The Ripper's Wife(83)
“Oh, Jim!” I dissolved in tears again. “I can’t!”
“You can.” Jim hugged me close as I imagined my tears soaking clean through his chest to drip on his heart. “You can and you will, because you know this is the right thing to do. If I were to go on living, he would go on living too. You’ve read . . . you know . . . I’m slipping, Bunny. I can no longer chain the beast inside me. It was just the Devil protecting his own that kept me from being caught that last time, but luck doesn’t last forever.... It’s only a matter of time, and the only way to kill him is to kill me. You must do it; there’s no one else I can trust. Think of the children, the scandal, if I should be caught, the trial, the gallows, the infamy that would live forever. I would be taking their lives too, just like I did . . . the others’. . . Be brave, for both our sakes, Bunny, and the children’s, and be my Lady Justice! My life is in your hands, and I want, I need, you to take it!”
Slowly, I stood up, half-blinded by my tears. I knew he was right. If he lived and was captured and tried it would mean the gallows for him and perpetual disgrace for all those he left behind. But he was asking me to act as judge, jury, and executioner and take another human life, and I . . . I just couldn’t believe that could be right. But my children, their future . . . Like one in a trance, I began walking slowly around the bed toward the dressing-room door.
“That’s my brave girl.” Jim smiled.
“I love you!” I sobbed as I picked up the bottle of Valentine’s Meat Juice. “I never realized how much until now, but I do.... I always have.... I always will!”
“And it’s because of that great love you bear me that you will be brave enough to do this for me now,” he said, “because you know in your heart that it is right. My love”—he stretched out his hand again for mine—“you are only being the instrument of Justice and you must never think otherwise or waste one single moment reproaching yourself. Come now, just two little pinches of my white powder, and the truth will die with me; no one will ever know.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. I cradled the brown glass bottle against my breast and walked into the dressing room, hoping and praying that God would guide my hand.
I found Jim’s coat and slipped my hand into the pocket. The silver box felt like ice in my hand. I sat there holding it for quite some time, staring down at Lady Hamilton as a near-nude nymph of health.
Could I really do this for him? I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to see the noble Lady Justice blindfolded and sword wielding in her robes of flowing white, embodied in the weak and wretched, teary-eyed, disheveled blond woman in the black lace dress staring back at me, her reflection blurring and wavering through my hot tears. Instead of the scales of Justice I held Jim’s silver box in one hand and the onion-shaped brown bottle of Valentine’s Meat Juice in the other.
“Courage, Bunny!” Somehow Jim’s weak, raspy voice reached me through the half-open door. Do it quickly; don’t think about it! I told myself. I sat the silver box down and uncorked the bottle. My hands shook so badly some of the brown juice splashed out as the cork came out with a POP! and an untidy snowfall of white powder billowed down around the neck as I quickly added two tiny pinches of arsenic. I took out my handkerchief and quickly mopped up the mess I’d made, praying every second that God would give me a sign that I was doing the right thing.
But a moment came when I could delay no more. It was now or never. I knew my courage would fail me completely if I dallied any longer. As I headed for the door I realized I’d forgotten the cork. In turning back, I stumbled over my skirts and fell to my knees. Through my bleary, tear-blind eyes I saw that about half the bottle of meat juice was now lying pooled on the floor with little messy clumps of white powder, like sodden sugar lumps melting in the brown heart of it.
I gazed heavenward. Was this the sign I had been asking for? I hurriedly grabbed my handkerchief and wiped the whole mess up. Then I stood, took a deep breath, trying so hard to steady myself, and replenished the bottle with water until it was full again, hoping I was diluting whatever, if any, of the poison remained inside it. In that moment a certain sense of peace came over me, like a comforting mantle of downy angel’s wings, and I knew that God had sent one of His angels to reach out a heavenly foot and trip me. It wasn’t meant for me to take justice into my own hands and end Jim’s life; I didn’t have that right and it was wrong for me to even contemplate usurping it.
When I walked out of the dressing room I saw that Jim, thank heaven, was sleeping peacefully, so I didn’t have to look him in the eye and confess that I had failed him. I just couldn’t bear to see the hurt and disappointment in his eyes.
The dreadful Nurse Gore was just then coming in with the dawn to relieve the night nurse, whose name escapes me, watching me with eagle eyes as I crossed the room and set the bottle on the mantel, well out of Jim’s reach. Out of sight, out of mind, I prayed, hoping slumber would bring forgetfulness and he would never ask me again. I smiled and nodded pleasantly to the two nurses in passing as I left the room and returned to my own.
In my room I fell onto the sofa in an exhausted swoon. I hadn’t the strength to take off my clothes, wash, and put on a nightgown. I knew that if I tried to take one more step I’d fall. I promised myself I would just lie down for an hour or two. The gray sky was streaked with orange when I closed my eyes.