest in society or the people wi...
