by Madison Kent
They had received their menus, and he asked, “Would you like me to order for you? I don’t think you can go wrong with anything they have. The chefs and the kitchen staff deserve praise for the delicious meals they have served me so far.”
“I would like the lamb and asparagus with the fruit salad.”
“An excellent choice I have been told. Although I have not yet ordered it, I have heard it is very good.”
When the waiter appeared, he spoke “The lamb platter for the lady, and I will have the roast beef and potatoes and another bourbon.”
She put her head down to hide her smile, well; at least, she had one thing right.
She asked, “A newspaper reporter on his way to London, may I inquire as to what story have you been sent to investigate?”
“I am sure you have heard of Martha Tabram, a victim of a particularly cruel death allegedly murdered by a man nicknamed Jack the Ripper. All of New York is talking about it. The speculation and number of murders attributed to him are hard to sort out from fact or fiction. The theories as to who he is are as numerous, assuming it is a man.”
Madeline questioned, “Really, can you speculate that it could be other? That supposition does not seem to hold, the shear strength it would take to do such damage would make it unlikely.”
Jonathan continued, “It's the only information that still must be considered, to look at all angles. I want to get to know the people, and how it is affecting their lives to have this creature living among them. That is a compelling story, the fear, the shivering when you go to bed at night if he has or will strike again. I want to be able to tell the story of how all London perceives this threat.”
“I did not follow the story until recently, but I have this day read every written word I can find about it for it is unlike anything I have ever read about before. What information do you know about Martha?” she asked.
Mr. Franks replied, “I know that I would like to speak to a lady named “Pearly Poll”, she also shared the same occupation as Martha and was out with her that evening. I’ve heard conflicting stories about her stabbing and how they found her.”
“One of the newspapers reported three-hundred stab wounds. Could that possibly be accurate?”
“Unlikely. These are all the facts I want to sort out and try to make some sense of what people embellished and what is the truth. The difficulty will be that the inhabitants of the Whitechapel area are a rowdy bunch. If most of the eye witnesses or people who were about that night were all inebriated with spirit or opium, it might muddle the facts and their recollections may be the truth as they remember them. But if their state of mind was in a hallucinogenic state, their truth may not be real. That will be the challenge.”
“I envy you to be on such a conquest. Only men are privy to such occupations. Someday I hope that might change.”
“There are women that work at the Times. We have typesetters and translators…and.”
“Exactly,” she interrupted. “I mean as reporters, not assistants of some sort.”
He said, “I do suppose that time will come. It can be a dangerous game trying to follow a story, especially one like this. Not something I would think a woman would be interested in.”
Madeline requested, “I suppose you are right, but I would consider it a great favor if you would inform me of your updates on this story.”
“As much as I am able, but let us speak of other things not so disheartening. Have you ever seen anything like this domed ceiling?”
The Grand Saloon's domed ceiling allowed natural light to filter into the room. In the evening, the lights were dimmed so that the moon could shine into the room and you could see the night sky with its starlight.
She commented, “It is breathtaking, a masterpiece worth noting to whoever designed it. More beautiful in a way than a cathedral, for it is nature’s work of art that is showing through the glass.”
“I hope we may have dinner again sometime before we arrive in London," said Jonathan.
“That would be delightful—thank you for an enjoyable evening.”
Mr. Franks escorted Madeline to her cabin. It was almost midnight, and she found she had not found the time with him tedious at all. They had spoken of his travels and some of the stories he had covered that he found exciting. The most surprising fact to her was that he never asked about her marital status or any other personal matter, never even inquiring to why she was alone. For someone who is a reporter, she felt he must have shown restraint, and she respected him for that. She decided she would dine with him again if he asked.
She would continue writing in her journal another day. This had been a remarkable day with twists and turns that she would disentangle in the morning.
“Good-night, my angels,” she said as she ritually kissed the precious picture of her family.
Chapter Two
Out into the World Again
The bourbon’s sting, as it rolled down her throat, eased her spirit. It was her morning friend, and she deemed it medicinal for her ability to face the day. After all, even her father had condoned her participation in having spirits to calm her. The dawn’s sun was pushing through the porthole and dancing upon her bed. It was comforting to have the warm light surround her.
She retrieved her notebook and began writing.
August 13, 1888
Phillip has once again proved a friend, as he has helped me to forge an acquaintance with Mr. Franks, who I had otherwise chosen not to befriend. Mr. Frank’s position at the Times affords him the opportunity to obtain information about the “Ripper” case that I am interested in knowing about. It is appalling that women should be the victims of men’s delirium, whether it is attributed to drink, drugs or whatever else ails them. I have decided that I also want to know more of what has transpired at Whitechapel, and I will take it upon myself to do my investigation. I have no plan as to how I will do this yet, but I will think on it.
There are a mere three days before we arrive at our destination, and my plans to just observe and not participate in the ship’s activities will change. If I am to glean information and gain confidence, I must force myself to engage with my fellow travelers.
She saw her favorite deck chair and was inclined to go to that comfortable place of solace, but continued, hearing laughter; she walked in the direction of it. An elderly group of women sat together, some knitting, some playing cards, and some just rocking.
“Ladies, your laughter is contagious, and I felt I must come over and say good morning to you.”
“Please join us; it is not often that we have one so young in our midst. It will be a good change,” said the woman with the scarf tied around her head wearing a flowered dress. The ladies had a sweet plumpness that seemed natural for their age. They wore thick black shoes and had various colored shawls lying in their laps or on their shoulders, except one, Helen. They reminded her of her grandmother, now long passed, but still in her heart.
“I am Anna, and this is Sophie, Felicia, Grace, and Helen.”
“It is my pleasure to join you. I am Madeline, Madeline Donovan from America. You have an English accent. Are you traveling home or for a visit to your home?”
“It is to our beloved England we return, where we have long resided. Helen and I are sisters who have always yearned to visit America. The opportunity came upon us when an uncle of ours passed away, and we heard he had left us something in his will. We had traveled there to claim our inheritance. The rest of the girls, all now widowed, decided to join us, and we have been most grateful for their company,” said Anna.
“We have observed you in your solitude, but did not know whether we should venture to speak to you. We thought it wasn’t likely that you would enjoy the company of a bunch of old girls and their silly chatter,” said Helen, the lady who was slightly more petite, and dressed impeccably as if she were arriving at the opera.
“I must admit; I have just been so involved with my reading of late, that I have neglected any attempt to socia
lize about the ship. It is a flaw of mine that I am working to correct, but ladies, if you have read, A Study in Scarlet by Arthur Conan Doyle, I think you might be inclined to do the same. He has kept me so immersed in his book, that I hardly noticed the time passing. You must read it, if you have not,” she smiled back at them.
“We do claim that authors of any note have all come from England. Perhaps that is too bold a statement to make, but I say it,” said Sophie, the heaviest of them, adorned with small, odd shaped spectacles, and who had the heartiest of laughs.
“I agree with you. Have any of you heard of this character Sherlock?” said Madeline.
“I cannot speak for everyone, but I have not. We have been in America these last two months and have not heard the English gossip we so looked forward to each day. He is unknown to us,” said Anna.”
“Ladies, I have my copy here with me, the pages already frayed, as I have read it almost twice now. Will you not read it with me in a round table reading? We will take turns. I guarantee you the afternoon will pass like the wind,” said Madeline.
Madeline wished to gain the confidence of the ladies, not just because she wished to gather information about the Ripper, but because she genuinely liked them.
Phillip came by as the ladies arranged themselves to begin the reading and ordering of refreshments.
“Mrs. Donovan, I am happy to see you in such good humor and with a group of the finest ladies in all of England as your company. May I get your Darjeeling and absinthe?” asked Phillip.
“Well, today just tea,” but before Phillip had finished taking the order of the other ladies, she added, “Phillip, perhaps you are right, the absinthe will do nicely. The ladies and I must not be parched as we set out on our journey with Mr. Holmes.”
And so they began their reading of A Study in Scarlet. Madeline volunteered to begin the first chapter, which described the meeting of Sherlock and Dr. Watson and their subsequent decision to take set up residence together at 221 Baker Street.
When they had stopped to sample some pastries Phillip had brought them, Mr. Franks happened upon them and requested to be included in the reading, after which all the ladies giggled and welcomed him to join the circle.
When they had completed about half the manuscript, Mr. Franks said, “Ladies, the hour is almost upon us for supper, and I insist that you all be my guest.”
At first, feeling timid, they declined, but agreed when the place chosen was not as glamorous or expensive as the Grand Saloon. It was a small café that served simple food, with just ten choices on the menu. Located in the second class dining area, it maintained crisp, white tablecloths and hard, brown chairs.
“At seven then, ladies, I shall escort you in. Now, I expect you all to dazzle me with your best attire,” he said with a wink at Helen.
“Mr. Franks, we will look forward to it,” said Felicia.
“We all will,” chimed in Anna.
Taking him aside, Madeline said in a hushed voice, “You are kind to them. I am sure they will be talking more about your gallantry than that of Mr. Holmes.”
“It was not kindness at all. It was impossible not to have asked. I don’t remember when I have had such a pleasant afternoon, and now you have no excuses left not to discuss the book with me. They are wonderful; there is something so genteel and good about growing older. I think one loses all manner of pretense and allows themselves the luxury of being genuine.”
“Yes, there is an immediate trust, something I can’t quite put my finger on, but that feeling of safety and warmth that comes with honesty and openness.”
“I look forward to seeing you again,” said Mr. Franks.
Returning to her cabin, Madeline decided to wash her long hair, which had looked matted and unflattering, and she once again realized how little concern she had taken with her general appearance. She would attempt to rectify that a bit. She would braid her hair, add a fresh flower to it and wear the Wedgewood blue waistcoat over her black dress. That would give her, at least, a hint of color. She barely remembered what she had looked like without the gloom of her black clothing shrouding her face and making her appear gaunt and colorless.
She had found, to her surprise, that she liked being in the company of the ladies and Mr. Franks and wondered if maybe she could begin to live again.
When she arrived, they were already greeting each other and ready to go into dinner. Mr. Franks escorted each lady, one by one, to their table. She smiled to think that he probably was a good man, but that she never would find out for certain.
“We have had the fish and chips, and they are excellent, of course, not as good as Mr. Bimby’s right down the street from us, but still good,” said Felicia, who had a slight double chin, but a good crop of meticulously groomed silver hair.
Sophie and Grace, twin sisters, sat together, sometimes even holding hands and agreeing with everyone almost all the time.
“Yes,” said Sophie “I will have that and so will my sister, Grace.”
She then continued, “Mr. Franks, Madeline has told us of the story you are working on, and it is as intriguing to us as the book we are reading. It is a frightening story, and I dare say, we will be returning to Whitechapel with much reluctance.”
“I am not sure what you mean, Sophie,” said Mr. Franks.
“Sir, we reside fairly a stone’s throw away from the madness. I can tell you; I do not relish going back to my home after this.”
“Sister”, said Grace, “we are a good six blocks away and in that part of town, it may as well be fifty miles. We are never affected by the goings on in Whitechapel, other than to gossip about it.”
“I am curious about the area. What is it like? We also have our unsavory areas in the city, but from the newspaper accounts; it seems the area is just a den of problems unto its own, with law enforcement looking the other way,” said Madeline.
“Madeline, you would be shocked if you saw the conditions that exist there, poverty can be a cruel master. Many of the women start out trying to get a little extra in their money jar to feed their children or pay the rent, but they go in and never come out,” said Anna.
“Some of our friend’s children have gone the way of Whitechapel, and they never see them again. Even though they live a short distance from them, it is a social boundary that separates them until they hear of their death or imprisonment,” said Helen.
“Madeline, you must come for tea when we arrive,” said Anna. “Perhaps we can continue with our reading circle, discovering other new authors.”
“I accept your offer. We must all exchange our contact information. I will be staying at the Hotel George, but I may travel to other areas during my stay,” said Madeline.
“Only two days left, I will miss the company of you lovely ladies, but I am anxious to start my investigation into this horror story. It appears the Ripper is targeting the ladies of the night, so I believe none of you will be in any danger, but I would caution you, nonetheless, to be wary and travel together should you stroll out into the evening,” said Mr. Franks.
“Do you have further information?” asked Madeline.
“We know poor Martha was stabbed some 30 times, not 300, but cut in such a maniacal manner as no man, but monster, would do and left to bleed to death at the top of the stairs of a flat in the area. A cab man found her there upon his arrival home after completing his nights work. Cries and screams into the night, along with all manner of noise are typical in this area, and perhaps that is why no one heard her cries for help. Either that or death was so swift that she did not have time to scream. It is hard to fathom that someone inflicted wounds such as these in a populated area and that no person should have seen it. Too cruel an end for someone…it is the tragedy of humanity,” said Jonathan.
Anna shivered and grabbed the hand of her sister, Helen, and Madeline could see that there was enough to this conversation.
“Perhaps we should change the topic,” suggested Madeline.
“I just was thinking of
one of our own. Our deceased brother’s girl, Mary Ann, has been known to frequent Whitechapel. It is most unfortunate; her mother died of the cholera, and her father died of the drink. We tried to help her, but we did not have the means to support her, and she took early to the street. Sister, I think we must make an effort to find her and take her in, no matter the sacrifice, at least until this killer is apprehended,” said Anna.
“Maybe I can help with that, also. I will go to Whitechapel with you,” said Madeline.
“Mrs. Donovan, do you think that is wise? If you go, please take a male escort with you. I may be able to go with you, as I plan to spend some time in that area,” said Mr. Franks.
“I think you underestimate the female population. We are not as helpless as you may think, and we will go together, but thank you for the offer,” said Madeline.
“I have two more days to try to convince you otherwise, and I will make it a priority to see all of you tomorrow,” said Mr. Franks.
These days at sea had proved busier than she had anticipated, and she welcomed returning to her cabin. She had little sleep of late but thought she would take the time to write in her journal. She always placed the picture of her husband and children directly in front of her, so she could frequently look up and smile at them.
August 14, 1888
The ladies of the reading circle have surprised me with their forward thinking and their knowledge of politics and history. I was remiss in believing that their world concerns only frivolities and an easy life of games and reading. That is my narrow youthful vision that I will endeavor to improve. I have an uneasy feeling that due to their proximity to Whitechapel that they might be in some danger. Maybe it is my fondness for them that is clouding my judgment, but I will make it my purpose now of visiting with them, and see if I can assist in finding their niece. There is no new information on the “Ripper”, but the papers report many scenarios, most of which are only the individual journalist’s speculation as to what might have happened and no factual news.
