Stalking Jack: The Hunt Begins... (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 1) (15 page)

“I’ll take you to ‘em if you might consider me.”

“I will Annie. I will give you enough money to make a purchase for me and you.”

“You’re a good one, Miss. I thank ya’, and I promise to find out about
Sir
.”

“Follow me down this alleyway, Bobby stays in the back here most of the day, ain’t no one bothers him. The coppers looks the other way unless someone’s getting punched or robbed.”

Within ten minutes, they had the substance. Every vice imaginable can be easily maintained to one’s satisfaction on the streets of Whitechapel.

“Here you go, Miss and thank you for helping me. I will sleep today. As long as you don’t mind paying me, Miss, I’ll be trying to find out lots of things for you.”

“Annie, you can be my ears and eyes after dark, but be careful. Tell me about anything suspicious that you might see or hear that you think might be related to the Ripper.”

“I will, Miss. I thought the Yard might come looking for me about Sir, but here it’s you instead. I’ll leave word with Patrick for ya’.”

“Be careful, Annie and try to go out in pairs.”

“The Ripper likes the pretty girls; he ain’t going to be bothering me, Miss.”

“All right, Annie. I will speak to Patrick every two days or so. That might give you enough time to find something out.”

“I agree, that sounds all right.”

She put her hand inside her satchel while she was riding in the carriage on the return trip. She touched it like a fragile orchid and felt a sense of calm come over knowing the opiate was there. She told herself she didn’t have to have it, but that it would help make her life easier. She justified it by thinking that she could not endure what had happened to Polly. She felt consumed with guilt, and felt that somehow she had given the aunts hope; hope that only turned into debilitating misery.

Arriving at the George, she saw her friend, “Clinton…dear Clinton, could you please send supper to my room? I have things to sort out and will be staying in this evening. If there are any messages, dear, could you please send those along also?” she said as she touched her hand to his face.

Clinton smiled but had an odd look on his face. She wondered why and then thought perhaps it was because of her less than formal speech. What is it after all about these Brits, she thought, they are so damn formal.

When she reached her room, she lay down on the bed, and she felt the room swirling. After Clinton had brought her hot tea and lunch, she felt much better and then began to think about how she had acted with Clinton. So there were effects she did not count on from taking the drug. She would have never said those inappropriate comments. She was embarrassed that she had acted with such affection toward Clinton. She would return to just partaking of her absinthe and refrain from taking the powder.

She had slept most of the afternoon away and lay in her hot bath thinking of how to proceed. She was receiving some useful information and had suspects, but did not know how to find evidence that might link someone directly to the murders.

She looked at her picture of her family and began, “Russell, what do you think? You always had strong opinions about everything, and now you have failed to help me? Why aren’t you here? The children are too young, bless them, to offer me any direction, but I am depending on you.”

She thought she heard him clear as a bell, and could almost see him moving in the room.

“You know what you have to do; it’s in your mystery novel. You must use your cunning. You were never one to shy away from an adverse situation,” said Russell’s spirit.

“You have come. I knew you would not let me down. So you understand what is happening? Do not scold me for being involved.”

“Not at all—I know you need to do this, to push yourself to an edge. You want to feel again. If I had lost you and the boys, I would need to do the same thing. I can tell you are far stronger than I would be.”

“Are they all right?”

“You know they are. I have taken great care with them to ensure they spend time with their grandmother. She looks after them like you would. She tells them all about you.”

“That is well. Do you think I should join you? Some days I feel it would be so easy.”

“No, remember your endeavor—that is why you called for me. Now how can you actually find out anything unless you are on the streets?”

“I have been on the streets…I have found out some information, but nothing worthwhile.”

“You have not been on the streets—you have been a spectator. You must be a participant.”

“What are you saying? Come closer.”

“This is as close as I can come. You need to be just like the other women.”

“What are you saying? You think I should prostitute myself?”

“No, my dear, not exactly—just like Mr. Holmes, you will disguise yourself as the thing The Ripper wants most. It will be dangerous, but I think you can do it. Now that we are beyond you, you need something to challenge your heart to beat, to stay alive.”

“But what if it is my death?”

“Then you will be with us, but it will be a worthy death, not a wilting away death.”

“There is something in that. I think I could do it. The doctor has given me medicine to calm my nerves.”

“It is not medicine, Madeline. It is opium. It will give you both great pain and pleasure, but I will not say too much for now because the opium has brought you to me.”

“It is not opium; it is medicine―believe me.”

“Then what is it that Annie helped you to acquire?”

“Oh…that’s different, but I will only do it this one time.”

“We shall see, but I am happy that it has brought you some peace. I would take it in your place. I do not fault you for it. I just hope you have the will to resist its power over you.”

“My children, will you bring them to me.”

“They are sleeping and well—perhaps next time. They have grown and speak of you often. They love you very much. They…”

There was a knock at the door, and Russell faded away.  She walked slowly to the door, her footing betraying her and her head felt it was on fire. There was a note slipped beneath, and when she went to retrieve it, she fell upon the floor. She would read it later, for now, she would return to her bed to think on what has just transpired and her conversation with Russell.

She awoke late in the evening feeling refreshed and once more clear headed, although she had a slight tingling in one of her little fingers. She thought it must be the stress.

It had been an amazing day. She was coming to grips with her conversation with Russell. She wondered if she had seen him in her dreams or did she somehow conjure up his image with her imagination. Life had become completely unpredictable.

Chapter Thirteen

Becoming Jenny

September 3, 1888

I ventured alone for the first time into Whitechapel. It was not as difficult as I had first imagined. I know my way around the streets, and I know a few people I think I might be able to trust such as Patrick Rooney at the Ten Bells. I have met with Annie Chapmen, who has confirmed she has been with the man from the royal coach. He may be employed by the royal family and not actually a member of the Royals, according to Annie.

I am feeling more confident, with only some minor spells. I have been mulling over the idea of disguising myself as a lady of the evening (prostitute) and seeing if I may be able to attract Jack. If I should do such a thing, I will not venture out of sight of anyone and stay within earshot of other people. It is a daring and perhaps foolish thing, but as someone told me, it is what Sherlock Holmes would have done. I think I will call myself, Jenny.

It is a serious business, this ruining of the human being in Whitechapel. It seems to be the work of Whitechapel to destroy all who dare walk its streets. If I should be one of Whitechapel’s victims, it will be in the attempt to do something honorable with my life.

She spent some time writing in her journal about her thoughts and observations, but although initially she wanted to write about her encounter with Russell, she thought it might sound like the ramblings of a neurotic who had lost her wits.

For the first time, her mind was riveted on something besides Jack. She now realized she did not dream it, but perceived Russell to be there. Did the medicine give her such realistic visions that they came to life, and if they did, was that necessarily a bad thing? She had a sense of complete euphoria when she thought she was speaking to Russell.

She had forgotten about the note that had been slipped under her door and read it now. It was from Jonathan.

Madeline,

My thoughts are consumed with worry about you and the aunts. I have been busy, but hope to see you for dinner one evening and perhaps stop in to see the aunts, if they are agreeable to having visitors.

Jonathan

She thought it would be good to speak with him. She had been reading his articles, and there were no new revelations, just more speculation. But she did not wish to see him just to speak about the Ripper, he was now her friend, and she enjoyed her time with him. But things had changed since Polly's murder, and she had the benefits of the powder. She wished she could speak to someone about what had occurred with Russell, but she knew she could probably never reveal that to anyone.

In the morning, she would send word to him that she would be agreeable to dinner.

When she awoke, her happy feeling had gone and was replaced once again with a headache and a general feeling of being ill. She had always wanted her Darjeeling and absinthe in the morning, but now she wanted her powder instead.

She looked at her picture and then released the bottle back into the dresser, putting it away tucked inside one of her gloves. She remembered the doctor’s words and would return to her tea.

She sent word to Jonathan that she would be available at seven or eight in the evening. When she gave the note to Clinton, he asked if she was unwell. She assured him she was plagued with a treacherous headache, and that was all. But then she returned to her room and did an assessment of herself in the mirror. She had not been paying attention to her appearance, and now saw there was darkness under her eyes and her skin was colorless. She attributed this more to her stress over Polly and all that had happened. She would try to improve her looks before she met with Jonathan.

Dressing for her dinner engagement, she once more felt the discomfort of her body and mind. She felt sluggish and found the absinthe was no longer effective. She reached into her hidden glove and found what she was looking for,
just a little longer
, she told herself.

She stepped lively down the stairs knowing Jonathan was already there. Clinton had tapped on her door to tell her of his arrival.

“Madeline, I am happy to see you,” said Jonathan. “Do you wish to dine in the hotel, or would you like to go somewhere else?”

“If you don’t mind, I would prefer a restaurant outside the hotel. Are there any near here that serve American food?”

“I believe there is a place called Isbell’s Steak House.”

“That sounds wonderful. I have not been eating well, and I think I could use a good hearty meal.”

“It is amazing that we are within a few miles of Whitechapel, and the atmosphere changes so dramatically, it doesn’t seem to be the same city,” said Jonathan.

“This is a lovely place. It even has our American flag in the corner. I am homesick and miss my father… but how is your story coming?”

“There has been some talk about it being a royal, but my paper doesn’t want me to indulge in speculation on that count, so I have not written anything, but I have my suspicions. Out of all the people we have both spoken about, the only one that appears to be of interest to Scotland Yard is Mr. Motts. But how are you? You look tired.”

“My health seems to appear and disappear like magic. One minute I feel I can do anything and see this thing through, and the next I am vanquished. If you are ever able to accompany me to Whitechapel, I will be in your debt. I will go whenever it is convenient for you.”

“I know you prefer to go at night and even though it presents an element of danger, I do agree that if we are to find anything out of importance, it would most likely be in the evening hours.”

He brought out a small notebook and looked at his schedule and stated, “I think the best time that I can commit to would be Friday evening, the 7
th
. Is that agreeable to you?”

“Yes, that is perfect. I agree with your assessment that I look tired, and I feel it also. I will try to regain some strength and stay within the confines of the Hotel George until I see you again.”

When she returned to the George, she sat in a rose colored armchair and moved one of the small tables near it so that she could write. She moved the table and chair closer to the one small window that she had so she could see out into the city. Although the sky was misty gray and light pellets of rain fell upon the window, it was soothing to be within this familiar place. In her mind, she envisioned the young girls of Whitechapel desperately looking to earn enough to have a roof for the night, and she saw all the men who would prey upon them.

“Russell, if only you were here now, so I could speak to you of my concerns.”

“I am here, Madeline. You only have to think it, and I will appear,” said Russell.

She opened her eyes, the pen she was about to write with dropped onto the floor.

“It’s all right, Madeline. Do not be alarmed. Are you not happy to see me?”

“I am Russell, but you are not real. You can’t be. Am I again caught between sleep and wakefulness and imagining you?”

“No, you are caught in your mind from the opium. It is giving you hallucinations. But then I can be here to counsel you and support you.”

“I can see you so plainly. Your shirt, it needs pressing, as it always did. Your one black curl that always falls onto your face and can never seem to stay in place is right there for me to see. I can smell the tonic you put on your face when you shave.”

“It is real because you wish it to be real, and I am glad of that, glad for my chance to stay with you again. You are spending time with other men I see, and I am also glad of that.”

“Other men, no, they are just friends and no more than any woman friend.”

“I see, even in death, you are trying to protect me. I want you to care for one of them. You need not be alone.”

“I am never alone. You and the children are always with me.”

“You must decide that for yourself. I will never be far from you. I promise you that. Have you gone into Whitechapel yet?”

“Do you mean disguised as a prostitute?”

“Yes, you know that’s what I meant.”

“I have thought on it, but I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.”

“Sleep now, Madeline. I will see you soon.”

She watched him leave her like smoke drifting through a window. He moved silently through the streets of London until she could see him no more. She wondered if she was going insane, and during these moments, she could not distinguish reality from fantasy. She wished she could vaporize and follow Russell through the window.

She decided she would endeavor to disguise herself and go to Whitechapel, but she wasn’t sure how she would manage the intrigue. She couldn’t leave The George looking like that. She guessed she could change somewhat in the carriage and carry her clothes along in a bigger satchel. The ladies of Whitechapel did this out of necessity. She possibly could get away with it. She couldn’t decide, however, whether she should tell anyone of her plan. She would wait and talk to Jonathan on the 7
th
and then decide.

September 7, 1888

I am hoping to persuade Jonathan to take me to the Bells after our dinner meeting tonight, to see if Annie has left word with Patrick Rooney.

I am concerned that my health may not be what it should be. I am considering seeing Dr. Scott. I am also seriously considering going in disguise to Whitechapel, in the hope I can obtain information that way.

She crossed the last line out. She did not know what she was thinking anymore. She couldn’t write anything about seeing Russell, or her experimentation with opium. She wasn’t sure her thoughts were coherent.
 

She hoped Jonathan would not notice that she had changed in any way. She would go back to drinking only; she could not take the powder. She knew that now as Dr. Scott had warned her, she didn’t just want it now; she needed it.

She picked up Russell’s picture, “What should I do Russell? Does it matter if I take it? I can see you; I feel better and if I should die, what is the negative about that, if I can be with you. Tell me what should I do, darling?”

But this time, he did not appear or speak to her. She went to the window where she had seen him slip away from her, and in the streets, she saw Jonathan stepping from his carriage. The only thing she knew is that her destiny now intertwined with Whitechapel, and all that it could do to a person, all of which was detrimental, but it was too late to turn back now.

“Jonathan, thank you for coming—it is good to see a familiar face.”

“I am happy to see you. Where would you like to eat?”

“Would you mind if we dine in Whitechapel?”

“Whitechapel?  I can’t imagine the kind of food we would find there. Maybe we could find some edible soup and fish, but that is about all.”

“That would be fine, and we could talk during our ride there.”

“Are you sure you are well? I think this has all taken a toll on you and continuing to go to Whitechapel may not be the healthiest of things to do.”

“I know, Jonathan, and thank you for your concern, but I must, and as long as you are with me, I feel content that we will be successful together. Annie Chapman is to leave word for me with Patrick from Ten Bells. I have been eager to see if she has anything more for me.”

“I have spoken with men from Scotland Yard. They round up everyone, and anyone they think might be a suspect and then just as quickly, they are released. It seems impossible, but yet this person eludes everyone.”

“May I take you into my confidence? I have been trying to decide whether to tell anyone or not, but I have been thinking of going to the streets disguised as a lady of the night.”

“What are you saying? To what end could that be a plan?”

The look of shock on his face was what she had suspected might happen, and now she thought better of having done it. She shouldn’t have told him.

“I probably won’t. It was just an idea I had to lure the monster out. Imagine, Jonathan, if he should seek me out, and I could help in catching him.”

“That’s so preposterous I don’t know even want to hear you speak of it. You cannot, Madeline, you absolutely cannot. The danger is so great, it perplexes me and shocks me that you would consider it. Now I won’t be able to sleep at all thinking you might try this nonsensical thing.”

“I know you are right about the danger, but it would be worth the try. I would only do so with other people around and would be sure to carry a weapon with me. I have a pistol right now in my boot and a small knife under my dress.”

“That is well, Madeline, but he would overcome you, and you would never have a chance to use them.”

They arrived at Ten Bells and Jonathan’s brow was furrowed, and his eyes had become slits. She could see she shouldn’t have mentioned, but she thought, at least, one person should know in the event harm would come to her.

“If you do ever think you might go through with this irrational plan, contact me, and I will shadow you and protect you. I don’t feel right about this, not at all.”