Jack the Ripper Victims Series: The Double Event (3 page)

Fru Carlsdotter did cry when Elizabeth left home at seventeen years of age.

Elizabeth had responded no better than her sister had to the very same men presented by her father as suitors. Like her father, they were farmers. She’d seen enough of that sort to prefer taking a chance on making a life in the city. Elizabeth wanted something better, and would make a new start in Gothenburg where she hoped to find a little adventure.

Fru Carlsdotter took the morning off from her job as a maid, risking dismissal to be home to see Elizabeth off. Her father and two brothers, however, seemed to begrudge her the farewell during their busy work day.

Elizabeth was to walk to the farm south of her home to ride into the city with the Adamsson family in their wagon. Happy to be leaving, she didn’t expect to weep, yet when the time came for her to turn away from her mother and begin walking, she could not stop her tears.

As her sister had done, Elizabeth would live for a time in Gothenburg with an old friend of her mother's family, Hortense Andersdotter. Elizabeth had met the woman once many years ago, but didn’t remember her well. She knew that Fru Andersdotter was in her eighty-first year, and that she’d suffered a recent decline in health.

In early September 1860, Elizabeth arrived at Fru Andersdotter's small wooden house in the Majorna district in Ösp Lane, and rang the bell at the gate that led into a neglected garden in front. A woman, withered and stooped, emerged from the house and slowly made her way across the garden. Halfway to the gate, she seemed to focus on Elizabeth and motioned for her to enter.

Elizabeth passed through the gate cautiously and approached. Fru Andersdotter had lost most of her hair. She wore stained nightclothes. Although her wrinkled face held a severe look of concentration, her features took on a warm expression when she got a good look at Elizabeth.

“Fru Andersdotter,” Elizabeth said.

“Please call me Hortense. I’m glad you’ve come. You look so like your mother.”

Elizabeth didn’t know if she’d be comfortable using the old woman’s first name. She set her bags down on the path. The late summer sun felt good on her face. “You got my letter, then.”

“Yes, but I have not found anyone to help me write back to you yet.” Hortense held up her twisted, arthritic hands. “I can no longer write.”

“I took the chance of coming—”

“Yes, you needn’t apologize,” the old woman said with a smile. “If you will cook and clean, just as your sister did, you may stay with me.”

Elizabeth smiled and nodded eagerly.

“What a relief,” Hortense said in a giddy voice. “I will live longer if I don’t have to depend on my neighbor to feed me.”

“Is she that bad a cook?” Elizabeth asked.

Hortense took Elizabeth’s hands and squeezed them gently. “No, but like everything else, it costs money for her to prepare my food. The roof over my head and my meals are paid for by what little remains of my dear, departed Herr Bjorkman's estate.”

Elizabeth tilted her head, a question in her eyes.

“My husband,” Hortense said, answering the unspoken question. “He did not prepare for me to live so long. The funds will run out soon. I hope to join him before that happens.”

Elizabeth hid her surprise at such frank talk. Still, she thought she liked the old woman.

Hortense released her, turned, and shuffled toward the house. Elizabeth picked up her bags and followed. A powerful stench greeted her inside. Moving through the interior, she identified the sources of the smell: unwashed clothing, a dirty kitchen, and a multitude of vessels serving as makeshift chamber pots, all filled with slops. Her eyes went wide. She realized her mouth had dropped open and closed it quickly to help keep out the smell and the flies buzzing all around.

“I often cannot make it to the privy in time,” Hortense said uncomfortably.

Elizabeth gave her a tight smile. “I’ll get to work.”

~ ~ ~

Elizabeth had the house cleaned up in two days. She couldn’t get all of the smell out. Eventually, she grew accustomed to the odor, and couldn’t smell it anymore.

The two women got along well, but Elizabeth found herself devoting all her time to doing those things the old woman could not do for herself. She thought back to the healing of her broken leg and how irritable her mother had been during that time. She understood and sympathized with Fru Carlsdotter’s frustration.

To keep the house free of foul odor and flies, Elizabeth tried to support Hortense as she made her way to the privy behind the house. Because
t
he old woman so often evacuated her bodily waste on the way, Elizabeth gave up on that form of assistance and turned to more frequent cleaning of chamber pots. Hortense owned two chamber pots, one for each of the house’s bedrooms. So predictable had become unexpected loss of bowel control that Elizabeth kept in service two of the makeshift chamber pots, a large dented kettle and a crockery mixing bowl, so there would be one in each room of the house.

Although the food she prepared was spare, she was accustomed to eating little. She read to Hortense in the evening and remained dutifully by her side.

Elizabeth wrote to her sister, at the address their mother had provided, telling of her situation and expressing a desire to see her. At first she got no reply from Kristina. She kept writing, and, after a few weeks, a letter came.

Dearest Elizabeth,

Please forgive me for the delay in writing to you, but my life is too full for correspondence. With the children, I have too many responsibilities at this time to visit with you. I hope you find a good home in the city.

Please write again next year.

Most heartfelt regards,

Fru Kristina Gustavsdotter

Elizabeth had no desire to write to her sister again.

She became restless and bored, and wanted to leave Hortense to find a new home, yet she couldn’t bring herself to abandon the old woman who so obviously needed help.

If you’re more diligent in your care, Fru Andersdotter will recover her health
, Bess said.

The old wretch is beyond help
, Liza said.
Still, she might have money tucked away that she’ll give you if you’re a good enough companion.

Elizabeth didn’t believe either suggestion, and could see no way out. She had no time to look for a proper job, and she knew she would not feel good about herself if she left Hortense in the unfortunate position in which she’d found her. Apparently the old woman had no family to help out.

By mid-October, Hortense had noticed Elizabeth’s restlessness. “You must leave the house and see something of the city.”

“I go to market for our food,” Elizabeth said.

“Going to market and back is not enough. You should go out and have a good meal. I would go with you myself, but I fear I might not return. There’s a nice young man who helped me one afternoon when I fell in the garden. I believe his name is Herr Lydersson. Klaudio is his given name, if I remember. He lives with his uncle in the green house across the lane. You’re a pretty girl. If you spent time in the garden—”

“—And perhaps fell,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “I believe I’ve seen him—a handsome blonde fellow?”

“Yes,” Hortense had a mischievous look in her eye. “Look out for him when you leave and return from market. You might like him.”

The old woman’s suggestion surprised Elizabeth—a young woman her age should have a chaperone for an outing with a young man.

She trusts you
, Bess said.
You’re mature for your age. She must trust the young man too.

Although Elizabeth blamed Hortense’s doddering mind for the neglect of propriety, she liked what Bess suggested. Elizabeth was currently responsible for herself, after all, since the old woman represented no reasonable adult protection.

~ ~ ~

In October, Elizabeth met Herr Lydersson much the way Hortense had suggested. Of medium height and build, he appeared to be about twenty-five years old. He had a prominent nose, square, clean-shaved jaw, blue eyes, and light blonde hair worn a little long. Handsome, Elizabeth thought. They’d struck up a conversation in the lane between the houses. He’d asked Elizabeth to call him Klaudio, then invited her to have a meal with him at The Siren’s Promise, a local tavern.

She accepted the invitation, prepared Hortense’s dinner early, and walked with Klaudio about a quarter of a mile to the tavern.

“I work the docks for now,” Klaudio said as they began their meal of herring, potatoes and vodka, “but will sail for England when I’ve saved a bit of money. My mother is English. When my Father died a few years ago, she returned to her family there. Everything in London is bigger and better. I visited as a child, and saw the Great Exhibition at the Crystal Palace. Soon I’ll return to England and build a new life.”

Klaudio continued talking about England for some time, allowing for no interruption.

He’s not interested in anything you have to say,
Liza said.
He’s up to no good
.

As one always seeking something better, however, Elizabeth listened with great interest to his tales of London. The English city sounded much better than Gothenburg. While he spoke, she ate all her dinner and gulped her vodka. Although she had frequently wanted to indulge, she hadn’t had any of the drink since the time of her broken leg. Klaudio had bought a bottle and she allowed him to pour her a tall drink.

At first, the alcohol gave her a giddy vitality. The images that filled her head as he talked set her imagination ablaze. He spoke about the English capital as the center of a vast global empire and a thriving mix of peoples from all over the world.

“The railway network,” he said, “much greater than what we have in Sweden, links every corner of the British nation. Soon the steam-powered locomotives will also run through tunnels under the city of London. Everyone in the capital will ride a train wherever they want to go.”

Klaudio’s words stoked her desire for adventure, and a need to see more of the world. She smiled with delight, but suppressed her giggles for fear that Klaudio would look upon her as a silly child.

She craved more vodka, and as she kept drinking, the giddiness passed and was replaced by a sluggishness. Then, she no longer heard Klaudio’s words. The tavern had become hot and over-crowded. She grew dizzy and nauseated. Elizabeth wondered how she could gracefully get away from Klaudio’s monotonous rambling, which seemed to increase her discomfort by the minute.

Abruptly, she became certain she would vomit in the tavern if she didn’t get out immediately and find some air.

“Is something wrong?” Klaudio asked, as she rose and headed for the door to the street, holding her hands over her mouth.

Patrons looked at her with surprise, concern, contempt.

Elizabeth made it to the street before her dinner came up. She crouched in the gutter to retch, the juices of her stomach, the food, and the drink burning her throat as it came up and kept coming in fits for several minutes.

Klaudio had not emerged from the tavern. Patrons going in or coming out gave her a wide berth. Elizabeth's vision swam in a confusion of light and shadow. She’d never been so intoxicated and disoriented. Her mother had never given her enough to do more than provide a soft euphoric feeling. Elizabeth didn’t think she could stand without falling. Still crouched in the gutter, she kept her face down, her arms draped over her head in shame as the minutes passed and her intoxication deepened.

She heard footsteps, and then a hand gripped her left arm.

“They wouldn’t let me leave until I’d paid,” Klaudio said.

Elizabeth didn’t care. She wanted to go home.

“Let me help you,” he said.

She rose and was aware that she stumbled along beside him for a time as the night became darker and quieter.

~ ~ ~

Elizabeth awoke in a strange, musty bed. Morning had come.

Her head ached and throbbed. Some of the dizziness remained. Her thoughts came through a fog. She felt a separation from herself.

Asleep, Klaudio rested naked beside her.

She discovered her own nakedness just beneath the grayed bedclothes. The bedding beneath her felt wet.

Elizabeth tried to remember what had happened, but there was nothing after the memory of him leading her away from the tavern.

She found wetness between her legs. Something had dried in the hair of her crotch, leaving it matted and stiff. She touched the sticky wetness and saw red on her fingers.

Surely she dreamed! Or had she been stabbed?

Of course you have
, Liza said.
Klaudio did this to you
.

Elizabeth sat bolt upright, her senses suddenly too keen. The world around her pressed in with a reality that belied the suggestion of a dream. A small room with a single window surrounded her. The walls were a faded blue. The furnishings were spare; a table beside the bed, an old beaten-up wardrobe. Clothes littered the floor—her clothes!

No, he could not have taken advantage of her as she slept.

No one would do that
, Bess said.
He must be in love with you
.