Jack the Ripper Victims Series: The Double Event (4 page)

Ridiculous
, Liza said.

Elizabeth shook her head and the throbbing pain worsened.

I might become pregnant!
If she became a mother so young, she’d be like so many women she’d known in life who were tied to one small community, increasingly dependent on others for her well-being and with little to look forward to but a dull existence of hard work.

Surely in a large city like Gothenburg
, Liza said,
there are those who know how to take care of such things
.

Even in the small Hisingen farming community where she’d grown up, women whispered of methods of ending a pregnancy.

Elizabeth got up to fetch her clothes, and Klaudio stirred. She quickly slipped into her skirt and covered her breasts with her blouse and stockings.

“Why so shy?” Klaudio asked, sitting up in the bed.

Elizabeth backed up against the wall. She looked for a way out. The door, her only escape, lay beyond his side of the bed.

“I—”

“You’re frightened?”

“Yes.” The word was barely a whisper as her shame roared in her head with the throbbing pain.

“No one will harm you.”

“May I go home?”

“It’s right next door.”

Elizabeth realized she was at his home, next door to Fru Andersdotter’s house.

“Your uncle—”

“Gone to sea.”

Klaudio got up, donned his clothing while she watched. Increasing her unease, she noticed he was handsome without clothes too.

“I must go to the privy,” he said. “If you are not here when I return, I hope to see you soon.”

He exited the room and left the door open.

Elizabeth donned her clothing and walked in the late autumn chill across Ösp Lane to Hortense’s house.

She discovered that morning had, in fact, long since passed. The house was cold since the fires had been allowed to go out. Hortense sat in the kitchen, bundled in the blankets from her bed. She had missed a meal because Elizabeth had not been there to prepare it for her. After hurrying to build a fire in the kitchen stove and in the fireplace in the parlor, Elizabeth sat the old woman down in the kitchen and fed her.

“I’m so sorry to have abandoned you,” she said, but out of shame, she made no effort to explain further.

Hortense remained silent and thoughtful for a moment, then said, “As long as you’re happy, I’m not concerned. I know you needed to get away for a while.” She smiled. “You are forgiven.”

Thankfully, Hortense asked no questions about the matter. The poor old woman had every right to be angry. With her gracious response, Elizabeth’s task of forgiving herself became more difficult.

Elizabet
h’
s horror at finding sh
e’
d lost her virginity to a relative stranger came less from moral outrage than from a sense that sh
e’
d been tricked out of a formative first experience. She wished sh
e’
d been awake and aware for the event. Although angry with Klaudio, and somewhat afraid of him, sh
e’
d been thinking about his naked body ever since.

As a child, Elizabeth had been baptized and confirmed in the Swedish Lutheran Church. She had studied the Small Catechism of Martin Luther, and taken the examination conducted by the Church, but her commitment to the religion was only as strong as that of her parents. They had shown no fervent belief through the years. Too busy perhaps making ends meet and raising their children, they had exhibited the bare minimum of devotion to the church required to get along with others of the community.

One afternoon after a bath, she looked at her body in a mirror in her room, trying to determine if Klaudio had seen something in her he might want again. She stood about five and half feet tall, and had light-brown curly hair and grey-green eyes. Her long neck, small breasts and a thin face gave her a willowy look. She still had the lips and nose of a young girl, but her eyes were quite attractive. Her right shin, slightly lumpy where her broken tibia had not been set properly, bowed forward a bit. At certain angles that could not be seen. Despite liking most of what she saw, she couldn’t know if Klaudio had found her especially appealing.

He didn’t come to see her. When coming and going from the house, Elizabeth hurried past his uncle’s house to minimize the chance that she’d see him. As the cold, lonely months of November and December passed, though, her restlessness grew and in early January, she sought his company again.

Klaudio wanted to introduce her to a British merchant seaman friend, Mr. Robert Turner. The friend met them at The Siren’s Promise. Mr. Turner was introduced to her as Robert.

Elizabeth had balked at the idea of returning to the tavern after her last performance there. Klaudio put her at ease, telling her the establishment served so many people that surely no one working there would not remember her. When the two men and Elizabeth arrived at the tavern, she noticed that the establishment was much busier than the last time she visited. The smoke-filled air burned her eyes. As they looked for seating, Klaudio and Robert shouted their words to be heard over the raucous laughter and conversation. Finally, they found a table in a cramped corner a bit less noisy.

When a child, Elizabeth had learned to read, write, and speak some English from her aunt Tirtza, her father’s older sister. The aunt had served as a domestic servant in a British household when a young woman. Even so, she could not keep up with the conversation between her two male companions. Klaudio made little effort to include her in their discussion.

He is still not interested in what you have to say
, Liza said.

Yes, but you’ve caught the eye of the Englishman
, Bess said.
Perhaps he will become fascinated with you, and carry you off to London where you can travel the city by rail.

Robert stood six feet tall, had dark-hair, a thin face, side whiskers, and a turned up, boyish nose. He smiled for Elizabeth, glanced at her warmly, and made an effort to speak with her. She understood many of the words—although he did not speak them with a Swedish accent, as Aunt Tirtza had—and they came too fast for her to keep up.

Again, during dinner, Klaudio poured tall drinks from a bottle of vodka he’d ordered. Elizabeth wanted the exuberant feeling she’d got at first during the last meal at the tavern. She would avoid, however, going too far with her drinking and becoming ill. As she ate her meal, she sipped her drink even though she wanted to gulp it. When finished eating, she wanted more vodka, yet she decided to quit for the night.

Klaudio poured more in her glass before she could stop him. She didn’t drink from it. He seemed to notice, and made a toast in English she couldn’t understand. When she didn’t respond, he nudged her in a friendly manner, and said “Skål!”

“Cheers,” Robert said, as Elizabeth reluctantly raised her glass. He downed his vodka, a couple of ounces. When she took only a sip, both men balked and gestured for her to turn the glass up and drink it all.

Elizabeth wouldn’t have them think she didn’t know how to have a good time, so she took a larger drink. Still, vodka remained in her glass.

Klaudio wants you drunk
, Liza said.
He will molest you again when you’re helpless.

Elizabeth didn’t agree. The Englishman was with them. They were having a good time. The warmth of the drink spread through her in a comfortable manner and with it came an amorous feeling toward Klaudio. She thought of his naked form, the taper from his shoulder to hips, the muscular shapes of his legs and buttocks. Robert would eventually leave them—preferably sooner than later—and then she’d be present and aware when the lovemaking began.

Klaudio poured a new round of vodka. When he got to Elizabeth’s glass, she held her hand over it.

He smiled and set the bottle down.

“You’re a pretty girl,” Robert said, and he raised his glass. “Cheers.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, but she made no move to take a drink.

The two men were insistent. She looked at the liquid in her glass, a larger amount than she’d thought.

Perhaps the effect will be less if you drink it quickly
, Bess said.

~ ~ ~

Short of becoming ill, Elizabeth was so intoxicated she had difficulty focusing her senses and maintaining her physical coordination. She mistook one man for the other several times as they both helped to support and guide her through the cold, wintry air back to the house in Ösp Lane.

When finally she and her lover made it to bed, she passionately accepted him inside her. Their lovemaking, a slow exploration of the odors, flesh, and fluids of life itself, revealed a warmth of human touch finer than anything her hopeful daydreams had offered. Love for Klaudio swelled inside Elizabeth as a thrilling sensation gripped her, one that ebbed and flowed in waves of physical bliss before fading. Then, she lay spent until the dim world around her faded as well.

~ ~ ~

Elizabeth awoke much the way she had before, in the blue room with the table and the beaten-up wardrobe, but beside her slept Robert. She leapt from the bed and scrambled after her clothing on the floor.

Klaudio had tricked her again!

In wonder, she thought about her amorous feelings toward the man the previous night. That tenderness had fled.

Robert stirred and looked at her with a smile. “Good morning,” he said, an English phrase she readily understood.

Elizabeth had nothing to say to him. She dressed, left the room, and sought Klaudio elsewhere in the house. She found him asleep upstairs in a bedroom, presumably his uncle’s.

“What have you done?” she shouted.

He awoke with a start, a confused look on his face. She waited for an answer as he shook his head and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“You had a good time last night,” he said. “Did you not?”

“No!”

“Robert had a good time. He likes you.”

“I don’t care what he likes!”

“I do,” Klaudio said, raising his eyebrows. He slid open a drawer in the table beside the bed, took out a box, and opened the lid. The currency inside the box, mostly coins, was more money than Elizabeth had ever seen in one place.

She was confused—why would he count money in the middle of their conversation?

“Hold out your hands,” he said. When she did, he dumped into them numerous silver and bronze coins. She could barely hold them all. Roughly counting the skilling and öre, she decided there was enough to make six riksdalers, an amount equal to half a week’s wages at a menial job.

“This is what you earned for your trouble. I hope it’s enough.” He seemed genuinely concerned.

Elizabeth grimaced and folded her fingers over the handful of coins, already thinking about how she might spend them. Her anger toward Klaudio turned on her with a shaming accusation:
Whore!
Holding her hands out before her to avoid the money’s contaminating influence, yet unwilling to drop the coins, Elizabeth backed away and left the room with her head bowed. Once out of Klaudio’s presence, she dumped the money into a pocket in her top skirt. She fled down the stairs and left the house to return to Fru Andersdotter and belatedly prepare the old woman’s early meal. She had a lie prepared about missing a ferry across the river and having to spend the night at the home of one of Klaudio’s female cousins.

Fru Andersdotter lay dead on the kitchen floor in her stained nightclothes. The old woman that had been Elizabeth’s friend was gone.

The fires had gone out. In the January chill, the air in the house had become frigid, perhaps near to freezing. Hortense’s face and chest were warm, her hands cold.

Elizabeth sat heavily on the floor beside the old woman and leaned back against the peeling wall. Coins spilled out of the pocket of her skirt and some rolled across the hardwood floor. She was in no hurry to put them back. Tears ran down her cheeks and into her blouse as she took the old woman’s crooked hand in her own. She looked at Hortense, not knowing what to do.

I’ve failed her when she needed me most. No, I’ve killed her. I might as well have cut her throat.

She knew she would be blamed. To keep from suffering that blame, a remedy immediately came to mind: She would flee to London, where she might be lost among the multitudes. But, then, she hadn’t the funds to book passage
.

If I’d listened to Liza, I might have left Klaudio last night and been here to help.

You’d have only stood in Fru Andersdotter’s way,
Bess said.
She got her wish. She’s gone to heaven to be with her husband before the money ran out.

The old woman was miserable and at death’s door,
Liza said,
and none of it was going to get any better. At least her suffering is at an end. Perhaps she left something for you in her will. Look through the house to see if you can find stray coins.

Inconsolable, Elizabeth paid little attention to the voices. She hung her head and cried for Hortense and for herself.

Time passed and the house grew colder. Elizabeth could not sit on the floor forever. She would have to go home.

No, there’s nothing for me there. Caspar and Svein will eventually have the farm. It’s already too small for one family. They won’t want me there anymore than Father does.

When she’d run out of tears, Elizabeth picked up her coins and stood. “I am a prostitute and a drunk,” she said aloud as if confessing it to her dead friend, “and, soon, I’ll be homeless. I must change before it’s too late.”

She felt the coins in her pocket, and considered giving them back to Klaudio.

No, she would need the money until she could find respectable work.

She had to tell someone of Fru Andersdotter’s death.

Before you do
, Liza said,
warm up the house so no one will know you were gone.

Elizabeth took Liza’s advice and started fires in the kitchen stove and in the fireplace in Hortense’s bedroom. Then, going through the documents among the old woman’s possessions, she found the name and address of the solicitor who managed the estate. Elizabeth donned her coat and a wool bonnet and set out through a cold, biting wind to visit the law office of Herr Roderick Rikhardsson. On the way, She stumbled over uneven cobblestones and fell, skinning her left knee. Mischievous boys, standing behind a short stone wall in a solemn neighborhood of dark brick houses, hurled rotten potatoes at her and laughed. She ran on to get away from them. The world had turned against her, Elizabeth decided, and she must work hard to redeem herself.

Even so, with Liza making suggestions, Elizabeth had a lie prepared in case the solicitor questioned her, one about waking up to find Hortense dead.

By mid-afternoon, at the end of a three and a half mile walk, she came to a small converted storefront. The place was less substantial than she’d expected. She checked the address on the card she’d brought with her before going in. Inside, no clerk greeted her, only cabinets along the walls and a desk in the center of the room stacked high with documents. As she approached the bureau, she heard a shuffling sound, then a man’s head became visible as he stood up behind the stacks of paper. Since he appeared to have no clerk, Elizabeth felt lucky he’d been available to receive her.

An elderly gentleman, Herr Rikhardsson had white hair and colorless eyes that looked sore. He wore spectacles and a rumpled suit. Following a brief introduction, Elizabeth found herself crying again as she told of Fru Andersdotter’s death. “She had been coughing and complaining of chest pains,” she lied, even though Herr Rikhardsson had shown no skepticism about her tale. The lie merely increased her shame, and Elizabeth’s sobbing became so uncontrollable that she could not go on with her story. She couldn’t decide whether her tears were for the old woman or for herself.

Herr Rikhardsson helped her into a chair beside his desk. “I’m sorry to hear of it,” he said. “She was a fine woman. When she was young, she went with our soldiers in their fight to enforce the Treaty of Kiel. She was a nurse, and Herr Rembert Bjorkman was a soldier she treated for a chest wound. She nursed him back to health, and then decided to keep him.” Herr Rikhardsson pulled up a chair of his own, and sat, looking thoughtful. “That was long ago.”

The old woman had never said much about her past. Elizabeth wished she’d shown more interest.

“You say you are Elizabeth Gustavsdotter. Do I understand, then, that you are the daughter of Beata Carlsdotter?”

“Yes.”

“Hortense—” he hesitated. “Excuse me—I mean, Fru Andersdotter—she said you were coming.”

“I’ve been here nearly four months.”

“Your great-grandmother on your mother’s side was her childhood friend.”

He seemed to know much about the old woman. “If you knew her so well,” Elizabeth asked with a sharp edge in her voice, “why didn’t you help her?”

Herr Rikhardsson shook his head and looked down, an expression of hurt on his face.

She hung her head as well—with what she’d done to Hortense, Elizabeth had no right to criticize another’s treatment of the old woman. “I’m sorry I spoke to you that way,” she said.

“No, I understand. You’re upset.”

His kindly response only made matters worse. Elizabeth envied Herr Rikhardsson’s willingness to expect the best in others.

“Fru Andersdotter was too proud to take my help,” he said. “She believed she had nothing to give me in return.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “She was a modest woman.”

“I imagine you don’t know what you’ll do now.”

“I don’t. I can’t go home.”

Herr Rikhardsson smiled tightly. “I have one more thing to give Fru Andersdotter. That is to say that I hope to give it to someone she cared about.
I’
ve been charged with finding a suitable young woman to take a position as a maid of all work for a gentleman, Herr Frederick-Lars Olovsson and his wife, Fru Joanna Ellstromsdotter. They have two small sons. Both parents are away from home much of the time. A monthman, h
e’
s gone for thirty days at a time. Sh
e’
s a personal maid in a fine household, and must stay over frequently. If you would take the position, yo
u’
d earn ten riksdalers, twelve skilling, and on
eö
re per week. There is a nursemaid also with the household. You would room with her in the home
.
”

Elizabeth hadn’t expect providence to smile upon her in that moment.

I should suffer for what I did to the old woman
.

You don’t deserve the opportunity he offers
, Liza said,
but he doesn’t have to know that. You’re always looking for
something better
. Well, here it is.

Perhaps this is reward for some good you will do in the future
, Bess said.

Elizabeth eagerly accepted what her innocent voice had said.
I’ll learn to think of others first. Then, I’ll be able to forgive myself.
Indeed, her life wasn’t over, and she would need to find some happiness in the world.

One large fear remained: If she won the house maid position of which Herr Rikhardsson spoke, and then discovered she was pregnant, she’d have to end the pregnancy before it showed or lose the position.

Hopefully, her luck would hold.

“Thank you, Herr Rikhardsson. I would like to be considered for the position.”