Stalking Jack the Ripper (Stalking Jack the Ripper, #1)(41)
Superintendent Blackburn gave me a pitying look. I’d find no help here. He was duty-sworn and that was that. Blackburn wouldn’t release my uncle based on his denial of being involved alone. He’d need proof, even if it came wrapped in another body shroud.
I clamped my mouth shut and stood. If I stayed a moment longer I was in danger of being hauled off to Bedlam myself. Uncle might be innocent, but I’d definitely be guilty of slapping some sense into these brutes. With my parasol if need be. I motioned to Thomas, who was still glaring at the police collectively, then swept from the room like a storm rushing through the streets, cleansing all the grit in a mad downpour.
To Hell with them all.
An Afternoon Tea, 19th century
FOURTEEN
PROPER LADIES DON’T DISCUSS CORPSES
WADSWORTH RESIDENCE,
BELGRAVE SQUARE
14 SEPTEMBER 1888
Standing in the doorway of our dining room was like gazing upon something familiar yet undeniably foreign at the same time.
There were so many place settings laid out, I felt dizzy. Small topiaries were arranged on the table along with several towering bouquets of exotic hothouse flowers. Pink-and-white porcelain cups were awaiting their warm liquid, while their matching plates stood at the ready.
“You look as if you’re expecting the blade of the guillotine, Cousin,” Liza said, waltzing into the room. “It’s not as if you’ve been raised by wolves. You’ve missed only a few months of gossip. You’ll catch up in no time,” she said. “If you can deal with blood and other horrendous things, a little lace and tea will surely be nothing.”
I tore my attention away from the table and looked at my cousin. She sounded like my mother for a brief moment, and my nerves settled. I smiled. If Aunt Amelia was the embodiment of what all proper young ladies should aspire to, Liza was her shining protégé. Except Liza had a fascinating way of flouting tradition when it suited her romantic notions.
Growing up we saw each other only twice a year, but that hadn’t prevented her from saying we were the very best of friends. She was three months older, which, in her opinion, made her infinitely wiser on all matters. Especially those of the heart.
Her hair—somewhere between caramel and chocolate—was twisted into an intricate design about her crown. I’d love to fashion mine in a similar way. Her dress was made of watered silk and was of the most gorgeous lavender I’d ever seen. The stitching was superb. A flash of the last cadaver I’d sewn back together crossed my mind. Not to boast, but my stitches had been as good. Perhaps a pinch better.
“Isn’t it grand?”
“You could say that,” I replied before I could stop myself.
Liza turned to me, grinning. “You can play the gossip game nicely today, then go about your secret detective business tonight. It could be just like a novel!” She clapped her hands together. “How thrilling! Perhaps I’ll tag along with you on some of your adventures. Are there any handsome boys to flirt with? There’s nothing better than a little danger dashed with some romance.”
My thoughts turned to Thomas’s face. Liza laughed again, the sound like tinkling bells in a fairy tale. I flushed, struggling to regain my composure. “Not really.”
“Don’t hold back, Cousin! This is the best part! Oooh, I’ve an idea. Come.” Liza dragged me down the hallway, up the stairs, and into the room we’d set up for her stay. Before closing the door, she quickly scanned the corridor for her mother. But Aunt Amelia was buzzing about near the kitchen, commanding the staff like a colonel at war.
Satisfied we were alone, Liza ushered me over to her dressing table, then pulled out a makeup kit far more complex than my postmortem tools. “So, what’s his name?”
She tugged a brush through my hair, pulling and twisting black strands with expert ease. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to show how uncomfortable I was with the harsh primping or topic. Surely if I could sit for Uncle in his laboratory, I could suffer through this. I immediately chided myself. Uncle was trapped in an asylum and I was only having my hair styled. I needed to keep perspective.
“Whose name?” I asked, steering my mind from unpleasant things. For some reason, Thomas was a secret I’d like to keep.
“Stop playing coy. The handsome boy who’s stolen your heart, that’s who!”
Liza stepped back, admiring her work before grabbing the kohl. I tried not to cringe. I’d already lined my eyes lightly and wasn’t keen on being made into something I was not. I’d delicately put a stop to my maid’s heavy-handed rouging.
“Tell me everything about him,” Liza said. “What he looks like. What color his eyes are. If he wants to run away with you to some beautifully exotic paradise… how many children you’re going to have. I hope he plays piano. All good men should be so well rounded. Oh! Tell me he’s deliciously smart and writes you romantic poetry. I bet he composes Shakespearean sonnets by moonlight with stars dancing in his eyes, doesn’t he?”
I cast my attention down, searching for a way out of the conversation, but my cousin gripped my chin, forcing me to look up while she lined my eyes. She quirked a brow, waiting for my response. Stubbornness was a trait she’d inherited from the Wadsworth side of the family.
I sighed. Wasn’t I looking forward to sharing this sort of gossip with my cousin a few days ago?