Stalking Jack: The Hunt Begins... (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 1) (14 page)

“She had friends and family; I’m sure just as you do.”

“So we’ll drink to her then. Here’s to old Pearly Poll hopes ya’ rest in peace.”

The other men and women around them raised their glasses, some of the men had smirks on their faces appeared unaffected, but the women knew it could have just as easily been them, some weeping, and some hugging each other.

She felt bolstered by the feeling the powder gave her and said, “Mr. Motts, where were you when Polly died? Perhaps you dislike the women of Whitechapel too much?”

A look of rage came over his face, and he answered, “Is you a copper then, did you gets the right to question the likes of me. What female trickery is this? I’ll not bother with ya’, you’re not worthy getting me anger up.”

With that, he turned away from her and began a raucous conversation with the two men beside him. She had thought what she said would shock those around them, but no one paid any mind to her accusations or to his reaction. It was more of a joke to them than an accusation.

A young woman who had heard their conversation touched her arm and said, “Miss, I don’t know about that old man being anywhere near poor Polly, but I heard the royal coach was about that night. I heard one of me lady friends say it was a proper gent who came a calling on her with fine clothes and a grand carriage. She said she thought he might be a doctor as she saw a black satchel bag inside his carriage.”

“Thank you for that information. I have heard too that a mysterious man comes in a royal carriage to these streets. Do you know anything about him?”

“She says he prefers the lash and other painful practices. It ain’t many who agree to be with him. Annie’s the one who goes with him. She’s got the addiction, like most of us, but she gots it bad, and she’ll go with him just the same.”

“Do you know where I might find Annie? I would like to speak with her. Polly was the niece of some dear friends of mine, and I am trying to find out anything I can in the hopes we might get some clues to this person’s identity.”

“She likes the Ten Bells. It’s better than most round here and treats us kindly.”

“May I ask your name? You’ve been most kind to help me.”

“It’s Patty, just Patty. If I sees ya’ and know anything else, I’ll tell ya’. It could have been me what's lying out there dead. I hope they catch him right soon.”

She had felt more self-assured and steady on her feet than she had ever felt. Before she left Whitechapel, she would stop to visit the aunts. She was strong enough to face them now.

When she entered the Ten Bells, she was happy to see Patrick Rooney tending bar.

“Patrick, do you remember me? I’m Mrs. Donovan. You were so kind as to give Polly our message.”

“Yes, Mum, I remember you well enough. How could I forget? It’s a tragedy; it is.”

“It is Patrick, but nonetheless, Polly did come home and spent some time with her family and for that we are grateful.”

“I am seeking more information that you might know about, Patrick. I am looking for a woman called Annie Chapman.”

Before Patrick could answer, a man came up behind her and whispered in her ear with gravel voice, “Annie, it is you want now. You have a fascination with the low life of Whitechapel, do ya’?”

She turned, and the face of Bob Fielding was staring at her within an inch of her face. She had never seen his face so plainly before, and her instinct was to turn away. It was gruesome, the twisted flesh and his one drooping eye.

“Mr. Fielding, good afternoon to you, sir.”

“I see you have made these parts your second home. Do you not fear the wretchedness of the place?”

“I would be a fool not to have some fear, but I try to be here in the day only.”

“Even in the day, there are pickpockets and gruesome hateful people like me,” he said laughing, a cruel laugh.

She did not push him about his whereabouts like she did Mr. Motts; there was something sinister about him that made her stop.

Before she left, Patrick said, “Mrs. Donovan, I will tell Annie you would like to speak with her, but as she doesn’t know you, I doubt she will.”

“Will you tell her I will pay her for her time, six-pence, enough for a night’s lodging?”

“For that, she might.”

Chapter Twelve

The Benefits of Opium

She left to go to
Mumford Street, hoping the same powder that had given her new strength had done the same for Anna and Helen. As she approached their home, she saw Dr. Scott walking away down the street, and she called after him. He turned and walked toward her.

“Dr. Scott, how are they?”

“Not well, but surviving as best as they can. They are no longer under my care; our local Doctor Bowman is attending them now, as he is more of a general physician. I dropped in to check on them as a courtesy. How are you, Mrs. Donovan?”

“I have been renewed by your medicine. I have to say it has been a great comfort to me. If I may ask, do you think I could receive any more from you?”

He hesitated for a moment, and then laid a hand upon her shoulder in a fatherly manner, “Mrs. Donovan, I don’t presume to know you, but I do know the effects of opium.  It is highly addictive and should not be taken without great precaution.”

She looked down and said, “I understand. I wouldn’t have asked, but it has so relieved me.”

She didn’t know exactly why, but suddenly found she was telling Dr. Scott about her own personal tragedy. Perhaps she spoke because he was a doctor, perhaps because of his kind eyes and also because he of his relation to Hugh, she decided to trust him. For all these reasons, she told him of things she hadn’t spoken of to anyone.

After she had finished, he placed his hand in his pocket and gave her a bottle of powder.

“Mrs. Donovan, used sparingly, it will get you through the next week to ten days, but remember that I warned you about its powers. Please be careful. Hugh has spoken of you in detail and has told me of the high regard he has for you. If he should believe I have caused you harm instead of comfort, he would never forgive me, nor could I forgive myself.”

“Dr. Scott, thank you. Whatever shall befall me, I could never fault you, but only thank you for these blessed days I will have of a respite from my continued grieving. Thank you, thank you.”

She grabbed his hand in gratitude and told him how fond she was of Hugh and what a fine nephew he had.

She proceeded then to the aunts’ home.

“Dear Madeline, come in,” said Helen.

Anna was sitting in the kitchen sipping on tea, and they joined her.

“How are you? Are you coping?” Madeline asked.

“As much as we can, the doctor has given us medicine, and that has relieved the tremors. We went to see her. The coroner requested we identify her. Madeline, she was bruised over her eye and had other signs that she had been assaulted even before the attack. What kind of life did she have and then to die such a death, it is the saddest epitaph a person could have,” said Anna.

“It so distresses me to think of how this ended when we had such plans. We have thought of moving from this place, maybe even going to America,” said Helen.

“I can understand your wish to move, but perhaps you might think on this again, in a month or two, when your mind has calmed,” said Madeline.

“Are you still determined to look for the Ripper, even now?” said Helen.

“More than ever, it has become an obsession with me now. I certainly can do no worse than Scotland Yard. With all their tools and manpower, they have yet to find out anything substantial about the perpetrator.”

“Patrick Rooney, the barkeep at the Ten Bells, has told me of a young woman named Annie Chapman. She has been with the mysterious royal who frequents Whitechapel. He said he would tell her I am looking to speak with her. I offered payment of a night’s lodging so it would be worth her while. At least for an evening, she will not have to seek out a customer. I am planning to return there before returning to the George.”

“Have you been out on the streets alone?”

“Yes; but I promise you I have been careful, and I know my way around now. I keep a knife, a pistol, and money in my boot. If someone stole my satchel, it would be not worth much, just my journals and some handkerchiefs.”

“You will not go alone, Madeline. I will go with you,” said Helen.

“And I, also,” said Anna.

“No, Anna, you are much too weak. You look a fright. It is good that you want to come, but you must get better for both our sakes,” said Helen.

“All right, go if you must, but please be careful,” said Anna.

Helen held onto her arm; she walked with slow, methodical steps as if she had to think how to walk again. Her eyes were distant, and she spoke little.

They reached the Ten Bells, and Patrick waved over to her to come to the end of the bar.

“I saw her, Mrs. Donovan, and she threw her hands up in delight when I told her of your offer of the six-pence. She said she’d meet you anywhere. She was going to the market area if you wanted to look for her, or you could wait here. She said she would be back here in a while. You’ll know her if you see her; she wears a lavender, plumed hat, and almost always has a bright blue scarf around her neck.”

“Patrick, you have once again come to be a friend. I hope I can call you that.”

“Yes, you don’t meet many people in this place you’d like to know, but you’re one, Miss. I’m happy to do it for you.”

“We’ll go to the market, but if we should miss her, please ask her to wait as we will return directly if we do not find her.”

They both had agreed it was better to walk about than to sit in the Ten Bells. Even though Patrick was there, some of the men present could be persistent in their attempts to seek her favors.

Rocks was busy cutting things. Every time Madeline had seen her, there were blood spatters about her person.

“Miss Roxanne, good afternoon.”

“I guess you found your Polly,” she said with a twisted mouth.

“It is a shock. We had hoped to see a different end. We are now trying to find Annie Chapman. She may have information for us.”

“I’m not sure I knows her.”

“We were told she frequently wears a bright colored purple plumed hat.”

“Her? I’ve seen her. She was walking up and down here a little while ago. Maybe she’ll get hers too, be just one less of the wicked lot.”

“You can’t mean that. What a terrible thing to say!” exclaimed Madeline, looking at Rocks and shaking her head.

Helen covered her mouth, and Madeline suspected she was either going to scream or say something very unkind to her.

“Maybe…maybe not—I might have offended you, but these women offend us all,” Rocks continued.

“Please…this is the victim’s aunt.”

She turned to her and with no change of expression said, “It’s a shame.”

She took Helen’s hand and walked outside. She looked back to see Rocks, as she brushed aside a hair from her eye, and with that gesture caused several drops of blood to roll down her cheek. She thought this is what these streets do to people. Roxanne was cold to the bone, and she didn’t want to be near her.

They walked in a back and forth pattern for the next fifteen or so minutes, each looking in every direction for the plumed hat, but it did not appear.

“Do you wish to return with me to Ten Bells?” asked Madeline.

“No, I have heard enough today. I won’t repeat it to Anna. If it were not for that powder that kept me somewhat calm, I think I would have slapped her.”

“I know, I know, it was too cruel. I wish you had not heard that. I’m sorry that you came along; I should have gone myself.”

“I thought I was stronger, but I am not. I don’t believe I will accompany you in the near future. I hope you will forgive me for that.”

“Don’t even think of it. It is me who should ask for forgiveness. Hugh or Jonathan will assist me. Let’s get you home and have a good hot cup of tea.”

She stayed a little while longer but wanted to see if she could meet with Annie. She didn’t tell them she was returning to the Ten Bells and took the carriage away from their home, so it would appear as if she were leaving the area. She then asked the driver to wait and for additional monies, he said he would, but he was not inclined to wait too long because he was wary of the proclivity of thieves who sat in wait for their next target. She assured him that she would not be long.

She was beginning to feel less light headed, and her surge of comfort was now drifting away from her. She knew she needed another draft of powder to continue. In the cloistered carriage, she could take some powder without prying eyes knowing that she too had now become one of the hundreds in this area who were partaking of drugs illegally.

She returned to the Ten Bells looking for the elusive plumed hat. She hoped she might see it bobbing up and down in the crowd. She sat again near Patrick Rooney.

“You did not see her?” asked Patrick.

“No, we left rather quickly after we spoke with Miss Roxanne, one of the meat carvers there, she said some cruel things.”

“I know her, everyone knows her. She’s a bitter woman that will take those feelings with her to her grave. Her husband’s run off now, some three years, and she doesn’t show any signs of forgetting about it and moving on.”

“When I speak to people and overhear them talking, so many have lost their compassion. They are struggling to survive every day, I understand that, but still there is such a coldness that resides in their souls. It’s almost as if because she was a woman of the streets, she somehow deserved it or that it was her own fault somehow."

“You have just come here, and I can see how you would judge them harshly, but Mum, you can’t know what life is like here. It is a death sentence to live here. People don’t have that feeling of watching out or caring about the other fellow; they’re too busy trying not to drown. It is unfortunate, but this is the devil’s den.”

“I can see that, but it doesn’t seem to lessen the pain over the reaction we are receiving to Polly’s death.”

  Patrick touched her on the hand, “Mum, it’s Annie. She’s in the corner. I will wave her over.”

“Thank you, Patrick.”

“Miss, is you the one who’s going to pay me for just talking?” said the lady with the plumed hat.

“Yes, I’m Mrs. Donovan. Are you Anne Chapman?”

“I is, Miss. My friend told me you want to talk about Mr. Williams?”

“Is he the gentleman who frequents Whitechapel in the royal carriage?”

“He is, Miss. Why do you want to talk about him?”

“Annie, I hope you will allow me to call you that. I was a friend to Polly Nichols family, and we are trying to find clues to her murder and to look for possible leads to the Ripper.”

“You thinks he might be him? Good lord!”

“I don’t know Annie, but there is no progress yet in the apprehension of Jack, it can’t hurt to try and find answers on our own. I’ve heard he has a mean streak. Is that something you feel comfortable talking about?”

“He does, Miss. He took the lash to me.”

Without a thought, she opened her dress in front and showed her marks on her chest.

“Annie, that is awful.”

She refrained from judgment and the question that was on her mind as to why she would endure it.

“I ain’t as pretty as most of the ladies down here. I has to take all kinds of men. I ain’t proud of it, but it’s the life down here. He’s a strange one. When he’s done, he pays me extra and pats me on the hand. There’s a look in his eyes that frightens me when he’s about it, but when he’s done whipping me, he settles down again.”

“Does anyone else go with him that you know?”

“Not that I know of, but he talks about wishing he could get a room full of us and whip us all to pay for our sins. Seems to me he’s the sinner, but I ain’t one to know ‘bout things like that.”

“Do you know if he is one of the royals?”

“I don’t think so. He has a black bag I seen, and I think the coachman called him doctor.”

“Does he give you a name to call him?”

“He just says to call him
Sir
.”

“May I ask how often you see him?”

“I never knows for sure, but he comes round two or three times a week sometimes, then I don’t see him for two or three weeks. I never know.”

“Here is your money, Annie. Tonight you can sleep in peace without seeing anyone. If you can try to get more information about him, I will pay for it.”

“Thank you, Miss. I like being a detective. I’ll try, and I’ll let Patrick know if I’ve found out anything.”

“Miss, you don’t happen to have any good white stuff on you? I could sure use that.”

“I don’t Annie, but where do you usually get it?”

“You ain’t really a copper is ya? Why is you asking me that?”

“No, I’m not Annie, but I may like to purchase some for my friends who lost their Polly. They might need it. They are old, and I don’t think anyone would mind.”

Madeline knew this to be a lie and for a moment, she felt a twinge of conscience, then thought that she had to function, and she could do so more effectively with a little help. Who was she harming, she thought, no one. She was strong enough to know when to stop.