Purgatory of the Werewolf - The Wolf of Dorian Gray (Book 2)

Chapter 4 - Lady Helena Part 1

Lord Crawley entered the mansion of Lady Helena by the back gate. The metal thatch-work barring the passage was almost entirely obscured by a thick grape vine. This entryway to her property was known to only a select few. It was used to conduct secretive business or for deliveries that needed to go unnoticed, such as with the painting that Lord Crawley held under his arm. He had carefully covered it with a thick canvas, which had been oiled to protect against the damp air.

He fumbled with the overgrown vegetation for a few moments before uncovering the latch. After glancing around him, Lord Crawley produced a key and turned the lock. The heavy gate swung open on well-greased hinges. He moved inside the dark tunnel and closed the iron gate carefully behind him. A few seconds later, a torch flared to life in his hand and he proceeded down the narrow stonework path.

He traveled for nearly thirty meters before coming to a heavy kingwood door. Once there, he placed his torch in a waiting sconce and knocked loudly using the metal knocker. He re-adjusted his grip on the canvas and was surprised at how quickly the peephole slid open in response to his knock.

A set of beady eyes scrutinized him for a few heartbeats before the bolt slid across and the entryway was opened. The pale light from behind illuminated the grizzled outline of Lady Helena's gardener, Lucious MacIllian. In the few months he had worked for her, Lord Crawley had never once seen Lucious tend to the garden or any other plants for that matter. He was convinced the foul-tempered servant took care of much more unpleasant tasks for his employer. The role of gardener was merely a contrivance to explain his presence. The man spoke in a grinding tone with a heavy Scottish accent. "Come alang, yer Lordship. Must'nt keeps th' Mistress awaitin'."

Lucious turned his face down in the sour look that was most often found there. Somewhere between a frown and a sneer, the expression barely hid the man's contempt behind a thin veil of servile submissiveness. It was an ugly face, pockmarked and weathered from age and hard labor. Long sideburns concealed a set of scars, and the face ended in a long hooking nose. It was bent in the middle, likely from a break that had healed poorly. The face sat upon a wiry frame that still had some strength, despite its age. The man wore the common clothes of a laborer with worn brown boots that had a military cut to them. His balding head was obscured by a dark-wool Scottish cap, tilted slightly to the side.

Lord Crawley had learned not to be baited by this cur, so he simply smiled and pretended not to notice the disrespect he had been shown. "Lead the way. My Lady will be most pleased to see I have returned victorious."

Lucious harshly shut the weighty door and then hurried down the stone hallway and up a flight of red brick steps. He didn't bother to pause and see whether the other man followed or not.

Lord Crawley cursed under his breath and followed the man up the steps and into the main house. How rude that he not offer to unburden him from his package. Once up the steps, he passed through a series of richly appointed rooms, stopping finally in a drawing room warmed with a roaring fire. Under a pile of plush blankets and soft furs sat Lady Helena.

Despite her advanced age and weakened condition from a recent sickness, the eyes were still fiery and mischievous. Though wrinkled and thinning, it had once been a beautiful and regal face. The figure before them was still graceful in defiance of the onslaught of time.

"Ah, My Lord Crawley. I see you were successful in the small task I set for you."

Lord Crawley inclined his head and put on his most charming smile. "I would hardly call it a small task, My Lady. The Detective Inspector was loath to release this painting into my custody and required a great deal of persuasion."

She laughed in a silvery tone, which turned suddenly into a coughing fit. Lord Crawley dutifully ignored it. Once she mastered herself, she proceeded on as if no interruption had occurred. "Fancied it as evidence did he?"

"Yes, and I can see why. You didn't tell me what an exquisite work of art it is. It must be very valuable."

"I would call it invaluable. A good thing I thought to call upon the Chief Inspector for his support in this matter."

"A brilliant move, My Lady. Your resourcefulness was the prod that allowed me to maneuver him to release it into my care."

"If only I were a decade younger, I would have better use for that silver tongue of yours, Lord Crawley. Now, unwrap the painting over there in the light and let me take a good look at it."

With a slight blush on his cheeks, Lord Crawley moved over to the table and carefully unwrapped the painting. He set it on the waiting wood easel and stepped back.

With a gasp, Lady Helena whispered, "It's changed."

Lord Crawley peered closer and spoke in a confused tone. "What do you mean changed? That is a spitting image of Dorian."

"Oh yes, Mr. Gray is the same as always. The painting captures his sculpted figure and timeless youth perfectly. When I last saw this painting however, he wasn't alone on the canvas but was holding a small wolf pup."

"Perhaps it is a different painting?"

"Oh, no. True, Sage painted many images of Mr. Gray, but this was the only one that was so alive with realism. Shortly after its creation, he stopped sitting for her and Sage never painted another of Mr. Gray before her death. This is that same painting. I was there when it was finished and my memory is still as sharp as it ever was. Somehow the wolf cub has been removed."

"So Dorian had it painted out. Perhaps his vanity couldn't suffer to be upstaged by the charm of some tiny animal. Why was it so urgent you have it in your possession?"

"My reasons are my own. Now, please recount to me the room exactly as you found it and leave no detail out."

This was why Lord Crawley had examined the room so carefully. He had committed every detail of the scene to memory as Lady Helena had commanded. He related the details to her as best he could.

Lady Helena considered his description of the room carefully. She closed her eyes as if reconstructing it in her mind. "How much blood did you say was on the floor?"

Lord Crawley performed some mental calculations. "About a pint or so but spread evenly around, with only a small portion in any one area."

"And the knife?"

"Bloodied as well, though the blood on the blade and around it seemed considerably darker."

"Strange. The window seemed blown out as if by an explosion?"

"What else could explain it?"

"You have done well, Lord Crawley. You will find a most generous payment there on the table."

Lord Crawley quickly scooped up the purse lying nearby the wooden easel. After a brief inspection of the gold coins inside, the purse disappeared into his jacket. He quite preferred gold coins to bank notes. Banks had a way of seeking to settle their own debts first, which tended to leave little left over. This arrangement had proved quite profitable, though Lord Crawley was still woefully short of repaying his many financial obligations. If he continued in the service of Lady Helena he may one day amass enough to repurchase his father's house. Living as a Lord in title only had been difficult after growing up in luxury. If only he had never met Dorian Gray.