Ripper, My Love

by Glynis Smy

  ‘You are most welcome, James.’ Kitty put the dishes in the sink. When she turned back, James had leant forward with his head in his hands.

  ‘Are you feeling unwell?’ she asked.

  ‘Far from it. I was deep in thought. Nothing more.’ James’s mind was in turmoil.

  He needed to leave as soon as possible. His anger vice had now ventured into his life linked with Kitty. Never did he think of her being friends with a drunk prostitute. He felt so guilty. It was his fault Kitty sat before him in distress; he was the cause of her unhappiness. He was no different to his father, both their actions had caused pain and upset.

  Kitty broke his train of thought as she brushed by him to sit down. Her perfumed body odour, and gentle voice stirred his senses.

  ‘James, I was wondering. Please do not consider me ill mannered or too bold when I ask this. Now, well, I mean, after last night's conversation, and our future plans. I wondered if you would reconsider the ball? Of course I would have to attend on your ticket, but I wonder...’

  James stood up and waved his hands indicating he did not want to hear anymore. He could feel anger brewing inside. He was angry with himself. He had to get away. He pulled his jacket from the back of the chair.

  ‘Kitty, I do not think it will be wise. I am sorry. I must leave now, before there are too many people around. I am sorry about the ball, I truly am. You really should not have refused the invitation because of me. I am not worth it.’

  ***

  James turned and gave her a gentle kiss. There was no passion in it, no fire as there had been the night before. Kitty was confused by the sudden change in his mood. She regretted mentioning the ball.

  ‘James, sit down, please. If I cannot go with you, I will not go at all. It is my choice, now enough said about the matter. Do you really have to leave? Cannot you spend a few more hours with me?’ She traced her fingers around his face in the hope of sparking interest in more lovemaking. Her limited knowledge did not know the correct way of approaching him about it, but she wanted to indicate how she felt.

  James took her hand in his and kissed her fingers, ‘I would love nothing more, but I do have to take my leave. Thank you for breakfast, Kitty. Goodbye.’

  He went to the door, glanced back at her and left.

  Kitty watched as the top of his hat disappeared down the lane. Her heart sank with disappointment; he never turned around for another glimpse of her.

  Thank you for breakfast? No love? I wonder what I did wrong? And why, oh why will he not attend the ball with me? Is he ashamed of me? Oh, James I thought better of you.

  Kitty allowed the tears to fall.

  Her day was filled with drawing up receipts and bookkeeping; she avoided thinking about her and James. Whenever she did she broke down and cried. Her greatest fear was that James had been shocked by her wanton ways, and now considered her nothing more than a bedmate. Despite his talk of marriage.

  Working on finances kept her focused. The business was doing well and her profit had accumulated into quite a nest egg. So much so she would have to speak to her father about where she should keep it. She had considered enquiring about purchasing the building, but after careful consideration, she decided to use the money for fabric purchases and staff employment. A young assistant to help Sarah and herself with the menial chores was her next project.

  If Mrs Whitfield's gown was the success people expected, Kitty knew her order books would become full. She would need help with cleaning and deliveries. Her life had changed and all for the better. If she continued mixing within the social circle she was now finding herself in, James would never have to hide her away. Kitty Harper was going to be a name on everyone’s lips.

  ***

  James walked away from Buttons and Bows. As he ambled through the streets, he became more and more miserable. He ignored greetings from the street cleaners. He found no pleasure in the sun as it managed to fight the smoggy haze and light the pavements ahead.

  You fool. All the talk of a future turned Kitty’s head. Promises of marriage. What a ludicrous situation. I could never marry her.

  James continued to berate himself as he walked home. He tried to justify his actions. No woman had ever made him feel guilty about bedding her in the past. Why he should feel anything was beyond him. Yet he did.

  She never fought against my kisses. She had given herself to me completely, heart and soul. No man could resist what she had offered.

  When she spoke about the ball, he could not explain to her that he had a female partner. He could not take Kitty if he wanted to. His family had organised a companion in the form of the neighbouring farmer's daughter. It was hoped he would marry the cold fish of a girl, and the two farms would merge, making it the largest working farm in Essex.

  The girl was five years younger than James was, plus she was plain and plump. The few occasions that the families had mixed socially, James had been bored by her attentions. She had no conversation, and fawned over him like a child. She was an irritation and the very thought he was expected to marry and bed her, appalled him. His hands however were tied, if he wanted the farm for his own, he had no choice.

  His intentions towards Kitty had started out honourable ones, but unfortunately, circumstances had now changed.

  If I had not allowed Jack to kill her friend. Jack, me- we are the same, who am I kidding? I killed her and Kitty must never, never find out--never.

  Hopefully the days apart would help him clear his head, and find a way of letting her down gently.

  Chapter 25

  Friendship and Acceptance

  The Mayor’s wife received her gown. It sat in pride of place on the mannequin, in her dressing room. A room Kitty noted, that was larger than her father’s cottage.

  Kitty watched as Evelyn Whitfield stood with her hands together as if in prayer and pressed, to her lips for several minutes. Kitty waited anxiously to hear a comment, a murmur of appreciation. The woman walked around the gown twice. On both occasions she reached out and stroked the back bustle, the small buttons on the front and the lace around the sleeves. Finally came her reaction. In an almost childlike squeal, the owner of the new gown hugged Kitty tightly. A social faux pas if ever Kitty saw one.

  ‘Thank you. Oh Kitty it is a gown of great beauty. It is wonderful; Beautiful; I cannot wait to wear it, thank you. You have great talent.’

  Kitty giggled with relief.

  ‘You are welcome madam. It was a pleasure to work, I enjoyed the fabric, and it is good quality. It performed well. I am delighted madam. Delighted you are pleased with my work. You have the figure to wear such an elongated waist, and will be Belle of the ball.’

  Mrs Whitfield clapped her hands.

  ‘I certainly will feel like one, thanks only to you. It is beautiful, look how it shines. Those deep pleats hang so well. And the bustle is just enough. A unique creation indeed.’ She turned to her maids. ‘Ensure it is covered well. It would be most disastrous if it ruined before the night.’

  She took Kitty by the elbow and led her to the door. ‘Come, Kitty, I need to talk to you about the ball.’

  The entered a beautiful, light airy room. Each item was of the latest design and lace draped every chair and table. They sat on chairs by the window and she looked out onto the vast garden.

  ‘When I received a refusal from you I do admit. I was quite taken aback. It is not everyone who is invited, and the opportunity is a rare one. Why can you not come? Does your father not approve? He can escort you, if that is the case.’

  Kitty smiled, she loved the enthusiasm of her new customer. To attend the ball would be wonderful, but to attend alone she did not want to think about. No one could take James’s place and her mind was made up.

  ‘Madam, you paid me a great honour of sending the invitation. I do appreciate it, but the suitable gentleman I wish to escort me is unable, and I cannot attend alone. My father will be working. I will be frank, we do not attend many balls, and I would feel awkward. It was very kind
of you to think of me, but please take no offence by my refusal.’

  ‘I am not offended Kitty, just surprised. A young woman of your age should attend a ball at least once in her lifetime, no matter her background. Class is not allowed in this house.’

  Kitty laughed, it was a soft laugh. She did not like to point out the social class difference between her and her customer.

  ‘I agree, Mrs Whitfield. I agree, but I cannot attend alone.’

  ‘Well, we will have to figure this out. Hmm, what to do, what to do.’

  All the time she spoke, she walked backwards and forwards, with her hands in their prayer position to her lips. Kitty watched in amusement. She jumped when the woman, shouted out in glee.

  ‘I have the answer. You will be my escort, my evening attendant. I will need someone to help keep me looking neat and tidy at all times. My maid will be on other duties, and Mr Whitfield will be far too busy with his politician cronies. If you come before the evening starts, you can help my maid dress me, and then she in turn can attend to you. Together we will join my husband while he carries out his duty. You can stand behind me and keep my train and bustle looking tidy, while I greet our guests. You will prevent boredom from entering my evening, and I insist you take a few dance partners off of my hands. My card will be full. It is an important time for my husband, and as his wife I have to make a good impression. I do warn you though; it will be a dangerous mission. Unfortunately some of those who will fill my card will make an impression on your toes only.’

  Kitty giggled as she listened to the excited woman's voice. Evelyn Whitfield was a determined woman. She was clear about what Kitty's role would be, that she had not drawn breath during her small speech.

  ‘You do dance do you not Kitty? I mean, have you had lessons? Oh, goodness how rude of me, I am so sorry I never think when I open my mouth.’

  Kitty let the laughter that had been suppressed burst forth. She bent over to catch her breath.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Whitfield, I apologise. Yes I can waltz, I was taught as a child. I am sorry to laugh but your enthusiasm, about your seamstress attending the ball with you, tickled me.’

  Evelyn looked at Kitty and it dawned on her the absurdity of what she had just said. Then she laughed, and held out her hand to Kitty.

  ‘My dear girl, you will be doing me a favour. I will need somebody with a calm manner around me. I have no daughters, my son is too young to attend, and my friends twitter like birds, they never help instead they flutter. You dear girl, have your feet on the ground, you will be my rock, my support. Please agree. I know our backgrounds are worlds apart, but friends come to us in various forms. I am not a class-structured woman. My husband's policies are to unite the classes; he is a fan maker as I have said before, not a Duke or King, just a humble fan maker. Now tell me where the differences between us are?’

  ‘This is the second time, Mrs Whitfield...’

  She was stopped by an arm, which touched hers.

  ‘Evelyn, you must call me Evelyn, we are friends now, are we not?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, err, Evelyn. Do you realise this is the second time you have persuaded me to agree to something? The first time was to make you a gown, and now you try and persuade me to stand beside you on your big night. You should be in politics and run the country. Yes, I will come to dress you, and yes I will attend you. Thank you. Now, I must leave you, as I have a gown to make for myself and no time to spare. I wish I had your powers of persuasion, I would persuade Old Father Time to add to the clock.’

  Again, the enthusiastic clapping of hands ensued from her newfound friend. Kitty could not believe what had happened in the past few moments. Plans were made and times agreed for the day. Evelyn's maids were given instructions to clear a small room for Kitty. The household coachman would collect her, and the room would be ready for her to prepare herself for the evening.

  She refused the offer of drinks, and made her way down the sweeping staircase. In a week she would be walking down them as a guest of the owners. It was all a dream, a wonderful dream.

  ***

  Frantic activity in the cutting room had kept Kitty and Sarah busy throughout the week leading up to the ball. They had finished and were tidying the sewing room. Kitty had invested some of her profit on fabric, not for the shop but for herself. She had bought a good quality silk.

  Her shoulders ached, but the result was worth it.

  ‘It is a pretty piece, Kitty. You have a good eye for designing.’ Sarah watched as Kitty removed stray pins from the garment.

  William and Patrick had made her another mannequin. She had lifted the gown in situ and it had pride of place in the corner of her sewing room. The round skirt, hung over a small bustle that fell into a V shape from her narrow hips. The soft fabric hung in deep, draped folds and the folds followed the angle of seams and darts to elongate the waist area. The soft peach material had a pearl shimmer, and when the light of day caught it, the dress glistened. Kitty ran her fingers over the neckline; she touched the small pearl beads she had stitched around the lace trim. She was to be in the spotlight a bit more than she had anticipated, and the gown she made needed to make an impression. The one she had made for Evelyn was far more superior, but the fabric and cut of her own would stand out as a well made piece. This was a silent advertisement for her business. She would be scrutinised by every woman in the room - it would be only natural. After all she would be standing beside the new Mayor, and was a new face in town. Guaranteed Evelyn would tell who had made her dress, so Kitty’s work had to speak volumes. The recent newspaper article Arthur had written would have a few people curious. He had mentioned the Mayor’s wife, and posted the question that would be on the lips of the fashionable, what would her ball gown look like? Who had made it? Rumours were that it was a new London designer. Kitty had laughed when she read his rough draft.

  ‘Me? A new London designer? Thank you for the advertisement, Arthur.’

  Therefore Kitty felt it was important that London’s newest designer wore something eye-catching.

  If she had not made it for the ball, it would have been made for her wedding day. An idea struck Kitty and she turned to Sarah.

  ‘I will ask Patrick and Father to make me a keepsake box. I will store the gown after the ball in readiness for my wedding day.’

  Sarah nodded enthusiastically. ‘Such a good idea. It is the perfect gown for the occasion. When it arises of course. I am certain you will not have to wait many years to be wed.’ Sarah smoothed her hands over her pinafore and plucked a stray thread from the gown. William and Patrick called up the stairs, announcing their arrival to collect Kitty and her outfit.

  ‘Come on up Father. All is ready.’

  The same method of transporting her gown to the hostess's house was used as the previous week.

  ‘Enjoy your evening lass. I cannot put into words about how proud I am of you.’

  Kitty kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you, Papa. I will. Thank you, Patrick for helping me. I truly appreciate it.’

  Patrick grinned back at her. ‘I would have brushed my suit down and escorted you had I received my invitation in time’.

  Kitty laughed, but felt a twinge of guilt. He could have escorted her, but she had been determined to go with James. Now the chance for both of them had passed.

  ‘I will remember that for the Christmas affair, thank you Patrick.’ She smiled at him.

  ‘Why, thank you kindly, my lady.’ Patrick removed his flat cap and gave her a sweeping bow.

  ‘It is time to leave, Kitty. Are you ready?’ William picked up her overnight valise and walked to the dray. ‘Your carriage awaits madam.’

  ***

  On her arrival at the Whitfield house, the staff moved around like a well-formed army. Members had a job to do, and one of them, Carrie, was to assist Kitty. She was shown to her private dressing room, and informed by the more senior maid, that her Mrs Whitfield would receive her as soon as she was settled. She was to go to Evelyn's room, two doors down th
e corridor. Kitty laid out her toiletries and accessories for the evening ahead. She was so excited. It had been over a week since she had last seen James, and tonight she would surprise him. She could not wait to dance with him, to be in his arms in public. Her presence next to the mayoral party would give her social standing, his mother and Hannah would definitely be surprised. His father would surely be impressed.

  She straightened her dress and ensured her hair was tidy. She collected a fresh pair of white cotton gloves from her valise. She had taken to wearing them when handling silks and satins. It was mentioned in a fashion article about keeping skin oils away from delicate fabrics, by wearing them. Kitty thought it made her look more professional, and introduced the method into her shop; many of her customers were impressed by the practice.

  She walked down the light airy corridor to Evelyn's room, and tapped twice on the door. Carrie, Evelyn's personal maid opened it and announced her arrival. The room smelt beautiful, bouquets of fresh flowers sat in crystal vases upon small tables under the window.

  Evelyn was inhaling their perfume.

  ‘Aren't they just wonderful, Kitty? Downstairs is full of them, but these were so fragrant I just had to have them in my room. My word, I am extremely nervous, excited, but nervous. Oh, it is lovely to see you. Are you nervous Kitty my lovely, are you ready for tonight?’

  Kitty laughed. ‘Hello Evelyn, yes the flowers are lovely, yes I am nervous and yes all is ready for tonight.’

  Evelyn crossed over to her and kissed her upon both cheeks. Kitty was no longer shy in her company. This was a new friendship; one Kitty felt would last for many years.

  ‘Your hair looks beautiful; did Carrie work it for you?’

  Her hostess put her hand to her floral tiara.

  ‘Yes and my mother sent this gift for me. Do you not think it is pretty? The flowers are so delicate and the crystals sparkle so much. It compliments my gown, do you not think so?’

  ‘It certainly does catch the light. Your mother has chosen well.’