I glanced at layers of black broken up by deep charcoal and silver striped silk, then lifted a shoulder. “Why ever not? There’s nothing wrong with the dress.”
My corset was pulled tightly over my silky chemise, my gloves were a soft, supple leather with covered buttons running up the sides, and my bustle was annoying me greatly. Judging from how uncomfortable I was, I’d say I was downright stunning this evening. If one could see beyond the dark circles refusing to relinquish their grip on my eyes or the way the midnight colors accentuated how pale I’d become.
The Edwards sisters wouldn’t approve of my color choice, but I didn’t quite care. I’d attended three more of Aunt Amelia’s royale teas, and though they weren’t as bad as I’d originally anticipated, it left less time for sleuthing.
“Anyway. It’s been nearly two weeks since Uncle was arrested,” I said. Neither Thomas nor I had found a scrap of information to exonerate him. “I’ll be dressed in the color of mourning until he’s freed, and I don’t care if it’s fashionable or not.”
Nathaniel sighed. “I suppose it works well enough for Her Royal Highness. If even the city of London refuses to be anything other than gray and dreary all the time, you might as well act the same.”
Blessedly, Aunt Amelia and Liza came down the stairs, looking resplendent in hues of emerald and turquoise, the precise color palette Victoria decided on during our last tea. Nathaniel bowed to them. “Good evening, Aunt, Cousin. You’re both visions.”
“You are too kind, Nephew,” Aunt Amelia replied, feigning humility. “Thank you.”
Liza came over and kissed my cheek, shaking her head ever so slightly.
“Your eyes look stunning this evening,” she said, looping her arm through mine, completely ignoring the drab color I was in. “I’m so pleased you’ve taken to the kohl. Thomas Cresswell certainly must be in love. Has he commented on it?”
I thought on our meetings. Thomas pretended to be more arrogant lately, commenting on how I’d made an effort for him. But then I’d catch him staring, as if he were trying to deduce and was unsuccessful for the first time. He wasn’t sure if I truly was doing it to entice his affections or for my own purposes, and I suspected it drove him mad.
Before I answered, Aunt Amelia waved the question away like a pesky gnat. “What does it matter? That boy won’t amount to anything in society. His family name might be good, but he’s destroyed any decent prospects. Audrey Rose has other, more accomplished suitors coming her way. Come, Liza.” She tossed her shawl about her shoulders and headed down the corridor. “We’ll see you both at the circus.”
“See you there.” My brother gripped a letter in his hand, crinkling its edges before smoothing it on his pressed pant leg. He reached for his comb but thought better of it. Thank goodness. I was certain if he touched one more strand of hair it’d run away, screaming in protest. The image almost made me smile before I caught myself.
“Are you certain you don’t want to change? I thought you were excited for the circus,” he said, defeated. “All you talked about for the last several months were the curiosities, menageries—and what of Jumbo? Poor chap’s finally coming home and you’re greeting him wearing the color of death? What kind of miserable welcome is that for an elephant who’s traveled half the world? Aunt Amelia and Liza look like precious stones, while you’re making your best coal impersonation. It simply isn’t right.”
He paced the parlor, hands twitching at his sides. “I’ve got it! How about we dress you in that horse costume? What was it called? ‘The Devil’s Auction,’ or something equally charming?”
I wanted to smile but couldn’t quite bring myself to do it convincingly. Months ago I cared about things like three-ring stages and larger-than-life elephants. I’d even laughed about the postcard we’d found with the strange horse-head-wearing performer.
“There are unsolved murders, and Uncle is being held under suspicion,” I said. “Now isn’t the time for levity.”
“Yes, yes. He along with a slew of other questionable characters,” Nathaniel said. “According to the papers, Scotland Yard’s throwing any person in a cell until their innocence can be proven irrevocably or until someone more frightening comes about. Uncle will have this sorted out, and you’ll have wasted time moping for nothing.”
“I’d hardly consider proving his innocence a waste of time.” Why police refused to let Uncle out of the asylum, I hadn’t a clue. Nathaniel was right: Uncle certainly wasn’t the only one being charged with the crimes. “News sources are something else entirely. I can’t believe you’re reading any of it.”
I’d never seen such sensationalist rubbish strewn across every cover. Reporters couldn’t get their fill of Leather Apron. They were creating a star out of a madman; glorifying a villain. The lengths people went through to sell a paper was nearly as disgusting as the crimes themselves.
“Awful though they may be, the papers offer some amusement, Sister.”
“Honestly,” I said. “The whole thing sours my stomach. Why turn a murderer of women into front-page news? I feel sorry for their poor families.”
That was enough dabbling in the strange and wonderful for me, thank you kindly. I needn’t waste time on distractions.
Nathaniel, however, was on a personal mission over the last twelve days to yank me from the depths of my despair. His answer to my troubles came in the form of two tickets to the “Greatest Show on Earth.” Protestations fell upon deaf ears, so I relented.
He’d had a disturbing amount of fabric brought over last week in the hope that a new, colorful frock would chase all the dark clouds away. If only life’s problems could be solved with a frilly dress and a pair of slippers. To hell with the world around us, so long as we looked our best.
“Let’s be on our way, then,” Nathaniel said, checking the grandfather clock. I followed him to the hansom cab, allowing the coachman to help me inside this time, relieved we were taking the fastest means of transportation we owned.
I sat in an inky puddle of expensive silks, rearranging my skirts to make room for my brother in the small carriage, my mind churning with different angles to study the case from.
Nathaniel sat beside me, looking like a child whose favorite toy had gone missing. I was a wretch of a sister. Here I was all wrapped up in my own mind, selfishly ignoring the people who were still very much present in my life.
“You know”—I squeezed his hand—“I’m getting rather excited about the circus after all.”
Nathaniel beamed, and I felt mildly redeemed in the court of good deeds, even if I’d lied to get there.
The Olympia was one of the most magnificent buildings in the kingdom; it rivaled even the palace in its splendor and sheer magnitude.
“Look. There it is,” Nathaniel said, pointing toward the building.
As our carriage pulled up to the enormous stone and iron compound, I watched a train chug by, puffing white clouds into the atmosphere in dizzying intervals.
Steam was a fascinating source of power; so readily available and used in so many varying applications. I thought again of Father’s unique drawings of old toys and war contraptions. They could be on display all across London, perhaps even in the menagerie here tonight, for hundreds of people to marvel at.
That was, if he hadn’t stopped making them.
The last train car screeched by and we were off again, making our way to the Olympia’s front entrance. People filed in four at a time, all but fighting to catch the first glimpse of the “Greatest Show on Earth.”
“Your friends are over there,” Nathaniel said. I caught sight of Victoria and her flock of emerald-colored parrots scanning the crowd, but luckily they disappeared into the building without seeing me.
“Shame we missed them,” I said. I hoped to avoid them as much as possible this evening. I liked them well enough but wanted to enjoy time alone with my brother.
Taking our coachman’s hand, I hopped down from the carriage, my heels catching in the cobblestones as I ma
de my way to the line.
“Do you smell that?” I asked. “Reminds me of Grandmama’s home.”
Spicy sweet incense wafted over the crowd, spilling out through the arched doorway, filling the warm night air with sultry richness. Against my better judgment, my heart joined the mayhem, soaring between my ribs as if it were one of the pretty ladies on the flying trapeze. Giving into childlike wonder, I grabbed my brother’s hand, dragging him through large doors and into the grandest room in the world.
Once inside, I slowly spun in place, my focus riveted on the domed ceiling.
“Nathaniel, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!”
The entire roof was made of glass and iron; each and every last star pricking the sky, it seemed, watched the jeweled crowd—showing off their own dazzling diamond smiles.
“Truly, you should spend more time among the living, Sister.” Nathaniel chuckled at my astonishment, but I couldn’t quite tear my attention from the mesmerizing night sky.
“Perhaps I will.” My hand fluttered to my heart, resting there, as I gazed at slender iron bars arching high above us. I wasn’t sure how such a thing was possible. “How can so much glass and metal be supported by a smattering of iron branches?”
It was utterly beautiful, reminding me of looking up through a forest of metal.
“Must be one of those engineering wonders of the world,” Nathaniel said, grinning. Somehow, he managed to escort me farther into the chaos.
Swathes of alternating black and brightly colored silk hung from rafters, acting as patricians while billowing toward the crowd, inviting us to come in and be hypnotized by exotic wonders.
Little bells and sparkling beads were sewn into the ends of the fabric with gold thread weighing it down, creating a melodic tinkling whenever someone walked in or out, stirring the breeze.
“Oh!” I gasped. The luxurious panels reminded me of Grandmama’s zardozi saris, except on a much grander scale. “Remember when Grandmama used to dress me from head to toe in the most elaborate saris? She told the best stories. She said Grandfather had been the British ambassador to India for only a fortnight before proposing.”
My younger self loved having the gold and crystal embroidered silk tied about my waist and draped over my arms as if I were a princess holding court in her finest gown. I’d listen intently while she detailed how Grandfather had fallen in love with her, claiming it was all due to her lively spirit. Given the fire that crackled in her soul now, I could only imagine what she’d been like in her younger years.
“Grandmama told me she’d refused him twenty times just for fun,” Nathaniel replied. “Said he squirmed like a cobra in a basket. That’s how she knew he was in love.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for future proposals.” Those memories warmed me as I took in the rest of the view.
Individual stands stood along the perimeter of the cavernous room, giving one the illusion of being in bustling outdoor marketplaces and bazaars of India. People sold everything from imported silks and cashmeres, to jewels, fragrant teas, and more food than the queen probably had at her Golden Jubilee.
Even little circus trinkets were available to take home, should one desire to do so. I found it hard resisting clockwork acrobats and mechanical tigers, prowling around one table.
“Oh, Nathaniel, look! We must get some.” Naan and bhatoora with chickpea curry caught my attention straightaway. My mouth watered with the promise of one of my favorite savory snacks. I couldn’t resist its charms, and soon I was dipping flatbread into the creamy chickpea curry and milling about the vendors like a happy child on holiday. I’d spied chicken curry and was certainly going to have some before we left.
“I’m opting for a less… messy version of food,” Nathaniel said, paying the vendor.
“Suit yourself.” I shrugged as he purchased a box of sweets instead.
After finishing our snacks, we glided through silk doors and feasted on the show. For a little while I forgot about blood and bolts, even asylums, heartache, and all the horror going on in the world—entranced instead by a stampede of around a hundred Arabian horses, prancing about in the most lavish decorations I’d encountered yet.
Gold chains were plaited through their glossy manes, catching the light and reflecting it back in prisms across their sleek faces, while dyed feathers of greens, yellows, and blues curled into the air a foot above their heads.
The horses were well aware of their magnificence, tipping their noses in the air, expecting everyone to oooh and ahhh appropriately as they passed by.
I shook my head. “If I’d known I’d be out-dressed by a bunch of equines, I might’ve at least worn a bodice with a few gemstones embellished on it.” Nathaniel laughed outright, and I stuck my tongue out. “Least I did my makeup and spritzed myself with that new perfume.”
“Next time perhaps you’ll listen to your older, wiser brother. Come.” Nathaniel gently tugged me from my wide-eyed wonder and led us to a gilded popcorn machine, looking as if it had been commissioned for the queen herself.
Feeling indulgent, we each got a bag, then were ushered to our seats by a silent woman wearing a yellow snake coiled around her throat like a living accessory.
Traditional mehndi paint swirled and wrapped around her palms, wrists, and feet. We’d passed a booth where women were being painted with enchanting designs.
“Oh.” I pointed it out to Nathaniel. “I must have my palms painted before we leave.”
The snake stuck its tongue out, tasting the air as we inched by, then hissed. Nathaniel nearly tripped over the man seated beside the aisle, trying to dodge the reptile. I ran my fingers over its large, leathery head as I passed—stifling a giggle as my brother’s eyes bulged and he swiped my hand away.
“Are you mad?” he whispered harshly. “That beast tried eating me whole, now you’re making a pet of it. Can’t you be normal and like cats?” He shook his head. “If we make it out alive I’ll buy you as many kittens as you’d like. I’ll even purchase a farm in the country where you can house hundreds of them.”
“Don’t be so squeamish, Nathaniel.” I playfully jabbed his arm. “Being terrified of an animal a woman’s parading around like a scarf isn’t very becoming, now, is it?”
With that he huffed, turning his attention on the new act crossing the stage, but I could see a smile curving his lips.
The show was everything it promised to be and then some. There were aquatic acts, more horse acts, and acts taking place high in the sky. Women dressed in outfits made entirely of crystal beads swung from one trapeze to the next—catching their partner’s corded arms before letting go and tumbling through the sky, fearless, shining, and free.
I glanced at my brother and noticed he was already watching me.
“It’s good to finally see you smiling, little Sister.” His eyes misted. “I feared I’d never get to see it again.”
I laced my gloved fingers with his. I hated seeing him upset on a night our worries should be continents away. I opened my mouth to comfort him, then snapped it shut as a shadow darkened my view.
An unwelcome patron stepped before us, bending slightly at the waist, before settling his gaze on me.
“Hello again, Nathaniel.” Blackburn extended his hand to my brother. “We met during your father’s unfortunate… incident. I also had the distinct pleasure of meeting your sister a couple weeks prior.”
Superintendent Blackburn offered me a polite smile, then returned his attention to Nathaniel, who sat stock-still. “I’m afraid I must speak with her for a few moments on official police business.”
SIXTEEN
A DATE TO DIE
BARNUM & BAILEY CIRCUS,
THE OLYMPIA, LONDON
25 SEPTEMBER 1888
Nathaniel sized the man up with the kind of scrutiny that made even me relieved I wasn’t on the receiving end of his look.
It was clear Nathaniel didn’t appreciate the intrusion on a night meant to be lighthearted, especially from Scotla
nd Yard, and he wasn’t shy in expressing those feelings. Even if the young man standing before us aided Father.
“I apologize, but it’s urgent.” Superintendent Blackburn swallowed hard, feeling the full force of a Wadsworth’s politely controlled wrath, but didn’t avert his gaze.
Brave or foolish man. I hadn’t quite made up my mind.
Perhaps bravery and foolhardiness were too closely related when it came to him. I narrowed my eyes. Now I knew why his name had sounded so familiar. “Exactly how many times did you save Father from the opium dens, only to send him back to us without any proper treatment, Superintendent?”
“Audrey Rose,” Nathaniel hissed, finally returning the firm shake, possibly a bit harder than necessary, as Blackburn subtly rubbed his hand afterward.
“It’s quite all right,” the superintendent said.
“My lovely sister’s a bit spirited. Your last meeting is a memory that’ll be burned into your mind for years to come, I’m sure.” Nathaniel’s tone implied teasing, but his eyes held no hint of humor. “Apologies, but were you calling on her regarding the awful murders in Whitechapel, then?” He shot me a worried glance. “No matter how strong her heart, I do not agree with bombarding her with this mess, time and again.”
“Afraid I can’t say much, as the case is still under investigation. But, yes. It has something to do with all that.” Blackburn pressed his lips into a firm line. He had a fine face for such a miserable human being. “I—I’m very sorry I was the one who took your uncle away. For what it’s worth, I think very highly of him.”
Nathaniel straightened his tie, but didn’t say another word. I feared he’d reach over and slap the officer with one of his discarded gloves should I show any more outward signs of being upset.
“Might I have a word with your sister now?” Blackburn held his hands up when I made to protest. “It’ll only be a minute. Contrary to what you both may believe, I don’t wish to disturb your evening.”
I couldn’t control the laughter from bubbling up my throat. “Oh, yes. Because you’re so concerned with disturbing people’s lives without due cause. How silly of me to forget. Arresting an innocent man and destroying his reputation is rather dull, now that you mention it. Why not ruin his niece’s evening as well?” I smiled sweetly. “Then you can add picking on innocent men and young women to your growing repertoire. Perhaps”—I tapped a finger against my lips in mock contemplation—“you should kick a child while you’re at it. Shall I help pick one out?”
Stalking Jack the Ripper Page 14
