Capturing the Devil (Stalking Jack the Ripper #4)(32)
Thomas bristled, but I put a hand on his arm. I recognized my aunt’s scolding for what it was—nerves and worry. “I know it’s asking a lot of everyone, Aunt,”
I said calmly. “However, if anyone can accomplish an impossible task, it’s the people present in this room.” I looked from my aunt to Liza, Mrs. Harvey, Daciana, and Ileana. Warmth filled the void of sadness I’d felt, missing my mother. “My mother would be extremely grateful for the love and support you’ve all shown to me.” I turned to Thomas, smiling shyly. “To us.”
“Since it’s such a short timeframe to accomplish a wedding,” Thomas added,
“we’d like for it to remain very simple. Our only wish is to be surrounded by those we love. And cake. Most specifically, that chocolate coffee concoction that has stolen my heart and my senses entirely.” I nudged him. “Almost entirely. A bit of macerated cherries or raspberries would also be welcome. Do feel free to bring us samples. Often.”
Liza appeared as if we’d requested to dance across a crescent moon during Samhain splattered in sheep’s blood. “Simple?” she sputtered, glancing around for assistance. “What, shall we sew the table linens together for your dress?” Her pitch was rising to a worrisome level. Father and Uncle both lifted their heads, staring up at the ceiling in a manner I was all too familiar with. “I cannot work under such conditions and limitations! It is unreasonable to ask that of us.”
I opened my mouth, stunned. “Liza… we don’t want to be any trouble. It’s
—”
“—our God-given duty as your family to make this as spectacular as possible. How dare you believe, for one instant, we would ever feel troubled over making your day beautiful!”
With that, she turned to her sisters in arms, plotting our wedding. Thomas leaned in, a smile in his voice. “Remind me to never cross your cousin. She’s more fearsome than my father.”
Everyone spoke in rushed spurts, nodding one moment, shaking their heads the next. It was fascinating to watch. They truly were like an army, assembling a plan of attack as swiftly as if they’d practiced this formation for years, unbeknownst to me or Thomas.
“She can alter the dress she’s wearing,” Ileana offered, nodding at the blush ensemble I wore. “It’s close to a wedding gown already. The beadwork is exceptional.”
I glanced down at the princess gown I’d had made at the highly acclaimed Dogwood Lane Boutique. It would be quite lovely. Liza and Daciana both drew back, holding their hands against their hearts. “No! Absolutely not!” they said in unison. Then Daciana elaborated, “Her gown ought to be new—made specially for this most treasured day. It’ll be white, like the queen’s was, with layers of flowing gauze and crystals sewn into the bodice.”
Arguments went back and forth so quickly, I felt dizzy. I found an empty seat next to my father and uncle. “Thank you, Father. I know you’re not entirely comfortable—”
“I’ve found I am most content when my daughter is happy.” He hugged me.
“Plus, your Thomas is quite the brave young man. Look how he’s challenging your cousin on the colors of the flowers.” My father shook his head, smiling.
“He’s unique. Unique enough to keep you looking this happy for the rest of your lives, I’m sure.”
Uncle grunted. “I knew pairing the two of you together would be trouble.”
“Well, I’m pleased you played such an important role.” I kissed him on the
cheek, surprising us both. Uncle flushed bright red. “Meeting that annoying student in your laboratory last autumn turned out to be one of the best chance encounters of my life.”
Uncle muttered something and quickly exited the room.
After he’d gone, my father laughed, shaking his head. “My dear girl. If you believe it was a chance encounter, you have much to learn. Especially about your uncle.”
Sounds of friendly chatter and clinking forks against porcelain plates faded into the background while I mentally turned his words over. “You must be mistaken. The night I met Thomas, he’d come uninvited.”
Father’s eyes danced with mirth. “Sweet daughter of mine. Jonathan’s more apt at reading people than Thomas is. He knew long before that boy ever walked into that laboratory that the two of you had the potential to change the world together. Know this—he took Thomas on as an apprentice because he is and always has been the Wadsworth who believed love could bridge the barrier between life and death. If you think me a romantic old fool, my brother is twice as much on both counts.”
Twelve days came and went; time slipped through our grasp like a wily career murderer. The women in our families—along with my father, who, surprisingly enough, rather enjoyed all the preparations and shopping—worked from sunrise until sunset, planning and ordering and amending their lists. Thomas and I tried assisting but were shooed away. Murders didn’t slow in the city, though no more seemed to be committed by the Ripper’s hand. It ought to have proven joyful, but the churning unease in my center knew otherwise.
If Jack the Ripper was no longer in New York, he was stalking another city. I did not delude myself into believing he’d simply given up killing. If anything, he’d been experimenting with new variations on his methods. Unusual, and troubling for a killer. He’d already been an efficient murdering machine; with more practice and altered methods, we might never stop him.