DOUBLE EVENT
MITRE SQUARE,
LONDON
30 SEPTEMBER 1888
A crowd of angry men and women surged against a barricade made up of police bodies, fear driving their emotions into boiling rage.
I pulled my shawl closer, covering my face from both the early morning chill and from people standing near. I did not wish to be recognized; my family had had enough to deal with as it was.
Father had finally come home last night after almost a month away from his precious laudanum, and I didn’t want anyone informing him I’d sneaked out of the house and run here as quickly as I could.
Testing his paranoia was something I hoped to avoid at least until Uncle was freed. Not to mention, I didn’t want him rushing to marry me off if I proved too difficult for him to handle. He’d probably already picked a nice, suitable young man who lived far away from the city streets of London. I hated the idea of being trapped away in some gilded cage in the country, but I couldn’t fault my father for trying to protect me.
Misguided as his attempts were.
I raised my attention to the surrounding buildings: tall brick monsters that were cold and unmoving. The enormous letters naming the Kearly & Tonge building silently watched the chaos going on below, and I watched the building. If only those letters could speak of the secrets they witnessed last night. I tried absorbing every detail I could, the same way Thomas or Uncle would do, were they here. I hadn’t spoken to Thomas in two days, the sting of his accusation still very much in the forefront of my mind.
Mitre Square was the perfect place for a killing. Buildings formed a massive courtyard, keeping prying eyes from main thoroughfares away. From rumors sweeping through the crowd, it was an even better place for a double murder.
Jack the Ripper came back with a vengeance after nearly a month of peace. He hadn’t made idle threats in the “Dear Boss” letter. Jack had promised violence untold, and that’s precisely what he’d done.
A few men near the front of the crowd shouted for blood, igniting people around them into a blazing fury.
A woman beside me shouted, “It ain’t right! We need to catch ’im and kill ’im! Let the madman hang!”
I turned my attention back to the living barricade. Through their limbs, I barely made out a body covered in an off-white shroud, blood pooling around like a red lake near her head. Another body had been discovered a little ways down.
It was the worst thing I could think, but there was no way Scotland Yard could execute Uncle now, not after another two bodies were so prominently displayed for all of London to look upon.
There was a darkness growing inside me that needed to be rooted out. It was the second time that week I was mildly grateful for the Ripper. My own emotions sickened me. How dare I rejoice in someone else’s misery. That made me no better than the murderer himself. Still, I was hopeful this crime would at least save one life. Even if that hope made me a miserable thing.
I felt a strong tap on my shoulder and spun around, my skirts twisting about my body.
Superintendent Blackburn shook his head, his fair hair catching the light of the sun. “I’d inquire about the weather, but I’m sure you’d like to speak of other things, Miss Wadsworth.” He squinted toward the body, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Seems our boy gave us two more victims.”
I followed his gaze, nodding. There wasn’t much to add to that, so I stayed silent. Watching and listening to people closest us while they speculated on the vicious Leather Apron, lady killer. Though I’d hardly refer to Jack as “our boy.”
There was an essence of unease slowly moving through my body that had nothing to do with the deceased women or frightened crowd. I felt Blackburn carefully studying me, but kept my attention elsewhere.
Something about his manner made me feel as if I were being investigated for a crime I’d no recollection of committing.
“Since I know it’ll do no good asking you to speak with me later,” Blackburn continued, “I might as well invite you to inspect the scene now. Your uncle obviously cannot be here, and there’s no one else I’d trust with giving a proper assessment. Unless, of course, you don’t feel you can handle it.”
Not quite wrapping my brain around the invitation, I blinked at him. I was merely an apprentice studying under Uncle, but Blackburn seemed eager for my opinion on the matter. And I was willing to set aside doubts regarding him for a chance to examine the bodies. I swallowed, casting my attention around. No one was paying us any mind. “Of course I’ll inspect them.”
Blackburn focused on me, a hint of uncertainty twitching across his lips. “You may want to prepare yourself regardless. Seeing a body on a mortuary table and seeing a body lying in a bloody pool in an alley are a bit different.”
If he was trying to intimidate me, it wasn’t working. Little did he know I’d already come across a body in an alley and lived to tell the gruesome tale.
I was more than eager to get a closer look at the scenes, to understand the mind of a man who was brutalizing these women. I imagined it would be one of the most horrific things I’d ever see, but I wouldn’t let fear hold me prisoner.
Darkness within me rejoiced for the opportunity of seeing the bodies up close, in the state the murderer had intended them to be discovered. Perhaps I’d find a useful clue.
When I lifted my chin, allowing defiance to wash over my features, Blackburn chuckled. “You’re a lot like me.” He smiled, pleased with my reaction. “Stay close, and don’t speak. I may be keen on having your opinion, but not all men will have the same feelings on the matter. Best you let me do the talking.”
“Very well.” While it wasn’t something I relished, it was the hard truth. I was a young girl growing up in a world run by old men. I’d pick and choose my battles wisely.
Without uttering another word, we pushed our way to the front of the crowd and stood before the line of constables. Women slowly moved away from Blackburn, their eyes taking in his form appreciatively as he passed.
A burly man with a ginger beard and matching bushy eyebrows halted our movement. “No one’s to pass by. Orders of the commissioner.”
Blackburn stood straighter, nodding as if he’d heard this before, then simply said, “I am well aware of that order, as I was the one who instructed the commissioner to issue it. Thank you for upholding the command so dutifully”—he leaned in, reading the man’s name tag—“Constable O’Bryan. I’ve brought a private assistant, proficient in forensic sciences. I’d like her thoughts before we move the bodies.”
The constable eyed me with distaste. I buried my hands in my skirts, gripping the material until I was positive I’d rip it off. Oh, how I despised remaining silent under such awful judgment. I’d like to remind each man who held such poor opinions of a woman that their beloved mothers were, in fact, women.
I didn’t see any men running about, birthing the world’s population then going on to make supper and tend to the house. Most of them buckled to their knees when the slightest sniffle attacked them.
There was more strength held underneath my muslin layers and well-perfumed skin than in half the men in London combined. I forced my mind to stay focused on our task, lest my emotions show plainly on my face.
After an uncomfortably long pause, Blackburn cleared his throat. The constable shifted his attention back to his superior, color creeping up his collar. “Right. Sorry, sir. It’s… we weren’t told you’d be coming, and—”
“—and isn’t it wonderful I’m informing you directly of my newest plans,” Blackburn interrupted, clearly put off by the delay. I wondered fleetingly if this was something he put up with often, given his young age. “Unless you’d like to answer to me later, I suggest you allow us passage,” he said. “I’m growing rather annoyed, Constable. Each precious moment wasted here is another moment my scientist loses accuracy.”
With that, the man stepped aside. All thoughts of how aggravating he was disappeared when I saw the pale foot sticking out from
beneath the nearest shroud.
I wish I’d been disgusted by the sight. Instead, I found myself grossly fascinated, longing to lift the sheet and take a closer look. Blackburn motioned to the men standing guard around the body and they promptly scattered themselves.
Blackburn leaned close. “Take your time. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”
I nodded, then knelt beside the body, carefully avoiding the pool of blood near the shoulders, and gently pulled the sheet back. I held my gasp in, squeezed my eyes shut and prayed I wouldn’t drop the covering like a squeamish little child.
Perhaps I wasn’t as ready for this as I’d imagined.
I kept my eyes closed, breathing through my mouth until the dizziness eased up. It wouldn’t do to faint in front of most of the police force in London. Especially when they already thought me handicapped by my gender.
Gathering my wits, I forced myself to examine the body.
The woman was slight, probably about five feet tall. Her face was badly damaged; blood and cuts disfigured her mouth and nose. She was lying on her back, right knee bent and facing outward, her left leg lying flat. Not entirely unlike how Miss Annie Chapman had been found. A small blue tattoo was on her forearm.
Bolts and gears—smeared in blood—peeked out from beneath her body.
I’d no idea why Jack needed such things. Continuing with my inspection, I focused on what I could figure out.
Her entire torso was sliced open down the middle with surgical precision, her intestines thrown over her shoulders. A portion of them even appeared to be cut and draped between her left arm and body purposely. A message of sorts.
I swallowed my emotions down. I needed to get through this examination. I needed to understand the mind of this madman, understand what drove him to such violence so he could never do this to another woman again. I took a deep breath, my focus trailing over the corpse once more, though my heart refused to be tamed.
Like the others, her throat had been slashed.
Unlike the others, however, a slice ran down her right ear. It seemed he tried cutting a piece off. A memory nearly knocked me backward. I called to Blackburn, my voice rising with excitement.
“The letter,” I said, thoughts racing along with my pulse as he drew near. “The author of that letter is the killer. He said he’d clip her ear—look.” I pointed out the disfigurement on her person. “He did exactly as he promised: ‘The next job I do I shall clip the ladys ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldn’t you.’”
Blackburn’s attention drifted over the body, then quickly moved away. “Even if the letter is proven authentic, we’ve no way of tracing its origin.”
I sat back on my heels, contemplating scenarios. I thought about the editor of the newspaper and an idea jumped up, waving its arms in my face. “Well, what if you had Mr. Doyle print a facsimile of the letter? Surely someone might recognize the handwriting. Plus he said he’d run it if it proved true.”
Superintendent Blackburn tapped his fingers against his trousers, staring into my eyes so deeply I believed he was trying to send a secret message. I wasn’t sure why he was hesitating; it was the perfect solution. After a minute he reluctantly nodded.
“It’s a fine idea, Miss Wadsworth.” Blackburn smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek. He pointed toward the body, setting my focus on the horror once again. “What else have you got from all this, then?”
“Well.” I stared at the blood spatter, knowing it told a story of its own, losing myself completely in the science. The blood on the left side of the neck appeared to have been spilled first, as it was clotting differently from blood located on the right side of the body. It wasn’t hard to deduce her throat had been slashed first before she was split open. I crept closer, pointing each injury out for Blackburn.
“He started with her throat, then probably cut or struck her mouth. I doubt he appreciated what she’d had to say and wanted to punish her.” I moved on to the next injury. “Once she was choking on blood, he laid her body out, placing her legs straight out before running his blade over her abdomen. He removes the intestines, probably for easier access to her organs. See? This cavity is too hollow. It’s how a body looks after Uncle removes organs during postmortems. I can’t tell without getting my hands in there which ones are missing. But I think it’s probably her uterus or ovaries, possibly even a kidney or gallbladder as well. What do you think?”
I looked up when Blackburn didn’t respond, seeing signs of sickness sprawled across his handsome features. I pressed my lips shut. What a monster I must seem to him. Aunt Amelia would drag me to church and say a thousand prayers if she were here. I watched the column of his throat move in an attempt at swallowing.
He tried maintaining his composure, but gagged when a fly landed on her exposed cavity. I shooed the offender away, watching it land near her bloodied face. They’d need to remove her from the scene before flies began laying larvae.
Blackburn coughed, drawing my attention back to him.
I stood quickly, offering him a handkerchief, but he shook his head, holding a fist to his mouth.
“I’m quite all right, thank you. Possibly something I ate didn’t agree with me. Sure it’s nothing to be concerned over…”
A small part of me wanted to smile. Here was a young man, one who’d surely seen his share of horror working in this line of business, and here I was, a small, slender girl, offering to be his strength.
“I’ll make a few notes, if you wouldn’t mind,” I said. “Then I’ll share them with my uncle. He will be released now, won’t he?”
Blackburn shifted from left to right, watching as I removed a small journal from a pocket within my skirts and wrote notes in my best cursive.
I didn’t want to appear overly eager or hopeful, but needed to know Uncle would be all right. That he’d be safe and working alongside me before long. It felt as if a year had passed before Blackburn finally answered me.
“I can’t see him going to trial after this. Unofficially, I’d wager he’ll be out before the night’s through.” He paused. “Perhaps you’d like to join me for some refreshments? After we look upon the next body, that is.”
I glanced up sharply. Was he really asking to see me under these circumstances? How odd. My thoughts must have shown plainly on my face because he fumbled for an explanation. “I mean, perhaps we could have some tea and discuss the particulars of the victims. I’m sure—”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, William,” someone said in a familiar, angry tone. Every single muscle of my body froze; even my heart slowed its beat before accelerating.
Father.
Lord Edmund Wadsworth was a sight a thousand times more frightening than the body lying at my feet. His expression held more warning than a knife placed against my jugular. “When I agreed to let you court my daughter, I’d no idea you’d think it a proper thing involving her in such… vile and masculine matters. I need someone reining her will in and protecting her, not feeding her dangerous curiosity.”
Shock punched at me from multiple angles. So many questions begged to be asked. How did he find me here? How did he know I’d left the house? But the most pressing one fell from my mouth first.
“What do you mean? Allowed him to court—” Before I finished my thought, I turned on Blackburn. Confusion giving way to pure anger. “You’re the one who’s been asking Father about a courtship, meeting in secret, plotting?”
Then another thought occurred to me, so obvious I almost laughed. “That’s why you want to help Uncle, not because you think he’s innocent, but because you’re devious!”
“Audrey Rose, please,” he started, holding his hand up. “I never meant—”
“Am I wrong?” I demanded.
Blackburn pressed his lips together, shooting a questioning look at my father. It was clear he wouldn’t respond without approval, which was never likely to happen now. I fisted my hands. There was nothing I despised more than finding out I’d missed
clues all along. What other secrets were being kept from me?
My anger quickly faded when Father motioned for Blackburn’s silence.
He pointed his finger at me, bending it in a “come here straight away” motion. If he ever let me out of the house again, it would be a miracle sent directly from Heaven.
How dare Blackburn keep such secrets from me. I cast another furious glare at him before obediently moving to Father’s side.
Then, when I thought the surprises were over, my brother skulked over, purposely ignoring the body lying a few feet away from his polished shoes.
He didn’t meet my eyes as he made his way to Father’s other side. Clearly, he’d turned me in to this overprotective madman. Filthy traitor. Of course the police barricade wouldn’t apply to either of my family members. I wondered who they paid for their right to shun the laws or commands of the police.
“Now, then. Let’s be gone from this abysmal scene and get you home where you’ll be safe.” Taking my arm, Father offered me a look only slightly less frightening now that I was under his control. “We’ve much to discuss this evening, Audrey Rose. You cannot involve yourself with such dangers. I hate to do it, but this cannot go unpunished. Consequences come with a high cost, some more than others.”
TWENTY-ONE
THE WRETCHED TRUTH
WADSWORTH RESIDENCE,
BELGRAVE SQUARE
30 SEPTEMBER 1888
The carriage ride home was almost as terrible as bearing witness to one of the mutilated bodies at the double event.
I’d rather be on intestine cleanup duty than suffer through the choking silence sitting miserably with us. By the time we pulled up to our home, I was ready to burst out of my skin simply to escape the anger seeping through my pores.
I was furious with Blackburn for conspiring with my father and not having the decency to mention it, but I was seething over my brother most of all.
How dare he betray me by leading our father to where I was. He had to know how mad it’d make Father, thinking his only daughter was in direct danger.