To Deceive A Duke

Chapter 53

Clarissa swiftly walks away from Peter, fighting to put enough distance between them before she breaks down. She pushes through the streets, ignoring the strange looks and hushed voices, unsure of where she is heading, but unable to stand still. Her whole body hurts, her mind is heavy and she is utterly spent. She walks around London for an hour, carving paths through the city and treading down unknown alleys. The light is beginning to dim as the evening wears on and she decides that it is time to face home and the troubles within. 

She crosses the river, back into her territory, and the heartbreak, pain and fear of the day crash onto her shoulders, dragging her down. She stumbles along the streets but they no longer look the same; the shops, houses and pubs that once brought her such delight now make her feel cold and empty. She passes the One-Eyed Duke, bright comforting light and jovial singing is pouring from it and into the street, but she doesn't go inside. She continues her journey, her head lowered until she spies Florence's house. Her heart leaps and her feet pick up as she runs to the door to bang her fist hard on the wood. 

"FLO! FLO! It's me!" She yells, knocking again, "It's me..." 

The door swings open and she almost falls across the threshold. Florence takes one look at her in her ruined dress, messy hair and bloodstained skin, and collapses into a heap, crying. 

"Flo, what's wrong?" Clarissa cries, stepping into the living room and crouching down at her friend's side. Florence starts to sob louder, big fat tears rolling down her face. Alarmed, Clarissa kicks the door shut and sits down to rub her friend's back. After a few minutes, she manages to get Flo to her feet and lead her to the sofa where they both collapse onto the cushions. 

"I thought...I thought," Flo hiccups, wiping away her tears, "I thought you were dead,"

"What?" Clarissa says gently, "No, I am right here," 

Florence shakes her head, sniffing, "Chuck and John came to the pub to pick up some files and they said that you were missing...that, that Baines and Lestrade had taken you...and then Simon said you were safe but...but I didn't believe him..." She buries her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving. 

"Baines and Lestrade are dead," Clarissa tells her, taking her hands and squeezing them, reassuring her of her presence. "And I am very much alive," 

Florence blinks, startled, "They are dead? We've won?" 

"Yes," Clarissa says, turning to look into the lit fire, "It's over," 

"Oh, my," Florence raises a hand to her mouth, shock and happiness flashing across her face, then she frowns, wrinkling her nose, "You smell bad," 

"I have many people's blood on me," Clarissa agrees, sniffing herself and cringing at the metallic scent. 

"Whose blood?" Flo asks, standing up to fetch her a wet cloth. 

"Oh, uh Daniel's, Baines's and...oh," Clarissa falters as she accepts the damp rag and scrubs at her skin, "Oh Flo...," 

"What is it?" Florence says, sitting back down on the sofa and tilting her head questioningly. 

Clarissa looks away, sure where to begin, wiping her neck and arms. Her hand drops into her lap and she fiddles with the now stained rag, the red marks bright against the material. 

"Jack...he..." She stutters, a thick lump lodging in her throat, "Lestrade shot him," 

"What?" Colour drains from her best friend's face and she begins to shake, "What do you mean? Where's Jack? What happened? I don't...I don't understand..." She sees the truth painfully written on Clarissa's face and her skin turns ashen.