“You told me you once loved Mr. Robinson,” Conway said. “How can you want to be at his hanging?" He shook his head emphatically. "No, you aren’t the pretty girl you were. I need Annie’s sweet face to draw attention.”
“Yes, I loved him once. I still have a place for him in my heart. If it were up to me, we would not earn money from his misery. He’s part of my family.”
“We can’t afford to pass up the opportunity,” Conway said.
“I don’t want to see him hang, but I don’t want her in danger. And you know Annie cannot sing.”
“There’s danger everywhere,” Conway said. He shook his head again. "You’ve lost the desire to attract a crowd. Your singing lacks the life it once had.”
It’s not the type of crowd I want to sing to. “Only because I don’t enjoy the work,” she said. “I will do better. Give me another chance and allow Annie to be a child just a little longer.”
“She’s grown now and has had her time to be a child. I need her. She’ll not marry until she’s twenty-one years old.”
He was too pragmatic and arguing with him never helped. Still, there must be a way to appeal to a part of him that was not strictly practical.
“Please allow her to stay behind this once,” she said. “She is hardly healed from the last time.”
Conway winced.
That was it; he felt sorrow for her injury.
After a long silence he said, “I suppose we can get along without her one last time.”
Chapter 16: A Silk and Velvet Dress Bodice and a Black Straw Bonnet
“We’ll travel to your cousin’s execution by rail,” Conway said, showing Katie the tickets while she cleaned up the table after an evening meal. “The fare wars between the lines have made travel by rail the best price.” Traveling city to city in the crude wagons Conway hired had always been a trial. Going to Stafford in a London Northwest Railway third class carriage was going to be a treat, but being in a black mood over her poor cousin’s eminent death, Katie turned away from Conway without a word and finished up her work.
They set out early for St. Pancras Station the morning of the execution and were in their railcar by 6:00AM. Her first time traveling by train, the vibration and unusual sounds were frightening. As the train left London and picked up speed, the experience became nearly as intoxicating as the liquor she’d had many years ago. As they sped downhill, over a river on a viaduct and into a valley, the reality of their visit to Stafford had no power. Katie knelt on the hard wooden bench and leaned out of the small window behind it. She spread her arms like wings and yelled over the rushing wind, “We’re flying!”
“We’re going too fast,” Conway said, pulling her back in. “The wind could break your neck.” He insisted she take her seat. Conway was embarrassed, but he was smiling, making it easier to respect his wishes.
Still breathless when they arrived at Stafford Station, Katie disembarked with Conway, and as they walked to the prison with their bundles of chapbooks, the reality of the visit and sobriety returned.
Charles Robinson was the son of her mother’s sister, Martha. Aunt Martha and her family lived in Birmingham. On the few occasions when the families met, Charles paid close attention to Katie. The last time they met, six months before Catherine died, Martha had come to London for some purpose or another. She brought Charles with her and they stayed at an inn. Katie and Catherine went to visit them in their room and later they all had a delicious fish dinner at a local tavern. Martha paid for the meal. In the room and at the tavern, Charles sat close to her and tried to draw her out with conversation. Katie didn’t make it easy for him. His constant and insistent eye contact was unnerving as well as exciting. On the walk back to the inn from the tavern, the two mothers were distracted by their own conversation.
“May I have a kiss?” Charles asked.
Katie shook her head, grinned and turned away. To kiss him would be wonderful, but the idea was frightening.
If he asks me again, I’ll kiss him passionately. But what did passion feel like? I don’t want to lose his attentions.
When they arrived at the inn, the adults went inside while Katie and Charles remained on the street out front. She leaned against the wall of the building while he stood close and talked about his life in Birmingham. What he had to say wasn’t interesting, but he was handsome. After a while he became quiet and merely looked at her with a smile. Finally he put a finger under her chin, gently raised her face to meet his own and kissed her lightly on the lips. A pleasant shiver ran through her, and for a moment she was in love.
“You two stop that right now.” Aunt Martha’s voice boomed from the front step of the inn.
Katie shied away. The shame came so swiftly, it was dizzying.
Charles released her and headed for the door leading inside. Martha struck him on the crown of his head as he passed by.
Katie remained on the street until Catherine came to fetch her.
“He is your cousin,” she said. “One day you’ll find a proper love.”
That moment of innocent desire was held dearly in her heart ever since.
~~~
At the prison gate, as the hour approached for Mr. Robinson’s execution, the crowd grew from perhaps one hundred to nearly a thousand. Through the afternoon Katie called on her charmed memories of the young Charles over and over as she sang the ballad lamentation contained in the chapbook. “The Awful Execution of Charles Colin Robinson” was sung to the tune of “Long Lost Ellen” by Noel Wincott.
Come all you feeling Christians,
Give ear unto my tale,
It’s for a cruel murder
I was hung at Stafford Gaol.
The horrid crime that I have done
Is shocking for to hear,
I murdered one I once did love,
Harriet Segart dear.
Charles Colin Robinson is my name,
With sorrow was oppressed,
The very thought of what I’d done
Deprived me of my rest
Within the walls of Stafford Gaol,
In bitter grief did cry,
And every moment seemed to say
“Poor soul, prepare to die!”
I well deserve my wretched fate,
No one can pity me,
To think that I in my cold blood,
Could take her life away,
She no harm to me had done,
How could I serve her so?
No one my feelings now can tell,
My heart was so full of woe.
O while within my dungeon dark,
Sad thoughts came on apace,
The cruel deed that I had done
Appeared before my face,
While lying in my prison cell
Those horrid visions rise,
The gentle form of her I killed
Appeared before my eyes.
O Satan, thou demon strong,
Why didst thou on me bind?
O why did I allow thy chains
To enwrap my feeble mind?
Before my eyes she did appear
All others to excel,
And it was through jealousy
I poor Harriet Segart killed.
May my end a warning be
Unto all mankind,
Think on my unhappy fate
And bear me in your mind.
Whether you be rich or poor
Your friends and sweethearts love,
And God will crown your fleeting days,
With blessings from above.
With no hanging to watch, Katie’s singing was the main attraction at the prison gate. At first, only a few gathered around the couple, but then Katie lifted her voice to express sorrow for her cousin’s fate. She’d not expressed such feeling in song for a long time, and it felt good. The crowd grew quickly, and soon they were ringed in and surrounded. People in the rear pressed forward to get a better position while those in front defended their ground stoically, listening to Katie sing the ba
llad over and over before allowing others to take their place.
Conway took care of sales and business was brisk.
At one point, it became clear that word had been passed from the prison gate and a roar went up from the crowd. Katie knew that Charles Robinson was no more. She sang the song two more times as the crowd began to disperse. Throat sore and heart aching, Katie was spent.
Conway was simply giddy. “We sold over four hundred copies!” he nearly shouted, breaking his own rule against talking about their earnings in public. “We had no right to expect as much from that small crowd, but your singing brought them in.”
In the midst of a coughing spell, Katie didn’t respond.
They stayed in an inn near the train station that night. Katie was exhausted and although Conway wanted to stay up talking, he was considerate enough to allow her to get some sleep. They caught an early train back to London the next morning, arriving mid-afternoon at St. Pancras Station.
Leaving the station, Conway took Katie by the arm and led her away from their intended route. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“There is a gift I’d like to offer you,” he said, sweeping her down a side street. Katie smiled uncertainly while trying to keep up.
“You’ve wanted fine clothes for some time.” He opened the door to a little shop below street level and they passed within. “If you’ll always sing as you did in Stafford, we can’t help but prosper. We can still further improve our lot by making you more attractive.”
With Conway obviously so impressed with her singing, it was easy to tolerate his slight about her appearance.
“May I help you?” asked the shopkeeper, a round red haired woman with pink cheeks and green eyes.
Katie was fitted for the green silk and black velvet bodice and skirt she’d always imagined she should have. To go with it, she chose a black straw bonnet trimmed with green and black velvet and black beads. She chose abalone buttons that had come all the way from Australia. All the fabrics were crisp and clean, and the buttons sparkled with newness under the numerous gas lamps that lit the interior of the shop. Conway was charged all they had earned the previous day and then some. He was told it would be ready in a week.
Katie was so light, the long walk home was hardly noticed. Conway talked about plans for her singing at future executions, his smile flashing, eye winking, all that he said and did meant to inspire a sense of camaraderie and clever conspiracy.
She too was taking her singing seriously again, but her plans did not dovetail with his.
Arriving home, they were met at the door by a gloriously beaming Annie. “Mr. Phillips has proposed marriage!” she cried.
Chapter 17: A Handkerchief with Birds Eye Border
Conway didn’t stand in the way of the marriage of Annie and Mr. Phillips.
“She is a treasure, but I won’t miss having to support her,” he said. “Now that I have my Katie back, we’ll do just fine.” He referred to her singing.
Sensitive to the financial state of the bride’s parents, Mr. Phillips suggested a small affair. Conspicuously, Conway made no effort to pay for anything, and clearly to save embarrassment on all sides, Mr. Phillips took care of the bills.
The wedding took place in a small brick church in Holborn. A happy day it was for Annie and Katie, despite the news that Charlotte Neet, who had been invited to the wedding, died in her sleep two nights before.
Mr. Phillip’s father and two sisters were in attendance at the church, as well as Katie, Conway, Thomas, and Katie’s sisters. She had located her sisters in Bermondsey by finding Emma’s husband, Mr. Matthews, at the pub where he organized his lumpers. She’d had a tearful reunion with her sisters that included an apology to Emma for the way she’d spoken to her in the fish market years earlier.
After the wedding, Mr Phillips gave Katie the gift of a fine white cotton pocket handkerchief with red and white birds-eye border. Then he took Conway aside and said, “I’ll take good care of Anne, but I want you to know, I’m not an easy mark for mumpers.”
Conway looked under his beetling brow at his son-in-law and balled his fists. But after a moment he relaxed, swallowed his pride, and smiled, pretending he hadn’t been referred to as a beggar.
Annie is my second chance and she’s leaving. But am I not going with her? Like a master ship builder, Katie had poured heart and soul into the creation of a beautiful vessel, only to see her launched under the command of an unknown captain piloting her into foreign, perhaps dangerous, waters. The better part of me is going with her, while my thoughts remain behind in an empty shell.
Katie had worn her new silk and velvet bodice, skirt and bonnet to the wedding, but in the weeks that followed she didn’t have an opportunity grand enough to warrant wearing them again. Feeling hollow without Annie in her life every day, she needed a new goal to make her want to rise each morning. Katie put the new clothes on for inspiration and the answer came to her in an instant.
~~~
The next morning, Katie sat on the bed in their room, darning socks while Conway sat at the table reading. “Now that Annie is gone,” she said, “and Thomas will start his apprenticeship with your printer, there’s no reason why I should not add to our earnings as a singer.”
Conway had no response.
“The first thing would be for me to join the sing-alongs at the Adam and Eve,” she said.
“There’s too much drinking that goes on there,” Conway said flatly, without looking up from his reading. “The temptation is too great—you’ll take it up.”
Clearly he intended that to mean no and for that to be the end of it, but Katie wasn’t finished. “You could go with me.”
Conway shook his head vigorously.
“I’d do it after supper and you could watch me.” A pleading in her voice said she’d already lost the argument.
“I have no cause to want to do that,” Conway said.
“You’ve never known me to take a drink, and have no reason to fear it now. Think of the money. If I can impress the landlord at the Adam and Eve and he hires me to sing in The Garden of Eden—”
“Garden of Eden, ha!” Conway said with contempt. “That back room has grown to swallow most of the tavern proper. It is a den for drunkenness and debauchery. I can’t eat my supper there without some lushington stumbling past my table with his dollymop. You start singing there, it’d soon be you hanging on his arm.”
“You have no cause to talk to me like that.” The outrage was worth a try. “You compare me to a prostitute?”
“Katie, dear, it’s part of the job in those back rooms.”
“That’s not true.” Letting the outrage go, she tried calm and reasonable. “There are perfectly respectable women who have performed there and gone on to find great fame. The impresarios of the great music halls—”
“How do you think they get hired?” Conway returned to his matter-of-fact-tone. “You’ve heard what passes for singing in the music halls.”
“I only know what I hear—”
“—And you’ve heard music hall singing. I sold my publican gin for tickets two years ago and took you to Charring Cross Theatre.”
“Yes, I remember. The singing was not good, but that only encourages me. I am so much better.”
“No. We’ll not talk about it again.”
“We will talk about it.” Katie said, her voice becoming shrill. “You have no reason not to trust me.”
“Don’t I?” Conway finally looked up. His aging face was heavily lined and bore stern features. “You took a bottle of gin from me long ago, and then, one day years later, returned it. I don’t think you drank any of it, but you must have wanted it. One day you may want it again. You also kept money from me.”
Katie’s heart was racing. Her gaze narrowed as she looked to her memories. “How?”
“You think I’m such a glock I wouldn’t notice a loose board?”
Katie’s scalp prickled, her jaw became tight, the grip she had on the sock and dar
ning needle was painful. “Why wouldn’t you say anything?”
“Why should I?” He said it too calmly. “If you’d done worse, I’d have put you out, but you didn’t.”
Her jaw popped under the pressure, sending a pain along her teeth. The dull gray sock she was holding turned red—she had punctured her left thumb with the fat, dull darning needle. “You are a cold man, Mr. Conway,” she said, wide-eyed and raging. “You have played me for a fool. I wish I’d never met you!”
“By tomorrow you’ll have changed your mind. From the day we met, you’ve always known which side your bread is buttered on.”
Her efforts as a young woman to seduce him to gain a new life undermined her righteous indignation. Her mother’s words came back to her from long ago: “Life is hard on pretty girls. Pretty girls want things and have ways of getting them. Be careful what you do, Katie, to get what you want.”
She turned her eyes away from Conway and he turned his back on her. She held her bleeding thumb as he moved to the door. No quicksilver welled up, nothing good and pure, only the ghastly red.
“I have business,” he said without looking back. “I’ll be back just before supper. We’ll eat at the Adam and Eve, but there will be no singing.”
“I will sing for the landlord of the Adam and Eve, and he’ll hire me for his back room!”
“I give you a choice, then, between me and the singing,” Conway said, still facing the door. “If you choose to sing in those places, don’t come back here. I won’t have you.” He walked out and shut the door behind him.
Katie collapsed on the bed, her tears and blood dampening the bedclothes.
Chapter 18: A Pair of Men’s Lace Up Boots
I have little that isn’t truly Conway’s. He even keeps my secrets.
Since shortly after she’d come to live with Conway, Katie had confined her possessions to the two shelves he had given her in the set of five against the East wall of their room. Presently she had little more than when she arrived. The travel bag that had belonged to her mother had rotted away long ago, but it was an easy matter for her to gather up everything she owned and fold it into a blanket to carry with her.
Jack the Ripper Victims Series: The Double Event Page 27