Stalking Jack the Ripper Page 24
“Mind your tongue, Audrey Rose!” Aunt Amelia fanned herself. “Addressing a boy by his Christian name is inappropriate. Especially when you’re not involved.”
If I thought my aunt was upset before, this was a whole new level of emotion. How quickly her tea had turned into discussions of the macabre and impolite.
I held my eye roll in. At least tea was more interesting than I imagined it’d be. The other girls quickly lost interest in Thomas Cresswell and the “tragic and disturbing” murders affecting the lower-class slums.
Conversation moved to more suitable afternoon tea subject matters. Like who was going to be invited to the duke’s coming-of-age masquerade in six months.
“You simply must come!” Victoria was saying to me, threading her arm through mine as if we were already the very best of friends and she hadn’t just called my uncle a murderer. “Everyone who’s important will be there. If you want the right people attending your party, you’ll need to make an effort to attend theirs. I hear he’s even hired a spiritualist to perform a séance.”
As the afternoon wore on, I watched them, noting the role they were all playing. I doubted any of them truly cared about what they were saying and felt immensely sorry for them. Their minds were crying out to be set free, but they refused to unbind them.
Hazel leaned across the table, catching my attention. “Your dress is absolutely divine! Would you be terribly bothered if I had one made like it?” When I didn’t respond straightaway she amended, “In different colors, naturally. It’s just the design is so gorgeous!”
“If William Bradley doesn’t fall to his knees, proposing at first glance,” Regina said, smearing a scone with curd and cream, “he’s a fool and you need to leave him at once.”
Hazel sighed dramatically. “But he’s a fool with a title. You really think he’d propose if I wore a similar gown?”
“How could he not?” I teased, holding back laughter at her serious expression. “Surely boys are interested in proposing only to girls in lacy gowns. Why care about beauty and brains when they can have beauty over brains? Foolish creatures they are.”
Hazel drew her brows together. “Why ever would a girl choose anything over beauty? A wife should abide by her husband in all matters. Let him do the thinking.” Both Regina and Hazel nodded at that dreadful sentiment before Hazel continued. “Anyway, you truly are the sweetest thing, Audrey Rose. Will you be attending the circus when it comes to town?”
Perhaps I’d been wrong in my earlier judgment. It seemed it’d take a little more time for some girls to free themselves from chains society placed upon them. I bit my lip, thinking of a response that wouldn’t offend them further.
Victoria, abandoning her conversation with my cousin and aunt, clapped her hands together. “Oh, yes! You simply must join us. We’ll coordinate our attire and everything. People won’t know who to look at first, the performers, or us!”
My aunt nodded her encouragement from across the table, her expression threatening something more unpleasant than even Leather Apron could dream up.
I smiled tightly. “That sounds lovely.”
FIFTEEN
GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH
WADSWORTH RESIDENCE,
BELGRAVE SQUARE
25 SEPTEMBER 1888
“You’re not serious,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head at another of my nearly all-black ensembles.
I glanced at layers of black broken up by deep charcoal and silver striped silk, then lifted a shoulder. “Why ever not? There’s nothing wrong with the dress.”
My corset was pulled tightly over my silky chemise, my gloves were a soft, supple leather with covered buttons running up the sides, and my bustle was annoying me greatly. Judging from how uncomfortable I was, I’d say I was downright stunning this evening. If one could see beyond the dark circles refusing to relinquish their grip on my eyes or the way the midnight colors accentuated how pale I’d become.
The Edwards sisters wouldn’t approve of my color choice, but I didn’t quite care. I’d attended three more of Aunt Amelia’s royale teas, and though they weren’t as bad as I’d originally anticipated, it left less time for sleuthing.
“Anyway. It’s been nearly two weeks since Uncle was arrested,” I said. Neither Thomas nor I had found a scrap of information to exonerate him. “I’ll be dressed in the color of mourning until he’s freed, and I don’t care if it’s fashionable or not.”
Nathaniel sighed. “I suppose it works well enough for Her Royal Highness. If even the city of London refuses to be anything other than gray and dreary all the time, you might as well act the same.”
Blessedly, Aunt Amelia and Liza came down the stairs, looking resplendent in hues of emerald and turquoise, the precise color palette Victoria decided on during our last tea. Nathaniel bowed to them. “Good evening, Aunt, Cousin. You’re both visions.”
“You are too kind, Nephew,” Aunt Amelia replied, feigning humility. “Thank you.”
Liza came over and kissed my cheek, shaking her head ever so slightly.
“Your eyes look stunning this evening,” she said, looping her arm through mine, completely ignoring the drab color I was in. “I’m so pleased you’ve taken to the kohl. Thomas Cresswell certainly must be in love. Has he commented on it?”
I thought on our meetings. Thomas pretended to be more arrogant lately, commenting on how I’d made an effort for him. But then I’d catch him staring, as if he were trying to deduce and was unsuccessful for the first time. He wasn’t sure if I truly was doing it to entice his affections or for my own purposes, and I suspected it drove him mad.
Before I answered, Aunt Amelia waved the question away like a pesky gnat. “What does it matter? That boy won’t amount to anything in society. His family name might be good, but he’s destroyed any decent prospects. Audrey Rose has other, more accomplished suitors coming her way. Come, Liza.” She tossed her shawl about her shoulders and headed down the corridor. “We’ll see you both at the circus.”
“See you there.” My brother gripped a letter in his hand, crinkling its edges before smoothing it on his pressed pant leg. He reached for his comb but thought better of it. Thank goodness. I was certain if he touched one more strand of hair it’d run away, screaming in protest. The image almost made me smile before I caught myself.
“Are you certain you don’t want to change? I thought you were excited for the circus,” he said, defeated. “All you talked about for the last several months were the curiosities, menageries—and what of Jumbo? Poor chap’s finally coming home and you’re greeting him wearing the color of death? What kind of miserable welcome is that for an elephant who’s traveled half the world? Aunt Amelia and Liza look like precious stones, while you’re making your best coal impersonation. It simply isn’t right.”
He paced the parlor, hands twitching at his sides. “I’ve got it! How about we dress you in that horse costume? What was it called? ‘The Devil’s Auction,’ or something equally charming?”
I wanted to smile but couldn’t quite bring myself to do it convincingly. Months ago I cared about things like three-ring stages and larger-than-life elephants. I’d even laughed about the postcard we’d found with the strange horse-head-wearing performer.
“There are unsolved murders, and Uncle is being held under suspicion,” I said. “Now isn’t the time for levity.”
“Yes, yes. He along with a slew of other questionable characters,” Nathaniel said. “According to the papers, Scotland Yard’s throwing any person in a cell until their innocence can be proven irrevocably or until someone more frightening comes about. Uncle will have this sorted out, and you’ll have wasted time moping for nothing.”
“I’d hardly consider proving his innocence a waste of time.” Why police refused to let Uncle out of the asylum, I hadn’t a clue. Nathaniel was right: Uncle certainly wasn’t the only one being charged with the crimes. “News sources are something else entirely. I can’t believe you’re reading any of it.”
I’d never seen such sensationalist rubbish strewn across every cover. Reporters couldn’t get their fill of Leather Apron. They were creating a star out of a madman; glorifying a villain. The lengths people went through to sell a paper was nearly as disgusting as the crimes themselves.
“Awful though they may be, the papers offer some amusement, Sister.”
“Honestly,” I said. “The whole thing sours my stomach. Why turn a murderer of women into front-page news? I feel sorry for their poor families.”
That was enough dabbling in the strange and wonderful for me, thank you kindly. I needn’t waste time on distractions.
Nathaniel, however, was on a personal mission over the last twelve days to yank me from the depths of my despair. His answer to my troubles came in the form of two tickets to the “Greatest Show on Earth.” Protestations fell upon deaf ears, so I relented.
He’d had a disturbing amount of fabric brought over last week in the hope that a new, colorful frock would chase all the dark clouds away. If only life’s problems could be solved with a frilly dress and a pair of slippers. To hell with the world around us, so long as we looked our best.
“Let’s be on our way, then,” Nathaniel said, checking the grandfather clock. I followed him to the hansom cab, allowing the coachman to help me inside this time, relieved we were taking the fastest means of transportation we owned.
I sat in an inky puddle of expensive silks, rearranging my skirts to make room for my brother in the small carriage, my mind churning with different angles to study the case from.
Nathaniel sat beside me, looking like a child whose favorite toy had gone missing. I was a wretch of a sister. Here I was all wrapped up in my own mind, selfishly ignoring the people who were still very much present in my life.
“You know”—I squeezed his hand—“I’m getting rather excited about the circus after all.”