Reckless Wager: A Whitechapel Wagers Novel (16 page)

February 3
rd
, 1889

“They suit you. The gold bits match your hair.”

Kate looked down at the strand of blue beads around her neck. Sally had found the loose lapis lazuli gems when cleaning Kate’s dressing room and Will had them restrung, reserving a few beads to make a bracelet and earrings, and had presented them to her as a Christmas present.

She gripped Ben’s arm more tightly, letting the pleasure of her husband’s nearness wash over her. Letting the past unpleasantness associated with the beads go.

“Do you think so? I think the blue quite matches your eyes.”

They were on their way to Ben’s family’s home, arms laden with birthday gifts for his mother and a long belated Christmas gift for his father who hadn’t attended the celebration at Will and Ada’s home.

Ben slowed his pace and leaned in for a kiss.

Kate lifted up and pressed her mouth to his, wishing there weren’t boxes between them. She didn’t want to pull away and nuzzled his cheek. “We’re scandalizing half of Belgravia.”

“Let them look.”

“We mustn’t be late.” Kate knew this visit would be the first time Ben had seen his father in years. She’d been nervous about the event for days and sensed Ben’s reluctance too. But when she nudged him, they began walking again.

“I had a note from your mother after I sent one to thank her for the wedding gift.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“She was very kind, only twice mentioning the fact that we chose to have our wedding at the register office and that it was the smallest, most cramped room she’d ever seen.”

“Only twice?”

“Well, she might have hinted at it a few more times. She wrote of you as a boy and said she’d be sure to tell me many more stories this afternoon.”

Ben pulled her to a stop. “Perhaps we should turn back now. For your sake and mine.”

Kate laughed, unfettered, joyful, and louder than she normally allowed herself. She’d been doing a lot of that since becoming Mrs. Quinn.

“Come on, husband.”

Kate tugged and Ben came along.

“Despite the coziness of the register office, I noticed that your Mr. Thrumble managed to squeeze himself in to attend our wedding.”

Kate gave her husband’s arm an answering squeeze. “As a friend of the family. And I hope your detective’s eyes also noticed the woman who accompanied him. She’s his fiancé, Violet Norton, the granddaughter of our neighbor, Mrs. Margaret Norton.”

“That was quick.”

Ben smiled down at her as they walked and Kate imagined what he was thinking. They were hardly the couple to accuse anyone of haste.

“Rose looked well, don’t you think?” Kate had been excited to tell Rose the news of her engagement and invite her to the wedding, and she’d been even happier when Rose agreed to come and live at the newly established settlement house. She and three other young women would be the first residents and were assisting Kate to get the place up and running properly.

“Indeed.”             

The elegant townhouse of Ben’s sister came into view. Annabel insisted the long-awaited reunion between her father and brother take place on neutral ground, and Kate had enjoyed every visit they’d made to Ben’s sister and her husband. Still, after all she’d heard about Ben’s father, a pang of worry made Kate’s stomach dip.

“So prepare me. Is he very fearsome?”

Ben tightened his arm against his body, pulling her in closer, and grinned down at her. “To you he’ll be nothing but chivalrous and gracious. He’s very charming when he wants to be. And he’ll adore you, which will count in my favor.”

Kate wasn’t certain Ben’s father would adore her. If he was disappointed in a man like Ben for doing what he thought was right, for seeking a vocation in which he believed he could do the most good, what would he think of a having a daughter-in-law who ran a settlement house in the East End?

“Does he know of our plans?”

“To be ridiculously happy and have as many children as we can manage?”

Kate giggled and the package just under her chin nearly slipped from her arms.

“Steady, love. He knows of the settlement house from Bel, no doubt, and understands we’ll both continue our work in Whitechapel.” Ben started walking again, arm in arm with Kate. “We don’t need his approval. I’ve lived without it for years. But I hope he’ll join Mother and Bel in giving us his blessing.”

When they reached the Quinn’s townhouse, Ben lifted the ornate doorknocker and they stood waiting on the stoop together, still arm in arm. Kate looked up at her husband and a surge of pride and love made her smile.

“What is it?”

“I love you, Benjamin Quinn.”

A bit of the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, and he looked down at her, mouth tipping up in a grin, gaze teeming with emotion.

“That is all the blessing I need.”

Dorian Penhurst is a fictional character born out of my imagination. There never was a Ripper suspect by that name. Like many suspects at the time, he was one of several that appeared guilty due to circumstantial evidence, though no hard facts would ever link him to the crime. As with any writer, my ideas are cobbled together from experiences, and I suppose he’s an amalgamation of tidbits I’ve read about the crimes and suspects over the years. His taunts to the police represent the many letters received by the police and press during the period of the investigation. The name Jack the Ripper itself came from a series of letters written by an anonymous sender who gave himself the “trade name,” as he called it, and claimed responsibility for the crimes.

However, there was a suspect by the name of Montague John Druitt, who has always fascinated me. He was young and handsome, well educated, having attended Oxford, and worked as a barrister and then a schoolmaster in Blackheath in London around the time of the Ripper murders. In November 1888, the same month of the last crime ascribed to Jack the Ripper, the murder of Mary Jane Kelly, Druitt was dismissed from his post as schoolmaster, but the reason has never been made clear. On New Year’s Eve 1888, Druitt’s body was found floating in the Thames, his pockets filled with stones to weigh himself down, and he’d left a note for his brother indicating that he feared he would “become like mother.” His mother had been committed to an asylum earlier in the year.

One of the reasons that Druitt was suspected at all was due to the timing coincidence of his suicide and the last murder ascribed to Jack the Ripper. Also, the police incorrectly identified him as a doctor rather than a lawyer by profession. Many involved in investigating the crimes felt the culprit was most likely someone with medical knowledge.

I also wanted to point out Kate’s mention of Toynbee Hall. That is a fascinating history all on its own. Toynbee Hall was the first settlement house established in England or America and is still going strong today as a vital part of East End London. The “young woman in America” that Kate refers to in the story is Jane Addams, who established Hull House in Chicago after visiting London and being inspired by what she saw at Toynbee Hall. I took a bit of literary liberty, since Hull House was not established until 1889, but I wanted Kate to have the notion that such a settlement could be founded by a woman.

If you have questions about the history of the period of find some tidbit to share with me, please email at [email protected]. I love to talk about history!

Christy Carlyle writes sensual, and sometimes downright steamy, historical romance, usually set in the Victorian era or Regency period. She loves heroes who struggle against all odds and heroines that are ahead of their time. A former teacher with a degree in history, she finds there is nothing better than being able to combine her love of the past with her die-hard belief in happy endings.

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Stay tuned for
Brazen Wager
, the next Whitechapel Wagers novel, coming in 2015!