Stalking Jack the Ripper (Stalking Jack the Ripper, #1)(46)
Little bells and sparkling beads were sewn into the ends of the fabric with gold thread weighing it down, creating a melodic tinkling whenever someone walked in or out, stirring the breeze.
“Oh!” I gasped. The luxurious panels reminded me of Grandmama’s zardozi saris, except on a much grander scale. “Remember when Grandmama used to dress me from head to toe in the most elaborate saris? She told the best stories. She said Grandfather had been the British ambassador to India for only a fortnight before proposing.”
My younger self loved having the gold and crystal embroidered silk tied about my waist and draped over my arms as if I were a princess holding court in her finest gown. I’d listen intently while she detailed how Grandfather had fallen in love with her, claiming it was all due to her lively spirit. Given the fire that crackled in her soul now, I could only imagine what she’d been like in her younger years.
“Grandmama told me she’d refused him twenty times just for fun,” Nathaniel replied. “Said he squirmed like a cobra in a basket. That’s how she knew he was in love.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for future proposals.” Those memories warmed me as I took in the rest of the view.
Individual stands stood along the perimeter of the cavernous room, giving one the illusion of being in bustling outdoor marketplaces and bazaars of India. People sold everything from imported silks and cashmeres, to jewels, fragrant teas, and more food than the queen probably had at her Golden Jubilee.
Even little circus trinkets were available to take home, should one desire to do so. I found it hard resisting clockwork acrobats and mechanical tigers, prowling around one table.
“Oh, Nathaniel, look! We must get some.” Naan and bhatoora with chickpea curry caught my attention straightaway. My mouth watered with the promise of one of my favorite savory snacks. I couldn’t resist its charms, and soon I was dipping flatbread into the creamy chickpea curry and milling about the vendors like a happy child on holiday. I’d spied chicken curry and was certainly going to have some before we left.
“I’m opting for a less… messy version of food,” Nathaniel said, paying the vendor.
“Suit yourself.” I shrugged as he purchased a box of sweets instead.
After finishing our snacks, we glided through silk doors and feasted on the show. For a little while I forgot about blood and bolts, even asylums, heartache, and all the horror going on in the world—entranced instead by a stampede of around a hundred Arabian horses, prancing about in the most lavish decorations I’d encountered yet.
Gold chains were plaited through their glossy manes, catching the light and reflecting it back in prisms across their sleek faces, while dyed feathers of greens, yellows, and blues curled into the air a foot above their heads.
The horses were well aware of their magnificence, tipping their noses in the air, expecting everyone to oooh and ahhh appropriately as they passed by.
I shook my head. “If I’d known I’d be out-dressed by a bunch of equines, I might’ve at least worn a bodice with a few gemstones embellished on it.” Nathaniel laughed outright, and I stuck my tongue out. “Least I did my makeup and spritzed myself with that new perfume.”
“Next time perhaps you’ll listen to your older, wiser brother. Come.” Nathaniel gently tugged me from my wide-eyed wonder and led us to a gilded popcorn machine, looking as if it had been commissioned for the queen herself.
Feeling indulgent, we each got a bag, then were ushered to our seats by a silent woman wearing a yellow snake coiled around her throat like a living accessory.
Traditional mehndi paint swirled and wrapped around her palms, wrists, and feet. We’d passed a booth where women were being painted with enchanting designs.
“Oh.” I pointed it out to Nathaniel. “I must have my palms painted before we leave.”
The snake stuck its tongue out, tasting the air as we inched by, then hissed. Nathaniel nearly tripped over the man seated beside the aisle, trying to dodge the reptile. I ran my fingers over its large, leathery head as I passed—stifling a giggle as my brother’s eyes bulged and he swiped my hand away.
“Are you mad?” he whispered harshly. “That beast tried eating me whole, now you’re making a pet of it. Can’t you be normal and like cats?” He shook his head. “If we make it out alive I’ll buy you as many kittens as you’d like. I’ll even purchase a farm in the country where you can house hundreds of them.”
“Don’t be so squeamish, Nathaniel.” I playfully jabbed his arm. “Being terrified of an animal a woman’s parading around like a scarf isn’t very becoming, now, is it?”
With that he huffed, turning his attention on the new act crossing the stage, but I could see a smile curving his lips.
The show was everything it promised to be and then some. There were aquatic acts, more horse acts, and acts taking place high in the sky. Women dressed in outfits made entirely of crystal beads swung from one trapeze to the next—catching their partner’s corded arms before letting go and tumbling through the sky, fearless, shining, and free.
I glanced at my brother and noticed he was already watching me.
“It’s good to finally see you smiling, little Sister.” His eyes misted. “I feared I’d never get to see it again.”
I laced my gloved fingers with his. I hated seeing him upset on a night our worries should be continents away. I opened my mouth to comfort him, then snapped it shut as a shadow darkened my view.