Stalking Jack the Ripper (Stalking Jack the Ripper 1)
“That’s barely five nights from now!” Nathaniel said, ripping me from my shadowy haze. “How can they possibly hold a trial and execution so quickly?”
“Hardly seems legal,” I said, searching my brother’s face for help.
“That’s because it isn’t.”
Blackburn took another deep breath. “Your brother’s correct. There will be a trial but it’ll be far from fair. They’ll find your uncle guilty and hang him before the ink on his execution order is dry. The public is out for blood, members of Parliament have made proclamations… your uncle’s the perfect target.” Blackburn ticked off each of Uncle’s offenses. “He was in possession of bloodstained gears we found near the bodies. Someone of his appearance was seen with the last victim. He has no alibi for either murder. Worst of all, he possesses the skill it took to extract organs.”
“For goodness’ sake, is that all?” I waved a hand in the air. “I possess those very skills. Perhaps I’m the murderer.”
I paced in the sectioned-off room, my hands clenching at my sides. I felt like a wild animal, forced to dance around for people’s amusement, and loathed it. Maybe I’d free every last baboon, horse, and zebra in this circus before leaving this evening. Jumbo, too, while I was at it. Nothing should suffer so incredibly at the hands of another.
I turned my attention back on Blackburn. “Can’t you stop this madness? Innocent people cannot be hanged, it’s grossly unjust. Surely this can’t be the end.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets, avoiding my eyes as if he’d contract some wretched disease simply from looking upon me. Maybe he could. Hatred was drenching my entire being with its oily residue.
“They’ve only just closed out the inquest of our former servant,” I said, mostly to Nathaniel. “There’s got to be some way of repealing this… abomination to our ruling system. They’ll have to finish the inquest of Miss Annie Chapman, at least. Shouldn’t that offer a bit more time?”
Nathaniel bit his lip, seeming uncertain. “I’m still learning the intricacies of the law. I’ll consult my mentor.” I stared at him, willing him to make everything better. My brother held his hands up. “I’ll call on him now, see if I can get this all sorted out. Try not to worry, Sister. I swear I’ll do everything I can to save Uncle. You believe me?”
I nodded. It was all I could do, but it satisfied my brother enough. He turned his attention on the superintendent, his voice cold. “Will you see my sister home? I assume you’ll give her a decent police escort, especially after dropping all this into our laps.”
It was useless telling Nathaniel I could hire my own carriage home or look for Aunt Amelia and Liza and travel with them, so I kept my mouth shut while he made arrangements with the superintendent.
When my brother was gone, Blackburn cocked his head, a movement showing a new calculating side I hadn’t noticed before but knew existed. “Did you say Miss Mary Ann Nichols was your former servant, Miss Wadsworth?”
Excitement radiated from him. I didn’t trust him or his new mood, and promptly pressed my lips together. Last thing I wanted was to give Scotland Yard another reason to point their spindly fingers at my family.
Undeterred, he stepped closer, filling the space with his enormous presence, forcing me to meet his inquiring gaze. I swallowed a coil of fear away.
There was something dangerous about him, though it could simply be because he held Uncle’s life in his hands.
“You do realize I may be the only person in London other than your family who cares whether or not your uncle lives. Won’t you help me solve this case?” Blackburn asked. “Miss Wadsworth… I’m entrusting you to help free your uncle and apprehend the murderer.”
He ran a hand through his fair hair, ruffling his already unruly locks. I wanted to help Uncle more than anything; I simply wanted to do it on my own, without involving the person who’d arrested him to begin with. Though it was flattering he respected my intelligence and amateur sleuthing enough to involve me at all.
When I still hadn’t uttered a word, he grabbed my elbow, spinning me about. “If you don’t want to assist me, let’s see someone you do want to help.”
“If you don’t let go of me this instant,” I said between clenched teeth, “I’ll be forced to employ a terrible fighting tactic my brother taught me upon your manhood.”
Wrestling against his grip, I realized too late he’d eased off because he was smiling. I huffed, tugging my arm completely away. Threats weren’t meant to be amusing. I imagine he wouldn’t be grinning if I’d actually committed my defense technique, and I wished I’
d just done it. “Where is it you think I’m following you to?”
“Bedlam, Miss Wadsworth.”
SEVENTEEN
HEART OF THE BEAST
BETHLEM ROYAL HOSPITAL,
LONDON
25 SEPTEMBER 1888
Rumors of Bedlam being haunted by monsters were true.
At least, they felt real enough as we moved swiftly down cold stone corridors. I held fast to my silky skirts, keeping them as close to my body as I could while walking by cells of criminals and the insane.