Stalking Jack: The Hunt Begins... (Madeline Donovan Mysteries Book 1) Page 8

  She covered herself in the soft, white down blanket and once again looked at her children’s faces smiling at her. Is that all I have of them, she thought, how can that be? She took the flask of bourbon from her bedside table and held it like a friend’s hand.

  August 20, 1888

  Jack

  There are names I can now include in this elusive search for Jack. Roxanne Thompson, known as “Rocks” and Bob Fielding are the first that have come to light as possible suspects. Although I had concluded earlier that it was most definitely a male, after meeting Rocks, I now see she would have the physical strength to do the deed. Rocks has motive, her husband took every penny they had and ran away with a prostitute named Sally. Bob Fielding is an injured soldier who has been discarded by the human race due to his appearance and because of the nature of the residents of Whitechapel; the women have been cruel to him. That and his circumstances have created a bitter rage within him. Both have backgrounds that include an intimate knowledge of the use of a knife and how to use it skillfully. Bob, from his time at hospital and Rocks, because she is a butcher.

  She had thought she would write to her father and also in her personal journal, but her eyes began to close, and she decided tomorrow she would attend to those things. She would devote the day to catching up on her personal chores. She wanted to purchase some colored scarves or perhaps a cameo brooch or two to offset the black of her appearance. Nothing would ever stop the mourning for her family, but she was tired of looking in the mirror and seeing the grim sight of herself.

  She felt she would allow herself the luxury of sleeping in a little later this morning it was almost nine, and she still lay under the covers, weary of the night dreams she had of Jack chasing her. She supposed it was inevitable that she would dream of this shadow as he was on her mind for much of the day.

  Opening her draperies, she smiled to see there were slivers of sunshine permeating the waiting city of fog. It had been many days since there was any relief from the mist and gloominess that sought them in their movements.

  Room service had brought her sausages, eggs, biscuits and her liquid emeralds. She savored this sustenance this morning with new relish, thinking once again how many were suffering from hunger in Whitechapel. She wondered how the human spirit could endure all it had to conquer to exist at all. Her father had sent her additional funds, though she had protested his assistance, in the end, she was grateful for it as it allowed her the means to stay at The George. Russell had made good investments as a banker and had left her better off than most. It gave her the luxury of time to decide what she might do in the future to financially sustain herself.

  August 21, 1888

  Dearest Father,

  I have missed you more each day and look at your photograph with a mixture of joy and sadness. I find London interesting though it is an abysmal climate for one used to more light and sun during the days. The people, however, I find quite hospitable, and I have made many new friends. I visit with a group of older women that I find charming and have traveled a little about the city. I met a man from America, New York to be exact. He is an interesting new acquaintance, and you will be happy to know, I have even ventured out to dine with him. I am sure by now you have heard of the situation in Whitechapel. Please do not worry about me; the Hotel George is in the West End of the city, a good distance from Whitechapel.

  She went on for several more pages speaking about Clinton, the other kindly staff and about the Hotel George. She tried to fill up the pages with uplifting words so that her father might not guess anything about how she felt or what her days were about.

  When she went to the concierge to inquire about the whereabouts of a women’s apparel shop, Clinton approached her, “Mrs. Donovan, I wanted to let you know you have three messages left in your mail box. I attempted to bring them to you, but you haven’t been in your room when I was here last evening.”

  “Thank you, Clinton. I know so few people here that I believed it a futile task to bother to look, and it caused me to be neglectful in checking for messages.”

  She went immediately to the front desk, taking the three envelopes with her into the main lobby. Before she had time to begin reading, Clinton arrived again by her side to inform her that the Hansom was waiting outside for her.

  “Driver, please take me to The Huntington,” said Madeline.

  The Huntington was the latest buzz, according to Patricia at the concierge desk. It was a new department store in the heart of London.

  She began reading the first envelope:

  Madeline,

  Where are you? I am concerned. Please contact me as soon as possible at the Hotel Baltron.

  Your friend,

  Jonathan

  She could disregard this one as it had been written before their chance encounter yesterday.

  The second:

  Madeline,

  I have many thoughts of the time we spent together. Although in an unpleasant surrounding, I still value the chance to have had your company. If I may be so bold to ask, I would be grateful if you would dine with me this evening at seven. Please reply through messenger.

  Sincerely,

  Hugh Scott

  She was planning to be in Whitechapel this evening, but maybe she could reply that she could dine with him tomorrow. She liked him. There was something about him that was so comfortably charming that made her feel relaxed in his presence. His calm reserve, his impeccable demeanor and that without knowing them, he had volunteered to assist them in going to an unpleasant area of the city, had made an impact on her.

  The third delivered within the past hour said simply,

  Madeline,

  Please come as soon as you are able—Anna and Helen.

  “Driver, driver please, I have changed my destination. Could you please take me to Mumford St. in Whitechapel?”

  “Very good, Mum.”

  Her hands trembled slightly as she read their note. They knew she was to be there this evening, what could be so important that they would send that note. She knew Helen had a spell of poor health and hoped that the stress had not caused some problem.

  Once again she viewed this chaotic city, life was difficult for most of the residents, the rich and poor lived in two very different worlds and the rich liked to keep it that way. She felt a sense of relief that Anna and Helen would be moving out of that unhealthy environment.

  The driver took her hand and helped her from the carriage. She knocked and waited with apprehension, shuffling her feet from side to side.

  “Madeline, come in, come in. I’m so happy to see you,” said Helen. “Anna will be down in a minute. May I get you something, some English tea or your absinthe?”

  “Every time I think I will take the tea, I seem to find myself in a situation that my nerves would prefer to have them both.”

  “Please sit down and I will get it.”

  “I cannot stand the suspense. Are you both well? I turned my carriage around after I received your note. I had been on my way to The Huntington, and it was a tense trip to your door.”

  “I cannot wait to tell you, I wanted Anna to be here, but I will just say it. It is the best news; our Polly is home.”

  Madeline straightened her back, and her eyes became wide. She scurried to Anna and embraced her with joy.

  “It is the best news, the best news. Oh my dear, what a wonderful turn of events. Although I always had hope, I had my doubts that we could be so fortunate to find her.”

  “It was that Patrick Rooney, the one you gave the note to at the Ten Bells. After he had described us to Polly, she knew it was a true request. She came knocking on our door at one in the morning, such a feeble knock that if the cat had not continued to whine, we might not have heard her. She did not look well. We made her some soup and sent her directly to bed. Anna is with her now, drawing her bath and cleaning her clothing. We are…overjoyed to say the least. How can we ever thank you for helping us?”

  Anna wiped a few dangling tears from
her eyes with a handkerchief, and Madeline also felt the need to do the same.

  “I am overcome with emotion. I will continue to help you in any way that I can. Perhaps if she is in need of apparel, I can endeavor to bring her a dress or two from The Huntington.”

  “That would be too much; you have done enough.”

  “I insist if she will allow me to do it. She has suffered enough; she needs help now.”

  She looked up as she saw Helen coming down the stairs. She met her as she descended to the bottom step and grabbed both of her hands, “Helen, I am happy at your news. I know we had all hoped, but now she has come.”

  “She will be down within a short time; she is dressing. She was reluctant to meet you, but I knew you would not judge her or in any way be unkind. I assured her of that.”

  “She has been without help or anyone who has cared about her for too long. It is natural that she should be cautious. I may not be that strong right now, but still you can all lean against me for I am here to help.”

  “I have contacted the doctor, and he will be here sometime this evening. I can see she has afflictions. She is a troubled girl; it will take patience and time to try and bring her back to the Polly we once knew,” said Anna.

  They conversed about Polly and the recent events for some time longer before Polly appeared. She looked tired, and her troubles showed on her face, but her hair was pinned back neatly, and she had one of Anna’s dresses on. It was too big and matronly for such a young woman, but she was here, that was all that was pertinent.

  Anna brought her a shawl, and she lay on the divan with her feet up, sipping a hot cup of Earl Grey, as if it were something she had never had before. She closed her eyes and caressed the warm cup.

  “Thank you, Auntie. I have not been in a real home for many months, perhaps over a year,” said Polly. “Mrs. Donovan, my aunts have told me of how you helped them. It’s a fine thing you done.”

  “Nonsense, I have done nothing. You have had difficulties, but now you have people who will try to help you. Anna, do you have a measuring strap? I will go this day to Huntington and have a dress or two tailored for you. You have pale skin and hair; perhaps deep blue or light lavender will put some color to you.”

  “I couldn’t accept, Miss, I couldn’t,” said Polly.

  “Please allow us to bring some warmth and caring into your life. I am not wealthy, but I can afford to help at least in this small way,” said Madeline.

  “Forgive me, I do not feel well. Perhaps we can speak again later. I will accept your gift of kindness for you are right. I have put myself in a desperate position, and I feel I have no answers.”

  Madeline could see her hand shaking and a slight tremor in her lips. Her face appeared almost bloated, but yet she was thin. She surmised it might be the drinking or perhaps something harsher. She had bruises on several areas of her body, and she wondered if someone if they occurred from abuse.

  “I see you’re looking at my bruises. Another day, I will explain it,” said Polly.

  She said her goodbyes and started on her mission to obtain new clothing for Polly. As she would not be venturing into Whitechapel this evening, she also sent a message to Hugh and accepted his offer of dinner. She indicated she would be ready by eight if he wished to pick her up at her hotel.

  She went to the department store with a feeling of well-being that she hadn’t remembered having for a long time. She had a new sense of purpose and feeling that sometimes, against all odds, things do come to a good conclusion. The remarkable fact that Polly had received the news, and acted on it and returned to Mumford Street was good fortune indeed. She had wished it, but after spending time in Whitechapel, she felt despair and sadness and felt their chances for success were unlikely.

  She thought she would not only buy Polly some new clothes, but she would get something for herself, something that wasn’t black. It wouldn’t be drastic, maybe a dark Kelly green or a navy blue color.

  She asked the driver to wait for her as he stopped in front of the store. If it were anything like Chicago’s Marshall Field’s store, it would be a pleasant experience. She doubted, however, if any store in London could rival such a wonderful place.

  The doorman greeted her and as she walked inside. She was surprised to see such splendor after observing a place like Whitechapel. They were two worlds that never collided. People were dressed in their finery as if going to a social engagement. A young wisp of a girl, dainty and soft spoken named Caroline, brought her directly to ladies apparel. It did not take her long at all to pick out the design and color of the dresses she would like. She had not shopped for many months, and everything she saw struck her as beautiful.

  True to her word, she was outside with her parcels in a short time. She wanted to return to the George and do her letter writing to her father and in her journal. This was big news, and it would deserve an entire page in her journal. She could not wait to tell Hugh of this recent turn of events. He was so the opposite of Jonathan; it was odd that she should like them both.

  “Clinton, hello there, it’s a wonderful day, isn’t it?” she said as he carried her parcels into the George.

  “Yes, it is, Mum. The sun is almost visible, and there is not much fog today. I would say that is a good London day, best we can hope for.”

  She stopped at the concierge and found that Hugh had left her a message:

  Madeline,

  I am happy you have chosen to accept my invitation to dine this evening. I will call for you at approximately eight.

  Your friend,

  Hugh

  She would wear black again tonight with her white lace shawl, but soon her new friends would see her wearing something other than that. She reconciled that it was time to repeal some of the strident rules she had given to herself. Perhaps having some color around her face would help with the pervasive depression that sought her out.

  She welcomed the comfort of her room and seeing her family’s picture by her bedside. Soaking in her hot bath, she thought of Polly, Hugh, and Jonathan. These people were having the most profound effect on her thought process and possibly how her road forward would go. She would take a nap before her rendezvous with Hugh, and for the first time since the event, she would try to present herself as being among the living.

  Clinton had brought her a centerpiece of gardenias from the local florist; she had requested them because the scent from these flowers gave her a feeling of serenity. They were so aromatic; it filled the main room of her suite. She placed one of the flowers in her hair, believing the velvety white leaves were becoming, and the fragrance was like cologne. She wore a diamond broach bequeathed to her by her grandmother that sparkled on the lapel of the maroon waistcoat she wore over her black dress. It was the first time in many months that when she faced the mirror, she saw something of the woman who once was.

  Clinton knocked on her door and informed her that Hugh was waiting in the foyer for her. It was a good day, and she would have her new friend to share it with.

  “Madeline, you look lovely—the gardenia has a most pleasant aroma,” said Hugh.

  “Thank you—you flatter me.”

  “I have taken the liberty of choosing The Horseback Inn to dine. They have fine steaks there and some American fare. I hope you will like it.”

  “I’m sure I will; besides it has been a day of surprises, and I am looking forward to speaking to you about it.”

  “Wonderful, let us go.”

  The Horseback Inn was a small inn, but because of its fine food and excellent service, nearly every table was occupied. The candle light’s glow was soothing in its shadowy stance, for it made all things softer and more invisible.

  “So tell me, what is this news you seem so anxious to speak about?” asked Hugh.

  “It’s Polly; she has come home.”

  “No, I don’t believe it. What luck! The aunts must be overjoyed. I say, that’s remarkable to find anything good could come out of that cesspool. It’s remarkable, I ha
d the thought that even if Polly should hear word that her aunts wanted to see her that she might be resistant to returning to normal life again. It gets a hold of you, the addictions, both physical and mental. I’ve known people that have had the opportunity to leave, and they don’t, as strange as that may sound.”

  “There is a downside. You are right that it is remarkable that she came home. She does not look well. The doctor has been called to come in this evening. Working with my father, who is a physician, I have seen the ravages of drug addiction. If it is opium, she will have a hard time in her recovery. If she starts to go through withdrawal, she will need sedation and observation. I am worried about that part of it, but at least now she has a chance, a real chance for survival. I have bought her some new apparel. I hope that might bring some joy to her.”

  Madeline thought he looked handsome tonight. He put her at ease more than anyone else that she had met. Phillip was once again responsible for bringing her some peace.

  “I still want to persist in looking for Jack. It’s just a part of being human to care about each other; it feels like the right thing to do.”

  “But it is not safe for you to go there. When you want to go, please contact me, and I will do my best to rearrange my schedule so that I may escort you.”

  “I thank you for the offer, but I would rather go in the light of day. I’m sure you will be busy with your practice. Please, don’t worry about me.”

  “Tomorrow is Saturday, and I will be only working till noon. Would you like to go tomorrow?”

  “Polly’s dress will be ready also. If you wouldn’t mind, we could pick up the clothing and deliver it while we are in Whitechapel?”

  “That would be fine.”

  When they came to the George on their return, he asked if he could come in for a moment and she agreed. They went into the café on the first floor, and she had her absinthe, and he ordered his Scotch. She spoke of Chicago and her father, and he listened and she, she was grateful.