The Whitechapel Virgin Read online

  ‘Who informed him of that rumour?’ Catherine asked?

  ‘Well if I knew that much I’d have had both her eyes out, and so would Annie. One day the rumour went round the whole district and then that was that, more likely some jealous wife of one of me regular customers who started it, poking her nose into my private affairs.’

  ‘I am sure if you just talked to him…’

  She raised her voice. ‘You can’t talk to Eddie. He’s as stubborn as a mule. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, that’s up to him. I can’t make him and Lord knows I’ve tried and he knows it.’

  She rose from her seat. ‘Well, maybe on me death bed the silly sod will talk to me, cause it ain’t far off now, I can feel it in me bones.’

  Catherine shook her head. She had no idea how to respond, or even hazard a guess at to whether Nellie was telling the truth, but it was hard to believe that anyone would lie about something as sensitive as assisting in the death of a young woman in the throes of delivery.

  Just as she was about to leave she looked back and stared hard at Catherine. The loose skin on her neck wobbled as she spoke.

  ‘You want to know what I think? I think you should get as far away as possible from here whilst you’re young enough to do it, and before we’re all hacked to scum like poor Martha. That’s just my advice.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  ‘I have something for you, please sit down.’ Madame Davenport motioned for Catherine to seat herself in front of her desk. She sensed the woman was in good spirits.

  Oh please god, don’t send me to Mr Cross, I could not bear it again.

  She had been fearful of another encounter with him for days, and now she sat redundantly in front of her employer who once again produced an attractively wrapped gift box from a drawer.

  It contained a necklace which she held up closely to the lamp. ‘Isn’t this delightful?’ she smiled. ‘You are a very fortunate young girl.’

  Catherine feigned a smile as she stared at the jewel. It was a thin chain with a petite heart pendant encrusted with a tiny shimmering red stone.

  ‘Could this be a ruby?’ Madame speculated, her pupils dilating.

  ‘Oh such extravagance. Do not let the others see it, Catherine. He wishes for you to visit him by the stroke of seven this evening. Wear the chain and later I will lock it away here for safe keeping. We would not like it to fall into the wrong hands.’

  Catherine wondered whose wrong hands Madame feared it could fall into, but said nothing.

  Madame walked behind her and gently brushed aside the wisps of hair which fell loosely around Catherine’s neck. She adjusted the chain’s tiny clasp, turning to admire the red gem sparkling at the crest of her bosom.

  ‘Exquisite. He is such a gentleman.’

  Catherine felt her stomach twist into an angry knot.

  How could she think that after knowing what he did to me?

  Has he taken you yet?’ she asked abruptly.

  ‘No he has not.’

  Madame frowned. ‘Hmm, very strange…I wonder if perhaps your chastity holds a certain fascination for him. Let me know when he does.’

  She was excused, and felt never more eager to escape from the woman’s clawing presence. She hurried to her room and along the way caught a glimpse of Eddie entering his own quarters.

  ‘Eddie?’ she called out. But he paused only briefly before slipping away inside his room a moment after their eyes locked together.

  Did he see my necklace?

  She wondered if he had spotted it. His eyes looked as if they had lowered to her chest area briefly. She couldn’t be certain, but she felt uncomfortable all the same and so covered her chest with her shawl, newfound worries stirring within her.

  At six and three quarters past she slipped out of the lodging house and made her way west of the tavern towards Mr Cross’s abode. A dense fog seemed to have settled over the streets.

  She stepped on to the path when an omnibus came charging at full speed towards her, like some ghostly apparition emerging from a mist. She jumped back startled, and waited for it to pass before scurrying on towards the bridge.

  Along the way she kept her eyes lowered wishing not to encounter any other person.

  If I do not fear death, he will not follow me.

  Suddenly a hand gripped her shoulder making her cry out.

  ‘Evening young miss, sorry to startle you, you should be on your way home quickly, it’s getting late,’ the constable warned.

  ‘I will kind sir, thank you.’

  Half way along her journey she watched the street lanterns being lit, casting a yellow hue onto the ground. The fog began to thicken and swirl almost menacingly around her, and at points she had great difficulty seeing just a few paces ahead. She caught a low rustling sound to her left but dared not glance up, keeping her eyes focused on the path.

  Oh Lord, if the killer attacks me now, I shall be murdered on the very doorstep of the church.

  The frightening thought made her quicken her pace, and the sole of her boots clicked rapidly against the cobblestones as she went. Glancing around intermittently, she found that there were few persons to be seen. Few souls were about that evening, save a few men scurrying quickly home from work.

  Even the street urchins and paupers who regularly idled about on the church’s stone steps seemed to value their lives by retreating into the eaves or behind the pillars, or some other discreet place. Her breathing settled into a steadier rhythm now she was in sight of a more attractive set of buildings. But with all her good intentions of travelling fearlessly, Catherine nonetheless arrived at her destination trembling and breathless.

  She knocked loudly, eager to be let inside.

  Come what may, I must be safer inside there than out here.

  He opened the door wide and bore none of the usual welcoming expression. She noticed that he was dressed as if anticipating an evening out, but she knew that he would not be accompanying her anywhere.

  ‘Enter,’ he muttered, standing aside to let her pass.

  They proceeded to the familiar bedroom where many large books were lying scattered open across the chair, bed and floor. She glanced at one large volume on the bed where an open page depicted the outline of a womanly figure. Many red arrows pointed to various parts of the anatomy. He caught her staring and quickly pushed the book aside with a large swipe of his arm, bidding her to sit.

  She did so obediently and removed her bonnet.

  ‘Forgive my untidiness,’ he smiled. ‘I have been occupied with work. A deadline recently came to the fore.’

  She had little idea what he meant and did not care to ask, all that she desired was that the evening would end quickly.

  ‘I will fetch a drink.’ He scurried away and returned promptly with two glasses filled with the familiar sweet liquid.

  ‘Drink up the entire glass my fair lady. Let us make a toast to this wretchedly unpredictable life.’

  She drank, watching his face for any sign of emotion, then he swooped towards her and took her in his arms to kiss her long and deeply. She sighed, feeling her muscles release their tautness. How she wished his affections were genuine. A translucent tear escaped from the corner of her eye.

  Oh Edward, if only you could love me.

  She moaned imperceptibly as he nudged the sleeve of her dress away from her shoulder with his nose. His mouth came down to nuzzle the pale soft skin of her neck, his finger lightly brushing over the crevice between her breasts. There he stopped and held the pendant.

  ‘You wore it for me?’

  ‘Yes,’ was all she dared to utter, her head tipped back upon his shoulder and her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

  She raised her head
to focus on the green of his eyes. They seemed to penetrate deeply into her and she felt his grip tighten on her waist.

  Then a cold sensation pressed upon her and without warning he ripped away the buttons of her bodice so roughly that she gasped. Allowing her to fall to the bed he scrambled above her and stared down into her face with an unrecognisable look of hate or frustration, but which, she could not tell.

  The passionate expression he bore only a moment before had now been completely snuffed out. It was as if he had changed personality, or became a different person entirely.

  A madman.

  He struck her cheek making her cry out.

  ‘You belong to me,’ he said in a menacing voice.

  The undignified edge of reality slipped away from her then as her mind was numbed by the potent cocktail and her own rising fear. She became limp, weakly allowing herself to succumb to his wishes. Whatever he would do with her she now had little choice in the matter, it was too late. She only wished that the wounds would not be too deep or too evident and that it would be over quickly.

  The sound of a quickening storm outside seemed to emanate first from his dark soul, where he appeared to be languishing painfully within unquenchable desires.

  The last thing she felt were his hands slipping between her legs and playfully massaging areas of her she never realised she possessed. Falling into a strange euphoric and semi-conscious state of fear, desire and a blissful darkness.

  She lost herself completely and could do nothing more to resist him. At times the pure pleasure of his touch caused her to moan loudly and she heard his own groan heighten to match hers. But still he did not seem to penetrate her and at one point he bit her thigh and she winced in pain whilst still locked in the throes of pleasure.

  She felt her head being lifted, a cold liquid being gently poured through her lips.

  ‘Drink up my beauty, drink,’ the voice said. She gulped down the liquid as best she could and her head fell back in a daze. Moments later she lost sense of all physical sensations and the tenuous grip on reality that she had been desperately clinging to.

  * * *

  She was being carried. Of that much she was certain, and she was cold. But when she tried to open her eyes to see if she could catch a glimpse of the person carrying her, she was unable to focus. Nonetheless, she freely let her weight rest within those arms and some moments later she felt herself being laid upon a bed.

  Looking up she saw a blurred face and seemed sure it was Eddie’s.

  ‘Eddie?’

  She might have only mouthed the word, but there was silence as a response, then the hazy image and the strong arms were gone.

  When she awoke in her own bed the following morning she remembered little of the previous night, only that she had visited Mr Cross and he had given her a stronger beverage, which had made her confused and caused her to drift out of consciousness.

  She checked herself and found no blood between her thighs, only her wrists were a little red where the rope had dug deeply into her flesh. Her lower body appeared unharmed but two small bruises shone just above her naval where she feared he had slammed his pelvis against her, and another small bruise was situated on the inner flesh of her right arm.

  As far as she could remember he had playfully touched her but left her virginity in tact. Her head now pounded with a persistent throb to one side.

  Sitting up, she removed the torn clothing which would need mending again. She rocked back and forth with her head in her hands as she tried to recall events but could remember very little, and so she headed towards the washroom. Wetting a large flannel she pressed the cold compress to her sore breast. Looking closer she spotted a small mark there.

  A bite?

  There was another on her upper thigh. That one she could briefly remember. She checked her limbs and naval and was relieved to see that she had not been too badly hurt, apart from the bruising and the bite marks. Leaning over the basin she cupped the shiny heart pendant in her hand.

  ‘Why are you doing this to me Edward Cross?’ she said aloud.

  Another image came to pass and she saw herself struggling to be freed. Running through the dark street, sobbing and confused, but she could make no sense of these images.

  Once sufficiently cleansed of the previous evening she dressed and was halfway back along the corridor when a shadow scurried past, disappearing down the stairs.

  Eddie?

  She did not call for him this time but wondered if it had been him who had brought her home?

  As she turned the door handle to her room Annie was exiting her own, carrying an empty basket in the crook of her arm.

  ‘Ooh look what the cat dragged in. Went to see him again last night did you?’

  Catherine turned her back to the woman and her sour remark.

  ‘It’s a good job our Eddie got you home in one piece then weren’t it?’

  So it was Eddie.

  Catherine swung around to face her. ‘What do you mean? What happened?’

  Annie placed her basket on the floor and put her hands on her hips. ‘Gawd knows what you got up to last night but Eddie found you knocked out in the chapel square, and in some sorry mess you were too. Carried you back here he did, bless his heart. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? What if the murderer had got hold of ya and slit your throat?’

  ‘I am not ashamed,’ Catherine replied tersely.

  Annie pushed her back against the wall to speak in a more malicious tone.

  ‘I am sick of your antics young girl. Ever since you moved in you’ve been larking about all over the place just to make Eddie jealous, and now he’s acting like your hero. Cause of you he’s had little concern or interaction with the rest of us and especially poor Nellie whose always been like a mother to him. I’ve warned you before about meddling in our affairs.’

  Catherine struggled to free herself. ‘How can you think that all I want to do is make Eddie jealous? I am only obeying Madame Da..’

  Barely listening, Annie pinched her skin a little harder, pressing her mouth close to Catherine’s ear.

  ‘Don’t give me that ole excuse. You’ve led him on a merry dance since you arrived. Did you think we didn’t notice your little jaunts to the park together? Then dumping him for that wealthier gent and gloating as you rubbed it all in his face? And what’s this?’ she said yanking at the pendant on Catherine’s neck.

  ‘Ow you’re hurting me, let go,’ Catherine begged.

  ‘Annie, stop!’ The voice was stern behind them.

  Both Catherine and Annie turned their heads to see Nellie standing there with matted hair and a dressing gown soiled with faded blood stains.

  ‘Let her go Annie, she’s just a child.’

  Annie pursed her lips and stood still for a moment before loosening her grip on Catherine’s arm. Picking up her basket she turned to face Nellie.

  ‘As you wish Nell. But she’ll make us both sorry, she will. I’m off to listen to the news down at the market, some words are flying about that there’s been another murder.’

  Catherine put a hand to her mouth. Nellie stared at her blankly. The two women remained with their eyes locked together.

  When the sound of Annie’s footsteps had gone, Nellie retreated back inside her room and shut the door quietly leaving Catherine to tremble and weep in the hallway alone.

  * * *

  It was midday by the time they were all seated at the tavern, for Madame Davenport did not care to disturb the course of routine by summoning everyone to her office again. The doors had been locked to prevent anyone from entering and the curtains fully drawn to mark a sign of respect to the latest victim.

  Nellie was the first to break down this time and sat sobbing quietly to herself
whilst Annie gently patted her arm.

  ‘What poor woman did he kill now?’ Tilly leaned over to ask.

  ‘Quiet.’ Madame Davenport raised a finger to her lips. ‘I am sorry to say that I have been informed of another victim who was brutally struck down yesterday evening between the hours of two and five in the morning.’

  ‘Where was she found?’ piped up Annie.

  ‘PC Neil discovered the body in Buck’s Row.’

  Nellie drew in a large breath, her eyes wide as saucers. ‘I walked right past Buck’s Row last night I did, oh my gawd,’ she slumped back in her chair and began whimpering. Annie placed an arm over her shoulder.

  Tilly turned to face Lydia who was hunched over looking deathly pale.

  ‘Quick, fetch me a cool cloth so I can put it to her brow.’

  Lydia obeyed and scampered off.

  Madame Davenport continued. ‘As far as we know she now lies at the mortuary in Old Montague, her wounds…’ she paused and looked down, ‘were said to be appalling.’

  ‘Oh I can’t hear no more of this. When is it going to stop? Is it the same bloody man whose done it again?’ Nellie asked.

  ‘There is no evidence to say it is the same culprit,’ Madame replied. ‘But it could be more than one person for all we know.’

  ‘Maybe there’s two of them out there, or a whole gang of them,’ Tilly suggested.

  ‘There’s no proof in that, let’s not scare our Nellie to death,’ Annie butted in. ‘Do they know who the victim is yet?’

  ‘Constable Neil will have someone confirm her identity later this afternoon, I shall let you know when he is informed.’

  Catherine sat quietly, with her head still throbbing she could hardly take in the news. Had she herself been within yards of the murderer last night? She tried to recall what had happened after visiting Mr Cross, but only felt more confused. Somewhere deep in her soul she felt the stirrings of fear, a real fear and a deep knowing was somehow beginning to take form, yet there were no certainties by which she could fathom the cause of it.