“Think of it no more this night.” She clasped him by the hand and led him from the room.
∞∞∞
The night, despite William’s exhaustion, was a restless one. Faces from his past swam in and out of his dreams. Mary Kelly lay slaughtered on a bed, but the image smiled and made lewd suggestions. His old friend Gaetan sat at his own graveside and sang rude songs, which they had both learned as young officers of the 66th Regiment of Foot. When William called out to his friend, but he drifted away, becoming no more than a wisp of smoke in the breeze. The images proved too disturbing for him to carry on sleeping. He rose without waking Emily and quietly journeyed downstairs.
The house was silent; he tried his best to keep it that way. He moved stealthily toward the back of the house. He knew the servants that kept the machinations his home running smoothly had left for the evening. At the end of each day they would travel back to Emily’s family home. It had been a tough move on Emily, leaving a home that she had grown accustomed to over many years. William admired her determination not to inflict that sadness upon her staff. The employees would spend their time between the two households. A simple task, as William and Emily did not have any interest in hosting lavish dinners for the elite of London. It was their space; only true friends were allowed to cross the sacred threshold.
William slipped into the kitchen. Obadiah was sat at the table, a single candle’s flame highlighting a bottle of William’s favourite whiskey. The elderly employee, without acknowledging the presence of his master, poured the golden liquid into a second glass.
“It is not often that we sleep beneath the same roof. I was hoping that the demons that plague your dreams had fallen to slumber.” The old man used his foot to push a chair away from the table and so allow the boy whom he helped grow into a man, to be seated.
“They have been mere whispers in recent times,” William replied. It always amazed him how his old friend seemed to know his every thought.
“You take these killings to heart. The responsibility lies with the killer. It is too heavy a burden on your shoulders.”
“Each day that passes brings us closer to more death. In truth old friend, I know before the killer is brought to justice I am more than likely going to have more blood on my hands. I have had my fill of ripping men from this world.”
“They never truly leave,” Obadiah’s face highlighted his sorrow, “faces etched in our minds.”
William had never really questioned Obadiah about his life before he entered service for his father. However, from the small details that his old friend had let slip on nights such as this, he had learnt that Obadiah’s early years within the London streets had been both brutal and bloody. William did not want to press his friend for more facts.
“I am sure the Ripper is behind Kostya’s murder.” William steered the conversation onto safer ground.
“Then, there will be more deaths. This is London, death flows through the streets like wine. Put from your mind those that may die. The pressure of those thoughts will close your eyes to what you need to see. Do not rush to an unseen destination without making sure you’re going in the right direction.” The old man paused to pour each of them another drink. “Your Father sends word that he will be detained on business for at least a week. He hopes that you and Emily will delay your visit until he returns.”
“Of course. How is he?” William replied noticing that Obadiah had purposely changed conversation.
“In good spirits. He has put me at your disposal while he is away.”
“It is good to have you here, old friend.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Just stay close to Emily. Keep her safe for me.”
Obadiah nodded his agreement to the task. The conversation switched to more trivial concerns. Cloveney Hall, William’s family home was discussed in great detail. More of the night, and the whiskey, disappeared as William and his old friend enjoyed each other’s company.
Chapter 10
When William woke the next morning, he was slumped over the kitchen table. He lifted his head cautiously, his bleary eyes focusing on the empty bottle of Bushmills whiskey. The drained vessel explained the pounding within his head. He sat upright, the vertebrae of his spine voicing their concern at being forced to sleep in such an uncomfortable position, rather than in the comforting embrace of a bed. The kitchen door swung open to reveal a whistling Obadiah.
“That’s a very good impression of a songbird, Obadiah, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for this time of the morning,” William croaked. His throat was feeling the effects of the harsh Bushmills whiskey consumed the previous night.
“It’s a fine morning, and some of us can handle a drink.” Obadiah answered as he he busied himself moving pans and crockery. The pans clanged loudly against each, which seemed to delight the old man.
William ignored the insult and noise, despite the awful cacophony that pierced his sensitive head, making his headache so much the worse. He was sure Obadiah was trying his best to find any implement with which to turn sound into a blade, and use it to pierce deep into his sensitive head.
“Is Emily awake?” William asked.
“Do you mean, did she see you slobbering over the table in a drunken heap?” Obadiah gave William a knowing stare. “She has gone to get supplies. I ushered her through the front door before she could lay eyes on your tragic form.”
“Supplies?”
“Apparently with Naismith arriving this morning, she has taken it upon herself to invite the rest of the men. She told me that Slaughter Yard was cold, unwelcoming and not good for their spirit.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that,” William replied, slightly amused at Emily summoning his men like a Colonel of the ranks. “I had best prepare for their arrival then.” As he stood up the chair fell backwards, clattering as it tumbled to the floor. William put a hand to his forehead as if it would help.
“Would you like me to carry you upstairs, sir?” Obadiah gave him a wry smile, as if he heard all William’s muscles and joints cry out their discomfort.
“Thank you, Obadiah, I think I can manage.”
∞∞∞
Twenty minutes later, William finished dressing and from his room’s window peered down into the street. At first, he did not notice the figure, which was unmoving, its stare fixed firmly on William’s household. When at last he did behold the finely dressed man, he was instantly filled with rage and loathing. The rage was easy to explain; the man had no business being so close to his family home. The loathing was a more natural, almost beast-like instinct. William could not explain his hatred against the man, but it chewed at his insides. Suddenly, he realised that his stare was being met by John Smith. The gatherer of news smiled and then tipped his hat. Smith strolled down the street as though he had not a care in the world, ignorant of the fury he awoke within William. He was tempted to chase after the man, grasp him by the throat and demand to know the reason of his presence. However, a knock sounded downstairs and signalled the arrival of guests. His meeting with Smith would have to wait; although, he was sure, it would happen in the not too distant future.
By the time William had descended the staircase, the sound of pleasant conversation could be heard in the drawing room. On entering the room, he saw Naismith engaged in conversation with Abberline. Emily played host by attempting to put Tom and John Branford at ease; the pair were clearly feeling too far from of their natural environment. William was about to speak when another knock sounded at the door.
William moved toward the door, half expecting John Smith to be standing on the other side. He used rather more force than was needed to pull it open. Jack and Gossup were visibly taken aback by the way William flung aside the door.
“Is there a problem William?” Jack asked as William into to the street beyond.
“Errm – no, sorry.” William paused as he scanned the street in both directions. Gradually, he realised his two friends were still waiting patiently
to be admitted. “Please come in,” he announced in a less than convincing attempt to be enthusiastic. As the two men entered and William banished the outside world by closing the door, William finally noticed Gossup’s attire. He knew that Gaetan, a friend who had fallen to a blade the previous year, had left Gossup a small fortune. He also knew that Gossup had promised to change his ways, but until this day, William had been less than confident in the former private’s ability to rise phoenix-like from the grime of the London streets. “That’s a fine suit, Gossup.”
“Prisoners in irons know more comfort.” Gossup fingered the collar to his shirt. “It might well make the toffers take an interest.” William looked bemused by Gossup’s words but rather surprisingly it was Emily that came to his rescue.
“What Gossup means William, is that the very best of prostitutes will let him visit their bed.” She laughed and then hugged Gossup. “The suit looks wonderful. I still think the shorter jacket would have suited you best.”
“This helps hide the tools of my trade,” he gave a devilish grin.
“Keep the short jacket and change your trade.” Emily was suddenly serious; she placed a hand on the veteran soldier’s cheek. “There’s evil in this city. If it was possible, I’d take you all from its filth.” Gossup was shocked by the sudden display of affection.
“There’s no evil that can stand against this bunch of bastards. William may well be of a gentler breeding, but he’s the biggest bastard among us.”
“Thank you for those words of endearment,” William replied without a hint of sarcasm. However, his stare was fixed firmly on Emily. He could see that the beginnings of teardrops were forming, so he placed a consoling hand around her waist.
“I’m sorry. I am just being silly.” She dabbed her eyes on a handkerchief and when the cloth dropped from her face, the smile had returned. “I hope you do not mind William. I have arranged for us all to take a lunch at the park. I have sent word to the professor.”
“It’s a splendid idea,” William lied.
“Gentlemen, you are all invited, and I will not entertain your refusal.” As she finished talking, Bessie entered the room. More than a couple of the men in the room fell silent; their mouths open as they were struck mute by the beautiful creature that had suddenly arrived. Gone was the serving girl apparel; Bessie now stood proud in one of Emily’s dresses. Jack invited Bessie to take a seat; he was never one to miss the chance to impress a beautiful woman. Emily leant in close to William, “You never looked at me like that, when I wore that dress.”
“What have you done to her?”
“Nature has given her the assets. I simply placed a small amount of polish.”
“Well she may well be the second most beautiful woman in London,” he smiled.
“Oh, nice try.” She gave him a playful slap.
***
Two hours later, Hyde Park was playing host to the outdoor lunch arranged by Emily. As William sat and watched his men enjoy the lavish food and drink provided by his lover, the professor quietly sat down next to him. For a time, he merely joined his friend in watching the revelry and picked the shell from a boiled egg.
“Intelligent woman you have there, William.”
“Intelligent?” William knew that Emily possessed a keen intellect but was at a loss as to why organising this event would prove the case.
“She knows people. Protecting the people of London is a fine task, but it’s far too grand for mortal men to grasp. Fighting for your friends, protecting those close by. Now that is something they can all appreciate. She’s giving you the tools to win. She adds love to loyalty, friendship to duty.”
“Then we had best join the rest. It would not do to let her work go to waste.” William replied, feeling his great love and admiration for Emily intensify.
The two men joined the group, and alcohol flowed, so did the sound of laughter. A nearby military band played and soon singing and dancing made passers-by stop to observe. The revelry continued for some time; even the usually reserved Abberline was caught up in the joyful experience. It wasn’t until two constables approached that he tore himself away from dancing with the delightful Bessie. A note was exchanged and the constables given permission to leave. William noticed the change in Abberline’s face and moved to his friend’s side.
“A problem?” he asked.
“No... not really. My replacement is here; I shall be leaving in a few days.” William could tell that the experienced inspector was less than thrilled at the prospect.
“It won’t be for long.” William admitted to himself that he had no wish to lose the support and knowledge of the streets that Abberline offered.
“Oh!” A muffled shriek sounded from behind the two men. As they turned, they observed Bessie with her hand clasped over her mouth.
“What is it?” William asked. His hand instinctively moved towards the pistol concealed within his jacket.
“A message – I forgot about the message.”
Emily moved to Bessie’s side. She placed a comforting arm around the girl. “Calm yourself, Bessie. Now tell us what message are you talking about?”
“I had only just got my position in Mr. Kostya’s household. I was there no more than a few days. Billy had fallen out with some lads in the street and had received quite beating. The news that Billy would not be attending the household was not well received by the master. He was full of smiles up to that point. He made my skin crawl, so he did.” She paused, taking a sip from her glass. “This day was different – Kostya was in a terrible rage. I tried to stay out of his way. In the afternoon, he appeared in the kitchen; apologising for the outburst. He then grabbed me by the wrist and led me from the room. Moments later, he had placed a parcel in my hands and was guiding me into a carriage that waited across the street. I tried to resist but he just said it was important. The door was closed, and I heard him talking with the driver then suddenly, the carriage drove forward.”
“Who was the package for?” William asked.
“I don’t know his name?”
“What was the address?” William sensed an opportunity to investigate.
“I don’t know,” Bessie replied. However, when she saw the disappointment on William’s face, she added, “but I could take you there. It’s outside the city.”
William was about to question Bessie further, but Emily stepped forward and kissed him fully on the lips, then she spoke. “Bessie can tell all later, we still have the warmth from the sun at our backs. May I suggest that we take enjoyment in its presence?”
“Of course,” he replied. Then he swept Emily into his arms, and as he danced with his lover, he tried to force the investigation from his eager mind.
The laughter and dancing continued until the light of the day began to diminish. All talk of the investigation was forgotten as the filth, and violence of London seemed to belong in another world. It wasn’t until the alcohol had been fully consumed that the now weary band made its way to William and Emily’s home. Only the Professor chose to say his farewells; the rest waved him good-bye until his stumbling figure was consumed by the shadows. The alcohol may well have been exhausted, but the joy and togetherness felt by the small band continued to flow.
∞∞∞
As William and the joyful crowd, tired from the dancing, sought the comfort of a proper chair, another figure walked the less desirable streets of the old city. He had felt the familiar urges before, deep within his soul. The fight to keep them under control was reasonably successful. He followed the plan; resisting the impulse to stalk the streets. He could feel the long blade pressed against his chest. The homemade holster ensuring it always languished, sumptuously close to his skin. He paused for a minute to observe a woman standing in the doorway across the alley. His eyes traced the form of her body, delighting in the curves, which in truth put too much pressure on the flimsy fabric of her dress. She was no rare beauty but her trade on these streets demanded endurance. It was better to be a cart horse than a delicate ro
yal charger. He was tempted to approach but as his weight shifted to move forward, another figure invaded his sight. The woman called out to the new arrival. She then raised her skirt enough to show the alabaster flesh beneath to try to seal the deal. As if in anger, God sent dark clouds to unleash their wrath upon the whore. The stranger who had watched the woman from a distance decided that the night was doomed to end in disappointment. He pulled the collar to his coat up to protect his neck from the rain. Reluctantly, he turned and began to walk away. The sound of a hand slapping against flesh made him stop and turn. The potential customer was rubbing his reddened cheek. The woman sneered at the man as she pulled his hand from her now exposed breast.
“Jew bitch! You expect me to pay to part your legs.” The customer moved away still rubbing the stinging flesh on his cheek.
The watching stranger smiled, unflinching in the heaven's downpour. He strode confidently towards his target. Befitting her profession, the woman quickly switched from screeching harpy. She smiled at the possibility of a new customer; a smile, which broadened when a hand containing two coins rose in an offer of payment. Without taking her eyes from the man her hand wrestled with the door’s handle to her rear. She backed inside and raised her hands to the bodice. The lace which held her assets in place caught and refused to move freely. She was forced to look down and attempt a less seductive manner of presenting her body. As she did so, the stranger slipped into the room and closed the door. She did not register his approach or see the glint of the blade as he freed it from its cage.
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