The East End was rife not only with “improper people” but with disease, which spread quickly because of the deplorable living conditions. What’s more, it was foolish to drag Father to an area known for its opium dens.
Every male in my life felt it necessary to put chains on me, and I despised it. Except for Thomas, I realized. He taunted me into acting and thinking for myself. Before I could race up to my room, Father called out to me. “A word please, Audrey Rose.”
I closed my eyes briefly before turning around. I didn’t want to be scolded or hear about how fragile life was or how foolish it was to place oneself in reckless situations, but saw no way out of it. When Father had something to say, one listened, and that was that. I drifted away from the stairway and the freedom it provided, heading directly toward the den of lecturing.
Aunt Amelia and Liza were out shopping for fabrics to take back to the country with them. Their visit was nearly over, and they’d be leaving first thing in the morning. I was grateful they weren’t here to witness my scolding. Aunt Amelia would say the last couple of weeks had done nothing to save either my soul or reputation. She might even suggest a little country air was exactly what I needed.
Leaning against the wall in the corridor, Nathaniel still wouldn’t meet my glare, enraging me all the more. What a slithering wimp! Father motioned for me to step into the drawing room and have a seat.
With no other choice, I did.
I settled into a chair, as far away from him as possible, while waiting for my guilty verdict to be delivered and my punishment to be swiftly bestowed.
Father was taking his time, however. Calling for a tray of tea and biscuits, sorting through mail near the fireplace. If he was trying to ratchet up my anxiety, it was working. My heart thudded wildly against my ribs, begging to be set free with each new letter he tore into. The only sounds in the room came from the crackling fire and rustling of paper on paper. I sincerely doubted my sloshing blood could be heard, but it was a sinister symphony in my own ears nonetheless.
I watched the careful way he held the letter opener, the sharp blade piercing the envelopes, before he ripped the letters free with one savage swipe after another. Whenever I scared him, he turned into some foreign person. One who was both frightening and frightened at once.
Folding my hands together in my lap, I waited as patiently as I could for him to calm himself enough to speak with me. My dark skirts were an abyss I’d like to sink into. He sealed an envelope, then handed it off to a servant before finally crossing the room.
“I understand you’ve been sneaking out of the house for some time now. Studying forensic sciences with your uncle, is that right?”
Without asking, he poured a cup of tea, then offered it to me. I shook my head, too nervous to even dream of eating or drinking when he was so calm and composed. He paused, waiting for an excuse, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. Once an animal’s fate had been decided, there was no undoing the crimson necklace they’d wear. It mattered not what I said in my defense, he knew it as plainly as I did.
He sat down, crossing one foot over his knee.
“What, pray tell, did you expect me to do upon finding out? Be pleased? Be… supportive of you potentially throwing your life away?” A flicker of rage showed in his chiseled features. He clenched his jaw, then exhaled slowly. “I cannot allow you to tarnish your reputation by indulging your eccentricities and the debauchery you’re involved with. Pleasant people who abide by polite society do not find themselves in your uncle’s laboratory. Were your mother still alive, it would kill her to see you involved in such… matters.”
I picked at the tiny buttons on the side of my gloves, fighting tears with all my might. I was angry with Father for his words, but most of all hated that he might be correct. Perhaps Mother would despise the work I did. From childhood, she was instructed to stay away from dreadful things owing to her weakened heart. My unbecoming work might very well have broken it had the fever not done so first. But what of her insistence that I could be both strong and beautiful? Surely Father had to be wrong.
Nathaniel moved from the doorway to stand inside the room. I hadn’t noticed him still lingering there but from the stricken expression on his face knew he’d heard every word. I wanted to muster up a decent scowl, but couldn’t find the strength.
My heart ached too much.
“From this point forward you shall live according to society’s rules,” Father continued, satisfied with my obeisance. “You’ll smile and be charming to every suitor I deem acceptable to court you. There’ll be no more talk of science or of your degenerate uncle.” He moved out of the chair and stood before me so swiftly, I couldn’t prevent myself from recoiling. “Should I discover your disobedience once more, you shall be turned out on the streets. I’ll not tolerate you sniffing around this disturbing case any longer. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
I drew my brows together. I could not comprehend what had just happened. Father had been mad before, angry enough to keep me indoors for weeks on end, but he’d never threatened to toss me into the streets.
It went against the very purpose he had for keeping me close all my life. Why bind me to our home, only to throw me from it?
I blinked tears back and kept my attention locked onto the swirling design on the rug, then slowly nodded. I didn’t trust my voice. I refused to sound weak on top of looking the part so well, and knew my voice would crack under the weight of emotion.
Father must have been pleased, because his shadow lifted from before me, then disappeared from the room altogether. I listened as his heavy footsteps faded down the hall. When his study door slammed shut, I allowed myself to exhale.
A single tear snaked down my cheek and I angrily swiped it away. I’d held it together for this long, I would not break in front of Nathaniel. I would not.
Instead of rushing to my side as I expected, Nathaniel stayed planted to his post near the door, craning his neck into the hall. It was hard to tell if he was looking to escape or convincing himself to stay.
“What did Father promise you for your betrayal?” His back stiffened, but he didn’t turn around. I stood, moving closer. “Must have been extraordinary. Something you couldn’t turn down. A new suit? An expensive horse?”
He shook his head, hands twitching at his sides. Any second and he’d grab the comfort of his comb. Stress never looked good on him. I stalked closer, my tone antagonizing. I wanted him to feel my hurt.
“A large estate, then?”
The silver comb flashed in the flickering firelight as my brother ran it through his hair. I went to walk by when he whispered, “Wait.”
His tone gave me pause, my silk shoes straddling the threshold. He sounded no louder than a church mouse squeaking inside a grand cathedral.
Moving back into the room, I waited. I’d allow him the courtesy of saying his piece, then be on my way. I plopped onto the chair, exhausted from the day’s events, while Nathaniel checked the hallway before closing the door.
He paced, as all Wadsworth men were prone to do, agitation or nervousness shrouding him. It was hard to tell which emotion was getting the better of him. Nathaniel crossed the room to the buffet, removing a crystal decanter and matching glass. He poured himself a healthy amount of amber liquid, drinking it down in a few gulps.
That was very un-Nathaniel-like. I sat forward. “What is it?”
My brother shook his head, still facing the decanter, and refilled his cup. “I can’t begin figuring where to start.”
The utter loathing in his tone chilled me. I got the impression we were no longer talking about him telling Father I’d sneaked out of the house this morning. My anger dissipated. Was something else wrong with Father? I couldn’t take another emotional upheaval. There was too much to sort through as it stood.
“Most start around the beginning,” I said, hoping to keep the fear from my voice and force levity into it. “Tell me what’s been troubling you. Please. Let me help.”
&n
bsp; Nathaniel stared at the crystal glass in his hand. It seemed easier for him to speak to it rather than meet my worried gaze.
“Then I’ll speak quickly, in hopes of causing you less pain.” He took a sip of liquid courage, then another. “Mother wasn’t the last person operated on by our loving uncle.”
I was grateful he paused, allowing me time to absorb the enormity of his words. Everything else in the room stopped, including my heart. This was a subject we were banned from discussing by both Uncle and Father.
“He… he’s been attempting to complete a successful transplant since he and Father were young men.” My brother pinched the bridge of his nose. “Father, while dealing with his own demons, reacts in such a way because he knows Uncle keeps secrets from you.”
“Secrets? I know all about Uncle’s former experiments,” I said, sitting straighter in my chair. “His attempt at saving Mother’s life is why I started studying under him in the first place.”
“Saving her, was he?” Nathaniel gave me a pitying look. “For the good of London, they should’ve kept him locked away. He’s never stopped his experiments, Audrey Rose. He’s only gotten better at hiding them.”
“That’s not true.” I shook my head. How my brother could think such a thing about Uncle was preposterous. “I’d know about any experiments.”
“I promise you, it is true. I hoped you’d outgrow your desire to apprentice with him, and thought it unnecessary to divulge such… delicate matters.” Nathaniel took my hands, squeezing gently until I met his eyes. “Just as I do not wish to burden you with too much now, Sister. If you need some time—”
“Oh, I’m more than ready to learn the truth. The entire truth, no matter how horrid it may be. Do enlighten me further, and make it quick.”
He nodded. “Very well, then. The entire truth is this: Your… friend, Thomas Cresswell, he…” Nathaniel sat back and took another sip from his drink. I wasn’t sure if the pause in the story was for my benefit or his. My stomach tied itself in knots as I waited for the next horror. “Are you sure you’re all right? You look a bit peaked.”
“Please, tell me the rest.”
“All right, then,” he said, releasing a shaky breath. “Thomas’s father came to Uncle after Mother’s death. His wife experienced severe abdominal pain around that time. He’d heard rumors of Uncle’s research.” Nathaniel swallowed. “Thomas’s mother passed away shortly after ours of gallbladder issues. Uncle tried saving her life, too.”
“Wonderful. So you’re saying Uncle killed Thomas’s mother?”
Nathaniel reached for me, slowly shaking his head. “No, not exactly. Thomas has been obsessed with searching for a true cure ever since. It’s all he talks of when the Knights of Whitechapel meet. I can practically conduct the research myself. He’s gone into that much detail.”
“He hasn’t mentioned anything to me about it at all.”
Chills stuck their nails into my back, repeatedly dragging themselves downward. That wasn’t entirely true. Thomas had insisted I remove the gallbladder from the cadaver he’d gotten from the Necropolis. A memory of the latest crime scene flashed through my mind—I was almost positive a gallbladder had been taken from one of the victims, too. I felt utterly sick to my stomach.
Could I have been so blind or so wrong about Thomas?
No. I wouldn’t accuse him of sadistic murders simply because he was different from other people in our closed-minded society. He was purposely cold and detached working a case, and it was brilliant. And necessary. Wasn’t it? My head suddenly pounded. Maybe I was making excuses for him. Or perhaps they were excuses he’d deftly planted in my brain. He was certainly cunning enough to do such a thing. But would he?
Too many emotions swirled through my head to keep track of.
If Thomas experienced the kind of heartache that came with watching as a loved one passed on, then perhaps he might do anything—even murder—to discover answers he’d sought. Then again, didn’t I suffer from a similar heartache when Mother died? I supposed it was a decent enough reason for Jack to steal organs. But was Thomas, the arrogantly charming boy I knew outside of the laboratory, truly capable of committing such atrocities in the name of science?
I hardly thought he could become that cold and remote. Still…
My head spun. The ladies at tea claimed he was odd enough to be the madman, but that was merely idle gossip. I clenched my fists at my sides. I refused to believe my instincts were so wrong about him, even if there was strong evidence to the contrary.
Which was the exact notion that got the Ripper’s victims murdered. I dropped my head into my hands. Oh, Thomas. How do I sort this mess out, too?
TWENTY-TWO
SAUCY JACK
WADSWORTH RESIDENCE,
BELGRAVE SQUARE
1 OCTOBER 1888
Early morning light slanted in from the cathedral windows of our dining room, but I could stare only at the two pieces of evidence scrawled in Jack the Ripper’s hand while my breakfast cooled.
The days of holding back his ghastly deeds were apparently over. Jack wanted everyone to know he was responsible for these horrendous crimes. He was like an actor or king soaking up the attention of adoring fans and countrymen.
Troubled as I was by Thomas’s past, the idea of him being the Ripper didn’t sound quite right. The day Thomas Cresswell didn’t show off his brilliance was the day I’d find a unicorn for a pet. Jack wanted adoration. Thomas would surely have slipped by now.
Then again, he did keep his work with Uncle on transplants secret all these weeks. I cursed my softness toward him. I needed to detach my emotions, but it was proving more difficult than I’d envisioned.
I rubbed my temples and read the paper again. I wasn’t surprised the serpent side of Mr. Doyle resurfaced; it was only a matter of time before his paper sensationalized this for all the money it was worth.
“Honestly,” Liza whispered while slicing into her breakfast sausage, “I wish we weren’t leaving so dreadfully early. I’ve never seen such excitement in the city! Victoria’s throwing a masked ball, encouraging boys to come as the Ripper. Tall, dark, and completely anonymous. It’s terribly thrilling, wouldn’t you agree?”
I stole a glance at my aunt, who was watching me with a quirked brow. This was a test of good manners. I smiled pleasantly. “It certainly is terrible.”
“True. I don’t care what people say of those women, no one deserves to be slain like that. You simply must stop whoever it is.” Liza stared off, then shook herself into the present. “I’m going to miss you, Cousin. Come and stay with us soon.”
I smiled, realizing I couldn’t wait to see Liza again. My cousin was smart, unabashedly feminine, and comfortable playing by her own version of society’s rules. Her clever remarks and cheerful presence would be missed. “That would be lovely, I will.”
I took a sip of Earl Grey, my focus returning to the paper while my aunt and cousin chatted about yesterday’s tea I’d missed.
Either Blackburn had kept his promise to seek the editor out and run a copy of the “Dear Boss” letter, or Mr. Doyle had decided to do so himself. I didn’t trust Blackburn anymore, so my faith lay with the editor releasing the details.
I reread the letter, getting lost in the manic cursive of the killer’s script. Thinking back on the murder scene, there was an eerie number of similarities. The postcard depicted on the same page was something new, however. As it was dated from the night before, it was clear the murderer only recently posted it.
Wretched ideas had assaulted me last night with the growing list of suspects. I didn’t know who was responsible, but some memory kept creeping up on me.
Miss Emma Elizabeth Smith possibly knew her attackers. Could that be Uncle and Thomas? In Uncle’s notes she’d told investigators one assailant was a teenager. Uncle was betrothed to her… and clearly, it ended in some manner in which she resorted to prostitution.
If Thomas was in on it, it’d explain how the murders continued while Unc
le was in the asylum. It also meant I’d been inadvertently working with Jack the Ripper and possibly falling under his spell myself. My stomach twisted.
There had to be something else.
I thought of Thornley, recalling the day Thomas and I had learned of Uncle’s connection to Miss Emma Elizabeth. Thomas’s shock appeared genuine enough. But was it all a farce? Perhaps he was as talented at acting as he was at flipping his emotions on and off. If only my wretched heart could shut itself off from him completely!
There was something even worse to consider.
My father had connections to most of the victims. It was possible the opium addled his brain in some way, twisting his anguish over Mother into something violent. But was my father truly capable of murder? I wanted to deny it, to scream at myself for thinking such an awful thing, but Father did have a habit of becoming someone else whenever he was afraid or under the influence of his precious tonic. If Father really was innocent, then why did my heart sink at the thought?
Then there was the matter of Blackburn. Did he work with Father? Their association was hidden from my brother and me for God only knew how long. What else might they be keeping to themselves? The murders began again when Father came home.… I stopped my mind from wandering down that bleak alleyway.
I turned my attention back to the postcard facsimile in the paper.
It wasn’t very long, but the message was as chilling as the first. The grammar was just as poor, but I had a suspicion it was all for show. The script Jack used was far too clean and careful to be written by someone lacking education. It was a poor attempt at hiding his status in the community.
But which status? Doctor, lord, superintendent, or brilliant pupil?
I was not codding dear old Boss when I gave you the tip, you’ll hear about Saucy Jacky’s work tomorrow double event this time number one squealed a bit couldn’t f inish straight off. ha not the time to get ears for police. thanks for keeping last letter back till I got to work again.
Jack the Ripper
Stalking Jack the Ripper Page 19