The Undertaker's Cabinet

by David Haynes

  "Yes!" he cried, though he could see nothing more than a festering corpse.

  "I knew I would find the answer! Patience, Benjamin. That was what was required. Patience and a solid scientific approach."

  They played this game daily and he knew what would come next. He watched as Mr Moreton lowered his head and kissed what was left of his wife's flesh. "My dear, Alice. You are as beautiful as the day we met. I love you! Kiss her cheek Benjamin. You must."

  He felt his stomach threatening to heave through his ribs. "I dare not, Mr Moreton for I fear she will bewitch me with her beauty and I will have to whisk her away from you."

  "Did you hear that Alice? He has designs to take you away from me. I will not allow it!"

  It was almost worth the pain of this vile charade to once again hear the joy in his employer's voice. Almost. He watched Mr Moreton's eyes twinkle with life again in the lamplight. He watched the smile fade and he watched the snarl return.

  "What is happening to her Benjamin? She is fading again. The life is leaving her body." He banged his fist down beside her body. "I will not allow this to happen again!"

  Benjamin took a step back and removed the handkerchief. "I shall remove Tidd's last offering and take it with the others to the marshes. I will return with another." He turned and walked quickly toward the door. How many more would there be? Nothing had passed Mr Moreton's lips for three days now and his mouldy pillow lay untouched in his bed. He could not continue for very much longer and it would be a blessing when he was once again re-united with his wife.

  "No Benjamin. Tidd's men and women do not pass muster any longer. We cannot continue this way."

  His heart leapt. Had Mr Moreton come to his sense at last. Was this nightmare at an end? He removed the copper pipes from both Alice and Tidd's offering.

  "You must bring me the body of someone in which life is still present. It is this way, and only this way, that I shall be able to save my Alice."

  "I do not understand, Mr Moreton?" he asked yet he knew with a sinking despair exactly the meaning of Mr Moreton's request.

  Moreton stepped forward. "Ah but you do, Benjamin. You understand me perfectly." He tapped the top of the cabinet with his fingers. "You know the meaning of what I ask." He turned away and toyed with the instruments within. "Begone, boy and do not return until you have what I seek."

  "I have done all you ask without question or complaint and now you would make me a murderer? You ask too much."

  "Begone!"

  Benjamin left the shop and stood in the same place as he had just a few years before. In the same place he had watched Jerome Moreton, a man of import, advertise for the position of assistant. How things had changed. How changed both he and Mr Moreton had become. He could not kill a man anymore than he could harm himself and yet above all else he desired to please his employer. This was the same man who had given him hope of a new life and the chance of redemption. Mr Moreton was not in his right mind; he had not been so since Alice had passed. But he was not a bad man, or an evil callous murderer. He was a man who sought only one thing. His beloved wife.

  Benjamin felt ashamed of himself. He had never sought out his father, nor had he re-paid the wages he had stolen. Instead he had given his loyalty to man who was now destined for Bedlam, or the gallows. And with his passing, the name Moreton would be tarnished forever and dragged through the gutter like that of a common thief. He did not deserve such an end for whatever mind he was in was not his own. His own mind was a kind, gentle and compassionate one and his name synonymous with honour and integrity.

  He walked back across the busy street and rounded the corner where Moreton's yard lay. It would not take long to ready the carriage and it would not take long to reach the places he had not been for many a year; the gambling houses, the rowdy gin shops and the houses where men could take their pleasure for a shilling or two. In Whitechapel desperate men slept in the street with the rats and the footpads roamed the dark alleyways like dogs. In Whitechapel men fought for the last scraps of humanity they possessed. On the dark streets of Whitechapel men slipped through the shadows, unseen and swift, and slaughtered each other like swine. If Mr Moreton wanted a still-beating heart to bring him peace then that is what he should have.

  He pushed through the gates and readied the horses. The afternoon would soon give way and the streets he once walked with other men's wages in his pockets would be his once again.

  Time had not altered Whitechapel and a long forgotten thrill squirmed through his body. He had come on many occasions with the excitement of sitting at the rouge et noir table again. The expectation had always been there; the hope that this time would be different and his losses vanished with the turn of card. This time, just this time allow him to return home and look his father in the eye once again. But the expectation turned quickly to disappointment and finally desolation as he once again returned home with only cotton lining the pockets in his trousers.

  His palms turned sweaty and the reins slipped through his fingers as if they were oiled. He would not succumb to those wicked temptations again for although his business tonight was no less wicked, it was at another's behest and he would not let Mr Moreton down.

  He passed beneath a street-lamp and saw the faces of the girls in their fineries. They smiled up at him until one saw the name on the carriage. She was clearly educated for she could read and nudged the others until they all looked down at their feet. Death was in Whitechapel tonight and he drove a carriage. It would not do to catch his eye.

  Benjamin pushed the horses on. Common prostitutes were not his target, nor were the savage men tumbling and brawling from the gin houses and brothels. They were like Tidd; men of violence and he would not fare well against them, gin soaked or not. He knew where he must go for he had been there many times. He must venture to the gambling houses where desperation went hand in hand with bitterness. There he would find a man who cared not if he lived any longer. There he would find a man who would gladly give his life for the chance of redemption. A man such as he.

  He pulled the carriage to a stop beside a house he had often frequented when all others turned him away. This was a low house, one where men who had lost all but the clothes on their back went to gamble away the last of their pride. It was a house as any other in the district and emitted a feeling of despair and save for the constant passage of scruffy looking men going in and out, a passer-by might have thought it a dwelling. Each time the doors opened, a cloud of smoke blew onto the street and amid the smoke he spied those within. His heart raced again. Just one turn of the table would not hurt. It would pass the time until the right opportunity presented itself. Besides, he just might find what he was looking for.

  He passed the reins from one hand to the other until the excitement was almost too much to bear. But just as he was about to cede to the temptation, the doors opened once more and a man fell from the house like a sack of coal from a waggon. At once he knew this man was destined for Moreton's table.

  The street was far from crowded but enough people passed by making it impossible to simply bundle the man into the carriage. No, he would have to follow him and trust that he stepped into one of the many alleyways in the district. With the excitement of a night spent gambling disappearing into the gloom of his mind, he moved the horses with a flick of the reins and followed the desperate man.

  He walked slowly and provided Benjamin with the opportunity to consider him closely. His clothes were threadbare and his gait was that of a man barren of purpose. He wore no hat and his thinning grey hair hung like Moreton's, lank and lifeless at his collar. He was not in drink though, for although his stride lacked strength, he walked without meander or stumble. Had he himself possessed the same appearance before he found Moreton? It was more than probable for the only purpose he had at that time was remaining alive; all other considerations were long forgotten. But most importantly was that he was a man of slight build for the thought of a brawl with a larger man than himself filled Benjamin with dre
ad.

  After some time the man turned away from the main street into a narrow passageway. Benjamin looked about the street and quickly stopped the horses. He would have to be swift and he would have to make the blow decisive. The man was immediately swallowed by the darkness of the passage and Benjamin followed him in.

  Buildings grew high on either side and their looming presence made the passage feel like Satan's gullet. He walked quickly for he longed to be rid of this place and rid of his task. The club he carried beneath his coat bumped into his leg with each step; its rhythmic assault was a reminder of his purpose.

  A figure swam into view through the gloom and he quickened his pace. He had grown stronger still since his visits to Bethlem but there was a limit to how far he could carry a man. Even a man as frail as the one he followed.

  He grew close enough to smell the stale stench of apathy in the other's hair and he brought the club down on the back of his head without thinking any further. He had been conscious of striking him too fiercely and killing him on the spot but his blow was perfectly executed for the man crumpled and fell to the floor in an instant. He was pleased the man had not fallen onto his back with his face to the sky for he could not stand to look at him. He could not bear to think of what horrors lay in wait for him.

  He pulled him to his feet and draped an arm around his shoulder. He would have to drag him back to the carriage.

  "Too much gin in his belly eh?" a voice croaked from beyond his view.

  "Who goes there?" he answered quickly.

  "A shillin' and I'll turn me back on what you just did. Two shillin's and I'll even help you take him wherever you choose."

  "I ask again, sir. Who goes there"?

  A man stepped into view. He smiled a toothless grin. "Only a concerned citizen. Let me lighten your load?"

  Benjamin looked the man up and down before reaching into his pocket. He tossed two coins at the rogue. "Move swiftly before I change my mind."

  Together they moved the unconscious man quickly through the passageway and they reached the carriage without interruption. "In there." Benjamin threw open the carriage door and they heaved the dead-weight inside. "Now leave!" he ordered the rogue who slipped back into the passageway whistling a merry tune.

  Benjamin bound the legs of his prey and slammed the carriage door. His heart was racing and a wave of nausea descended on him sending his near empty stomach into a tumult. Had he really just assaulted a man knowing he was delivering him to his doom? What was he doing? He would never be able to look his father in the eye again. He climbed into the driver’s seat and tears flowed down his cheeks.

  "You have brought me what I desire?" Mr Moreton waited in the yard. He held a lamp before him and his eyes shone brightly with excitement.

  Benjamin nodded as he pulled the horses to a stop. He could not bring himself to speak; not yet.

  "Then deliver him to my room." Mr Moreton turned and stepped back inside.

  Benjamin climbed down and opened the carriage. The man lay as he had done when first bundled inside and his face remained turned to the carriage floor. He hauled him out and slung the body over his shoulder. His strength had grown immeasurably and his back was as wide as an ox yet he felt like a little boy as he stepped inside the shop. It was the same place he had found solace when the world around him had grown cold with contempt. Yet now it offered only terror and regret and it pained him so very much.

  He entered the preparation room once more and stepped slowly to the customary place. The cabinet, as ever, stood open like the very gates of hell. Mr Moreton hovered beside it with a length of pipe between his fingers.

  "Place him down here and be quick about it. It would not do for him to awaken whilst I complete my trial. Use these."

  Benjamin was aware of Mr Moreton pushing something toward him but he could not look down. He had placed the man on the table but he would do no more. "This is wrong Mr Moreton. You are blind for the love of poor Alice yet in your heart you know this is wrong. I will not aid you further in this madness. I cannot."

  "Restrain him with these!" Mr Moreton ordered and hurled two leather straps which hit Benjamin in the mouth.

  Benjamin stepped back. "I cannot," he whispered.

  "I shall do it myself then since you no longer care for Alice."

  Benjamin closed his eyes in the gloom. He would not leave yet he could not bear to watch. The darkness rippled through his mind and images of his father took shape in the shadows. He could never go back again and he would never again look into his father's eyes and feel the warmth of pride in his gaze. "I am sorry, father," he whispered again though he knew his words would not be heard.

  "Benjamin?" He could almost hear his father's words now for his own descent into lunacy could not be far away. "Benjamin, is that you my son?"

  "Hold still, you old drunkard!"

  A terrible scream filled the room as Moreton unleashed a copper demon from the cabinet. "Help me!"

  Benjamin opened his eyes. He had not imagined the sound of his father's once proud voice, of that he was sure. He looked around the room, searching for the voice he had almost forgotten. "Father!" he called out. "I cannot see you!" Another howl of agony issued forth. "Father?"

  Mr Moreton was working quickly and had already driven the sharp end of a copper pipe into the man's neck. He scurried between Alice, the cabinet and the man he was now embalming.

  Benjamin stepped forward. "Father? Is that you?" He asked the question yet he already knew the answer. The man looked tired and grey and his beard was unkempt and greasy yet there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes. Benjamin had seen it in his dreams over and over again. He turned to Mr Moreton and watched as he poured his toxic mixture into the pump. "Stop!" he roared and pushed him away. "It is my father!"

  He looked down at the man; a thin line of black liquid ran from the corner of his mouth. "What have I done?" He turned back toward the prone figure of Mr Moreton on the floor. "What have I done?" he reached down and touched his father's neck. A pulse could still be felt; there was still time to save him. He touched the cold copper pipe and shivered. Although he had seen it many times, he had never once touched it before and now it sent a shiver of revulsion through his soul. "Be still, father and I will take you home. We shall sit and I will show you the wages I have set aside all these years. I will put things right. I will." He gently tugged the pipe but it held fast and his father groaned again. What could he do? He could not fetch a doctor. He could not simply wrench it free for his father would surely die in an instant. He felt pathetic and small, as he had done when he had lost all those men's wages.

  He took his father's hand and held it to his cheek. "I am sorry for everything. I had meant to visit you father yet I was ashamed of myself and could not bear to feel what I saw in your eyes. And now I have delivered you to this man who has lost his mind..." he looked up. Mr Moreton was on his feet again and had taken hold of the pump handle.

  "When this is done, Benjamin, I shall make a statue of your father for all the city to see." He pushed the handle down.

  "No!" Benjamin screamed and flew at Moreton again. This time both men fell onto Alice's table sending the three of them crashing to the floor. Benjamin felt Moreton's fingers searching out his eyes, trying to gouge them. He closed them tightly against the probing digits and prized the fingers away. He was aware that Alice lay beside him and her sunken eyes fixed him with a malevolent stare. He scrambled up and turned again to his father before he was pushed forward into the cabinet.

  "You have hurt my Alice you filthy scoundrel. I shall put your body beside your father's!" Moreton's words came in a cold, sharp hiss from behind yet he could not turn to face him for the cabinet held him in a deathly embrace.

  "It is not too late Mr Moreton. You do not have to continue along this path. I can help you but please release my father."

  Benjamin reached up and pushed himself back against the doors. He could not be sure if Moreton's body weight was stopping him from moving o
r the cabinet itself was resisting him. "No!" he screamed and heaved with every fibre of his strength. .

  Another screech came from behind; from his father. There was not much time if he wanted to save him. He roared with renewed effort and he was spewed forth from hell once again. Mr Moreton crouched over his father as he had done with so many other unfortunate men before him.

  "I think I may have done it, Benjamin. The living tissue is slowly being embalmed. Your father will be saved for evermore and I shall have my Alice back again."

  His voice was akin to a man who had just discovered a cure for cholera and not that of a murderous lunatic.

  "Leave my father alone," Benjamin bellowed. "I will ask no-more Mr Moreton. You will step aside or I shall deliver you to Alice this very hour."

  Moreton looked directly at the pump. "Why Benjamin, I could no more step aside than you could." His hand shot toward the copper handle but Benjamin knocked it away.

  "I will not allow it." He wished he had taken one of the instruments from inside the cabinet to protect himself.