Somehow, some way, I was responsible for this man’s death.
Nathaniel sat with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, looking more serious than a man facing a firing squad.
When the detective inspector showed up on our doorstep with me covered in blood and shivering beneath a horse blanket, he’d gone deathly pale. My aunt had nearly fainted herself when she’d seen me and ushered her daughter into their rooms, promising a thorough discussion on proper behavior once I was decent.
Something else to look forward to.
Each time I closed my eyes the scene replayed in my mind. The horrid, gaping smile taunting me. I’d heard police mention his neck was almost severed completely.
A few tendons and ligaments were barely saving him from decapitation, a fact I was well aware of. I shivered. There was something infinitely worse about touching a still-warm dead person as opposed to cutting open the cold ones in Uncle’s laboratory.
“Here. Drink this.” Nathaniel pressed a hot cup of tea into my hands. I hadn’t seen him cross the room. I stared at the steam rising off the pale, almost golden liquid.
It was impossible, but I swear I could’ve almost heard the last few strained beats of the man’s heart as he bled out in front of me.
Thomas assured me even if we’d arrived moments after the attack, he’d likely have died almost instantly. There was an agonizing feeling deep inside of me, wondering if I’d held a cloth to his wound instead of knocking his head askance if it could’ve saved his life. What kind of girl was so accustomed to blood she paid it no mind? A terrible one.
“If there’s anything else we can do, Detective,” Nathaniel said, ushering the man from the drawing room. I’d forgotten he was even there.
I heard snippets of conversation as they made their way to the front door. An identification card was found in the man’s pocket, confirming my worst fears: someone got to Mr. Dunlop before I could question him. Guilt wrapped itself so tightly around me, I could scarcely breathe. How many men needed to die before I discovered the truth?
I sipped the fragrant tea, letting the warmth slide down my throat all the way into my gullet, heating me from the inside out.
I knew nothing regarding Mr. Dunlop and his personal life, so I hadn’t the slightest clue who would wish him dead. Was it someone he worked with?
The whole crew of the Mary See certainly appeared capable of murder, but looks had a troubling way of being deceiving. Mother used to read stories from books she’d brought from Grandmama’s. At first I’d turned my nose up at them, thinking nothing good could come from such battered covers. I’d been snobbish and wrong.
The words written between those crinkled pages were magical; like a fairy princess hiding amongst paupers. Mother taught me judging something from its outward appearance was silly, a lesson I tried remembering often.
Recalling the way I’d curl up in her lap brought on a new wave of sadness. How much death and destruction must one girl go through in a lifetime? As the door opened and closed, I blinked tears back, angry with myself for not being tougher.
Nathaniel sank into the high-backed chair across from me, leaning over to look me in the eyes. I half expected him to scold me for venturing out, being reckless as I was prone to be; instead, he smiled.
“You’re the bravest person I know, little Sister.”
I couldn’t stop myself from snorting. I was a sniffling, teary mess—hardly the mark of bravery. Thomas had held me the entire carriage ride home just so I wouldn’t break apart. I’d siphoned his strength and missed it terribly now. Nathaniel shook his head, easily reading my thoughts. Well, I hope not the one regarding Thomas with his arms around me.
“Half the men in Father’s circle wouldn’t have dared to question men who work the docks,” he said. “It takes an extraordinary amount of courage to do what you did.” He dropped his gaze. “My only regret with your outing today is the horror of seeing that man with his—I’m truly sorry you were the one to find him.”
I held a hand up to stall him. I didn’t want to think about finding poor Mr. Dunlop anymore. I lifted my chin, chasing the would-be tears away.
“Thank you.” I stood, setting my teacup down on the table, and hugged my arms to my chest. I needed to get out of this room and clear my head.
Reaching down to gather my skirts, I realized I was still dressed in my blood-smeared riding habit and breeches. Perhaps the news of my grisly discovery wasn’t the only thing that had made my aunt nearly faint.
First thing I needed to do was change into clean clothing. Even the strongest soldier in the queen’s army wouldn’t run around in battered trousers, I assured myself.
Nathaniel got up from his own seat. “Where are you going?”
I smiled. “To change. Then I’m calling on Thomas. There are things I need to discuss with him, and I’m afraid they cannot wait until morning.”
Nathaniel opened his mouth, ready to argue, but stopped himself. I’d just discovered a mutilated man in an alley on the docks. Calling on Mr. Thomas Cresswell late in the afternoon was the least of his worries.
He glanced at the clock, then back at me. “I’m leaving shortly myself. I probably won’t be home until after you’re already asleep. Please, for my sake, try to get home before it gets dark out. We’ve both had enough excitement for one evening. Were I to have another fright like it, I might end up dying on the spot.”
As we stepped into the hallway, I really looked at my brother.
Stress was still getting the better of him. Little lines were deepening around his eyes; exhaustion taking an even greater toll on him than it had a few nights ago.
I felt horrible adding to his already full plate. He was always busy studying, and now with Father gone he was tending to the house and me all while some murderer was running around, slaughtering women. I wasn’t making his job any easier by sneaking out at night and finding dead men in the afternoon.
I twisted Mother’s ring around my finger one way and then the next.
“How would you feel if I asked Thomas to come by here for a bit instead?” I knew it was an outrageous question since he wouldn’t be home to chaperone us, but figured it might ease his mind knowing I wouldn’t be leaving the premises after all. Plus, Aunt Amelia and Liza were in the house; it wasn’t as if I’d be all alone with him.
“Audrey Rose… I’m not certain about that.”
He stared at me for a painfully long few seconds, struggling with what was socially proper and what would make him inevitably feel better. He pulled his favorite comb out, running it through his hair, then placed it back in his jacket pocket before finally answering.
“Very well. I’ll telephone him on my way out. You’re not to close any doors.” He took a deep breath and glanced down the hall. “Please keep to the dining room and parlor. Be sure to stay a decent length apart. Last thing we need are rumors circulating. Father will be home in less than two weeks. He’ll slay us both if your reputation is tarnished. Especially since he’s…”
Nathaniel snapped his mouth shut and turned. He wasn’t getting away with keeping secrets that easily. I charged after him and grabbed his sleeve, tugging him back around.
“Especially since he’s what?” I demanded. “What aren’t you telling me, Nathaniel? Has he been back in London? Is he still unwell?”
My brother looked as if he’d rather be speaking with the detective inspector again, and an awful feeling bubbled up my throat. I shook his arm, my expression pleading. He sighed. It never took long for him to give in to his only sibling, and I felt only slightly terrible for exploiting that weakness.
“Your father has been receiving callers in both town and country,” Aunt Amelia said, emerging, it seemed, from out of thin air. She looked like a feminine version of my father and uncle; tall, fair, and beautiful.
One would never imagine she was in her early forties. Aunt Amelia embodied the very essence of what a woman should strive to be at all times. Everything from her neatly styled hair to
her silk-adorned feet was immaculate and delicate.
Even the disapproving, pinched expression on her face was royal-looking. “Though after tonight’s debauchery, and the rumors surely following, I’m not sure he’ll have much success. If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you were trying to ruin all of your prospects.”
I stared from my aunt to my brother. “You said he hadn’t left Bath at all.”
“A young man’s been writing to Father for weeks now. From what I’ve gathered his family is very well connected politically.” Nathaniel straightened his suit. “The merging of our families would make sense. Father returned to London to meet with him, but it was only for a day.”
It was as if the ground had split open in a giant yawn that swallowed me whole. I couldn’t stop thinking about Father secretly meeting potential husbands while he was supposed to be recuperating.
“But I haven’t even come out in society yet!” I said. “I’ve got an entire year before worrying about balls, and parties. How am I supposed to deal with this on top of working for Uncle and the murders going on in Whitechapel? I cannot possibly entertain the notion of anyone courting me.”
Except for possibly one boy with mischief in his soul. Then a thought struck… Thomas’s family was connected politically, as far as I knew. And we had been interacting for weeks. Could his flirtations be real, then?
Aunt Amelia crossed herself. “It will be a miracle if they remain interested in that merger now. You’ve got some serious mending to attend to. I’m organizing a tea for tomorrow afternoon. It’ll do you a world of good, interacting with girls your age who are interested in decent things. There’ll be no more childish games or discussions of murder. Certainly no ‘working’ for your uncle and his unnatural science. If your father learns of this he’ll relapse. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
I stared at my brother for assistance, but he was preoccupied. “But—”
Nathaniel checked the clock in the hallway, then gave me a sympathetic look. “Try not to dwell on it now. I’m sure it’ll all work out fine. I really must be off. I was supposed to meet the head barrister half an hour ago.”
Without waiting for my response, my brother tipped his hat to Aunt Amelia and me, then walked briskly down the hallway and out the front door, leaving me alone to deal with the aftermath of the bomb he’d just dropped on me.
Why was Father taking a sudden interest in marrying me off, and who was the mystery man writing about me? If it wasn’t Thomas, then who was it? An uncomfortable feeling slithered like snakes through my gut. I didn’t like this turn of events one bit and would do everything in my power to stall any courting. I clenched my fists.
“Arranged marriages have gone out of fashion,” I stated, hoping to appeal to my aunt’s vanity. “People would surely gossip about it.”
“First things first,” Aunt Amelia said, clapping her hands and ignoring me altogether. “Time to get rid of those disgusting blood-soaked garments. Then we’ll address the matter of your hair.”
She scrunched her nose as if she were observing a rodent rummaging through rubbish. I cringed. My hair had been the last thing on my mind after finding a man dead.
“Honestly, Audrey Rose, you’re far too pretty and too old to be running around like a tomboy,” she said. “Bring your needle and thread down after your bath; it’s high time we worked on your hope chest.”
TWELVE
FAMILY TIES
WADSWORTH RESIDENCE,
BELGRAVE SQUARE
13 SEPTEMBER 1888
Nearly two hours and several dainty ahems of approval later, my aunt finally retired to bed, satisfied she’d sewn inappropriateness from me one stitch at a time.
It now didn’t seem to bother her I’d found a murdered man, so long as I’d created pretty violets and swirling vines to make up for breaking social taboos.
She’d also insisted on having my newest maid add a bit more “powder and polish” to my after-bath routine. When I’d argued that it was unnecessary, I could do fine on my own, she crossed herself and refilled her wine, instructing the maid to attend to my beauty needs each day from there on out.
I resisted the urge to wipe the excess kohl from my eyes, especially when Thomas kept tossing smug glances my way. I enjoyed applying makeup as any other girl my age would, only I did so with a lighter hand.
“Police say a gear was used to slash his throat open.” Thomas fidgeted in his seat in our drawing room. I refused to let him smoke in the house, and he was more twitchy than usual while filling me in on the investigation. He slid one of Uncle’s medical journals over to me, his fingers lingering a bit near mine before he fiddled with his own notebook.
“How on earth did someone do that much damage with a simple gear?” I asked, moving around in my own chair with discomfort.
It was strange having Thomas in my home without supervision, even though we’d spent time roaming London and Reading by ourselves and my aunt and cousin were only a few floors above us.
I figured once we started discussing the murder, things would become less awkward, but that was proving to be another falsehood.
“Turning something like that into a weapon isn’t hard.” He lifted his teacup but didn’t sip before setting it down again, his gaze snagging on mine. “It’s made of metal and has sharp ends. Any madman or drunk can manage killing someone with it. I, myself, have sharpened quite a few.”
I did not have the mental energy to ask why he had experience or need to sharpen gears. Letting that slide, I kept my focus on the case, drumming my fingers along the journal. “At the first two murders there were gears. It’s a bit too much of a coincidence to be unrelated to our own investigation. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Dear Wadsworth. Your association with me is growing more beneficial by the hour. Your intelligence is quite… attractive,” Thomas said, raising his brows suggestively and taking in my newly plaited hair. “Let’s have some wine and dance inappropriately. You’ve already dressed the part for me—let’s take advantage.”
He offered his hand, palm up, a wicked grin set upon his face.
“Thomas, please.” I batted his hand away, blushing furiously. Dancing with Thomas alone without a chaperone would be scandalous and was far too tempting. Plus it wouldn’t solve this mystery any faster, I reasoned. “Aunt Amelia would perish on the spot if she walked in on such… impropriety.”
“Hmm. Her untimely end would excuse you from any more embroidery lessons, would it not? Perhaps we should skip the dancing and passionately embrace instead.”
“Thomas,” I chided. I told myself the sooner we discovered who the murderer was, the sooner I’d be rid of Thomas Cresswell and his devious ways. We’d be kissing in back alleys before I knew it. Then my reputation would truly be in the gutter. I didn’t appreciate the twinge of disappointment I felt at the thought of not spending as much time with him.
“Very well, then.” Thomas leaned back, sighing. “I believe someone was spying on us in the shipyard. They must’ve overheard us talking about Mr. Dunlop. It’s the only logical conclusion that works. If we can identify him, I’m positive we’ll have found our murderer.”
“And if I had a crown I’d be queen,” I said, unable to stop myself. “Honestly, Thomas, how ridiculous a statement. If, if, if. We need something a bit more secure than a simple if, if we’re to stop a vicious murderer.”
The irony of my last statement was not lost on Thomas. A slow smile crept across his mouth as he leaned forward, our faces dangerously close. “If I purchased a crown, would you run round Buckingham Palace in nothing but your petticoats, demanding the guards let you through?”
“Be serious,” I admonished him, but not before laughing at the absurdity of the image. “Can you picture such a thing? I’d be thrown into the Tower and they’d have the key tossed in the Thames for good measure. Good riddance, indeed.”
“Fear not! I’d find ways of springing you from your tower prison, fair lady.”
I shook
my head. “Wonderful. You’ll end up in the next cell, dooming us both.”
Thomas laughed heartily for a few beats, his gaze straying to my lips and staying there. I swallowed, suddenly remembering we were alone, and I couldn’t find one good reason why I shouldn’t kiss him. I was already trouble in society’s eyes. Might as well embrace my role and have a bit of adventure in the process. Cousin Liza would demand every last detail… a bit of gossip might be fun.
Checking my reaction, he slowly closed the distance between us, my pulse quickening as his expression shifted to a sweet unguardedness. Yes, I thought. This was right. I couldn’t think of a more perfect first kiss.
A clattering noise from the kitchen downstairs broke the spell. He abruptly sat straighter in his chair, flipping the notebook open with intense interest; the temperature in the room chilled at least twenty degrees.
I blinked at how quickly he shut himself off. I’d half a mind to have a fire made in here, not that it’d help his frigid demeanor.
Straightening my shoulders, I collected my thoughts. Well, then. I could be just as fickle as Thomas, if that’s how he wanted our association to be. We needn’t laugh or even be friends. In fact, I should never have warmed to him to begin with. I couldn’t believe how close I’d been to kissing him. Deplorable beast that he was.
Though, if I were truly being honest with myself, I would admit it was nice having an acquaintance as abnormal in society’s eyes as I was. Father hadn’t allowed friends into our home while we were growing up, what with influenzas and potential pox contaminations, so I’d never had a best friend before and missed out on those sorts of relationships.
Even with all Father’s efforts, disease still found its way into our home.
He hadn’t realized how difficult it would make things once I was old enough to accept my own invitations for tea. Now I needed my aunt and cousin to come in and make friends for me. I couldn’t be vexed with Father, though. He did the best he could, even when his best was detrimental.
Stalking Jack the Ripper Page 11