by Kim Wright
“Close enough to scare him off?” Tom asked.
“That’s exactly what Davy Mabrey thinks, that Jack may move on somewhere of his own accord. I envy you younger men your optimism, and who knows, perhaps you’re right. But here’s the thing. Whether the Ripper is in London or not, I fear he has opened up some sort of door that others will now walk though. He will always be with us in some form or another, just as Jesus said about the poor.”
“The criminal of the future,” Tom said.
“Precisely. A modern man. Death for the sake of death and this is uncharted territory for the Yard, a sort of new world order.” Trevor thoughtfully chewed his sausages. “So yes, the next time I fall into my bed, which may be months from now, I will take a moment to send up a prayer asking God to please let young Tom and young Davy be right. That we have frightened Jack off and that we have – if not a conclusion, at least an ending. And if that ending is not entirely happy, it is at least one we can all live with precisely because we all lived.” He looked at Geraldine. “Emma and Leanna are better today, I trust?”
“They both took breakfast.”
“Good. I will give them my best before I go.”
“Trevor, what would we do without you?” Geraldine said.
“Gad, Auntie, that’s precisely what you said to John last night,” Tom said, as Trevor left the room. “You’re quite the coquette, are you not? Going from one man to another, declaring you can’t live without any of them. Oh, and there’s an equally good chance he might be our brother-in-law,” he said to William, who turned again to look up the stairs.
“They both seem all right,” William said.
“But it’s true,” Geraldine went on, setting down her teacup with a clatter. “We don’t have a practical skill among us and Trevor and John have held us up during this whole appalling mess.”
“I beg your pardon,” William said, smiling. “But very soon I shall have any number of practical skills.”
“Well she’s right enough about me,” Tom said, smiling too. “I was a detective for precisely one day and managed to sprain my ankle, dislocate my shoulder, and be knocked to my arse by a stampeding mob.”
“It’s lucky that we’re rich,” Geraldine said, with a sigh. “Come, Gage, I’ll help you clean up in the kitchen. Don’t look at me like that. You heard Trevor. There’s a new world order.”
7:45 AM
Trevor met John on the stairway, coming down. The two men looked at each other for a moment and then John dropped his bag and sat down on one of the steps.
“Congratulations,” he said. “Your path is clear. All she could talk about is where Trevor could be, when Trevor is coming, how profusely she must thank Trevor.”
Trevor shook his head. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it? What chance do I have now?” John Harrowman was staring up at him, mixed feelings evident on his face. “You’ve saved her life, for which I am abundantly grateful….”
“In the line of duty.”
“Perhaps, but in the process you’ve become the dashing hero.”
“If I saved her, I saved her for you, as you must surely be aware.”
“You don’t intend to court her?”
“No. I don’t think I ever really did,” said Trevor, realizing as he said it that it was true.
John awkwardly pushed to his feet. “I suppose you think I’m an ingrate, speaking like this after you’ve done so much.”
“What I think is that you’re exhausted and suffering from delayed shock, as are we all. No apologies are necessary. We simply go forward. You’ll see to your patients and I’ll see to my criminals, which we both have in endless supply.”
John nodded uncertainly and walked down the stairs and out the front door. Trevor finished climbing the stairs and stood first in Emma’s doorway, then Leanna’s, speaking to each of them in turn. Leanna’s voice was raspy and he waved her silent when she tried to thank him, and Emma had been nearly asleep, so Trevor kept the visits brief. There was nothing left to say to Leanna, not really, and the things he needed to tell Emma would wait for another day. He dallied just long enough to give John time to leave the house and to make sure Geraldine and Gage were busy in the kitchen, then he went down the stairs where Tom and William were still sitting at the breakfast table.
“We must talk,” he said quietly.
“Indeed,” said Tom. “We’ve been waiting. Who on earth hired that creature to kill Leanna?”
Trevor pulled up a chair across from them and fumbled for a way to begin.
“Micha’s confessions are not the easiest to understand. His English is suspect under the best of circumstances and last night he was raving with rage and shaking with cold. He will stay in jail a long time on the charges of assault and attempted murder, so there’s a chance we’ll get more out of him at a later date. He claimed it was not his idea, which is probably true, and then he told us a tale that originally I found a bit hard to believe. But we’ve done some checking, and it seems his statements were accurate.”
Trevor took a breath.
“Go on,” Tom said, suspicions beginning to grow in him. William had still not looked up from his plate.
“Micha claimed he was hired by two men, one of them a local named Georgy. We had no trouble locating him, and this Georgy, in turn, claimed not to know the name of his co-conspirator. But he was quite sure of one thing. When the time came to pay Micha this second man had gotten the money by pawning something of value. Georgy lead us to the pawn shop first thing this morning and the owner did indeed remember the transaction. Not only are items of this quality a rarity in the East End, but his customer, he said, insisted upon a written receipt.” Trevor reached into his pocket, withdrew his notebook, and pulled a folded piece of paper from the pages.
“You see the signature,” he said, pushing the receipt toward the brothers. “Looks as if he started to write a ‘C’ and then thought the better of it and changed it to an ‘E.’ Do either of you know a man named Edmund Solmes?”
“Edmund Solmes is our brother Cecil’s solicitor,” William said, sinking back in his chair. “But I assure you, he wasn’t the one to sign that receipt.” Trevor nodded and William put a fist to his lips. “I knew Cecil had come to a desperate point but I swear to God I never thought – “
Trevor shook his head. “No one’s suggesting that you did. I took the liberty of redeeming this item, which I believe belongs to your mother.” He extracted a folded handkerchief from his other pocket and carefully unwrapped the opal and diamond brooch. The sight of it shattered the last remnants of Tom’s composure.
“I can hardly believe it,” he said. “Cecil is vain and lazy, yes, but to picture him as a murderer - “
“You only say that because you haven’t been home these past months,” William said. “His decline has been swift enough to rival a character in a Greek tragedy and I’m the one to blame for not seeing where he was headed. So,” he added, looking across the table at Trevor. “Cecil has almost killed our mother with worry and has now attempted to murder our sister outright. Please tell me you can find him.”
“We’ll certainly try. But I must warn you that, given his proximity to the docks the odds are he’s already fled. Does he have a favorite place, friends on the continent? Somewhere he might try to go?”
“He likes Paris,” William said bitterly.
“I have a colleague there I will contact,” Trevor said. “But since finding him is, in the language of the tracks, a long shot, there’s one more thing to discuss. Should we tell Leanna?”
“She thinks it was the Ripper,” Tom said. “A random attack.”
“It will come out soon enough that the man we caught isn’t the Ripper,” Trevor said. “But she still might accept it was a random attack. A robbery attempt, a scam built around the lie of Mary Kelly’s child. That is what she is primed to believe and we could let her rest in that belief.”
“And so we shall,” William said decisively. “She doesn’
t need to hear this story and neither does our mother. Cecil always spoke of going abroad to seek a rich wife. America, isn’t that where all the fortune hunters go? They’ll accept that explanation for his absence readily enough.”
Tom nodded at Trevor. “William’s right. Mother and Leanna needn’t know. “
“It’s an infuriating image,” William said. “Cecil in his deck chair, sailing for America.”
“If he’s sailing, he’s hardly in a deck chair,” Trevor said, turning the receipt back toward them. “Did you notice how much Cecil got for your precious family heirloom?”
Tom and William leaned toward the paper and then both erupted into laughter.
“Perfect,” Tom said. “I bet he pissed his pants.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
8:20 AM
When Cecil Bainbridge awakened tangled in fishing nets, the irony was not entirely lost upon him. He fought his way free from his briny nest and forced open the top of the crate where he’d hidden the night before. The sun was blinding, so he lay back for a moment with the lid ajar, waiting until his eyes gradually adjusted and he could find his way out. The dock was filled with activity and Cecil crouched a few minutes more behind the crate, watching the people stream by. Not likely to see that Severin character again, he told himself. At least not in broad daylight. Finally Cecil stepped out and stretched, then began his cautious way along the waterfront.
There were a few forgotten coins left in his pants pocket. Perhaps enough for a plate of eggs or whatever people ate for breakfast in this godforsaken part of the city. The day may have been bright , but the wind coming off the water was brisk enough to send shudders through Cecil’s body and he went into the first pub he could find and took a seat at the bar.
“G’day, Sir,” the barmaid said.
“Is it?” Cecil was not only damp and dirty but cramped from hip to shoulder. It was nearly too much for a fastidious man to bear. But he was comforted to know that something about his presence still commanded respect from a serving girl.
He dug the coins from his pocket and placed them, in a neat line, on the counter before him.
“What can I get for this?”
“Toast ‘n kippers?”
He nodded. His eyes stung with salt and sleep and the remains of last night’s alcohol but down the bar a bit he could see an abandoned newspaper. An early edition, thin and incomplete as they often were, but he leaned over and seized it. The headline said RIPPER THWARTED and beneath it was a picture of the stolid looking man he’d seen the night before in the Pony Pub and a sprig of a boy who apparently was his assistant. They stared out of the grainy photograph as if they had been startled by the flash.
Cecil grimly skimmed the article then dropped the paper with a sigh. Both Micha and Georgy had been taken into custody and were likely singing their story to Detective Welles at this very moment.
He’d failed. Leanna and Severin were both quite utterly alive and if one of them didn’t manage to pull him down, the other doubtless would. He may as well finish his breakfast. He had paid everything he had in the world for it, and besides to his great surprise, it looked good. The kippers fried crispy, the bread fat and brown. Cecil bit into it with the concentration of a priest. There is a certain strange freedom that sets in when things have gotten as bad as they possibly can, he thought, a strange certainty that comes when there is only one thing left to do.
The answer was clear enough. Run. The continent, perhaps, for he had always been fond of Paris and Vienna. But those fair cities required scads of money and Cecil lacked even enough for a channel passage. He continued to steadily eat as he thought, not overly concerned with an analysis of where his plan had gone awry, for he suspected he would have more than enough hours ahead of him to replay the whole affair in his mind. Leanna was a damned lucky chit and perhaps that was all there was to it. He, in contrast, had apparently been cursed by the gods at birth.
He left his last coin in gratuity, more from habit than compassion, and the girl squealed “Come back again, Sir.”
Not bloody likely, Cecil thought, as he pushed open the scarred door and walked back into the dizzying brightness of the waterfront. A dozen or so fishing ships were to be found in the first basin but he walked swiftly by these, his boots skidding on the dock. Three larger ships lay in the next basin and at the first one he was abruptly turned away. The second was christened the Injured Pride which seemed to be a favorable omen, and Cecil walked up the ramp. The captain was too busy pouring over a pad of paper with a stubby pencil to return his greeting, but a half-dozen or so young boys scurrying about stopped to give him a proper stare.
“May I ask when you’re leaving, Sir?” Cecil began.
“You may ask and I may answer,” the captain snorted, spitting into a cup. Then, glancing up, “The tide turns at two this afternoon. What’s it to you?”
“Do you by any chance need an extra hand for the voyage?”
“You don’t look experienced.”
This was an undisputable observation, but Cecil knew he had to get out today, not tomorrow or the next. The captain turned and Cecil extended an arm to block his progress. “I won’t pretend I’ve been to sea, but I’m twenty-four, in good health and I can learn.”
The captain looked at him through rheumy blue eyes. “You haven’t asked wages.”
“I don’t care. I’m seeking passage.”
“You haven’t asked where we be bound.”
“I don’t rightly care that either.” Cecil hesitated. “Sir.”
Surprisingly, this proved to be the proper answer, for the captain leaned against the ship railing and looked Cecil from top to bottom, his face contorting in contempt when his glance fell upon his supple leather boots. “Well, everyone is running from something,” he finally allowed. “I daresay most of my crew didn’t turn to the sea as a first choice of life’s work.”
I bet the Virgin you’re right on that, Cecil thought, his eyes flitting from the rotting floorboards to the frayed rigging. The tub scarcely looked seaworthy.
“We’re short-handed true enough, Cap’n,” piped up one of the ragged boys who had been carrying provisions aboard. “What with poor Andy knockin’ up that wench and Harry down with the misery and a six week passage ahead.”
“Um,” said the captain, his interest in the subject obviously fading fast. “So grab one of the crates below, and come aboard. What’d you say your name was?”
“Jack,” Cecil blurted.
“Then fetch up a load and be quick on it. Today’s your schooling and by tomorrow you’ll be expected to be pulling your weight or you’ll be food for the fishes, right enough.”
“Aye, Sir,” muttered Cecil. The crates had no handles and he struggled to get the first one aloft, nearly pitching it into the water in the process to the great amusement of the rest of the crew. “Where are we headed?” he gasped out to the boy beside him, the one he supposed he had to thank for his job.
The boy shrugged, wiping sweat from his face. “Argentina, mate.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
December 4
11:45 AM
As the train sped through the slush and wet snow toward Rosemoral, Gerry tactfully napped so that John and Leanna were essentially alone in the back seat of the compartment, gazing out the broad window. He leaned forward and grasped both of her hands in his.
“Sometimes,” he said. “I wonder if this is all happening too fast.”
She shook her head. “It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago I was a country girl, waiting weeks for a single ball, my whole life tied to the change of seasons. For that Leanna, almost any change was too fast. But now, I feel ready for whatever comes next.”
“Will your mother approve of me?”
“I’m sure.” It amused her to think that after all they had been through John still believed that he would have to ask her mother or her brothers for permission to court her. Just a few days earlier he’d received an anonymous benevolence from the countr
y for his clinic, a donation which had surprised him, but which he believed was a delayed result from one of his fund-raising trips to parishes and garden clubs. The check had given him confidence, at least enough to accept her invitation to Rosemoral.
She pulled her wrap a little more tightly around her. “Do they have any tea in the dining car, do you suppose?”
“My guess would be yes,” he said. As he made his way up the rattling aisle, Leanna leaned back, thinking of Rosemoral, where her mother waited with William and Tom and where she was sure certain pivotal decisions would be made before this visit was complete. It’s a second chance for us all, Leanna thought. Our chance to be a completely different sort of family.
“Are you comfortable, Miss?”
She smiled up at the conductor, who stood in the compartment door. “Oh yes,” she said. “It’s such a lovely day for a journey, isn’t it?”
The conductor was a bit taken back by this response and glanced out the window into the gloomy slush. “Is there anything you need, Mistress?” he repeated.
“I truly am - oh. Oh dear, you want my fare. Of course.” Leanna stood, straightening her skirts with embarrassment. Perhaps at heart she still was an idiotic child. Now where was her purse? Geraldine was sleeping the sleep of the dead, slumped against a pile of their bags, and Leanna could not remember which one held the small blue pouch with her pounds. “Just a minute,” she said, flustered. “I assure you the money is here somewhere.”
John strode up behind the conductor and slipped a bill into this gloved hand. “Here, Sir, and keep the change in fair trade for the time we have cost you.”
“Yes Sir, thank you Sir,” the conductor said, beaming at Leanna as though she were the Queen. Then he left them alone and both John and Leanna began to laugh.
“You never seem to have any money.”
“So you do remember the first time we met.”
