She nodded. ‘You need to speak to Emma,’ she said miserably. ‘She knows all about it. It isn’t for me to tell you so please don’t make me.’
I still didn’t know quite what to think when I left the police station shortly afterwards and made my way slowly back towards Lamb Street. Summer was well and truly over now and dusk was steadily falling as I pushed my way through the crowds on Commercial Street, where the shops were beginning to close for the night and the pub lights were coming on, glowing cosily in the encroaching darkness.
For a moment I was tempted to step inside one and order a drink to steady myself but I wasn’t quite brave enough. Not yet anyway. Instead I carried on to Lamb Street, mulling everything that I had been told over and wondering what further revelations were yet to come. So deep was I in my morose thoughts that it took me quite by surprise when a woman stepped lightly out in front of me, forcing me to come to an abrupt halt in the middle of the pavement.
‘So, you’re Miss Redmayne then.’ I recognised her at once as the blowsy looking Irish woman from the police station although close up, I now saw that she was actually rather pretty and not all that much older than myself, with curling auburn hair and fine grey eyes.
‘I am,’ I said, stopping and looking at her, determined not to be intimidated as she swayed closer, enveloping me in her heady and not exactly pleasant scent of spilt gin, damp petticoats and meat pie. ‘What do you want with me?’
She gave a careless shrug but her eyes were sharp, picking over every smallest detail of my appearance, pricing and weighing me up to see how much I would be worth to her. ‘Well, that depends, doesn’t it?’ she said with a wink and a flounce. ‘Emma told me that you’d come to Whitechapel. She said you’d find us one day.’
I paused. ‘Emma?’ I tried not to sound too eager but there was no point, of course as she’d already seen the gleam of interest in my eyes.
She grinned. ‘That’s the girl,’ she said chirpily. ‘Fair Emma we used to call her in France on account of her hair. I was called Ginger Marie on account of mine.’
‘Oh, you were both in France?’ I said politely, wondering what she wanted with me and nervously looking towards the Mission house with the vague hope that someone might come out and rescue me.
Marie nodded. ‘That we were, my Lady,’ she said blithely. ‘Emma and me and Beatrice.’
I stared at her. ‘Beatrice?’ She had my full attention now. ‘Beatrice was in France? But why?’
She grinned again. ‘Now, wouldn’t you like to know.’ She made as if to turn away but I quickly reached out and gripped her arm. ‘Ooh, got you now, have I?’
‘Just tell me,’ I hissed.
She laughed in my face. ‘It’ll cost you,’ she said, pulling her arm out of my grasp then rubbing her thumb and forefinger together. ‘Oh yes, I think you’d pay a very pretty penny indeed to hear what I have to tell.’
I drew back and tried to hide my eagerness. ‘How much do you want?’ I asked cautiously.
Marie gave me a sly look from beneath her eyelashes, sizing me up again. ‘Ten pounds would do me,’ she said.
I took a deep breath. It wasn’t a lot of money really, not to me anyway, but it was a high price to pay if she turned out to be a liar. ‘Very well then,’ I said. ‘Ten pounds.’ A couple walking down the street with their arms around each other jostled me as they went past and I almost fell against the other woman.
‘Steady now,’ she said with a laugh as I put my hand against a damp, smoke blackened wall to steady myself. ‘You’ve got to be careful around here.’
I allowed myself a small smile. ‘So I can see.’ I looked at her. ‘What do you have to tell me then?’
Marie smiled and shook her head. ‘Money first, my fine lady,’ she whispered, patting my cheek with her hand. ‘Come back tonight with ten pounds and I’ll tell you everything you want to know and more besides.’
I sighed, resigning myself to the inevitable. ‘Where will I find you?’ I remembered the stinking alleyway where I had been lured and then hit from behind and gave a tiny shudder. ‘Perhaps we could meet in one of the public houses?’
She gave a harsh laugh. ‘No, I don’t think so, Miss Redmayne,’ she said. ‘Come to my room, number thirteen Miller’s Court later on.’ I must have looked confused for she leaned forward and whispered in my ear. ‘It’s just off Dorset Street. If you get lost just ask for Marie Kelly and someone will point you in the right direction. Everyone knows who I am down there.’
Chapter Twenty Seven
Luckily it was just Papa and Aunt Minerva at dinner that evening so there was no need to make anything other than the most perfunctory conversation and there was barely a murmur of protest when I declared myself exhausted immediately after the last course and made my way back upstairs to my room.
‘I am worried about that girl,’ I heard Aunt Minerva say to Papa as the door closed behind me. ‘Of course I am very happy that she isn’t gadding about the place as the young people these days are so wont to do but even so, Edwin, I wish that she was having a trifle more fun. It’s not pleasant to see her looking so dejected all the time.’
I stood for a moment on the other side of the door and listened as my father murmured some indistinct reply then shook my head and crossed the candlelit hall to the stairs. As requested, Minnie was waiting for me in my room, with my plain grey walking dress laid out ready on the bed.
‘Are you sure about this, Miss?’ she whispered as I closed the door behind me and immediately began to briskly pull pearl and diamond studded pins out of my hair. ‘Whitechapel is a dangerous place at night. I know that you’ve been safe enough during the day but surely you can see how different this will be?’ She moved forward to help me out of my heavy olive green silk dress.
‘I will be quite alright,’ I said, stepping out of my skirt. ‘I know exactly where I am going and do not intend to linger there for any longer than I need to.’ I watched myself in the mirror as Minnie dressed me, rather liking the determined tilt of my head, the bright shine of my eyes that only I knew and my maid guessed masked the most profound fear that I had ever felt. ‘Besides, I will be well protected,’ I said.
‘Oh, Miss?’ Minnie asked, hardly looking up from her task of fastening my tightly fitted bodice. ‘And how might that be?’
I smiled and leaned forward to open one of my dressing table drawers, making her tsk with annoyance as I interrupted her work. ‘I took this from my father’s study,’ I said triumphantly, brandishing a small hand gun in the air. ‘He bought it to protect himself against goodness knows what while doing a lecture tour in America and it’s been lying forgotten in a drawer ever since.’
Minnie eyed the weapon with frank disapproval. ‘Until now,’ she said sourly. ‘Do you know how to use it, Miss?’
‘Of course I do,’ I said, putting the gun down on my dressing table. ‘Patrick showed me how to load and fire it one summer many years ago and, besides, how hard can it be to point it then pull the trigger?’ I smiled back at her over my shoulder.
‘Lord, Miss, do you really think you could shoot someone?’ she asked, brushing out my hair then pinning it back up again into a simpler style than the one I had sported during dinner. ‘I don’t think I would have the nerve to dare to do such a thing.’
‘At this moment in time, I think that I would dare to do anything,’ I said grimly.
It didn’t take us long to make me ready and after one last glance at myself in the mirror, I hastily snatched up the gun and fifty pounds that I had extricated from my quarterly pin money, stuffed both into the grey watered silk reticule that swung from my wrist and almost ran from the room.
‘Good luck, Miss Alice,’ Minnie said as I went and I stopped for a moment in the doorway and looked back at her. ‘I hope you don’t need that gun of yours,’ she added with a wry smile.
‘I hope so too,’ I said with a shrug. ‘God bless you, Minnie.’
I made my way quickly and quietly down the back staircase tha
t the servants used then crossed the terracotta tiled floor of the second hall and let myself out of the back door, which opened out onto the side of the house. After this it was simply a matter of quickly making my way down Grosvenor Road and on to the main thoroughfare where I intended to halt a passing hansom cab.
This proved easier said than done as the first few cabs that appeared were tooled straight past me by drivers who clearly had no wish to pick up a single female, no matter how respectable looking she may be. The fourth driver to pass, however, had no such qualms and stopped straight away beside me as soon as I put out my hand then jumped down from his cab to cheerfully help me up inside then settle his rough tartan blanket over my knees before closing the hinged wooden front of the cab in front of me. ‘It’s a chilly night and no mistake,’ he said, grinning as he patted his horse. ‘Now where would you be going, Miss?’
I took a deep breath. ‘To Whitechapel, if you please,’ I said. ‘The top of Dorset Street.’
He stared at me then. ‘Are you sure, Miss?’ he said, a frown between his eyes as he looked me over, clearly wondering if he had been wrong to think me a respectable fare. ‘Dorset Street is no place for a young lady such as yourself, if you’ll understand my meaning.’
I sighed and assumed my most haughty manner, which was based in no small part on that of my Aunt Minerva, God bless her. ‘I am well aware of that,’ I said in clipped tones that allowed no argument. ‘It’s a terrible bother really as, you see, my maid has run away there and I simply cannot do without her so I have decided to bring her back again.’
He stared me, uncertain as to whether he should believe me or not. ‘Your maid, Miss?’
I nodded, looking him right in the eye and curling my fingers around my pistol to give me extra courage. ‘Quite so,’ I said. ‘It’s quite irregular, I know but I simply cannot do without her.’ I smiled weakly. ‘Of course I will pay you handsomely for your time and effort.’ I opened my reticule a little so that he could see the roll of notes and gleam of coins within.
That decided it of course. ‘Then I shall take you there, Miss,’ he huffed, returning to his seat at the back of the cab, ‘although I won’t say that I am very glad to do so.’
He continued muttering for quite some time but I didn’t care as I smiled to myself and settled back against my seat for the ride, rather enjoying this unprecedented solo excursion into the city at night. Usually when I went out this late, it was in the company of either my father or aunt as they escorted me to a ball, party or evening at the opera or theatre. I always felt quite safe, cushioned even from the outside world, inside our comfortable carriage, with windows that barely allowed the noise of the city streets to intrude.
The hansom cab was open at the front, leaving me exposed to the chill, dank air and despite the feeling of increasing trepidation that was growing within my stomach, I still looked about myself with interest as we bowled through a light mist of rain along those dark, foggy streets, which still hummed with life and activity. Many of the shops were still open and of course the public houses spilled their usual comforting amber glow and sounds of good times on to the damp pavements. From the safety of my cab, I stared at the women who clustered around the doors, their pint glasses in hand and eyes darting around them as they spoke, taking in the scene with as much avid curiosity as I.
We were almost there. In the distance I could see the great white spire of Christ church, looming pale and daunting over the dark roofs of Whitechapel. My cab lumbered past the police station and I peered up at Cora’s window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her but of course seeing nothing. Instead I saw several policemen streaming out of the station’s front doors, all ready and keen to do that evening’s beats.
My cab pulled to a halt at the top of Dorset Street, outside the Britannia where I now knew Emma, the other key to the puzzle of Beatrice’s disappearance, lived and worked. I got down from the cab and felt in my purse for my coins. ‘How much do I owe you?’ I asked the driver with a smile.
He told me the amount then frowned down at me. ‘Are you quite certain that the girl you seek is here, Miss?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘I have to say that it doesn’t sit right with me at all to be leaving you all alone in such a place.’
I handed him his fare with a little extra. ‘That is very kind of you,’ I replied with a firm smile that made it clear that no further argument would be tolerated. ‘I shall be perfectly alright here though.’ I stepped back as he touched his hat to me then trotted off then turned to look through the Britannia’s brightly lit up windows, which were embellished with frosted glass vines and bottles. Inside I could see the usual swell of drably dressed people, both men and women, all drinking together in small groups. I looked in vain for Emma’s distinctive head of frazzled yellow hair though and after a moment had to concede defeat and move on down Dorset Street.
‘How much, Miss?’ a man sidled close to me and grinned a terrible toothless smile. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes and no mistake.’ He stank of smoke and rotten fish and had his cloth cap pulled down low over his forehead.
I took a deep breath and pulled the gun from the depths of my reticule. ‘Too expensive for you,’ I whispered, pointing the gun at him with what I hoped was an unwavering hand.
He looked from the gun to my face and then back again before backing away, shaking his head. ‘Sorry to bother you, Miss, I’m sure,’ he muttered, touching his cap then melting away into the night.
I put the gun back into my bag, straightened my shoulders then continued down the street, where despite the lateness of the hour small children were still playing in the gutter while their mothers watched from afar, all clustered together around the open doors of the Blue Coat Boy public house. I felt their eyes on me as I strolled briskly down Dorset Street but did not dare to even so much as glance in their direction, always aware how out of place I was. It reminded me oddly of the time I went swimming in the sea in Italy and felt a moment of wild panic when I realised that my feet no longer touched the bottom and all manner of creatures, unknown and unseen, were swimming beneath me.
It did not take me long to find Miller’s Court, a narrow, miserable looking alleyway sandwiched between a down at heel lodging house and a dirty looking grocer’s shop. An old soldier, dressed in the ragged remnants of his uniform sat on the ground next to the alley’s entrance, his cap lying open on the ground in front of him. I paused for a moment to throw him a penny and was rewarded with a drunken lopsided grin.
‘Thankee kindly, pretty miss,’ he slurred, one eye screwed up shut as he peered up at me from beneath his lank hair. ‘You be watching your step now. These are dark times.’ He watched me as I stepped slowly and carefully into the darkness of the alleyway leading to Miller’s Court. ‘Be careful, young lady.’
It took me a moment to get my bearings once I’d reached the other end as there was more than one door on the court as well as a staircase that led to the upper storeys of the building to the right of the alleyway. I hesitated for a moment, covering my nose against the fetid stink of the privies at the far end of the yard then knocked on the closest door, feeling the thin wood rattle beneath my hand.
A woman was singing on the other side of the door but broke off abruptly when I knocked, after which I heard some coughing and the sound of bed springs squeaking. ‘Who is it?’ a voice called.
‘It’s Miss Redmayne,’ I whispered. ‘I’m looking for Marie Kelly.’
There was the sound of stifled laughter before the door was wrenched roughly open. ‘So you came then?’ she said in that lilting soft Irish voice, her eyes bright with amusement.
I smiled and inclined my head to the side. ‘You doubted that I would?’ I said as she held the door open to allow me to step inside. As I pulled my gloves off, I looked around her mean little room, observing the dirty floor, piles of old clothes around the soot blackened fireplace, the unmade bed pushed against the peeling wall, the half eaten fish and chips in newspaper on the litter covered table. ‘Do you liv
e here alone?’ I asked.
She gave me a sharp look. ‘I do now,’ she said wearily. ‘I had a fellow but he upped and left, didn’t he, just like they always do in the end.’ She gestured to the fish and chips, congealing in their fat on the table. ‘He was here just now actually. I reckon he’s still sweet on me, the daft sod.’
‘Perhaps he is,’ I said, looking about for somewhere to sit as she threw herself down on the bed. ‘Men can be so odd like that.’
‘Can’t they just.’ She sniffed then reached under the bed to pull out a bottle of beer. ‘Fancy a drink, my Lady?’
I shook my head then moved some clothes off the chair and sat down. ‘Let’s not waste time,’ I said, putting my reticule on my lap then folding my hands around it. ‘You know why I am here.’
She sighed. ‘I do indeed. You want to know all about Beatrice and what happened to her in France.’ She opened the bottle of beer and took a generous swig before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
I felt suddenly cold. ‘Did something happen to her in France?’ I said feebly.
Marie winked. ‘Didn’t it just,’ she said with relish. ‘Friend of yours was she?’
I took a deep breath then shook my head, realising just in time that it would do me no good to admit to the true relationship between Beatrice and myself. ‘Never mind who she was,’ I said. ‘I just want to know what happened to her.’ I opened my reticule and pulled out ten pounds which I laid carefully on the stained tabletop. ‘Here is the money you asked for.’
She glanced at the bank note then offered me the bottle again and gave a tiny shrug when I shook my head. ‘Well, she died, didn’t she?’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘Murdered, so she was.’
I stared at her, unable to believe what I was hearing. ‘Murdered?’ I gasped. ‘Beatrice?’ I pulled the reticule closer to my body, hugging it for comfort as I would do a child and willing myself not to cry in front of the other girl’s cold eyes. The tears could come later when I was alone.
From Whitechapel Page 30
