Stalking Jack the Ripper (Stalking Jack the Ripper #1)(17)

SIX


DEN OF SIN


DR. JONATHAN WADSWORTH’S PARLOR,

HIGHGATE

8 SEPTEMBER 1888

Nathaniel was pale as a corpse when I rushed into Uncle’s stuffy parlor.

The dark greens and blue swirls of the wallpaper were meant to inspire a sense of tranquility, but did little to calm my brother. Sweat trickled down his brow, staining a ring around the starched collar of his shirt. His hair was as wild as his eyes; severe dark circles marred his normally flawless complexion. My brother hadn’t slept all night, it seemed, but the sorry state of his hair worried me the most.

I gathered my skirts and collided with him halfway across the room, ignoring the way the boning on my corset dug painfully into my ribs. He wrapped me into an uncomfortably tight embrace, tucking his chin to my neck and breathing deeply.

“You’re all right,” he whispered, half mad. “Thank the heavens, you’re all right.”

I pulled back slightly, peering into his eyes. “Of course, I am, Nathaniel. Why would you assume I wasn’t?”

“Forgive me, Sister. I just learned of the second murder and where it occurred. I knew the victim wasn’t you, but couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding gripping my heart.” He swallowed hard. “Imagine my worry. You haven’t the best history when it comes to sound judgment. I feared you’d been lured away someplace dreadful. The day has already been unkind to our family. I couldn’t help fearing the worst.”

“Why wouldn’t you think of finding me here sooner?” I asked, clutching the last unraveling thread of my patience. How infuriating having to deal with such doubt all the time. If I were a man, Nathaniel certainly wouldn’t be treating me as if I were incapable of looking after myself. “You know I spend most of my time with Uncle. Surely you can’t have been running aimlessly around the streets all afternoon. And what has the day done to our family that’s so horrid?”

Nathaniel’s features twisted with anger. “Why indeed would I be flustered? Perhaps because my sister cannot bother to remain indoors like a normal, decent girl!”

At first his words stole the breath from me. Why must I either be docile and decent, or curious and wretched? I was a decent girl, even if I spent my spare time reading about science theories and dissecting the dead.

I drew myself up, sticking my finger in his chest. “Why in heaven’s name would I leave a note Father could find? You know how he’d react to discovering my lies. Have you gone completely mad, or is this just a temporary spell of insanity?” I didn’t allow him a moment to respond. “Thank goodness it seems to affect Wadsworths born of only the superior gender. My lowly womanhood shall save me from you brutes yet. Now what is this nonsense about the day? Has it anything to do with Father?”

The fight drained from my brother as swiftly as it had come. He stepped back, rubbing the tension from his temples.

“I don’t know where to begin.” Suddenly the floor was vastly intriguing to him; he stared at it, refusing to meet my eyes. “Father will be… away for a few weeks.”

“Is he all right?” I touched his elbow. “Nathaniel, please, look at me.”

“I—” Nathaniel stood straighter, meeting my worried gaze. “A superintendent called on our house this morning. Now, Audrey Rose, what I’m about to tell you is quite disturbing, steady yourself.”

I rolled my eyes. “I assure you I’m more than capable of hearing whatever you’ve come to say, Brother. The only thing that might kill me is the unwarranted suspense.”

Someone snorted from the doorway, and Nathaniel and I both snapped our attention to the unwelcome intruder. Thomas. He covered his mouth, but didn’t bother hiding the fact he was shaking with laughter.

“Do go on,” he managed between bouts of chuckling. “Pretend I’m not here if you must. This ought to be good.”

“Must you intrude on other people’s conversations?” I said, sounding snappish even to my own ears. “Have you nothing better to do? Or do you simply excel at being arrogant and unlikable in every manner?”

Thomas’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a noticeable shift as amusement left his eyes. I wished to crawl into the nearest grave and hide.

“Thomas, I do apologize. That was—”

“Your uncle asked that I check on the racket coming from this room. He wanted to make sure you weren’t murdering each other on his favorite oceanic carpet.” Thomas paused, adjusting his cuffs, his tone now cold and remote as the arctic tundra. “I assure you, young miss, I’d rather have my nails ripped from their beds, one by one, this very moment, than remain here, unwanted, a breath longer.”

His attention flicked to Nathaniel. “Tell her about your father’s dance with Scotland Yard this morning. I promise you, she’s most equipped to handle it.”

Without another word, Thomas inclined his head, then stalked from the room. It was clear I’d hurt him, but I hadn’t the time to dwell on it. I swung around, facing Nathaniel. “What does this have to do with Father?”

My brother walked to the settee and sat. “Apparently, sometime after breakfast Father went into Whitechapel. Detective inspectors were scouring the neighborhood, what with the murders and all, and found him in a certain.… establishment unbefitting to his title.” Nathaniel swallowed. “He’s lucky the man who discovered him knew who he was. The superintendent escorted Father home, suggesting he leave the city for a few weeks. Or at least until he gets his… affairs in order.”