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

The postcard was written in the same hand as the first letter, the loops too similar to be a coincidence. The front of the offending document held no greater clue than the one before it had. It was addressed to:

Central News Office

London City

“Good morning, Amelia, Liza. I believe your carriage is ready.” Father strode into the dining room with a paper of his own tucked under an arm and concern set upon his face when his attention turned to me. “Filling your head with safe and appropriate things? Or are you disobeying my wishes so soon, Audrey Rose?”

I lifted my face and smiled, an action more akin to a sneer.

“I was unaware keeping abreast of the daily news was inappropriate. Perhaps I shall spend my time, and your money, on new corsets to bind my will from my lips,” I said sweetly. “Wearing something so constricting ought to tether my vocal cords nicely. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Father’s eyes flashed a warning, but he’d not find me cowering today. I would solve this Ripper case even if it meant awakening the sleeping beast from within whomever it was resting. That same creature was scratching and howling for a chance to be set free from inside me. I promised it all in due time, placating it for the moment.

“Well, then.” Aunt Amelia stood, motioning for Liza to do the same. “It’s been such a lovely visit. Thank you for hosting us in your absence, dear Brother. You must take some time away from town and breathe in our country air again soon.” She turned her attention on me, lips pinched in scrutiny. “Might do Audrey Rose a world of good, getting away from this madness for a bit.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Father opened his arms to his sister, embracing her quickly before she left the room.

Liza ran over to where I was still sitting, leaned down and gathered me into an uncomfortable hug. “You must write to me. I want to hear more about Mr. Thomas Cresswell and everything regarding the infamous Jack the Ripper. Promise you will.”

“I promise.”

“Wonderful!” She kissed my cheek, then hugged my father before dashing into the corridor. I was sad to see her go.

Father crossed the room and sat in his chair, ignoring me in a way that accentuated his displeasure with my behavior. Which suited me fine.

After Nathaniel had confessed the truth about our family’s secrets, I could barely look at Father. Mother was dying of scarlet fever, and Father knew of her already weakened heart. He never should have allowed Uncle to operate on her when her immune system was under such attack. He knew Uncle had never been successful before.

Though I couldn’t blame him for being desperate to save her. I did wonder why he’d waited so long to ask Uncle for help. I’d been under the false impression that Uncle had operated on her before she’d taken a turn for the worse. I let a sigh escape. Uncle should have known better, but how could he turn his brother away? Especially when Lord Wadsworth had finally broken down and asked for help? The tragedy of what led us here, to this broken shell of a family, was overwhelming, and I feared I’d be as consumed by grief as Father was if I thought too hard on the past.

I received word Uncle was back home late last evening, so I’d stay with him and see what I could discover there.

I opened my paper again, not caring what Father had to say about it.

“Are you so keen to end up a wretch on the streets?”

I took a sip of tea, relishing the bright taste of Earl Grey on my tongue. Father was playing a dangerous game and hadn’t a clue. “You’d know a thing or two about wretches on the street.”

He dropped his hands onto the table, knocking his flatware askance. His face was pale yet angry. “You will respect me in my own home!”

I stood, revealing my all-black riding ensemble. I allowed a full thirty seconds to pass, letting Father take in my mannish attire, shock and disbelief filtering through his expression. I tugged my leather gloves on as violently as I could, then stared down my nose at him.

“Those who deserve respect are given it freely. If one must demand such a thing, he’ll never truly command it. I am your daughter, not your horse, sir.”

I stepped closer, enjoying the way Father leaned away from me as if he were just now discovering that a cat, while precious and cute, also had sharp claws. “I’d rather be a lowly wretch on the streets than live in a house full of cages. Do not lecture me on propriety when it’s a virtue you so grossly lack.”

Without waiting for a response, I swept from the room with nothing but the sound of my heels ringing out against the silence. There would be no skirts or bustles to wrangle with anymore. I was through with things confining me.

Uncle’s laboratory was a wreck, much like the man who resided there.

Papers were scattered about, tables and chairs upturned, and servants were nervously cleaning on all fours, their attention flitting between their work and Uncle’s never-ending tirade. Whether he was upset because his precious work had been tampered with or because he’d come close to being caught for his crimes, I couldn’t tell.

But I was not leaving here without finding out.

I’d never seen him in such a state. Police brought everything back from the evidence chambers when he was released from Bedlam, but threw it back in the laboratory without a care. It seemed Blackburn was no longer interested in winning my affections.

“What miserable fiends!” Another crash reverberated in the small room off the main lab. “Years and years of documentation, gone! I’ve got half a mind to set Scotland Yard ablaze. What sort of animals do they hire?”

Thomas entered the room, taking stock of the mess. He righted a chair, then folded himself into it, annoyance scrawled over his features.

I studiously ignored him, and he responded in kind. Clearly, he was still put off by our argument. Or maybe he felt my suspicion taking form and pointing a finger toward him.

Uncle didn’t remember much from his time in the asylum. The drugs proved too strong for his mind to battle, or so he claimed. He didn’t recall mumbling his name repeatedly or any revelation that might have stepped forth from the darkness.

“Don’t just sit there!” Uncle bellowed, tossing a handful of papers in Thomas’s face. “Fix this! Fix this whole bloody mess! I cannot function like this!”

Unable to watch the madness continue, I slowly approached Uncle with my hands up, as if he were a dog driven mad and cornered. I imagined his nerves were frayed as the tonic they’d given him left his body. Uncle’s occasional outbursts were never so loud or disorganized.

“Perhaps”—I motioned around the room—“we should wait upstairs while the maids tend to this.”

Uncle Jonathan looked ready to quarrel, but I’d have none of that. My new lack of tolerance extended to all Wadsworth males. Even if he proved innocent of the Ripper murders, Uncle had other things to answer for.

I pointed to the door, leaving no room for argument. Maybe it was my new attire, or the stern set to my jaw, but the fight left Uncle rather quickly. He sighed, his shoulders slumping with defeat or relief as he tromped up the stairs.

We settled in the drawing room with cups of tea and pleasant music spilling from a steam-powered machine in the corner.

Thomas sat across from me, arms crossed and jaw set. My pulse spiked as his eyes met mine and sent sparks through my body. I longed to yell at him, demanding to know why he kept things from me, but bit my tongue. Now wasn’t the time.

Next order of business was more difficult to bridge. There was a river of lies and deceit that needed to be crossed in a short amount of time.

I looked at my uncle. He’d been raging and throwing things since I walked in until this very instant. Even now his eyes were slightly glazed over, seeing some wretched thing no one else could. New anger burned quietly under my skin. I hated what Blackburn had done to him.

I went to bury my hands in my skirts, then stopped, remembering I had no skirts to hide in. “I know what happened with Thomas’s mother.”

Thomas froze, teacup halfway to his lips, eyes wide. I turned my attention on Uncle. The fog surrounding him instantly dissipated, replaced by hardness I’d never really seen in him before. “What are you getting at?”

I met his furious gaze dead-on. “After she died you and Thomas began working together. Performing secret… experiments.”

Thomas leaned forward, nearly toppling out of his seat. His hawk attention homing in on Uncle’s response. If only I could decipher his actions!

Uncle laughed incredulously when he saw the seriousness in my face.

“What does it matter if we did? We haven’t performed a surgery in nearly a year. None of this relates to our Ripper. Some ghosts should remain good and buried, Niece.”