D: Whitby's Darkest Secret

by Turnbull,Chris

  ‘Is everything alright darling?’ I asked, rather cautiously as I saw he seemed to have a serious expression upon his face.

  ‘I am sorry, V,’ he said softly to me; V was the pet name he called me when we were alone. He would never refer to me as such in front of company.

  ‘I saw you looking at those children playing in the street earlier, and last night when young Tom brought us to the Inn,’ he continued. ‘I know this is something we have spoken about before, and I think now is the ideal time to start’

  I was shocked by his brutal honesty and forwardness towards the subject. He had never been so blunt and I was slightly taken aback by this almost unexpected topic. It would be a year since our marriage next month, and he had casually brought up the topic of children numerous times. I had always given it the cold shoulder and told him that I did not think it to be the right time until after our honeymoon. With the honeymoon being delayed so many times I have managed to keep this conversation at bay, but now I supposed I would have to face it.

  ‘Why are you in such a rush darling, we do not need children right this minute, of course I would like children in the future but right now I was hoping to spend some time just the two of us before we bring another life into the world.’ He looked at me as though I was just making excuses, and to be fair I was. The idea of having children I loved, and it was all I had ever wanted, but now the time had arrived, the reality of it scared me senseless. What if I was a bad mother?

  ‘V, we have been married nearly a year and you have been reluctant to talk about such things for all this time. I think we need to start making our plans for the future now and stop worrying about things so much.’ He looked at me with hope in his eyes. When he looked at me in this way I knew instantly why I fell in love with him. He was very handsome and tall, not to mention extremely intellectual, I am sure he would have drawn the attention of many young ladies before he met me; yet now as he nears 30 and the small lines begin to show around his eyes, and the slight grey hairs that catch the light; I could see why he didn’t want to wait any longer for a child.

  We continued walking along the harbourside; a small number of men were working hard loading and unloading a boat, however being a Sunday I guessed this was probably a quiet day along the harbour in comparison.

  We passed numerous hotels, shops and even a library along the harbour front; I knew I would be calling back to the library on one of the days Albert was meeting his old friend. There were also numerous shops especially dedicated to selling fish and chips.

  The seagulls flying overhead suddenly become more vocal the further we walked towards the sea, before they had sounded like a distant cry echoing from the cliffs, but as we got closer to the west pier they became more common and loud. They swooped over our heads like giant white eagles, calling each other in their high pitched calls; never had I seen birds as large as these, and the noise they made screeched along the harbour and filled Whitby’s streets with a continuous cry. It was not at all pleasant.

  We continued along the west pier, its stone structure was so vast that you would almost forget you were walking upon a pier at all, with small benches lining the centre of the walkway every couple of feet, and between these were traditional gas street lamps. To the left of the pier was a large beach that was slowly being covered by the tide as it drew into shore. The beach was towered by Whitby’s west cliffs, a jagged rock face that had clearly been beaten by the North Sea. To our right was the River Esk, finally meeting the open sea for the first time. In direct line with our pier was the east cliff pier, it perfectly mirrored us as it also stood tall and vast above the river below. At the end of each pier stood a lighthouse, as we approached the one on the west pier I was amazed by the sheer scale of it; the shaft of which had a vague resemblance to what I would consider a Roman column, and on top was the cabin which housed the light. I knew I wanted to come back in the nightfall to see it lit up for certain.

  I looked back towards the harbour. It looked a lot larger from this angle, and from here I could see St Mary’s Church again, it looked quaint and petite however this time as I could also see the magnificent ruins of Whitby abbey standing tall behind, it looked haunting yet magical in the dimming light, it was certainly another place I wanted to visit.

  It was beginning to get late, and with the late afternoon breeze picking up we were both starting to feel the cold; taking the same route back to the inn we seemed to get there in no time at all. I knew I wanted to finish my letter to my mother, I wanted to tell her how beautiful Yorkshire was and that she must bring herself and my sister up here one day for a holiday. I could tell it would have been even more beautiful when summer arrived.

  Chapter 7

  D.

  As I lingered around the back of the church I could hear the service start; the organ playing and the echo of voices as the congregation began to sing in unison. It had been years since I had even stepped foot into a church, and I had no intention of changing that today.

  I often spent time in the churchyard, however; it was a quiet place for me to be alone with my thoughts. Such solitude was impossible to find on Sundays with such a large amount of people arriving for the service, and so I often found myself retreating away from the cemetery and taking long walks along the clifftops. Today however I did not want to be away from town, and instead decided to head back to keep a look out for when she… Victoria… got back.

  As expected she and her husband arrived back at the inn together. I knew that it was likely dinner would be served for them, but I sensed that she would not want to stay inside the inn for the remainder of the day.

  I kept an eye on the inn all afternoon, watching out for her every move, and as predicted she again left the inn for an afternoon stroll. Why was He always by her side?

  I followed at a careful distance, intrigued simply to watch them; they barely spoke the entire walk. Why?

  I was beginning to get impatient and my exasperated need for her touch was causing my blood to boil and my heart to race faster. I began imagining her beautiful hands against my face and the taste of her lips against my own. Watching her walk with that idiot man began to madden me, I knew I would be a much better companion to her than he.

  It was beginning to get too much; I watched as they headed back towards the inn and knew I would not get to her now until tomorrow.

  I needed to let off some steam.

  Chapter 8

  D.

  Monday 12th February 1900

  I had been wandering the streets for hours now, my legs tiring from constant walking. It was late; I could sense that midnight had already passed. I could feel myself getting ever more irritated as I walked around the empty darkened streets alone, my mind racing faster and faster, yet it was Her that I could not stop thinking about.

  Fewer and fewer people ventured out after dark these days, even the streetwalkers had not been seen for days, if not weeks; they no longer felt brave enough to walk the silent streets, their business suffering greatly through lack of customers.

  I found myself on Church Street once more, and more precisely, I found myself outside the White Horse and Griffin. I looked up at the window I knew she was behind, fast asleep with not a care in the world. It was another bitter cold night.

  Suddenly I heard footsteps coming from up ahead, I could tell immediately they were women’s from the sound of heels against the cobbled road. I squinted in the darkness to see; I saw a woman coming out, locking the door behind her before she continued along towards the market square where she turned left and out of sight.

  I quickly pursued her as silently as I could, making sure my steps mimicked her own to hide the sound of my own footsteps and ensure I was not detected. By the time I reached her she was in the middle of the deserted market square.

  ‘Excuse me Miss?’ I startled her as she let out a small groan; she turned and looked at me. My tall figure must have been quite alarming for such a tiny woman: she looked to be barely twenty, with her flaming red
hair making her instantly recognisable as the barmaid from the Black Horse public house.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked, her tone cold and dismissive.

  ‘A young lady like you should not be walking in dark streets alone; it is dangerous after all.’ She looked at me unimpressed by my remark and quickly turned to continue her journey. ‘I am sure I will be alright. Thank you sir for looking out for me; goodnight.’

  I had never been spoken to like this before. I found this rather rude and she was clearly unafraid of me. I strode up behind her, my steps were twice the length of hers so it did not take long for me to be directly behind her again. I took hold of her wrist and turned her to face me.

  ‘I told you it is not safe to walk alone, I need to escort you for your own safety.’

  She pulled her wrist from my grip and spat ‘leave me alone’ before turning and running.

  I immediately gave chase and again was on her before she had barely made a couple of strides. I pulled her close to me, and held her mouth closed with my other hand. She couldn’t make a noise but her eyes bulged with anger as though screaming on their own; the warmth of her pale skin against my hand was delightful.

  I guided her into a small nearby alley – there were always plenty to choose from in the narrow streets of Whitby – and here I uncovered her mouth. She spat in my face and swore at me to let her go. I laughed at this ridiculously feisty woman. Did she really think I would do as she asked when she had the indecency of being so rude?

  I placed my free hand upon her left breast. She tried to fight me off but I was too strong for her. I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face towards my own, our lips met for only a split second; her warm lips against mine was the sensation I yearned for. I began to kiss her neck and she suddenly stopped fighting, as though she realised I was far too strong for her. Yet I somehow believe she enjoyed it.

  I began to move my hand under her long skirt. I wanted to feel her beautiful legs against my hand. I knew I could not do this directly for I was already wearing my leather bound gloves. Through them I would be able to feel the warmth coming from her thighs. She began to scream again and the kissing of her neck turned into more of a bite. She began to scream louder and I found myself biting her harder and harder the louder she got. I suddenly felt her skin break under my teeth; I let her go and she fell to the floor with a loud thud, all the while screaming for help. I knew I could not leave her; she had seen my face. I knelt down on the floor directly above her and again placed my hand over her screaming lips to silence her. She instantly began to struggle as though trying to get me off. I could see dark stains of blood trickling down her neck towards the ground. Never had I caused that much blood before. I held her still the best I could and began to lick her neck, the taste of her warm blood against my tongue was delightful, bitter with a hint of copper; I tried to squeeze as much out as possible. Her eyes looking up at me in horror as I covered her mouth once more with my left hand, and a tear slowly fell down her cheek as she stared deeply back into my eyes.

  When the blood wound began to slow I raised myself from over her body, still knelt beside her she looked at me silently for a moment, before swearing at me again and screaming.

  ‘Be quiet!’ I demanded, but her screams for help loudened. I slapped her across the face in the hope to stop her hysteria, but her screams continued. I held one hand across her mouth and the other against her throat; I needed to silence her before somebody come looking at what the commotion was. As she tried to fight against me, my hand against her throat tightened.

  A few minutes later I was walking back up towards Church Street, I again stood outside the White Horse and Griffin and looked up towards the darkened window behind which She slept. I thought I would have quenched my thirst tonight, but standing outside the Inn I felt the desire that took hold of me get stronger; I knew I needed to meet this Victoria alone, one way or another.

  Chapter 9

  Detective Matthews

  I was not feeling the most cheerful this morning to begin with, it had been over a week since I had arrested the wrong man for the murders and I was not only beginning to get hassle from the Whitby Gazette but I was beginning to lose the faith of the town. The chief at the station was also losing patience and I knew that if I didn’t start producing facts soon he would replace me on the case, and I was determined not to let that happen.

  It was a little after 7 o’clock, and I was getting ready to leave for the office when an almighty banging noise startled me. Somebody was at my front door and they were clearly not going anywhere until I had opened up. I approached the door cautiously; whoever was standing on the opposite side was clearly desperate to be seen. My hand hovered over the gun which perched in its holster, strapped securely around my chest. My hand shook as I reached for the latch; I left on the chain and opened the door only an inch to see who was standing on my front porch. I was directly faced by Constable Taylor, a junior police officer still in his late teens, who had been sent through to Whitby from Scarborough only one or two weeks ago as a potential new partner for me, yet it was still slightly reluctant towards the idea of having a partner. He looked all of a fluster as he tried to catch his breath. I released the door latch and invited him inside, but he shook his head abruptly.

  ‘What’s the matter man?’ I asked sharply, beginning to get impatient with his flapping.

  ‘A woman…has been found in a small alley… just off Sandgate,’ he finally managed to say through staggered breaths. Without hesitation I grabbed my coat and hat hanging just beside the door, and followed him out into the street.

  On the short walk across town, Taylor explained to me that the woman had been found by a fishmonger, who had arrived early at his shop, and found the young woman in the shadows of the alley running alongside.

  ‘At present nobody has named her and two officers are guiding the entrance to the alley until you arrive, Detective.’ Taylor had always shown promise towards becoming a good police officer, his hair was dark brown, almost black, and he was extremely tall and thin, yet his rounded face made him look as if he was twelve years old.

  When we arrived at the scene, a number of local business owners had already begun to crowd around the area, trying to take a look down the passage. I pushed my way between the numerous people and nodded towards the officer on guard before entering the alley, Taylor following close behind.

  It was still relatively dark outside, so seeing clearly in the shadowed passage was extremely difficult. I knelt to the ground allowing my eyes to adjust to the dimness of the alley, my eyes first found the woman’s legs: they were partially uncovered from her dress and small bruises were visible above her knees. As I moved the gaze higher I could see her dress was dirty and slightly torn which indicated to me she had struggled. As I reached her neck I gasped at the sight of dry stained blood covering her entire neckline and chest area. Finally I reached her face, it was pale and difficult to take in as he eyes were still open; yet not a single mark could be seen upon her beautiful face. Her curly auburn hair now fell lifeless against the cold ground; a gentle breeze blew faintly through the alley causing it to flutter.

  I recognised the woman immediately; although I did not know her name, I knew she was a barmaid in the Black Horse, so I knew getting an official identification for her should be straightforward. I went to stand, when something caught my eye. Her hand which was limply to her side looked as though it held something within it; I gently prised it open and released the object for which she was holding. I could hear Taylor breathing heavier from behind me, as he closed in to get a better look at my discovery. Lifting up the object so as to see more clearly I was not shocked by what I now held. It was a card, the size of a playing card, on the front of which was the letter D, and on the reverse the silhouette of a large black dog, sketched onto the card in pencil. Another of his calling cards! Why he left it with the victims I could not understand, and why the letter D on the card was written in blood was even more strange and grotesque.


  ‘Taylor,’ I ordered, ‘I need you to go back to the station and check that arrangements have been made to move the body’. He nodded enthusiastically and quickly headed out of the alley. Before leaving I requested the guiding officer’s to stay until this had been done.

  I watched as Taylor ran along the street and out of sight, I then turned and headed in the opposite direction towards the Black Horse Inn, where I knew the landlord would be able to help with the identification of the young girl.

  As I walked my head began to ache, as my own annoyance at not having been able to stop this attack guilted me, but all I could hope was that something about this latest poor unfortunate would give me the clue to catch the perpetrator of this vile outrage.

  Chapter 10

  Victoria

  For the second day straight we both slept in until after 8am. Normally we would both be up before six, Albert would head off to work early and I would be up making his breakfast. I almost felt lost knowing I didn’t have to cook anything, but then I guess that’s the pleasure of such breaks.

  It was around eleven when we finally left for Robin Hood’s Bay; as we headed out of the door we were greeted by Tom, the young boy with the horse and carriage. He was waiting for us directly outside the Inn doors, and his big smile upon seeing us melted my heart. He was such a pleasant young man and always so polite. I had decided to don another floral dress today, with a pink hat to match. Albert as always wore a shirt and jacket and a large top hat that he was very rarely seen without.