Stalking Jack: The Hunt Begins... (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 1) (10 page)

“What brings ya’ down here to Whitechapel?”

“I’m a newspaper reporter looking for stories on the Ripper, and this is my assistant.”

Madeline thought, he thinks on his feet. He was using Jonathan’s occupation and she approved that he had adapted and used the information to their interest.

“That’s a sad piece of work—I don’t care for ‘em, but it’s a fright to have ‘em cut up.”

“I see you have a constable’s badge inside your waistcoat, sir.” asked Madeline.

“Retired, Miss, and glad of it. The crime in this city is too much for anyone.”

“Did you know Martha Tabram?”

“Yep, most of the gents knew Martha. She was a happy sort for living such a life, but she kept herself filled with liquor. That probably helped.”

“It must be terrifying for a girl to have to make a living by the ways of the street,” she said.

“Most of ‘em don’t care; they’re just bones walking around with no life in ‘em.”

“That sounds rather harsh, Mr. Motts.”

“Not by my account it don’t.”

They continued talking for another quarter hour and then excused themselves as Madeline had whispered to Hugh that she would also like to see if she could find Mr. Fielding again.

“What do you think of him?” asked Hugh.

“He’s certainly bitter about life in general, and perhaps he saw too much as a constable that it made him hardened.”

“Yes, but do you think he’s a potential candidate for the Ripper?” he said, half-joking.

“He could be. He has the badge; he could have used it to waylay Martha. Whitechapel is a dark place; it seems it holds many secrets within its crumbling walls. Are you game to see if we can find Mr. Fielding? He is the man I told you about with the scarring on his face or would you rather just go to Wickham’s now. I am content with either you choose.”

“No, let’s push on. The day may still have more surprises in store for us.”

“I have not yet been to Blue Coat Boy or the Frying Pan.”

“The Frying Pan is on Brick Street. I know where that is. We’re just two streets away if you would like to go there first.”

“Yes, but perhaps that will be the last for today. I would like to get Polly her dresses and see how she is doing. I have had her on my mind. So many of the women we remind me of her. I am glad she is safe with the aunts.”

They moved through the crowd, unnoticed, as everyone else was. Invisible among the invisible, they were probably over a hundred patrons in the pub with no one paying any heed to anyone else unless they were soliciting them. She saw Mr. Fielding again in a corner at the end of a long wooden table. She wondered how receptive he would be to her or if he thought she was stalking him. He did not have a congenial personality.

“Hugh, I see him, but I don’t want to approach him directly. Perhaps we can sit near him and see if he speaks to me.”

Her resolve slackened as she once again saw his disfigurement and felt compassion for him. She felt guilty for suspecting him, but yet knew he had all the qualifications to be the perpetrator. She would do this, for Martha and all the girls like Polly.

“Mr. Fielding, how are you this afternoon?” asked Madeline.

“I see you remembered me, not hard with a mug like mine. I’m sure you talks to all the handsome men in here,” Bob Fielding spit out the words with a harsh voice.

“Mr. Fielding, this is my friend, Hugh.”

“Don’t have your newspaper man with ya’?

“No, but I am still looking for clues. Isn’t everyone concerned with finding him?”

“That’s for the coppers, not for you or me. I don’t see it; it’s got to be something else. Why would the likes of a lady like you be down here in the filth and the sewage?”

“I do it for the woman, to be the voices of the slain women and to help the ones still alive Mr. Fielding and to have a purpose.”

She was surprised that she had revealed something so personal to a stranger and someone who was a suspect. His pain was laid out for the world to see and maybe hers was also.

“There is no purpose in it; you should let it be. Whoever done this, maybe they did them women a service. They got ‘em out of Whitechapel, didn’t he?”

The man next to him chuckled and didn’t seem at all to think this was a disturbing comment. She did not balk at his comment because she had assumed that at some time he might make such a comment. He had contempt for the world on a grand scale.

“Did not Martha Tabram deserve to decide for herself how the rest of her life should go?” asked Madeline.

“She did decide. She chose to become a prostitute and open to all that come with it. That’s where we are all right, in the Frying Pan and that’s where my face has been, is that why you came here to look for me?” asked Fielding.

“I’m in Whitechapel to see many people, Mr. Fielding. You have suffered and still do, I’m sure. But you are still alive, these two girls are not and if they do not catch Jack, how many others will find the same fate?”

“Like I said, that’s not my concern, it’s for the
Yard
.”

They didn’t stay much longer, but Madeline listened intently to everything he proclaimed, looking for some word or phrase that might give her a chance to connect him directly to the murders, perhaps a slip of some sort. Tongues were loose when people drank, that’s what she was counting on, but he did not say anything more pertaining to the murders.

They continued their journey to Wickham’s department store when Hugh said, “Do you have a supposition if any of the people you have spoken to might be involved.  Who did you say the police have questioned?”

“Mr. Fielding is the only one questioned thus far, but it is not something I think any of them would readily admit. I will be speaking to Jonathan later today, and I am hoping he might have some details for me.”

Hugh looked at her with a slight frown, and she wasn’t sure how to interpret it, was he worried about her safety in the continuation of this matter or was it something more personal. She thought it was of little consequence either way for she could not foresee that any man, other than Russell, could ever matter to her again. She was uncomfortable thinking about other men, feeling somehow it was betraying Russell in some way. Maybe someday she might not feel that way, but today she still did.

When they arrived at Anna and Helen’s home, with packages in tow, Anna greeted them with a strange nervousness, twisting her handkerchief in her hand. Polly was relaxing on the divan with a blanket over her, and Helen had said that is where she had been for most of the day.

They introduced Hugh, and he stayed to converse with Polly.

“Madeline, the doctor was here, and he believes she is not well from lack of nutrition, but she is also suffering from addiction withdrawal. I didn’t want to ask her, but the doctor said from her answers he thinks she might have taken opium. He said it was not an uncommon drug in Whitechapel. He has given her some medication for the symptoms, but she is shaking and sweating constantly,” said Anna.

“Perhaps her new dresses will give her cause for some joy. I am so sorry for you both and for Polly. It will be a difficult time, but we will lean on each other and, in turn, give strength to Polly.”

Returning she spoke to Polly, “I hope you’re feeling a little better and that soon you will be well enough to wear your new outfits out to dinner with us,” said Madeline. “We are relieved you are safely home; that monster roaming the streets is enough to make one shudder.”

“All the girls, they talk about it, but they don’t pay it any mind. They can’t ‘cause they got to make a living, and they got no choice. It’s no life for nobody that’s why all the girls drink—to forget. I thank you for the dresses; I ain’t seen the likes of something so pretty for a long time. I want to get well to repay all of you for your kindness to me. I tell you if I were to guess who might be the one; I’d say it might be one of those royals. There’s a gent all dressed like he’s the king and he comes down there in a carriage so fine the queen herself could come in it, but he’s a rough sort. My friend Annie, she done be with him and says he’s mean as a wild cat. She said she scratched him once to stop him. He asked me one night, and I says “No” because he scared me, but then that was a time I had me some money and wasn’t in such bad shape as now.”

“Do not be frightened Polly, we will help you. We are all here for you. Somehow we will get you back on the right track. Besides, the aunts have some money now and have told me of their wish to help you.”

“And help you, we will, child,” said Helen with a stern look of resolve upon her face.

“I only hope I can live up to what you all wish for me. No one’s said such kind words to me in a long while. I’m sorry, but I wish to go to my room and rest, I still am unwell. Perhaps soon, I will have the strength to have a proper visit,” said Polly.

Anna and Helen hugged her good-bye and were profuse in their thanks for the new clothing for Polly.

“Thank you, Hugh, for accompanying me and giving us your support. I hope to see you soon,” said Madeline.

“I wish that also. May I call for you on this next Saturday to dine with me?”

“I would like that, but as I don’t know what may occur with Polly or where my trail will lead me during this next week, I cannot answer right now. I will send a note by messenger before Thursday. Would that be suitable?”

“Yes, be well and good-night. I look forward to our next visit.”

He kissed her gloved hand and bowed. She was grateful for his friendship and the feeling of safety and calm she had when he was near her.

Clinton saw her coming through the lobby and handed her a note from Jonathan
:

Madeline,

I am looking forward to this evening and speaking to you about our news findings. I will be at your hotel at seven.

Jonathan

Chapter Eight

The Suspects

It was five o'clock; she
would have just time enough to bathe and write in her journal before her engagement with Jonathan.

August 23, 1888 – Ripper Notes

I have seen Roxanne again, and she was in the process of attacking a woman. I now think it is possible she could have motive, opportunity and the hatred to do such an act. Mr. Fielding, we saw at yet another pub, the Queens Head, and he too spoke again of his bitterness, no more than that, an utter disdain for the women of Whitechapel. Another suspect, Mr. Motts, we spotted at Kings Row, he is a policeman who feels all the female prostitutes should be jailed or thrown out of the city. I will see Jonathan tonight to see what news he has.

She picked up her personal journal.

August 23, 1888

My recent activities have kept me busy, doing things I could never have imagined before I had set sail for England. I thought I might be visiting museums and the like. It has kept my mind in a state of unrest but has lessened the paralysis of grief. I must act now and not just languish. Jonathan and Hugh have both become confidants.

Although Miss Polly has returned, to all of our great joy and relief, she is unwell. It will take a strong countenance to get her through the withdrawal of the opiates that she has become addicted to. She shakes so; I just want to hold her and soothe her from her ailments. She is kind and sweet, not unlike most women her age, but with the unfortunate circumstance to be without means and driven into such a way of life. There is barely a way to escape the effects from it.

She would choose the navy blue dress although she preferred the green dress; its rich evergreen color with velvet collar enhanced her auburn hair. She would wear the more attractive dress on another day; she was not quite ready to look beautiful again, believing that personal luxury was for other women.

When Jonathan arrived, he complimented her on her new dress and smiled at her in a way that made her think that he might wish to have a relationship with her that was beyond friendship.

“Jonathan, it is good to see you and to relax over a hot meal. I have news, but how does your story go?”

“The police are picking up great numbers of people, rounding them up like sheep to question them. It is like a circus. When I attempt to interview the constables, they have nothing concrete that I can print. My articles center on my interviews with people in the area.

“I was fortunate to speak with the man who found Martha. He appeared shaken when he spoke of it. He said that she laid there, seeming to be a person who drank too much and was only sleeping. Though there were few people about, he did see two couples in the adjacent alley and a figure smoking, leaning against a fence. He remembered because as soon as he saw her, he looked to observe his surroundings in the event the perpetrator might be leaving the scene.”

“Could he tell if the figure by the fence was a man or woman?”

“He said he thought it was a man and had not considered if it could have been a woman. Between the dimly lit street and the fog, he could not add much more than that.”

“I was anxious to tell you the news that Polly has returned. She is suffering from addiction problems and undernourished, but she is home.”

“That is great news indeed,” Jonathan interrupted her. “But go on.”

She went on to relay the events of the day.

“I think you have uncovered more than I. You say Polly had her suspicions about Prince William and his reputation for his ill temper and visitation to this place. I would like to get a story from her. Do you think she would consent?”

“I don’t know, Jonathan. She is in a fragile state, but I will ask. How would one go about questioning a royal? Even the police would be hard pressed to go there; the political nature of it quashing any hopes of truth.”

Jonathan brought a copy of his latest article, and she was impressed by his writing skills.

“Is your editor happy with your progress?”

“Honestly, not really, he’s looking for a scoop or for me to undercover something that America will bite into. He wants it to be more sensational.”

“I like it. It describes the atmosphere of Whitechapel, and that is key to all this. It has been an eventful time, and I think I will stay near to my hotel for the next few days. Perhaps Polly will regain some of her health, and we can dine with her and show her a side of life she has not seen for a while.”

“That is a splendid idea, and if I can interview her, the paper will pay the expense for the dinner.”

“Even better.”

“Perhaps we can all dine this Saturday.”

She was about to confirm that when she realized she had committed that night to Hugh.

“I’m afraid I do have plans for Saturday, but maybe Sunday brunch.”

He looked away this time and said, “I’m sorry, I also have a commitment for that day. Perhaps you can send word to me when Polly can go and your availability.”

“I will do that.”

He left abruptly without kissing her hand as he always had done. She thought now that he did have intimate feelings for her, and they now were dashed in some way. She didn’t mention Hugh, but in the not mentioning of it, she was sure he knew.

In the morning, she decided to do something she had not done since she arrived. She would take a carriage and see something of London. She would use this time to collect her thoughts and opinions and to read all the current articles about Jack that headlined in the various newspapers. She went back to Wickham’s, purchasing two new hats and a few pairs of gloves. Father had recently sent her some additional money and said he hoped she would use it to spoil herself with whatever was her fancy. She would give one pair of gloves to Polly, and she would part with one of the hats.

She visited one art museum, and although ordinarily, she would have lingered at every exhibit, she couldn’t keep her mind from thinking of Polly and wondering if she were any better. Since she had her gift for Polly, she decided to dismiss her sightseeing and return to the aunts’ home.

“Driver, would you be so kind as to divert to Mumford St. in Whitechapel?”

She hadn’t planned on returning for several days, but she felt it was the right thing to do.

Anna grabbed her hands with a firm grip, “Madeline, it is good to see you. I felt we might not see you for a while after you indicated you were going to see something of London.

It is Polly; she does not seem to be improving. Last night, she soaked her bedding clear through. The doctor was here, and he gave her sleeping drafts, but she tossed in her bed as if she had fits. Helen and I took turns sitting with her.”

“Oh, that is not the news I was hoping for. I went to Wickham’s and on an impulse had bought something for Polly, as she is constant in my thoughts. I had hoped it might bring some cheer to her.”

“I’m sure she will be grateful. She often spoke of your kindness, but she is unable to do anything of a social nature, she is too ill.”

She went up to Polly’s room and tried to hide the look of shock she felt. Polly wasn’t recovering, she looked as if she was regressing, but she knew enough from assisting her father that the ravages from withdrawals were severe.

“Madeline, I am glad you are here. It will mean my doting aunts will have a shoulder to lean on. I feel I am an unwelcome burden to them. I have been foolish in my choices, but like all the other thousand or so girls plying their trade in Whitechapel, we all felt there was no other avenue for us. The drugs killed the terrible reality of our life.”

She thought Polly spoke from a forthright heart and her speech, although said with trembling tongue, here words were truthful and clear. She admired her for this fight she was enduring.

“Polly, you are brave and good. We all have fallen victim at one time or another to melancholy and seeking out some form of relief for it. I have my glass of absinthe, which I pretend to myself I drink only to calm my nerves, but I know I have too many. Like you, I wish to numb the pain. You are human, we all are. Now we must get to the business of improving your health.”  

“It’s difficult, but I am encouraged by all around me. My aunts’ friends Felicia and the twin sisters were here, and they couldn’t have been nicer. I was worried everyone would judge me with an unforgiving heart, and that has not been the case. Whatever happens, I hope you will continue to befriend my aunts. I know they feel an ease that you will be close by, and they can rely on you.”

“I will do all I can. I have brought you a gift. Please do not hurt my feelings by not accepting it.”

Madeline placed the hat and gloves on the bed where she lay. If she hadn’t looked so pale, she would have placed the hat on her head to see if it was becoming to her, but nothing would probably do that for the present. It would be a long road to recovery…that she was certain of.

“Thank you. I will wear it to our dinner party. As soon as I look and feel a little better.”

“Polly, my friend from the newspaper, wishes to interview you. I told him of your opinion about Prince William and his repellant activities in Whitechapel.”

“He won’t put me name in it, will he?”

“No, if you wish it not to be. He will say he is quoting an anonymous source.”

“Then, yes, I will do it.”

She went downstairs to speak with the aunts and to her delight, the other ladies from the SS City of New York were there. Helen had run across to get them.

“This does call for a luncheon reunion. I will go to the market for some fish and fruit,” said Madeline.

“Not alone,” said Helen. “No, not if I may have the pleasure of your company.”

Madeline had a two-fold purpose, hoping maybe once again she could catch a glimpse of Rocks.

As she and Helen were walking towards the market, she saw a familiar figure.

“Mr. Nelson?”

“Oh, hello, you’re the woman from the other day—the knife incident.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you. You appear as if you are still ailing. I see that you are walking at a slow pace. Is it the consumption?”

“Thank you for asking. I am not sure now. That is what old Doc Bowman said, but I am beginning to wonder.”

He still had that clammy, wet look upon his face and there were several sores about his head. For a young man to be in such a state, it must be something more serious she thought.

“Are you here for grain again?” she asked realizing it wasn’t her business, but she wanted to draw him out.

“No, not this time—just some fruit and potatoes.”

“Well, if it ain’t curious Nelly and the man who tried to knock me,” said Rocks. She couldn’t tell whether she said it in jest or was annoyed at them. Rocks had such a bullish face and manner as if she was about to step into a boxing ring. She looked at her again and thought that the large apron, blood stained from her carvings, would be a perfect cover. If she had committed an act of violence upon anyone, no one would even blink for noticing her, as every time Madeline saw her, she was covered in blood, which usually included smudges on her arms and hair.

She sat down with Mr. Nelson and bought him a cup of tea. He resisted, but only for a moment, she felt compassion for him and wondered what his story was.

“Please call me Harry—no one calls me Mr. Nelson. I’m just a farmer with some sheep and an old dog. I’m just humble Harry,” he said with a half-smile.

She took Helen aside and asked if she would be agreeable to have Harry rest at her home for a while until he could gather his bearings. When she complied, she said, “Harry, Helen’s home is just minutes from here. You look as if you might be in need of some rest before you continue. May we offer you an armchair and some tea?”

“I couldn’t think of it.”

“Don’t be silly. Come.”

He wiped the sweat from his cheeks and said, “Perhaps you are right. I would be a fool not to accept your offer. I feel somewhat faint.”

The two ladies positioned themselves on either side of Harry, and they walked slowly to the aunts’ home.

Polly looked a little better and was sitting at the dining table with Anna having tea. They welcomed Harry in and fussed over him as he joined them in their refreshments.

“I am Polly, and this is my Aunt Annie. What is it that ails you, sir, if I may ask?”

“If the truth be told, Miss, I don’t think the doctors know. They have given me some medicine and some ointment to help me. I’m sure in time; I will be better.”

“I too, have come in off the streets of Whitechapel and am healing,” said Polly.

“These be hard times, Miss, hard times—we all do what it takes to survive.”

Madeline observed that Harry seemed to understand immediately what Polly was talking about by his response.  She supposed it wasn’t all that difficult to deduce, if she came off the streets of Whitechapel, that may pursue a certain type of business.

After an hour or so, Harry decided he had to take his leave.