Stalking Jack: The Hunt Begins... (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 1) Page 23
“We have had too much time to grieve. It had paralyzed us. We are happy to be of some service to you. You flatter me, and I am happy you like the soup. It was a staple in our home when we were young, and my sister and I still enjoy it,” said Anna.
“I feel so helpless while you fuss over me as if I were a boy. It is an uncomfortable feeling.”
“Enjoy it while you can, like you said, you will be back to work soon enough,” said Madeline. “Besides, we do it without a second thought; it is a pleasure to look after you.”
“Anna and Helen can keep you company while I go to the market in Whitechapel for more provisions,” said Madeline.
“I don’t like the idea of you going alone. I will go with you,” said Helen.
“I am comfortable now going there; it is all right. I am not going to a pub, just to the market.”
She left with a flurry of protests from the ladies and Hugh but bid them good-bye with assurances of her safety. She had lost almost all fear of going into Whitechapel now; she was one of the regulars on the streets. She understood the nuances of how to mingle in the crowd and not cause attention to her.
The other reason she wanted to go alone was for the procurement of her opium. She was in the grips of it now, and knew she was having problems, but continued to rationalize her use of it. She had convinced herself she needed it so that she could continue in her pursuit of this killer. She was on a side street near the market when she thought she saw Bob Fielding round the corner. She was in the midst of her transaction and could not follow him, but he was headed in the direction of the market.
She had a basket full of lovely fresh oranges and assorted vegetables. She wanted to partake of some of the substance she had purchased and decided to stop in for a cup of Darjeeling. Rocks busily hacked away at a pig, dissecting it with ease. She took the closest seat she could find to her.
Busy pushing her bloodied hands through the dead carcasses; she didn’t look up when Harry Nelson walked in, but Madeline saw him. He was hard to miss, the sores on his face still did not appear to be healing, and his cough came at frequent intervals. He did not see her but was looking at Rocks, apparently trying to get her attention. When she finally looked up, she nodded to him, wiped her hands off and went to see him. It was nothing out of the ordinary; she gave him a packaged bit of beef that already had his name scrawled on it. But then she bent over and whispered something to him, and they had a brief, hushed conversation.
When they finished, Madeline walked to where Harry sat.
“How are you Harry?” she asked.
“Mrs. Donovan, I mean Madeline…I still do not have the fortune to be rid of this sickness. It is taking a toll on me,” said Harry.
“I am sorry you are still ill, and you have my best wishes for recovery. These are difficult times. My friend Hugh, who has been a companion to me while I have been in Whitechapel, was attacked here a few days ago, just a block or so from here.”
She had told of Hugh’s misfortune to see how they reacted, and to her disappointment, they seemed surprised.
“He seems a good man. I am sorry to hear it. Has he recovered?” asked Harry.
“He is on the mend.”
“This place is a cesspool. No good can come to anyone who frequents these streets, and I still blame the whores for starting this mess,” said Rocks, hesitating then adding. “I saw someone on the streets the other night that looked a might like you.”
“In the dark of the night, many people look alike,” said Madeline.
“I have thought that I saw you, also,” said Harry.
“Perhaps there is someone who resembles me, but I would hope not.”
“Why is that? Then you agree to be a woman of these streets is as low as you can get,” said Rocks.
“No, because I would think that would be the most unfortunate place you could find yourself in life. It is not pleasure they seek; it is a roof to cover them from the rain.”
“That’s a ridiculous assumption,” said Harry. “They like the men and the drinks. They leave their husbands to come down here. Most of ‘em had a roof till they left their men for the streets and the alcohol.”
“Amen to that,” said Rocks. “You don’t know nothing if you think theys as innocent as that. You’ve a brain of a bird.”
“You are right that I am assuming the best part of their nature. I don’t know what their stories are, but I would like to think better of human nature,” said Madeline. “Well, I must be returning to my patient and bring him his supper, but good day to you. Perhaps one day Whitechapel will return to its moral ways.”
They both laughed, and Harry said, “Not in my lifetime.”
She had taken the opportunity to take her bit of opium and was feeling rejuvenated. As she exited the market, she once again saw Bob Fielding leaning against the wall outside the market front where Rocks worked. She thought he had seen her and then acted strangely as if he didn’t wish her to notice he was there. He turned his face away and pulled the collar of his coat up around his face.
She continued walking when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.
“What are you thinking?” asked Russell.
He was walking beside her, and it startled her. Russell had never before appeared to her outside of her hotel room.
She covered her mouth so that no one could see she was conversing.
“Russell, you know I cannot speak to you here. I am not at liberty to talk openly to you.”
“Then go around to the bench there and feed the pigeons. People will think you are talking to them.”
She sat on the splintered wooden bench, pretending to be throwing things to the birds that walked by her feet. She now wondered if there could be such things as ghosts, for he looked so real to her, and she could hear him with such clarity.
“So what do you make of Harry and Rocks now appearing to be chums?” asked Russell.
“I find it curious, just as curious as Harry’s relationship with Bob Fielding. She was just giving him a package of meat. There is nothing out of the ordinary about that, but something…something in the way they spoke was strange. They seem the most unlikely of friends or associates, whatever they are to each other. How is it that I can see you in full daylight? Am I going mad, Russell?”
“You know why, did you not just take a bit of the sweetness?”
“I know I shouldn’t. I don’t know what’s happening to me; I thought I was stronger than that. I don’t know if I can stop.”
“A difficult lesson to learn—so many of the people here started as you, looking for just a momentary break from reality, to have it become their only reality. Maybe you should speak to Dr. Scott. You can go to him in confidence.”
“I am too ashamed. I couldn’t tell him, especially after his warning to me. If Hugh ever found out…”
“I see my memory is starting to fade for you.”
“No, don’t say that...never could that be, but I do find I am aching for the warmth of love and kindness again. Do you fault me for it?”
“You are my dearest love, and all I could ever want for you is happiness, and then I could go away in peace knowing you are loved once again. Is it Hugh or Jonathan that you think of?”
“I just think of them both in a kindly manner, nothing more than that…not yet.”
“You should go; I will see you tonight. Look for me by the window.”
She walked slowly, contemplating what had just happened. Her mind continued to tell her that ghosts must exist; she could have never seen him so clearly if they didn’t. She couldn’t have fabricated a vision that perfectly with a hallucination. She tried to shake off what she saw so that they would not read anything into her face.
“Madeline, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Hugh.
She almost laughed and said to herself, “I have; I have”.
“I have seen Rocks, Harry and Bob Fielding.”
“In that short time you were gone? Come sit by me and tell me all,”
said Hugh.
“The strangest thing really—when I came in, Rocks was just doing what she normally does, cutting up meats, but then I saw Harry sitting at the end of the counter, and he was just staring at her. His eyes fixed upon her. I know it couldn’t have been a romantic look, heavens no, so what was it. I continued to watch him, and when Rocks finally looked up, she nodded and went right to him. Again, nothing really to think about as she had a package of meat for him, but it was the glance exchanged between them, that connection was odd. When she brought him the meat, they started whispering to each other.”
She went on to explain all of the people she had encountered, including Bob Fielding.
“I don’t know what to make of them. It is strange that Harry should be acquainted with such unsavory individuals. He is so genteel, but perhaps it has something to do with his illness. He may have need assistance because of his health and turns to those most likely to give it for little money,” said Madeline.
He leaned in and spoke quietly, “When the aunts leave, I will tell you more.”
They continued their visit with all of them enjoying a cup of hot broth.
“This is delicious Anna and on a crisp day like this, it feels comforting,” said Madeline.
“I will bring another pot of broth over to you in a few days,” Anna said to Hugh.
“You are too good to me. I am not that unwell. Today, if it weren’t for my discolored face, I would probably venture out,” said Hugh.
The ladies packed up their kitchen items and gave him a motherly kiss on the cheek. Madeline smiled to see this; sweet moments like this had not been plentiful.
“So tell me, what is it you wanted to say?” asked Madeline.
“When I first was assaulted and was sitting in one of the rooms of my uncle’s office waiting for him to treat me, I heard soft moaning, perhaps crying from the other room. I didn’t think anything of it, until I heard my uncle say something, addressing the patient as, Harry. I could hardly move, but I tried to get as close as I could to the wall to hear him. It may have been unethical, but I thought it important. I heard him talking about his wife and her death. He said it was his fault. I didn’t hear anything from him about why he thought he was responsible for her death.
When he left, I forced myself to walk into the other room. I thought I could claim I was looking for my uncle if I got caught. His file was gone, but there were notes my uncle left on a scrap of paper that said, “Change from hydrag. cum creta with opium to hydrag. perchlor with potass.”
“I have seen those words or something like it when I was working with my father, but I am not certain what it means. Do you know?”
“I know all too well. I have had acquaintances with this affliction. He has syphilis, and my uncle is changing his medication to hydrag. perchlor with potass that is done in the late stages of the disease.”
“Dear Lord, now we know why he is not getting any better. The pitiable man—do you think that is why he has associated with Rocks and Fielding? Do you think he needs their help?”
“It may have something to do with his involvement with them. Maybe he is soliciting some illegal drugs or something like that.”
“If he has any money at all, Bob and Rocks may be trying to take advantage of his illness and take whatever he has left. If he’s too weak, he may be willing to go along.”
“I wonder if any of it is associated with the attack on me.”
“What purpose would they have? Although, looking too deeply into motive doesn’t always make sense. The violent nature of Whitechapel as a whole tends to feed on itself.”
They had dinner together, and she sat and read to him from A Study in Scarlet, just as she once had read with Jonathan on the SS City of New York. Hugh drifted in and out of sleep, and she felt happy that she had brought some comfort to him. She left him with the promise to return the next day.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A Cold November
She spent the next few days with Hugh, visiting with the aunts and reuniting with the twin sisters, Sophie and Felicia, and Mary. They avoided talking about the murders and made an effort to speak about their plans for the upcoming holidays. It was almost Halloween. She would have been sewing costumes for her children, had they lived, and some nights she dreamt she was doing just that. They had invited her to spend Christmas at their home, and she had agreed. Jonathan said if he were still here by then, he would also attend. She didn’t know how much longer she would stay in London now that the holiday season was ending. Father’s letters always ended with how he was anticipating her return with joy. He didn’t ask her for an exact date, but she missed him and knew even as independent as he was that he needed her. All either of them had left in the way of family was each other.
She had not received any further threatening notes. She wondered if perhaps this might be because of her absence in Whitechapel. She had not returned to any of the pubs for over a week. Whoever had written the notes might have assumed that they had achieved their purpose as she was not seen these last days.
October 31st, 1888
The fall leaves have turned to breathtaking hues, the colors seeping like painted beauties from the hand of any great artist. The wind blows cold, and the chill sends little bits of shock waves into me, like the forthcoming of a tragedy. The Halloween moon is shining with fierceness tonight upon its street visitors, and the happy faces of the children partaking of their candy makes me smile. It is nearing the anniversary date of the unspeakable. I want to spend it asleep or drugged so that I may not be allowed to remember. Some grief is not to be settled or even tolerated; some grief just gnaws away at your bones until you are finally, peacefully dead. I will write to father to tell him that I will survive with Russell’s help. He has been faithful in his appearances to me.
Hugh is healthy once more, and only once in a while grimaces when he moves certain ways. That is a blessing. Jonathan looks worn and tired from this assignment that is so grim. Thinking and writing about murder, especially murder so gruesome, is not how the mind should be occupied. It is unnatural, but it is what my new friends, and I have shared together these many weeks.
As the chill of November came to London, now the promise of a sunlit day had all but disappeared. Still, the Hotel George bustled with talk of the upcoming holidays and the visits from family and friends for Christmas. She was relying more and more on her powder to get her through the day; she no longer saw herself existing without it. The benefits of feeling human again, and her ability to see Russell were powerful motivations to continue the habit. The ease with which she purchased the precious medicine was also a factor.
The whistling of the eerie wind struck her, and she shook. Retrieving her grandmother’s shawl, she positioned herself at her place of comfort by the fireplace.
Dearest Father,
I am anxiously awaiting your next correspondence and wish to hear everything of the news from home. London is showing her wintry side, but still autumn’s trees are a cornucopia of color and are a delight to see.
I am well and have been invited to spend the Christmas holiday with the aunts whom I wrote to you about. They, of course, are still reeling from the death of Polly but have put a brave front on and want to try to squeeze some joy out of the season. I hadn't written to you before, as I did not know how you would receive the news but felt I must finally tell you that I have been better now that Russell has been coming to see me. I know what you might be thinking, Father, but the conversations between Russell and me have helped immensely. He has been by my side these many weeks now. We never spoke about our belief in the supernatural or ghosts, but now I do believe that God does let us have access to our dear departed, for I can see Russell as clearly as I can now see you in my mind’s eye.
She went on to tell her father of the latest news about Jack but did not relay any information about her visits to Whitechapel or incidents that related to Hugh’s attack. That news, she thought, might worry him about her well-being. She believed
her father would be happy for her now that he knew Russell was appearing to her. She did not think she could tell anyone else, but her father, he would understand.
When she arrived at Hugh’s home, he was chopping vegetables and humming, preparing a stew of some sort.
“You must be feeling better to be in such a grand mood,” said Madeline.
“I am; my uncle has given me leave of my bandages, and said I may return to work. It will be good to have a routine back again.”
“Does that mean you are glad to be rid of us ladies?”
“Madeline, you know that is not so. I am happy to be of use again.”
“I know. I just hope you will miss us. I will miss coming round to your house.”
“You may come anytime and as often as you wish.”
“I am missing home and have enjoyed the feel of being in one again. My hotel suite is fine because of all the people there that make it as close to a home as it can be. It is a temporary respite, but despite all that has occurred, I will always be grateful I met you and the aunts.”
“That sounds like a good-bye. Are you thinking of going back to America?” he asked with alarm in his voice.
“Not just yet…but after the holidays, I thought that I would return. I would like to go with the knowledge that Jack is behind bars, but if he is not, I suppose I must return anyway.”
“I don’t like to think about that you will not be here, not when I am just healing and in a better state of mind. We will say you won’t be leaving for a long time and enjoy our time together.”
“Yes…you are right. There is so little reason for celebration, but the fact that you did not sustain a serious injury and are now healthy again, that is cause for joy.”
“Did I tell you Phillip will be returning soon and will be here for two weeks?”
“My dear Phillip—when I think all that has happened since he first spoke to me on the ship, it seems like a tale from a penny dreadful. I have him to thank for his friendship, but also through his alliance, I have met you, and you have become my trusted friend. I will be looking forward to seeing him again.”