The Whitechapel Virgin

  Table of Contents

  Chapters

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Additional Material

  The Prostitutes

  Jack The Ripper

  Reading Group Questions

  Further Reading

  The Last Gift

  The Author

  Final Words

  First published in the United States of America

  This edition published in 2014

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are used fictitiously. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without expressed written consent of the publisher/author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  ISBN-13: 978-1494899554

  ISBN-10: 1494899558

  Copyright © Carla Anne Acheson 2014

  All Rights Reserved

  Photography William Warby

  Cover art by Athas

  The Whitechapel Virgin

  Carla Acheson

  www.carla-acheson.com

  ONE

  The gentleman looked down at the young girl who had tripped before him and lay sprawled on the ground with one thigh exposed.

  ‘Young miss, are you all right?’

  She glanced up at the dark-clothed stranger apprehensively, before taking hold of the black-gloved hand he offered her in assistance.

  ‘Thank you kind sir,’ she replied, rising to her feet.

  He studied her with interest, narrowing his eyes to examine her features beneath the yellow hue cast from the lantern above, taking particular interest in her attractive almond-shaped eyes.

  Lowering his gaze, the threadbare fabric of her clothing indicated an obvious sign of poverty right down to her scuffed dirty boots. Though if such shabby attire were to be discarded, standing before him would be a thing of innocent beauty and her sudden appearance served only to arouse his interest further. He examined the swell of her bosom where he might instinctively fathom her age, and by its relative flatness deduced that she was still at the cusp of womanhood.

  Discovering a young lady carrying a case along the squalid and dangerous streets of Whitechapel at such a late hour could only signify that she was either a runaway, or a fallen woman caught between lodgings.

  Of that he had no doubt.

  He ought to know, he had spent his entire life residing amongst these women, who sought their best custom late at night when gentlemen exited the many drinking establishments more than mildly intoxicated. He recognised their mischievous scent, dubious expressions, doubtful eyes and that invisible aura of desperation they each carried upon their person. It was the latter which drove them behind the gloomiest alleyways or beneath the sheets of unfamiliar beds.

  The girl had begun trembling now, fearful eyes ringed with dark shadows darted left and right as if she were lost or confused. For which direction she were headed it appeared that she could not decide.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he questioned her again.

  ‘Yes sir, I am looking for...’ her words trailed off at the appearance of a brawling gang of youths who were exiting a tavern a short distance away. A bell rang above the door and the girl swept her eyes to the location and kept them focused there.

  ‘I beg your pardon sir, but I must move on,’ she told him, and began to walk away before he could raise any objection or delay her.

  He nodded, tipped his hat and allowed her to proceed.

  There would be no point in bothering the girl with questions, he thought to himself. It was likely that she was fleeing from a troublesome customer, the very ones, who in all respects, either refused to pay their dues or requested more from these girls than they were willing to provide.

  He watched her approach the tavern, partly to satisfy his own curiosity and partly to ensure her safety on the last few steps of her journey. There were more than a few offbeat characters about at this ungodly hour, for he had encountered more than a few himself over the years whilst roaming the narrow streets by twilight.

  He watched the girl open the door, sensing uncertainty and fear in her movements. She appeared completely unfamiliar with the popular haunt. Had she paused to enquire of him, he would have warned her that inside the Boars Tavern she might find many fallen women, for this particular district alone was heaving with them.

  He could also, if one insisted, describe his most favourite belles-de-nuit in full and accurate detail. The pallid tinge of their skin, the promiscuous display of soft flesh above their bodices, the sanguine pout of their lips.

  Particularly tantalising to him was the more costly and better fed class of whore. Much more difficult to locate, but these particular ladies wore playful expressions as they peeled away layer upon layer of frilly apparel and under-garments. It was an act often repeated by twilight and many of them, by his own conclusion, offered an exemplary standard of service.

  Of course, there were also the highly personal details of his interactions with them that he could not reveal quite so openly.

  And these he saved for his diary.

  They were the sort of scandalous details he had convinced himself to be bright modern musings for a man of his time.

  One day he, Edward Cross, would make certain that his hobby-by-description procured some extreme wealth. Well, that is once he had found a way to debunk society’s unnecessary and old-fashioned scorn of the female naked body.

  Yes, the day would come when he would make that act popular again, the pleasures of the flesh. He would bring it back into fashion, just as, “Harris’ List,” had done in the past with its well-documented and highly sought after list of Covent Garden whores.

  It was only a matter of time before his publication would tear down the veils of prudery to excite and delight men throughout the country. Men such as - well him of course. A middle class gentleman with charm, intelligence and ambition.

  And what of this lovely new handsome wench?

  He began to whistle a popular tune as he continued along the uneven cobbled path, the fog thickening around him.

  He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to see that the girl had long since disappeared inside the tavern. Best to trouble her no further then, though he would certainly keep her in mind. Perhaps he would even pay a visit to the brewery shortly, for it was possible that the girl was ‘virgen in tactus’ and in the Whitechapel district of London, those untainted gems were becoming harder and harder to find.

  TWO

>   Catherine Bell hesitated at the tavern doorway. Despite her uneasiness at the sight before her she stood still, watching, for she was tired and the hunger pawed at her belly.

  After having packed only the lightest case earlier that morning bearing the few worldly items she possessed, she had spent the entire day desperately hoping to acquire new lodgings and employment. Ideally both within the same day if the Lord had any pity on her.

  The tavern was large inside and bustling with custom, though she noted there was no order or elegance to the scene. The red glow of a large fire, which blazed within the hearth on one side of the room, appeared warm and inviting. Along the rafters large square lanterns hung from rusty chains which were attached precariously to thick rotten timbres.

  Sturdy wooden tables sat haphazardly across the floor. Many were occupied by slouching men, who by their rugged appearance and inebriated expressions seemed to have spent many hours filling their bellies with ale.

  On a table at the far end of the room a visibly buxom woman sat upon a man’s lap, revealing soft ample cleavage and swinging her glass to and fro as she sang. At another table situated much closer to Catherine, a gentleman’s hand was hidden beneath a woman’s skirt whilst she crooned softly to him and stroked his cheek playfully.

  Catherine blushed realising that she was staring directly into the concealed and murky world of immoral entertainment. She absorbed the view in silent dread and innocent awe before turning away, making the immediate decision to retreat into the street outside and try her fortunes elsewhere.

  A woman’s voice from the serving counter shouted across to her.

  ‘Hey young missy, what are you after? It’s nearly closing time in ‘ere.’

  She saw that the bar mistress was middle-aged with glowing red cheeks. Her sleeves were rolled up high, droplets of perspiration glistened on her skin as she craned her neck forward to hear above the din.

  ‘I am looking for a vacant room for the night but I have only a few pence to spare,’ Catherine replied truthfully.

  The serving woman threw back her head and laughed, nudging the shoulder of a black-toothed old man seated upon a stool in front of her.

  ‘D’ya hear that Al? She’s only got a few pence to spare, the poor lass.’

  The pitiful man swayed from side to side and glanced over at Catherine with sagging eyelids. A younger gentleman beside him cast a more approving eye and leaned in closely to the serving woman’s ear where she listened with concentration before nodding.

  ‘Well how about you come inside for now then sweetheart. I’m Tilly. What’s your name, doll?’

  ‘Catherine Bell.’

  ‘Well come inside Miss Bell, welcome to our friendly lodging house. We’ll soon get you upstairs with a bed to rest yer poor feet on.’

  ‘Eddie?’ Tilly hollered loudly across the room and a young man approached. He was a good three or four inches taller than Catherine and looked to be younger than thirty. He had a toned upper body and broad shoulders, though seemed not in possession of the most handsome features, having sand coloured hair and a large nose that appeared bent out of shape. As he approached, Catherine noticed a deep scar running above his right eye and his cheeks were smutted with coal stains.

  ‘Follow me, miss,’ he said with a lop-sided grin and proceeded ahead.

  Catherine picked up her case with her heart thumping wildly in her chest, for she was now to entrust a complete stranger with her welfare. Nonetheless, she obeyed his instruction and followed obediently.

  Weaving between the tables she noted the unpleasant odour of sweat and tobacco which emanated from the many bodies sitting there. She wondered how many of these ill-groomed men must have come straight to the tavern after working long hours at the nearby factories or docks.

  She had often heard her aunt mention that the earnings at the factories kept workers and their families scarcely clothed and fed, but they always had a shilling spare for a drink or two. Their existence was a sort of ‘living death,’ for many perished whilst standing at their stations, and if that wasn’t the case they often lost an eye or a limb.

  Without warning, a gentleman reached out and grabbed Catherine’s arm. ‘Evenin’, miss, ‘ave you got anything for me then?’

  Eddie, who was a few paces ahead, turned back and snarled at him angrily. ‘Leave her alone.’

  The man grumbled under his breath and released his grip. Catherine hurried on.

  It would not do at all to stay for long in this place she decided. The one night would be sufficient and then she would seek lodgings elsewhere, as soon as the sun appeared over the horizon.

  They reached a dilapidated staircase at the rear of the room. Eddie picked up a dimly-lit oil lamp from the bottom step and motioned up the stairs.

  They ascended the dusty wooden steps together, where she was immediately relieved to be heading towards solitude, and the luxury of relieving her tired, aching feet. The prospect of a warm drink too would have been gratifying, but she dared not take advantage of the more than adequate welcome she had already received. For now it was sufficient to escape the brisk night air as well as the busy tavern below.

  They reached a second floor where they traipsed along what seemed to be a musky, cheerless corridor. Though it was dark, she could still see the ugly clumps of rotten plaster hanging from the ceiling above, and the faded bits of paper peeling from its walls.

  Eddie led the way holding the lamp ahead of him, whilst Catherine followed his dark shadow which stretched eerily behind. He stopped abruptly in front of a door near the end of the corridor, and from his coat pocket produced a large bunch of keys of odd lengths and sizes. With one hand he fumbled through them and she noticed thick callouses and scars on his knuckles. He glanced at her, smiled, and she quickly looked away.

  ‘Well here we are miss, this room is unoccupied.’

  He turned the lock and paused. ‘Ah, sorry miss, but the rules are payment first I’m afraid.’

  ‘I see,’ she nodded, and took out the coins hidden deep in a pocket within the folds of her skirt.

  ‘Would it afford me a slice of bread and a cup of water in the morning?’ she enquired.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he grinned.

  She stepped into a room that seemed little more than a foot or two larger than a pantry cupboard. The air inside was stale and it contained the barest of furnishings. A chair and thin plain wooden dresser of the tiniest proportions stood beneath a grime-covered window that was shielded inadequately by a greying fabric. A soiled mattress sat on a rusted steel frame beside the concrete wall covered only by a single threadbare blanket and pillow. A large chamberpot jutted out from beneath the bed, demurely covered by a piece of linen.

  To Catherine the room felt crowded and unwelcoming. She felt no great joy to be stopping there, but her estimation of the room’s appearance did not concern her now. Tired and weary, she would not spend another single second studying her surroundings.

  She nodded in gratitude, inwardly deciding that she liked the young man. He had been courteous and kind to her, and kindness was a virtue she was not accustomed to. But she had no desire to indulge in any sort of conversation with him or be quizzed upon her circumstances, so she kept her eyes lowered and thanked him before turning away. He took the hint and retreated, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Setting her case down on the floor, she sat at the edge of the bed with barely enough energy to undress. Beneath the floorboards the sound of musical notes and female laughter drifted up.

  She slumped back and expelled a long breath.

  It was disappointing to have spent an entire day searching the area only to be turned away by uncaring or suspicious eyes at every establishment. Some had looked at her with pity, whilst others with either complete disre
gard or scorn. There was no knowing when she fled her aunt’s empty home what reception she might receive, though it seemed that her fortunes had ultimately been thwarted by her age and lack of skill. Now that there was no family to speak of, no-one left to provide a roof over her head, she would be considered a poor orphan.

  For the first time in her life, Catherine felt utterly and truly alone.

  With little else to do she finally undressed, donning the simple nightgown she had carried within her case, then slipped beneath the soiled blanket. Somewhere above her the slow drip of leaking water tapped against the ceiling.

  Staring into the darkness she wondered what sort of future lay ahead of her beyond that night, but before her weary mind took stock of the unsettling fact, and laid upon her even more worrying thoughts, her eyelids began to grow heavy. She closed them and let the fragmented thoughts in her mind drift off to entertain themselves. Now she was relishing the silence inside the room and the inviting sleep through which she could look forward to a brief escape.

  Soon enough she floated away, until the very last thing she saw in her mind were the curiously intense eyes of the gentleman who had earlier helped her to her feet outside the tavern itself.

  She recalled how his handsome and mysterious features had quite literally taken her breath away, and she found it very odd that someone of his class would stop to assist her. Still, it had been very polite of him to do so and had she not noticed the tavern behind them, she would likely still be out there in the cold searching for a lodging house to stay.

  The very thought was frightening enough.

  Unable to recall anything else regarding the incident her eyelids closed as her mind settled upon his handsome features. They brought about the merest hint of an unknowing smile to her lips before she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  THREE

  The loud scream did not wake her for she thought she had heard it in a dream. It was only after the loud bang which accompanied it that Catherine bolted upright.

  ‘Come on Nell, just push it out,’ echoed the female voice through the wall.