Shadows Fall Away (13 page)

When we reached the busy intersection with Whitechapel High Street, Genie automatically extended her elbow. I stared stupidly before realizing I was supposed to play the gallant gentleman and escort her across the street even though, with the crush of horses and wagons, the sensible thing would have been for her to hike up her skirts and run like hell when the traffic momentarily broke.

I gripped her arm and we made our way across the busy street, Genie leading more than me More than once she pulled me back before I stepped into a pile of horse crap.

Once we reached the safety of the other sidewalk, she pulled back her elbow and shot me with a look of disbelief.

“I must say, Mr. Stewart, one might think you’ve never escorted a lady across a street before.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot less horse crap where I come from.”

Genie looked at me as if trying to decide whether to believe me or not. Finally, she burst out laughing. “Honestly, Mr. Stewart, your answers are always perfectly reasonable and perfectly preposterous at the same time. However do you do it?”

I grinned. “That’s for me to know and for you to keep guessing about.”

She huffed, but a small blush colored her cheeks before she made a sharp turn. “Shall we be going along?” she asked in a tone that didn’t leave any room for discussion.

“By all means, Miss Trambley.” I slid up beside her, hooked her arm through mine the way the ladies had with their dates at that Ripper party. I knew I was flirting with her, but I couldn’t help it. And she did seem to enjoy it in her own “proper lady” fashion.

It was like a slap when it hit me. The
it
being what it was about Eugenia Trambley that was so fascinating. Even though she was my age, she was a proper old-fashioned lady. She expected a high level of courtesy and respect the girls I knew didn’t. They demanded. Genie automatically assumed it would be given. Because, in her world, “gentlemanly courtesy” was to be expected.

And, I realized, she treated me with the same formal courtesy and respect when, by rights, she probably should have told me to piss off at least a dozen times.

“You, Mr. Stewart, look like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. What is it you find so smugly satisfying?”

I glanced over at her, catching the reflection of the two of us walking arm-in-arm. I felt a weird little rush at how we looked together. How good the light pressure of her arm on mine felt. I enjoyed feeling her skirts brush against my leg.

My hormones kicked it into overdrive. I stumbled, nearly toppling off the curb and into the street.

“Are you all right, Mr. Stewart?” Genuine concern showed in her wide eyes.

“I’m…yes…sorry,” I stammered. I had to get a grip before things got entirely out of hand. It was okay to flirt with her, but I couldn’t let myself start thinking along
those
lines, couldn’t let her get to me that way. What really scared me was knowing she wasn’t even trying to make me hot for her. “I just wasn’t paying attention, I guess.”

“I suppose the pavements in America are much better and you simply haven’t much experience with our crude cobblestones.”

I noticed the twinkle in her eye behind those little glasses. She
was
flirting with me. Damn. “No, the truth is I don’t have much experience being in the company of a real lady. It plays hell on my concentration.”

Flag on play for Stewart. Stupid use of dumbass move.

The pink flush in her cheeks told me I’d just started something I wasn’t sure I could control. Luckily my working brain brought me back to where I needed to be. And I began scanning the people we passed, wondering if any of them might be Jack the Ripper.

***

Genie

“I want to be a doctor,” I said as we headed towards Christ Church. “My parents refuse to allow it, though Father allowed me the opportunity to get some limited nurse’s training. And that only because I reminded him Mother was with Miss Nightingale in the Crimea.”

“Really? Wow.”

“You’ve heard of the Nightingales then?”

“Yes,” he said. “It was pretty brave of them, going so close to the fighting.”

Genie nodded. “Mother tells of one night when the artillery was bursting all around them. But instead of cowering in some hole, the nurses covered the wounded soldiers with their own bodies to help keep them safe.”

“That probably did more to heal them than all the doctors combined.”

“Mr. Stewart!” I exclaimed. “You have the most—most inappropriate thoughts!”

He grinned. “I’m just a red-blooded All-American boy. Maybe it’s something in the water.”

“That will be more than enough, Mr. Stewart.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. This time.” I glanced at him, my amusement barely contained. He winked and I felt the most delicious quiver deep down inside.

As we approached the church, Mark nodded toward the women sitting on benches near the church, sleeping. “They’re not about to get much rest in the daylight.”

“What choice do they have? They aren’t allowed to congregate here after dark. Deprive them of a room by closing the brothels and raising the rents. Make it impossible for them to sleep anywhere at night so they have to try to sleep during the day when they might otherwise be able to find some decent employment, then decry the sloth of the lower classes.”

He looked around as if comparing it to his own homeland and that served only to wipe away the vestiges of my earlier quiver of delight. “And these are the people you expect to ‘take hope’ and ‘stand up’ for themselves?”

Mark cleared his throat once again and scratched his ear.

When he made no attempt to reply, I turned away and woke an older woman to inspect a cut on her forearm. “Where have you been, Mrs. Yost?” I unwound the soiled bandage from her arm. “You know we need to check this and keep it as clean as possible until it heals.”

“I know. I know, but I found me a few days’ work scrubbing and cleaning out some office that’s being let. They let me sleep there so I made it like me own little home while it lasted.” Her arthritic hand patted mine; she smiled. “You don’t need to worry ‘bout me. No one else does.”

“Well, they should,” I answered, only to gasp once the grimy bandage fell away. The wound was an angry red around the edges. “This may be turning septic. You should get down to hospital at once.”

Mrs. Yost’s pale eyes narrowed as she looked over my shoulder toward Mark. “That copper with you then?”

I gently probed the wound, trying to see how deep the infection had gone. “Mr. Stewart is merely an acquaintance.”

“You ask me ‘e’ll be wanting to get far better acquainted. You watch yerself wi’ him, missy.”

I cleared my throat. “I shall be fine, Mrs. Yost. It’s you who needs to be taken care of. You get yourself right down to London Hospital. Ask for my father, Dr. Trambley. He’ll tend to you.”

Mrs. Yost closed her eyes and settled back. “Ain’t makin’ no promises. I been taking care of myself since I was ten. I ain’t about to stop now.”

Breathing a soft sigh, I shook my head, wondering why I ever thought she would simply comply with reason. “Then I shall have to take care of it myself.” I opened my bag and gathered up the bottle of carbolic acid, swabs, and a clean dressing. “This is going to hurt, Mrs. Yost. Do you want me to ease the pain for you?”

She nodded. “Never was a good one for standing pain.” She relaxed herself on the bench.

I leaned over and placed my thumbs carefully on the veins on either side of her mottled neck and applied a sudden upward pressure until Mrs. Yost’s head fell back and she lapsed into unconsciousness.

“And I thought the Vulcan nerve pinch was made up,” Mark said.

I gave him a quick, questioning look. “This is an old midwife’s technique. I badgered Mother until she taught it to me. She assisted a midwife before joining the Nightingales.”

“Interesting. She seems a bit more complex than I thought.”

“Indeed? That’s an odd thing to say.” I returned to cleaning and dressing the wound.

Mrs. Yost showed signs of stirring just as I finished knotting the bandage.

“All done, Mrs. Yost. Now you take care of that, and keep it clean. I’ll see you when I return from Northampton.”

I stood, aware of Mark’s unwavering gaze, and hoped the warmth rising in my cheeks didn’t show.

He actually took off his hat and bowed. “It seems that you, too, are a far more capable person than you would have people believe. That was very cool, very professional.”

My cheeks heated further, but it was more from people staring because of Mark’s silly bow than anything else. “I told you I’ve had nurse’s training,” I said to dismiss it.

“Nope.” He offered his arm as we resumed our walk. “Some things can’t be taught. It has to be a natural ability. You have a wonderful touch with a patient.”

“And just how would you know?”

“I’ve been looked over by more than one nurse.” He winked. And that thought was something I found more unnerving than I cared to admit. An awkward silence sprung up as we walked.

***

Mark

“So what’s up with the woman you told me about?” I asked once we crossed the road. “When do we meet her?”

Genie frowned. “I thought she’d be near the church. Poll usually is.”

“Maybe she hooked up—found someone to stay with?”

“Perhaps.” She breathed a small sigh. “I’m certain to see her sometime later this evening.”

Poll. Polly? Polly Nichols, the first “official” victim of Jack the Ripper? Or was it someone with a similar name?

Either way, I realized Genie was too close to all this and she had no real reason to be. She meant well, but she could get herself raped or killed. My stomach twisted thinking of all the things that could happen to a girl like her in a place like this. Just because she wasn’t on the list of the Ripper’s victims didn’t mean there weren’t more who hadn’t made it into the history books.

The thought of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time was a real threat, especially because I remembered hearing at the conference about the Whitehall corpse—the unidentified, possibly young woman whose dismembered, headless torso was found during this general this time frame.

“You really need to stop sneaking down here when your parents are both out. Tend to your ladies during the day, or least before it gets totally dark.”

“I come to help whenever I can,” she replied icily, eyeing my hand on her arm almost like it was a bug. “If it was possible to set a schedule of regular hours I would, but between my parents’ attitudes and the fact women don’t come out until later, I tend to them when I am able.”

“I still wish you’d stay out of this area at night.”

She pulled away from me, her chin tilted defiantly. “Mr. Stewart, need I remind you that you are neither my father nor, God forbid, my fiancé? What makes you think
you
have the right to tell me what you would have me do?”

“Would it matter if I were, God forbid, your fiancé? Would you listen to me then?”

Genie opened her mouth as if to argue but apparently thought better of it. Instead, she said, “I need to be down here at night. With this latest murder, maybe they’ll listen to me about doing what’s necessary to better themselves.”

“And if they don’t?” I asked. “Will you stop?”

Genie’s eyes lost focus, as if thinking of something else, before snapping back to mine. “If they don’t listen, then it’ll be on their heads, won’t it? Maybe they’ll listen to reason if enough of them are murdered.”

I blinked, sure I was taking things the wrong way. “Are you saying you think this murder spree might be a good thing? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Genie smiled. “I wouldn’t expect it to.”

I wasn’t going to go there no matter how much my mind spun off into my mom’s wild “what if” territory. I rubbed the back of my neck. “Look, I want you to stay safe, okay? Maybe I’d rather not see you end up beaten, raped, murdered. I’m sorry if saying it straight out offends you. It’s just the way it is.”

She tilted her chin up a little more and I walked away before she tried some lame argument.

“Mr. Stewart?” Genie’s voice reached out. Her tone was quiet, not at all as belligerent as I’d have expected.

I stopped, turned slowly, and waited for her to continue.

“There is a very fine line between expressing concern and exercising control.” She tensed, as if trying to decide whether to stay or leave.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “And there’s a fine line between independence and acting like a fool.”

We glared at each other, neither willing to give in. She looked awfully cute and I really wanted to kiss her.

I caved in the stare down just to get my mind off her pretty face. “I wish there was a place you could learn some self-defense moves.”

“Self-defense moves?” She sniffed her disgust like I’d offered a bed romp instead. “People know me here. There are bobbies within earshot at all times.”

I shrugged again and strolled back towards her, my head down, hands in my pockets. Without warning, I snapped my right arm out and grabbed her across the base of her throat, spun her around as my left hand covered her mouth. Just as quickly I released her, she stumbled away in an incoherent rage.

“Hell of a lot of good a ‘bobby within earshot’ would have done if someone really wanted to hurt you.” I stalked off, half hoping she’d call me back like before, half determined to ignore her if she did.

She didn’t make a sound.

And I brooded about it all the way back to my room.

***

The timid knock well after dark catapulted me off the narrow bed. I flung open the door words pouring out of my mouth. “Look, I’m sorry—” The woman who stood there wasn’t Genie.

She was a middle-aged lady, not well dressed, with the look of a frightened rabbit. “Mr. Stewart?”

My embarrassment faded when I realized that, despite the argument, Genie must have sent her to me. There was no other way she would have known who I was or where to find me.

“Were you sent by Miss Trambley?”

She nodded. “I’m Poll.”

But not that Poll. Still, she might know something. I stepped aside. “Come in. Or would you rather go round the corner to a public place like a pub?”