“Yes, Mr. Hampton is a very trustworthy gentleman whom I’ve known for many years, and he was kind enough to circle back on his route and submit to my questions—even though I lack a warrant card,” she added, smiling once more. “I imagine you think me foolish, but I merely wished to know more before... Well, before imposing on you and your office.”
“I would never think you foolish, Beth, but you could have sent one of your footmen to A-Division,” he suggested. “Though, since this is H-Division’s case, I imagine that is why you brought it here.”
“You tease me now,” she complained, and he feared he had hurt her.
“No, no, Beth, truly, that was not my intent. Forgive me. Of course, I am glad you brought it to me. It is just that today—well, no matter. So, this Hampton fellow, did he recall seeing the letter?”
She shook her head. “No. He had filled the bag himself, and he would have remembered such an unusual envelope. Our house is the first stop on his morning route, and he met no one along the way, therefore it was not surreptitiously slipped into the bag. I was quite clear about asking him this. It can only have been placed into the bag after Mr. Hampton left it with my butler, which must mean that someone had access to the house.”
Panic again seized him as he realised what this implied. “Which also means he has access to you. No, this will not happen. I shall shoot this Saucy Jack person myself, if it comes to that, no matter what the law might say. Elizabeth, I’m sending for Lord Aubrey. I want him to take you to Scotland right away.”
“No, Charles,” she replied stubbornly. “Please, don’t. I will not leave—not yet. I need to make you see how far this plan goes, so that you realise the deep history of it, the true evil of it. Ripper and his crimes are but one aspect to this madness. I must show you the tunnels beneath Branham.”
“Paul can show them to me after he leaves you at your grandfather’s estate.”
She shook her head. “That would not work. Paul has seen parts of the tunnel system, but I have never shared these areas with him.”
St. Clair sighed, for he could see no other option. “Very well, but we will go together to Branham, the three of us, as soon as we may. But for now, today, I want you in Aubrey’s protection. I will not have you remain at a house where a madman lies in wait. France! Come up here at once!” he called into the stairwell. “I’ll send Inspector France with a message to Whitehall. I take it the earl is there today?”
“I believe he is,” she replied, resigned to her fate. “Forgive me for worrying you, Charles. Had I known the pressures you are under today, I would not have come, but instead gone to Superintendent Dunlap at A-Division as you said I should. But I thought you would wish to see the letter. Forgive me, please. It’s clear that I’ve upset you for no reason.”
He pulled her into his arms, not caring if anyone else in the station saw. “Forgive you for what? For coming to me when you feared? For asking me to share your danger? For seeking my aid? I would be upset and angry had you not done so, Elizabeth.”
“Charles,” she began, but he put two fingers on her lips to quieten her.
“Listen to me for a moment, my darling, beautiful duchess. I know you cannot tell me all that now worries and haunts you, but if you will allow it, I shall take that worry upon myself and remove all that makes you afraid. All that terrifies you. Will you allow it, my dearest heart? Will you let me be your protector...if not...more?”
She thought about Paul’s proposal, of the ring now upon her left hand, beneath her glove. How could she hurt him?
“I want to...I do, Charles, for it seems that my fears vanish whenever you are near.” She clung to him, her mind racing to all possibilities and how each would affect her family, but her heart won out at last, and she looked into his eyes, her own filled with trust. “Oh, my noble knight, yes. Yes, I will, Captain,” she said, knowing she risked forever damaging her relationship with her wonderful cousin, but her heart needed to look to Charles, though she wished it did not.
St. Clair kissed her cheek and then her hands, longing to do more. “Good, then it is settled. Once Aubrey arrives, we shall make plans to go to Branham.”
“If you say that is how it must proceed, then I accept it,” she whispered, sitting on the sofa. “Charles, why did you not wish for me to speak with that woman downstairs? I am not mistaken. I did recognise her.”
He’d wanted to avoid this conversation, but it appeared inevitable. “I’d rather hoped you wouldn’t recognise her. I saw how it affected you, Elizabeth. Those old memories came flooding back along with that recognition, did they not?”
She looked away, suddenly realising where they now sat. “It was this office, wasn’t it?” she asked. “Here, where I was brought that night. Where...”
“Please, don’t think on it, darling,” he whispered, sitting beside her. “Let the past remain buried.”
She leaned into his embrace. “If only it would, Charles. I fear that the old memories do not remain buried for long. But that woman. She talked to me. That day at your house. She knocked on the door.”
St. Clair blinked. “Beth, I think you misremember. She worked in the house across the street from my home, but she did not knock.”
“No, Charles—I mean, yes, she did work there, I suppose. However, I not mistaken. Whilst you slept and Mary Wilsham was out, I heard a knock. I had been looking out the window at the time, and I saw her knock upon your door. I answered, and she asked if my name was Elizabeth.”
“What?” he gasped. “She? The woman downstairs? You are certain of this?” he asked, standing and opening the door. “France! Now!” he called again.
“I am absolutely certain of it. Of course, I could not recall my name then, and even upon hearing it, I did not know if it was true or not. I told her that I was unsure, and she said it did not matter. That she had a message for me—for the little girl inside the policeman’s house.”
The younger officer arrived at the door and knocked. “Sorry to be so long, Superintendent, it took some time to locate the ink remover. Do you need me, sir?”
“A moment, Arthur.” A very dark intuition nudged at St. Clair’s brain. “Do you recall that message, Beth?”
“I do. She told me that a man had asked about me. She described a very tall person with a foreign accent. She told me that he would hurt me if he found me, and that I must remain with you. She seemed quite sincere. It was then that the publican walked past, and I feared he might be this very man. I tried to waken you, but you slept soundly. By the time I returned to the door, the woman had disappeared, and as I feared losing sight of the man, I decided to follow him. Charles, I had no idea then just how dangerous it was. I only thought I was helping you.”
He took her hands and kissed them. “You are too brave for your own good,” he said with a smile. “Arthur, I want you to do two things for me. First of all, please, stop by my house and check to see that Mrs. Wilsham is all right. And once you’ve made certain of that, take a hansom to Whitehall and deliver a message to Lord Aubrey in the Foreign Office.” Charles quickly wrote a short note and folded it before handing it to France. “Tell him that Elizabeth is here for now, but that she must not return to her house. Do you have that?”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Oh, Dr. Sunders says that he cannot yet remove Miss Ross to the dispensary. Apparently, the lady is quite upset and insists on speaking to the duchess.”
“Beth?” St. Clair asked. “Do you wish to speak to her?”
“Yes, Charles, I do. May I?”
“All right,” he said, helping her to stand. “Careful as we go down these steps, though, Elizabeth. You still look pale to me.”
He walked beside her, making sure that she suffered no further strange spells, but he paused before leading her back into the main lobby. “Let me first make certain that O’Brien and Dam have not returned. Stay here a moment.”
St. Cl
air walked into the large lobby, noting Sergeant Williams’s curious look. “Sergeant, the reporters have left?”
“They have, sir, and it’s calmed considerably outside, now that Mr. Lusk’s crew have dispersed. Your threat to start arresting people put a right good scare into them, sir. Thank you for that.”
“My pleasure, Alfred. Did you remove the film roll from that camera?”
“I did, sir. And Mr. Dam seemed quite angered by it, but I explained that it was in his best interest to make no fuss, else he could make application to you from the other side of iron bars.”
“Well said, Alfred. Thank you.” Charles returned to the hallway and took Beth’s arm. “Darling, are you sure you wish to speak to Miss Ross?”
“She asked for me, Charles, and besides, I wish to know more of her connexion to—well, to this man.”
“I still believe your memory is flawed, but...no, do not glare at me so!” he added, smiling. “Come. Let us see what Miss Ross recalls of that day.”
As the pair entered the lounge, Sunders stood. “She’s very weak, sir. My lady, it is kind of you to come down. Miss Ross? The duchess is here.”
Elizabeth sat into a wooden chair near the couch and touched the woman’s hand. “Miss Ross? Do you remember me? It’s been a long time since last we spoke, but I remember you.”
Ida Ross opened her eyes. “Oh, you was a little girl then, my lady. So pretty, an’ you wore Mr. St. Clair’s shirt, I think.”
Elizabeth smiled. “That’s right, I did. I’d forgotten that.”
“An’ you was kind enough to ask if I needed a coat, you was. Such a pretty thing. An’ real sweet.” She coughed once, her eyes growing unfocused. Then, she sat up suddenly. “Wolf! The wolf!” she shouted, her face pinching into a mask of fear.
Elizabeth’s face grew white, and she reached out instinctively for St. Clair’s hand. “Why would you say that? What of the wolf?” she asked.
Ross reached out for the duchess, gripping her forearm. “That man,” the woman explained, her eyes wild. “He told me to say it. To tell you that the wolf had his eye upon you! He come to the house, and he told me to knock on Mr. St. Clair’s door. He said your name was Elizabeth. That I should tell you that you was in danger.”
“Who told you this, Miss Ross?” St. Clair asked. “Did you knock on my door?”
She began to weep uncontrollably, and her hands shook. “I don’t know! I canno’ remember right. It was dark, and oh he was a right frightenin’ man, he was. Told me he’d slit me and then toss me into the river, if I didn’t do as he said. But no one else saw him. Irene said no one was there, but I did see ‘im, sir, I did! I reckon he just disappeared in a puff o’ smoke or like some great shadow when the light’s gone out.” She began to weep, her eyes shut tight.
Elizabeth’s entire body trembled, and Charles put an arm around her shoulders. “You’re safe, Beth. No one will harm you here.”
The duchess took a deep breath as if to steel her nerves. “Miss Ross, you say this man—that he disappeared. Did you hear him speak?” she asked. “Was it English?”
The woman shut her eyes tightly, her voice trancelike. “Not English, no. But somethin’ ancient that spoke inside my head. Like he was whisperin’ into my ears, though I could see no one, and...and...he said he was comin’ for you, and...” Ida opened her eyes, rimmed with red and pain, but her expression slack. “What? Oh, Mr. St. Clair. I didn’t know you was there.”
“Her mind is unstable,” Sunders said sadly. “She’ll make little sense, I’m afraid.”
Elizabeth touched her hand. “Miss Ross, do you recognise me?”
The woman appeared confused. “Should I?”
“Beth, we must leave her to rest,” St. Clair said, touching the duchess’s hand, but she would not move.
“Miss Ross. I am the little girl. You talked to me ten years ago. The man who talked to you. This thing you call the shadow. He was not really a man at all, was he? He not only talked about the wolf. He was the wolf,” she said calmly.
Both men showed surprise, but the sick woman nodded, a moment of clarity driving her. “Yes! Oh, yes! A wolf! Like a great animal, he were, but I could hear him talkin’ inside my head! He said he was comin’ for you, Elizabeth. Said he was... That he was gonna kill you. Don’t go near the tunnels, please! He said he would kill you there! Stay in London. Do not go to Branham!”
“What did you say?” Elizabeth asked, suddenly terrified. “Why would you speak of tunnels? How do you know about my home?”
The woman’s eyes closed, and she began to sing softly to herself.
Sunders sighed. “It’s advanced syphilis, my lady. She makes no sense. Forgive me, Superintendent. I should not have sent that message upstairs. It was kind of you to come down, however, Your Grace.”
“Come, Beth. Let’s return to Reid’s office.” She seemed not to hear him, but Charles took her by the arm and gently coaxed the duchess to her feet. “Darling, please. She is deranged. We must allow Dr. Sunders to care for Miss Ross. Our presence will only upset her.”
“But why would she mention tunnels, unless...?” she asked, her eyes filled with dread. “How could she know anything about them? How could she know I planned to show you the tunnels beneath Branham?”
“A strange coincidence,” he replied, though he found the answer unconvincing. They climbed back to the upstairs office, and St. Clair brought her a glass of water. “Drink this. Do you still feel unsteady, darling?”
She drank the water, and he watched as she regained her sense of calm, her composure. After a moment, she smiled at him, touching his hand. “My wonderful Captain, forgive me for worrying you. I’m all right. Do you truly think Miss Ross merely said those things because her mind is...deranged?”
“I do, but try to help me understand what happened ten years past. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes. I think so.”
He sat beside her and kissed her cheek. “All right, then, tell me all that you remember of that day. If Ida Ross knocked upon my door, then surely she saw you chase after the publican. Why did she not follow you—go after you? Beth, you were just a child!”
“I’m not sure. As I said, she had left your doorway. At the time, I assumed that her warning meant that the man from the park had somehow found me. But how could he? And why would she speak of the wolf?” She paused, fighting rising panic. She glanced up, tears staining her cheeks. “Forgive me, I know you must wonder at my sanity now, but the wolf...” she began, her voice trailing off. She tried to appear calm, but he could see that she was, in truth, terrified.
St. Clair took her into his arms, stroking her hair. “I will not allow anyone or anything to harm you, Beth. Nothing reaches you that does not go through me first. Do you believe me?”
She nodded, but she still trembled. “Yes, I believe you. Just give me a moment. What was it you asked?”
Wondering if he should let this drop, the detective waited until she’d begun to calm. “You are sure you wish to continue?” he asked. “Long ago, the late Lord Aubrey warned me not to push you to remember things you’ve forgotten. Beth, I worry that I’m doing that very thing now.”
“Uncle Robert,” she whispered. “How I miss him. But there are times when I need to remember, Charles. Please, what did you ask me?”
“Did Miss Ross follow you?”
“No, she did not, and I did not know where she’d gone, but at the time I thought little of it, for my mind was fixed upon pursuing the tall man, who turned out to be the landlord. Later, as you and I returned, I stopped to talk to her again, and she whispered to me. Do you remember?”
He’d not noticed, for then all he could think of was the deadline his late wife had set for Beth’s removal from their home. “No, darling, I do not. Other matters weighed upon me, I’m afraid. What did she say to you?”
Elizabeth turned pale. “She
told me that the wolf was coming for me. It is why I asked her to explain it just now, but perhaps she does not remember fully. The disease has altered her memories, I imagine.”
St. Clair stared, for this made no sense—unless it related to her childhood fears of an animal. “Elizabeth, this happened almost ten years ago, yet you recall this conversation as if it only just occurred, and yet—forgive me, darling—but you have told me that your memory is unreliable.”
“It is at times. I’ve no idea why, but Paul seems to think it normal. Ordinarily, my mind is quite sharp, and I can recall fine details that many others miss. Entire conversations for one thing and faces I’ve seen but once. Charles, Miss Ross did tell me that. And only after I regained the memory of who I was did it make any sense.”
“Do you think she meant William Trent? How can he be this wolf, Beth? Though he is a detestable person, and I would love to see him hang, I fail to understand how he could be this animal.”
“No one wants him to pay for his crimes more than I, Charles, but that is not what I surmised,” she told him. “Trent is demonic, but he is not the wolf. I’m sure of it. I would ask Miss Ross more, but she has—what did the doctor say—advanced syphilis? I’m so sorry. It is an illness that is transmitted through, well, through intimacy, is it not?”
“It is. Prostitutes often contract it, and then it spreads to her customers, and thence to the next poor woman. A vicious circle of death. We see far too much of that disease here, but had it been caught early, there may have been hope for her. Now, I fear, there is none.”
The duchess grew pensive. “Are you saying she will die? There is nothing to be done? Oh, I would help her if I can. Would a hospital offer treatment?”
“Sunders would be the one to answer that, darling, but I doubt that any medicine could help her now. Look, let’s not speak of this more. It’s well past luncheon, and you look pale. Allow me to send a constable for sandwiches and lemonade. I dare not take you out, Beth. Lusk and his rabble may have left, but with the protestors still in the streets, it is too dangerous. I am sorry.”
Blood Lies Page 13