She would stay with her cash carrier for another year and five months.
Chapter 26: Escape
Tuesday, September 25, 1888
After a row with Mr. Kidney about his desire to fatten her a bit, Elizabeth made another escape from the room they shared. Before she left, she considered that she might not come back to him, and decided to leave her Swedish hymnal with the woman living next door, a Mrs. Smith. Elizabeth told the woman she would eventually return for it.
She went to the common lodging at 32 Flower and Dean Street. No beds were available at the time. The deputy of the establishment sent her to the doss house next door. At number 33 Flower and Dean Street, a lodging house owned by the same proprietor, a man named Satchell, she found accommodation.
Over the following week, Elizabeth drank little as she made her nightly rounds of several public houses seeking single men. She would finally make an earnest effort to find the man Jon wanted her to have.
Moving through the grim environment of Whitechapel, she looked to Bess to provide her with hope. While Elizabeth dutifully listened to her cynical voice, she didn’t look forward to hearing what she had to say. Liza saw nothing but trouble in the world. By her estimation, no good existed for Elizabeth without exposure to extreme danger and inevitable pain.
During the day, Elizabeth took pity on several hungry acquaintances at the doss house and bought them meals. Low on funds, she went to Mrs. Malcolms on Thursday, September 27 with the hope of getting her shillings early. The woman gave her the coins after a brief argument.
A share of a bed opened up at the doss house at 32 Flower and Dean Street on Thursday night. Elizabeth took the accommodation because she knew more people there and that diminished the likelihood of having to sleep in beds with complete strangers.
When Saturday came, as usual, Elizabeth met with her twin at the corner of Commercial and Quaker Streets. Lettie had a troubled look.
“I worry about you out working the streets,” she said.
Elizabeth shook her head. What she did to get by was none of Lettie’s business, not anymore.
“You’ve heard about the Whitechapel Murderer?” Lettie asked.
Violence occurred daily on the streets of Whitechapel. Elizabeth had heard about the murders and speculations about who was responsible. He’s a bit of bad meat in the entrails of London, she thought. It’ll pass soon.
She didn’t respond to her twin’s question.
“Please be careful.”
Again, Elizabeth didn’t respond. She couldn’t believe the murderer’s attention might fix on her.
Lettie is preying upon your fear to get something she wants, Liza said.
Elizabeth had no idea what her twin might want from her, but decided she didn’t want Lettie to have any hold over her.
“I won’t be going to your sister anymore,” Elizabeth said. She held out her hand to give to Lettie all of what remained of the money retrieved from Mrs. Malcolms on Thursday, almost two shillings.
Lettie looked at Elizabeth evenly for a long time before reaching out to take the money. When several coins dropped into Lettie’s hand, she seemed confused and then sad, yet she tried to smile. “I’m hungry,” she said, touching her stomach. “Would you like to do a tightener?”
What she wants is for you to forgive her, Liza said, as if that were a horrible motive.
Yes, she wants you to forgive her, Bess said, making the idea sound appealing.
Although Elizabeth tried to open her mouth to say yes, somehow she couldn’t do it. She blamed Liza, even though the voice had never had control over Elizabeth’s person, let alone her decisions. The silence between the women stretched on.
“I’m sorry,” Lettie said at last. She paused before saying carefully, “There’s something you’ve wanted to tell me for a long time, something that troubles you. I would hear it without judgement.”
Of all the people Elizabeth had known, Lettie would be the one to tell about what happened with the old woman, but the opportunity had past.
Again, Lettie stood regarding her twin for some time.
While Elizabeth missed sharing her days with her friend, her pride had precious little else but the grudge against the woman. She pressed her lips together firmly and maintained a chilly gaze.
Finally, Lettie turned, and walked away.
Once she was gone, Elizabeth’s eyes grew warm, then stung with heat. Tears spilled as she headed back to the doss house.
~ ~ ~
Late in the afternoon, Elizabeth worked for Mrs. Tanner, the deputy of the common lodging, cleaning two rooms for sixpence. With the deputy’s help, Elizabeth got her possessions out of the doss house’s locked storeroom because her funds were too low to continue paying the storage fee.
Elizabeth used one of the newly cleaned rooms to prepare herself for the evening. As she scrubbed herself at a basin with a moist flannel, Liza spoke to her. Lettie is right about the threat in the East End. Flirting with danger isn’t the same as seeking a man. You should stay in until the threat is past.
I seek only happenstance, Elizabeth thought. I've happened upon good men; Herr Rikhardsson, Herr Olovsson, Herr Kirschner, Mr. Pimberton, and Jon Stride. I wasn’t looking for any of them and still they found me. Would you have me retreat from the world and miss all opportunities?
An opportunist at heart, Liza was unable to argue further.
Elizabeth dressed in her best: A black skirt, brown velveteen bodice, and a long black jacket, trimmed with fur—all clothing Mr. Kidney had bought for her over time. The clothes were indeed her finest, although she’d worn them so much, they’d become a bit threadbare. No one would notice from a distance. Close up, especially at night, the dark coloration of the fabrics would help hide their condition.
Elizabeth asked one of the women she’d fed earlier in the week to keep certain items that she didn’t want to carry with her. On the street, she approached a flower girl and purchased a red rose clutched within a frond of maiden hair fern.
A certain gentleman she’d seen across crowded taverns and pubs had caught her attention over the last few days. She’d yet to meet and speak with him, but his eyes had shown his interest in her. He’d smiled at her twice. Then, when she’d moved toward him, he’d become lost in the crowd and she’d missed him. As she walked to The Hoop and Grapes pub, where she’d last seen the man, she had a feeling she’d finally meet up with him.
Chapter 27: The Client
September 29, 1888
Sipping a glass of ale at half-past seven in the evening in The Hoop and Grapes pub, Elizabeth watched two loud, drunken women make nuisances of themselves. One of the women looked familiar. Elizabeth couldn’t quite place her. The management of the pub tolerated their antics at first. When the women began upsetting furniture and throwing glasses, they were put out.
Elizabeth finished her ale and decided to move on. When she stepped out of the establishment, she found a crowd had gathered to watch a woman running up and down, shouting, whistling, and spitting in the middle of Aldgate High Street. The creature had been one of the drunkards causing trouble inside the pub, the one that seemed familiar to Elizabeth. The people crowding the footway on either side of the street laughed as they watched the woman run to and fro in the road, but Elizabeth couldn’t make out why at first. The drunkard huffed and puffed and spit some more. “Clang, Clang, Clang,” she yelled, warning folks out of her way.
Elizabeth smiled, realizing the woman imitated a steam-powered fire engine. Simultaneously, she knew why the drunkard seemed familiar. Elizabeth had seen her earlier that summer, crouched among crates in an alley, playing Grandmother’s Trunk with an unseen companion. Clearly, madness had claimed the poor creature.
Remembering the woman talking to her imaginary opponent during her game in the alley, Elizabeth thought about Liza and Bess.
Am I that mad? No, I don’t hear voices like that.
Although Elizabeth’s voices had argued over a year ago during a drinking binge
, the altercation had occurred during extreme intoxication and therefore didn’t represent her ordinary grasp of reality. Her voices were part of herself.
She saw a man among the crowd across the street, watching the woman intently, a strange fascination in his gaze. He glanced up, even as Elizabeth recognized him as the one she sought. She made her way across the street toward him, carefully avoiding contact with the madwoman.
“Elizabeth,” the gentleman said.
How does he know my name?
You’ve seen him eyeing you, Bess said. He’s become so interested in you that he’s asked around to find out your name.
Bess's voice sounded foolishly hopeful. Elizabeth listened for her cynical voice.
No doubt you met him during one of your benders and don’t remember, Liza said.
That seemed more probable, though the suggestion held no charm at all. Short of believable, Bess’s idea was more appealing.
“Hello,” Elizabeth said to the gentleman, smiling brightly.
He pointed toward the woman acting like a fire engine and smirked.
“They threw her out of the tavern a while ago,” Elizabeth said with a chuckle.
While he seemed somewhat familiar, she thought she would remember more clearly a gentleman of his appearance. He was a square-built man, old enough to be established but young enough—younger than her forty-five years—to have kept his looks. In his dark suit, overcoat, and billycock, he appeared to be a man of business, not a laborer.
Perhaps he knew Lettie. Had her twin become dissatisfied with her marriage and become involved with the man behind her husband’s back?
Could be she has something going with the fellow that might help you, Liza said. Take what you can and get out before things get ugly.
Lettie is your deserving half, Bess said. You won’t feel good about taking from her.
Lettie belongs to herself, Liza said. She deserves nothing while you suffer. Play along with him and see what he has to offer.
Liza’s words were ugly, but excusable because Elizabeth didn’t want to care about her twin.
“Let’s get out of the crowd and have a drink,” he said, taking her hand. He had an odd accent, possibly American.
Elizabeth and the gentleman, who she could not help but think of as a client, hurried away from the crowd.
“You’re a beauty tonight,” he said as they walked, turning to her several times to take a look.
The rose has done me a lot of good. She smiled for him.
They hurried up Aldgate High Street and took the fork onto Commercial Road. Elizabeth stole glances at him, still trying to figure out where she might have met the man.
He had yet to say where they were going. She became winded, and slowed to rest at the intersection with Church Lane.
“I’m going too fast,” he said turning back for her. “I’m sorry.” He approached, took her in his arms, and kissed her mouth. He smelled good. His embrace was intimate and strong as he put his whole body into the effort. Elizabeth kissed him back with a passion partly driven by the hope that she’d found the man Jon had wanted her to have.
When the gentleman stepped back, she asked, “Where shall we go?” Hopefully, he would suggest a place to eat and then feed her.
“The Bricklayer’s Arms,” he said. “Now, no more questions.” Again, he kissed her, then hurried off up the road. She followed and he turned north at Settles Street. She caught up with him as he entered the pub. They sat and had a simple meal of potatoes, bread and cheese. Elizabeth had nothing to drink. He had a glass of bitter.
To draw him out, she questioned him, but he deflected her questions for a while, then said, “No more!” He held up his hands as if fending her off. “I’ll keep my secrets, and you keep yours. I prefer you a mystery. Please allow me to be the same for you.”
He’s hiding something, Liza said, but then most men hide their true nature to get what they want. Just make sure to get something out of him in return.
The gentleman had an imagination. Elizabeth liked that. He kept his eyes on her as they finished their meal. His expression and shifting gaze suggested that he thought her fascinating. Although somewhat uncomfortable with the rapt attention, she also felt flattered. Exiting the pub, they encountered falling rain. The gentleman laughed and turned her back toward the entrance. He pressed her against the wall gently, and kissed her again.
A man sitting near the exit within the establishment, shouted through the open door, “Bring her back in and buy her a drink—buy us all a drink!” Elizabeth and her client ignored the man. The fellow sitting next to the patron called out, “That’s Leather Apron got his arms ‘round you.”
Elizabeth recognized that as one of the names the papers had given to the Whitechapel Murderer.
Could be that’s what he’s hiding, Liza said.
Nobody would bother to harm me, Elizabeth thought. How could anyone find satisfaction in that?
She laughed and ran out into the rain, heading back toward Commercial Road. The gentleman followed, and when he caught up with her, they continued together in the light downpour.
You only think that because you feel sorry for yourself, Liza said. It’s easy to think you’re immune to danger when you don’t value your own life, especially if you believe you’ve gone unpunished for too long.
Elizabeth knew what Liza referred to, and was tired of her sniping.
Crossing Commercial Road and moving west, they entered Back Church Lane where several of the lamps along the way were not lit and the gloom thickened. Her client’s face hid in the shadow beneath the brim of his hat.
The risk is worthwhile, Elizabeth thought, then added defiantly, and it’s exciting too.
The intermittent showers continued as they moved south to Boyd Street and turned west. Again, shadows choked the way ahead.
Do you mean the risk is worth it, Liza asked, even if you’re not?
Perhaps I have him fooled.
Or the other way round.
They turned north into Berner Street and paused to rest out of the wetness under the overhanging eve of a building. All the gas lamps glowed all along the street, at least six of them. Several people moved about the area. Seeing her client’s smiling face clearly reassured her. Excitement over the attention easily took her mind off the discomfort of her wet clothes and a slight chill. He took her in his arms and reached around to pet her backside.
“It’s been a long time,” she said.
“Do you mean since you felt the touch of a man?”
“Yes,” she said, then she donned a sad expression. “I lost my husband when the Princess Alice went down.”
“You’re saying you haven’t been touched in ten years?” He had a playful smile and she knew he’d seen through her lie.
Elizabeth didn’t want to appear more lascivious than he wanted her to be. “Perhaps a little bit,” she said, risking a coquettish smile.
“Ha!” he said, clearly pleased, “you would say anything but your prayers.”
Elizabeth laughed. Good, she thought, he’s not prudish.
She also didn’t want to appear too eager. She broke from him gently and walked north and he went with her. They passed The Nelson public house at Fairclough Street, and heard singing coming from within.
Although near midnight, a greengrocer shop north of the pub remained open and selling through its front window.
“The grapes look good,” the gentleman said. “Which will you have, my dear, black or white?”
Elizabeth would suffer a stomach ache if she swallowed anything other than the juice of the fruit, yet she craved the sweetness. “The black ones are plump,” she said. “I’ll have those.”
“Half a pound, sir,” he said to the shopkeeper.
The elderly fellow folded newspaper into a sack, placed a couple of black grape bunches in it, and passed the package through the window. Her client took the sack, paid the man, chose a few grapes for himself, and handed the rest to Elizabeth.
H
olding the sack of grapes, she moved north on Berner Street and he followed.
The fruit is a delightful extravagance, Bess said. This is a generous and imaginative fellow.
Yes, Elizabeth thought. Quite possibly, he already sees our time together as something more than a transaction.
He’s buying your affection, Liza said.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and pushed the cynical words from her mind. She put a grape in her mouth and crushed it lightly. They had not walked far before the gentleman guided her toward the wall of a building. He pressed her against it lightly while kissing her, sharing the grape juice in his mouth and using his tongue to take the grape from her mouth. As they lingered in the light drizzle, embracing and kissing, Elizabeth tried to think of how to draw her client ever closer, to encourage him to treat her as a lover.
Abruptly, he pulled away with a crooked smile. “You hold here. I’ll go to my room and be back in a trice with a bottle of fine, sweet wine.”
“You could get a bottle at The Nelson,” Elizabeth said. She placed another grape in her mouth.
“Not like the bottle I’ve got in my room.”
Elizabeth didn’t want him to get away. “I’ll go with you.”
He looked down, shaking his head slowly, and she knew he didn’t want to be seen entering his home with a woman of her caliber. “It’s not far,” he said, looking up again. “I’ll be right back with the sweetest wine you’ve ever tasted.”
Since her voices remained silent, Elizabeth assumed both accepted the possible loss of the client.
The grapes were good, but thinking about the sweet nectar of the fruit with alcohol in it, she decided to bear the risk for a chance to have some of the wine. She also needed to spit out the skin, seeds, and pulp of the grape in her mouth, and not wanting to be indelicate in his presence, she merely nodded her head, and he walked away.
Chapter 28: Tomorrow’s Embrace
12:30 AM, September 30, 1888
Chilled from standing alone on Berner Street in the damp night for the last ten minutes, Elizabeth cursed herself silently, and decided that if her client didn’t come back by the time she finished her grapes, she’d give up on him.
Jack the Ripper Victims Series: The Double Event Page 18