Never had I used a pistol before, never did I expect to turn into the monster they see me as. Do I not deserve happiness too? Do I not have the right to love and be loved? The image of my Dracula book came back into my mind, its yellow bounding and red letters an instant eye catcher. I could still see Mary’s face on the day I was to give her the book, lifeless. Knowing the book was at the bottom of the North Sea only made my anger mount. The way in which Victoria threw it from the pier with such delight has been forever played in my dreams. It is I who should be seen as the victim, not her.
I raised the pistol to my head, its weight difficult to handle in just one hand and I let the weight of it rest against my temple. I could feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes as I pulled back the trigger. The moment lasted only seconds, yet time seemed to stand still making it feel much longer. My hand was shaking uncontrollably and I eventually had to drop the pistol next to me on the floor where I sat.
I stayed there staring at it for the longest of times, this cold relatively small object that was capable of causing such pain and destruction in a single action. Could I really use it, I wondered; if not on myself then on Albert? I wasn’t sure. Questioning myself brought doubt to the front of my mind, if I was going to go through with this I needed to toughen up. I placed the pistol back in my deep coat pocket and left the river behind. Evening was beginning to set in and I still hadn’t decided if I was going back to Victoria’s house or Trafalgar Square.
I decided to walk to Trafalgar which was now closer to my current location. I didn’t go out into the middle as it was always so busy and open. Instead I stayed between two buildings and watched the square from a great distance. I had never understood the excitement that surrounded Trafalgar Square; it wasn’t that impressive to me. Sure the giant column with the statue of Admiral Nelson on top was impressively tall, and the enormous lions that surrounded it were impressive once, but the amount of bird droppings that now covered them all made the whole area less than extraordinary. Thousands of pigeons could be seen every day in the square, harassing people to be fed, bathing in the fountains and generally littering with their faeces.
I stayed in the shadow of an old doorway that had undoubtedly not been used in a long time. I had the perfect view of the square so should be able to spot them coming from any direction. As I stood there for what seemed like a considerable amount of time, I began people watching. The city had so many people from all walks of life that it was interesting to see how they interacted with each other. It was certainly a different atmosphere to Whitby, for there nearly everybody wished each other a good day in passing, yet here it was rare to see anybody speak in the streets at all.
I was caught unaware when a carriage stopped across the road from me and Albert emerged. He walked around the cab to where I presumed he was opening the door for Victoria. The horses soon moved due to the busy road and I managed to see them both as they walked up the steps of the Union Club. She looked regal in a dark green gown, and the gentle breeze blew at her hair as she climbed the stone steps and entered the building. It was nothing more than a gentleman’s club for the upper class, often used by members of parliament, lawyers and wealthy aristocrats. The building was intimidating, with a doorway twice the height and width of a normal door, and it’s Greek style exterior made it stand out even more so against the other building on Cockspur Street. It was rare that women were allowed to go inside, so this must be a special occasion indeed.
As nightfall fell over London I waited, my hand in my coat pocket gripping the pistol.
Chapter 20
Tom
By the time I got to leave work I was exhausted. Mr Brown had given me my identification card before taking off for the day, and seeing the royal crest next to my own name made me honoured. I almost felt posh. I placed it in my trouser pocket for safe keeping and the guard in the arch even wished me a pleasant evening as I passed by.
Harvey lived in the opposite direction to me, so we said our goodbyes at the gate. We had barely had chance to speak due to the amount of work needing to be done, but I had managed to get some pieces of information from him at various parts of the day. I learnt he was twelve years old, and started working at the Mews when he was eight. He got the job because his father was one of the horse trainers. His father hoped that he too would one day want to become involved more with horses, but Harvey seemed less than enthusiastic when telling me this. I got the impression that although he enjoyed his current work, he had no desire to be a trainer.
Despite my exhaustion from the day, I still found the energy to hurry home. I was used to manual labour, but working with the horses seemed much more tiresome than working at the docks. As I made my way home I couldn’t clear the constant smile from my face, I was finally working with horses again, I had a home and new family and life seemed to be getting better and better every day. I couldn’t wait to get back and tell them all about my day.
The house seemed quiet when I walked through the door.
‘Hello. Is anybody home?’ The sound of clattering pans in the kitchen broke the stillness of the house.
‘Master Tom you are home.’ It was Miss Baily, she threw her arms around me and pulled me in for a tight hug. ‘Are you hungry? Ms Lowney has nearly finished making you…’
‘Where’s Victoria and Albert?’ I cut her from speaking as I glanced over her shoulder whilst trying to hear any flicker of noise coming from upstairs. I realised I was being rude and I immediately apologised.
‘They are at the dinner this evening, have you forgotten?’ I sighed at her words. I had forgotten.
‘Don’t worry though Tom, me and Ms Lowney want to hear all about your day.’
I followed her through into the dining room and she sat opposite me waiting to hear everything I had to say. Ms Lowney came out seconds later holding a large steaming bowl of food for me.
‘Wait, wait…’ she said placing the bowl in front of me, ‘don’t tell the story until I am ready.’ She ran back into the kitchen, returning moments later with a glass of juice for me. She took the seat next to Miss Baily and beamed with excitement ready to hear me speak.
I started to tell them about the day and took out my identification card to show them both. ‘Hold on, I can’t read that. Let me get my glasses.’ Ms Lowney raced back into the kitchen and came back moments later with her spectacles on. ‘Much better,’ she said, making both myself and Miss Baily laugh. ‘And look,’ she continued, ‘the royal emblem. Queen Victoria approved. Very classy that is young man, best keep it safe at all times.’
She handed it back and I continued to tell them about my day to the finest detail. I loved how Miss Baily and Ms Lowney were as excited as I was.
‘What time did they leave?’ I asked, looking back at the clock that now read nearly seven o’clock.
‘It was about five,’ replied Ms Lowney, as she stood from the table and took my empty dish and glass away to the kitchen.
‘When do you think they will be back?’
‘Well I hope it is not too late,’ Miss Baily pitched in, ‘Mrs Summers has not been feeling very well today and the last thing she needs is a party. I told her to tell Mr Summers about coming home early, in fact I told her she might be best not going at all, but you know what she is like, loyal to him and doesn’t like to make a fuss.’
Both women returned to the kitchen so I decided to get one of my new books from my bedroom and take it into the sitting room. I knew Albert liked to keep the fire going after nightfall, even in June the house could sometimes get cold at night. I stayed by the fire all evening, topping it when needed. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed every hour letting me know that they were still not home.
The chime for ten o’clock woke me. I had fallen asleep in the arm chair, and the sudden noise made me jump, causing my book to drop onto the floor with a thud. The fire was almost out so I topped it back up with coal. The house was deathly quiet and the darkness from outside seemed to spread throughout the house. In
my sleepiness I had neglected to put on any candles and so the glowing ash in the fire was my only source of light in the sitting room. Ms Lowney and Miss Baily would have retired to their rooms some time ago. As I lit a single candle I knew it was time I went to bed too, I decided to leave the fire to burn itself out and carried my book in one hand, and the candle in the other. As I reached the bottom of the staircase an almighty banging on the front door scared me, causing me to drop the lit candle.
‘One minute.’ I called to the door with a panicked voice. I snatched the candle from the floor before it caused any damage. Thankfully the rug didn’t catch fire and it looked unmarked, or at least it looked fine in the now dim light. My candle had gone out though so I had to open the door in complete darkness.
‘Can I help you?’ I opened the door only an inch and peered out to see the silhouette of a gentleman.
‘Tom? Why are you in the dark?’ I gasped with shock at the stranger knowing my name, I went to slam the door in his face but he quickly stopped the closing door with his hand. A cry of pain came from him as his fingers caught in the door frame.
‘Go away.’ I shrieked, backing away from the door. He pushed it back open and entered the hallway without my permission; I stumbled backwards as he entered the house. I was about to shout for Miss Baily, but he spoke first.
‘Tom it’s okay, it’s me. Detective Matthews.’
Chapter 21
Detective Matthews
My train arrived into London a little after 6 o’clock. I headed straight to Scotland Yard where Mr Sanders was awaiting my arrival. He was the gentleman who I had been in contact with ever since the Summers’ left Whitby. I knew D would have probably followed them and so I set about ensuring the London police were informed. Unfortunately the weeks immediately after their return home brought up nothing. Without Albert or Victoria’s knowledge Mr Sanders and his team kept watch of their house and were on high alert throughout London in case D made an appearance, but nothing seemed to happen.
At the end of March, after a little over a month of constant observation there was no sign of D, and Mr Sanders had no choice but to call off the search with his team and returned them to their normal duties. I wasn’t best pleased when I heard this, but could understand Mr Sanders’ position. I was certain though that D was out there somewhere and that a man like him would not disappear completely. Something inside me kept pulling me back to him, and I couldn’t rest knowing that Mrs Summers could still be at risk.
After months of communication between myself and Scotland Yard Mr Sanders sent me a letter, requesting a meeting, he knew that the case could not be dropped completely but wished for a plan to be put into place. The constant back and forth of letters was not doing anything in regards to moving the case forward, and so meeting was the best option.
‘Good evening Detective,’ he greeted me outside the doors of Scotland Yard. ‘I hope you had a pleasant journey.’ He looked nothing like I had imagined in my head. I had expected a more admin looking person, but Mr Sanders was enormous. He was much taller than me, with broad shoulders, a shiny bald head and a shiny silver beard and eyebrows that stood out against his flustered face. He looked more like a boxer than the chief of police.
‘Longer than I anticipated,’ I replied, wincing in the grip of his firm handshake, ‘I have never been to London so it is quite an eye opener.’ I followed him into the building and he led me through to his office. A relatively small office for such a large dominating building, not to mention for a man to be of high importance.
‘As you already know Detective, I had to pull the force off this case, but like you I believe he is still a threat. We haven’t spoken to Mr and Mrs Summers personally as it was seen to potentially cause unintended distress, after all this is just a hunch on your part, we cannot officially claim he is here in London until somebody identifies him to us. Since the end of February to the end of March I had offices circling Vincent Square, day and night. Nobody fitting your description was ever seen. The sketch in the Whitby Gazette was a good starting point for my men to use, it was not the best artist interpretation but it gave us a guideline. Nonetheless nobody fitting the image was ever spotted in or around the square over the course of the month.’
‘So why Mr Sanders have you asked me to come here today?’
‘There are several reasons I requested you detective. Firstly I would like you to speak with one of our own artists, if we can get a detailed imagine of this man to show the entire force, and not just a select few like before, then we can have them on alert without actually being on alert, if you catch my meaning. Instead of having a number of men circle Vincent Square with a memorised imaged I would ensure the entire force had seen it and for them to keep a look out across the whole of the city.’
‘Yes, but surely I could have sent one from Whitby, did I really need to come all this way for a picture?’
‘There is more detective.’ He shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, it made me tense about what it was he really wanted me here for. ‘I need you here in person Matthews because I would like you to be the one to approach Mr and Mrs Summers about what is going on. They are familiar with you, they trust you and I believe once we have them aware of our plans to bring this D character out of the shadows they will be more than happy to assist.’
‘I agree, Mrs Summers was a great help in Whitby to lure him into the open, I’m sure if I asked she would consider helping again.’
‘Whilst you are in London I would like you to see Mr Thomas in the missing persons office. D must have come from somewhere, and once we have the detailed portrait I would like us to try find out as much about him as possible. If we are lucky we will catch him first and he can tell us himself.’ Mr Sanders chuckled, which took me of guard. He had come across so serious up until now. I returned the gesture and sniggered at his so called humour.
‘There is also something else. For little over a month now Mrs Summers sister has been staying with her, she recently became widowed and decided to stay with her sister for a short time. However she left yesterday evening to return home, and unfortunately she never made it.’
‘Oh?’ Was the only thing I could manage.
‘She is dead detective.’
‘Do you have a suspect or are you thinking it was him?’
‘Yes I’m afraid the lack of motives to anybody else leads me only to believe it could be D. I so far have no other connections. Also the day before she left a small carriage used to carry post between Buckingham Palace and Kensington Palace went missing, the royal driver has still yet to be found. However, the horse and cart were found south of London in a little village just over ten miles away. Furthermore the body of a woman was discovered in a quiet lane not far from the village, we believe the two to be connected. We will need an official confirmation from Mrs Summers, however we are almost certain it to be the body of her sister.’
‘If this was D, then I wonder why he has taken out his frustration on her sister. Is Mrs Summers aware of what has happened?’
‘We do not think so. My worry now is that if your Yorkshire killer is the culprit then Mrs Summers is more than likely to be next on his hit list, and we need to get her to safety as soon as possible. The force will not allow me officers after the last time; they do not think I have enough evidence, so this is why I need you to assist me.’
‘Okay, that seems reasonable, I will head over there this evening and talk to Mr and Mrs Summers. If it was her sister who was killed, and D is the perpetrator then we don’t have any time to waste. I will head over tonight. She can then accompany me back here tomorrow morning to help identify the body of her sister.’
‘Excellent. The body is not here but please do bring her here first, we can ensure her that Scotland Yard is doing everything it can to keep her safe. She doesn’t need to know it’s only you and I at present.’
We shook hands and left his office. He escorted me out of the building and I was surprised to see the clock in the lobby read eight fi
fty. Mr Sanders informed me that cabs were usually available at the end of the street, and so I walked alone in search of one. Thankfully he was right, and a line of horse drawn carriages lined the side of the road. I instructed the driver, a teenage boy, of my destination and we were soon trotting down the roads of London. I wasn’t sure of the location myself, or how long it would take to get there, so sat back and enjoyed the sights and sounds of the big city. It was everything I had expected it to be, big, busy, polluted and a touch smelly. Yet despite its flaws the excitement it brought made me fully aware of why people loved it.
‘Excuse me sir,’ the driver turned back to me after twenty minutes, ‘is this the area you wanted?’ I peeked out of the cab and saw the street name on the side of the building; it read "Saint Vincent Street". I tried not to get angry with the boy and instead called over a police officer that was patrolling nearby. A tall thin fellow in the traditional tall hat and blue suit. He managed to give us instructions, to which the boy seemed to understand, and again we were off.
By the time we arrived in Vincent Square I could only imagine what time it must have been. I found the house with no difficulties and knocked on the door. The house was in darkness so I hoped I wasn’t waking them. To my surprise young Tom opened the door, but was clearly unable to see me in the dark and tried to slam the door shut. I felt terrible for scaring him.
***
We settled in the dining room, Tom had lit a number of candles and was starting to calm down after his fright.
‘What’re you doin’ ‘ere detective?’ He was still a little breathless.
‘I need to speak with Mr and Mr Summers; do you know where they are?’
D_Revenge Hits London Page 10
