The Whitechapel Virgin Read online

  ‘Is there any sign of improvement since Nellie’s fall?’

  ‘No Madame, not since yesterday.’

  ‘Well, when Catherine returns can you tell her that I wish to see her at once.’

  ‘Yes Madame is there some problem?’ Tilly asked in concern.

  ‘No, no problem, Tilly. At least I hope not anyway.’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘So why is he called Jack the Ripper?’ Tilly asked as she began darning a petticoat beside the fireplace.

  Annie was sipping a hot tea beside her. It was midday and the tavern was eerily silent.

  ‘Not been down to the market this morning, but Mrs Hopper, the sergeant’s wife from down the street is telling everyone that the killer’s been sending some letters to the police signing himself as Jack the Ripper.’

  Tilly looked up from her sewing. ‘You’re having a laugh with me? Who’d do something foolish like that?’

  Annie shrugged. ‘He’s having a laugh with everyone but it ain’t funny is it, making such a mock of the authorities. Oh Tilly I’m so glad I didn’t walk down Hanbury Street that night. From what I heard he’d cut bits of her out and scattered them around the place.’ She shivered as Tilly shook her head remorsefully.

  ‘And Nellie, is she any better after her fall?’

  ‘She’s improved a little. She’s been able to stay awake long enough to talk. They said she can go home if she sits up and eats. I was talking to her earlier, telling her what a mad fool she was to try to get herself home alone. She said she took a fright at some noise and made a dash for it, then stumbled and hit her head. I did tell her to wait for me but she wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘Does she know about this latest murder?’

  ‘No, nobody dares to tell her anything, you know what her nerves are like. She’ll take it bad, you know Nellie, especially as it happened just round the corner from where we were standing.’

  Tilly clucked her tongue. ‘Looks like someone’s got it in for us all around here, what does Madame say about it all?’

  ‘She’s made herself scarce ever since, don’t think she knows what to do. Anyway, does she really care as long as she’s collecting our earnings?’

  Tilly shrugged, it was true that Madame Davenport had always been known as a gold digger, but was capable of exhibiting concern on the rare occasion. Though it was certainly a sad issue, Tilly felt now, if she didn’t care enough to try and protect the women a little bit more during these chaotic past few weeks.

  ‘And where is Eddie these days, still busy down at Dutfields Yard?’

  ‘He’s been working the skin off his bone solid helping old Mr Hindley day and night. Only comes round here now and then to make deliveries. Just as well he’s not around much to see us quaking in our boots, not like he could do much about it anyway is there?’

  ‘I hope he visits our Nellie.’

  ‘I doubt it Tilly, he’s still sore with her.’

  Tilly cut off the last of her sewing thread. ‘Well if you ask me Annie, I do think there’s an awful lot of suspect folk around here which the police ain’t caught up on. There’s Mr Carter, for one, remember how his wife returned home and caught him in the sack with Pearly Poll a couple of summers ago?

  Then she stole his safe key, spent all his money and left him bankrupt in revenge. Since then he’s been a bit of a recluse in that crumbling house of his, spitting at the window every time he sees one of us walk past, the dirty sod. Mad as hatters they turn out to be.’

  ‘Doesn’t make him a killer though does it? I heard that the killer definitely had to be a doctor. Down at the market they all swear he knew exactly where to put his knife to cut out certain bits of the body.’

  ‘Or a butcher,’ said Tilly, pulling a disgusted expression.

  ‘I still reckon it’s a gang’s doing, even if only one person struck with that knife. Could be like those organised crime gangs which ran riot last year when they found all the sacks of opium stashed inside a warehouse.’

  Tilly stood to her feet. ‘We’ll find out eventually Annie. But can’t sit here gossiping all day, murders or no murders, I’d best get back to polishing the brass worktops before I’m murdered for not doing me own job.’

  ‘Oh have you spotted Catherine about?’ she said as an after thought.

  Annie shrugged, ‘She’s another one who’s been keeping to herself, no I haven’t why?’

  ‘I’ll have to check on her, Madame spoke to her yesterday, might be something to do with that fellow she’s been seeing on a regular basis.’

  ‘The fancy chap with the tall hat?’

  ‘Yes, ‘im. Well, I’ll say something must have happened regarding that fellow because I never saw Madame look so ghostly pale than when she came looking for Catherine.’

  ‘Hmm, Nellie did think that he was a trifle odd.’

  ‘More than just a trifle odd Annie, he is definitely one I’d put my money on.’

  * * *

  ‘He’s been arrested you say? Really?’ Catherine said, dumb struck.

  ‘Yes, Laurel told me yesterday. Not that it means much because more than half the men in the city are suspects now, they’ve all been hauled in for questioning, but if it is him well I’m glad they’ve caught him the stinking rotter.’ Lizzie folded her arms emphatically.

  ‘So, I could have been killed?’

  ‘No. I don’t think so, look at the big picture! He killed three women all round the age of forty. It’s obvious he just wanted to get rid of the older ones, so you weren’t a target even if you were inside his house. Still, you better put an end to it right now my girl.’

  ‘He was so charming and so gentle at first, but then he turned into a monster,’ she reminisced, sadly.

  ‘Well look they haven’t said it’s him yet, we’ll have to wait and see. Laurel will keep me in the know, he’s always got his head stuck in the newspapers.’

  ‘That isn’t all,’ Catherine said lowering her eyes.

  ‘Go on,’ Lizzie prompted gently.

  ‘Madame Davenport spoke to me yesterday. She asked me a lot of private questions about him, what he did, the things he kept inside his house, what he had said. I don’t know why she wants to know so much. It was terribly humiliating for me. She looked rather nervous about it all too. I really don’t know what’s happening, and now you say that he’s been arrested, well do you think she might have reported him to the authorities?’

  ‘Hmm she might have if she was in any way suspicious of him, maybe that’s what it is, she’s hunting around for clues.’

  ‘It must have been the rope he owns that implicated him. Oh my, that will mean they might come questioning me soon.’

  ‘The killer didn’t use rope Catherine, he used a knife. Did you ever see anything in his home that might have looked suspicious?’

  ‘No, never, he is normally quite a tidy person. He’d take me by my hand and was always so gentle at first. It was only when he had tied me to his bed and had too much drink in him that he became strange and unpredictable.’

  ‘Hmm, but I can’t see how that would make him any different to most drunk men around here to be honest. The rope is unusual, but then lots of people have rope and use it for all sorts of purposes.’

  ‘Wait! I do in fact recall something, but only vaguely. One time when his quarters were not so tidy.’

  Lizzie leaned in closer. ‘What is it?’

  ‘There was a book. Not the same one in which he was writing, but a large dusty volume. It contained the depiction of a female body with arrows pointing to various parts. It was all that I saw before he pushed it aside.’

  Lizzie inhaled loudly. ‘Oh my goodness. And some of the women were killed with bits cut out of them.’r />
  Catherine glanced around warily, glad to see that nobody was paying them any particular attention.

  ‘And wait a minute, I’ve just realised something else.’ Lizzie gasped. ‘Can you remember the nights you visited Mr Cross?’

  Catherine sat back and thought hard. ‘Well it was definitely on the night that the last woman was killed. And those other two women.. wait, yes! I believe that I had visited his residence that particular time too.

  In fact, most definitely, for the second time I was with him was the night I ran past Berner’s Lane and then stumbled in the street where Eddie found me.’

  ‘And he safely took you home...’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, oh how silly of me. That explains it, Mr Cross couldn’t have murdered those women if he was with me could he?’

  ‘Not whilst he was with you, but what time did you leave his residence?’

  ‘I always returned to the tavern before midnight.’

  ‘And the murders were all committed in the early hours of the morning weren’t they?’

  There was a brief silence as the two women stared at each other.

  ‘You mean he…?’ Catherine uttered disbelievingly.

  ‘Oh my goodness Catherine. It’s him!’ Lizzie covered her face in astonishment.

  ‘What? That’s impossible, how can you be sure? The authorities have no idea which evenings I visited him so they cannot be holding him at the station on that account?’

  ‘No, but he has frequented many women in the city, and appears to have been taking notes about them, so they would be very interested in that.

  Catherine we have to report this. We have to go to the station. Three murders happened on the same evenings you visited him where he was probably under the influence, and also brought to violence. Then the murders happened right after you had left his home and returned to the lodging house. It’s too much to be just a coincidence isn’t it?’

  Catherine rubbed at her temples. ‘I, I… look I really would not wish to have any dealings with the authorities Lizzie. I am sure that if Mr Cross is held now as a potential murderer and the officers start to question me, not only will Madame become very angry, but they will find out my background and drag me off to the workhouse.’

  Lizzie looked pensively at her friend. ‘But Catherine, if he is the murderer and we don’t offer our testimony to the police, well they might release him and he’ll murder another woman.’

  ‘And what if it is just a coincidence, Lizzie?’

  ‘It sounds too unlikely to be a coincidence.’

  ‘Then what if he murders me for going to the authorities and revealing information about my visits to him. They’ll want an account for it all. Word for word. Then they may find him innocent anyway and it’ll be the gentry’s word against mine. I stand no chance against the likes of him and once they let him out, oh he would catch me and….’ her voice cracked.

  Lizzie nodded sympathetically. ‘Oh my, I can see that you have got yourself in a bit of a pickle.’

  Catherine covered her eyes and wept. A few heads turned. One older lady a few tables away shouted across sympathetically. ‘It’s alright my luvvie, they’ll catch the evil culprit soon, don’t worry yourself.’

  It was all that people spoke about now. Catherine was tired of it. The Ripper this, the Ripper that. It seemed as though anyone who was male and was able to walk upright was potentially, Jack the Ripper.

  His terrible crimes had struck the Whitechapel district so unexpectedly that it had cause widespread panic. Women locked themselves away behind doors as soon as the sun slid away behind the clouds. And if pressed to do so, went about their business with fearful and haunted expressions as they tried to blend into the street’s shadows for fear of being struck down by the brutal madman.

  But he was killing prostitutes, and it was likely he would now name her as one. She would be next on his hateful list of victims, if not next, very soon.

  So he would be watching her carefully wherever he was. She could not become his enemy by going to the authorities. Not now. Not unless he was safely behind bars. And there was only one person of any kind of influence she could try and convince to put him there.

  She looked up seriously.

  ‘Forgive me but I cannot do it Lizzie. I have to go back and speak to Madame first. I don’t know what else to do, but I am too afraid to visit him again. I must try to seek her protection somehow. I must talk to her.’

  Lizzie tapped her hand. ‘I wish you luck then my girl, I don’t hold out a lot of hope for you with that sly old tyrant, but even though she’s mean, she’s still a good sight smarter than a lot of the sour grapes who hang around that tavern.’

  Catherine knew she meant Annie, but said nothing.

  They embraced at that point and Catherine departed feeling as though she might faint with the overwhelming heaviness of this recent discovery.

  The very last thing she wanted to do was talk to the Madame again, but she had to try to enlist her help or there would be no hope for her any longer, and she would have to flee the Boars Tavern and try her chances in the harsh and unforgiving streets.

  And with three women murdered all within one month, abandoning the relative safety of the tavern to wander the streets as a homeless girl seemed even more foolish an action than visiting Edward Cross.

  TWENTY-NINE

  When Annie returned from the town square she found Nellie curled up in bed facing the wall. Her frock and boots had been cast aside and lay haphazardly on the carpet.

  Annie dropped her basket of goods and walked over to her friend. ‘Are you ill again, Nellie?’ she asked, her voice cracking with strain.

  Nellie gave little response. Her brow was glistening with perspiration, her petticoat and the sheets beneath her appeared damp. Feeling her skin, Annie realised she was fevering up.

  ‘I’d better go and get some help. I’ll be right back.’

  ‘NO,’ Nellie shot back defiantly.

  ‘What do you mean, no? Nellie you need help you don’t look good again. We have to find a doctor, Lord knows how we’ll ever pay for one, but...’

  ‘I won’t be taken back to the infirmary.’

  Annie rushed to the window to let in some air, ignoring her friend’s response. ‘I’ll run down and look for someone.’

  ‘Annie I don’t want help, just listen to me!’

  It was the tone of Nellie’s voice which made Annie obey. Nellie might have been the weaker one of the two, but when she meant business she really meant it. Annie placed a hand on her arm as tears fell from her eyes.

  ‘It hurts so bad,’ she whimpered.

  ‘What hurts, where does it hurt?’

  ‘Something bad has happened down there again I think.’

  Annie threw back the bed sheets and found Nellie’s bottom submerged in a pool of dark blood.

  ‘Holy mother in heaven!’

  Nellie began shivering and Annie covered her up again taking her hand inside hers and holding it tightly. She had never seen so much blood in all her life, even with all gossip and talk in the streets about the amount of blood the Ripper was shedding from his victims, it seemed like nothing compared to what she was seeing now in Nellie’s bed.

  ‘Nellie please don’t tell me you’ll give up. Let me call someone to help?’

  ‘No please. I just want you to do something for me first. Just say that you will.’ She squeezed Annie’s hand.

  ‘Don’t talk like that,’ Annie pleaded, ‘you’ll make it through, we always make it together. I’ll do whatever what you want but please let me call for help.’

  ‘Alright Annie, but do something first,’ she begged.

  ‘What is it Nell, anything you
want, tell me?’

  Nellie’s voice cracked as she spoke.

  ‘Go and find Eddie, bring him here. I need to tell him that I love him.’

  Annie nodded then rose and left the room, leaving poor Nellie lying upon on her puddle of blood. First she stumbled around the corridor for a moment, unsure where she was heading, then she walked to the end of the hallway and down the rickety steps to the floor below.

  She knocked a few times on Eddie’s door but there was no reply within and so she pushed the handle gently open. She saw that the room was pristinely tidy, as if no-one had lived there for a long long time.

  Has he moved out?

  The shutters were closed and the curtains drawn. She closed the door quietly.

  There was no time to go looking for him. She would have to come back later or send someone to fetch him. She hobbled hurriedly down the stairs to Madame Davenport’s office and knocked firmly.

  ‘Who is it?’ came the reedy voice within.

  ‘It’s me, Annie, I’m afraid it’s urgent Madame.’

  The door unlocked from within.

  ‘Annie, what is it?’

  ‘Nellie upstairs. It’s bad. The bleed. Please summon help. I must go back to her.’

  Annie turned on her heel back up the stairs.

  She ran to the washroom grabbed a pail of water from the tub and rushed as fast as she could back to Nellie’s side, her leg throbbing with a pain she did her best to ignore.

  It wasn’t easy casting aside unwanted thoughts of life without her best friend. All the great times that they had shared together flashed through her memory, the singing, the dancing, the whisky and of course – the men.

  And in-between that were all the babies.

  The ones Nellie had forced herself not to love. Planted there by the rotten men she serviced. As if the degradation and pain of servicing them wasn’t enough!

  Thinking about it now it seemed to Annie that as time wore on, the loss of each one seemed to snap Nellie’s frail mind just a little bit more. And the culmination of it all was this. Her best friend dying alone in a pool of blood, whilst the rest of the world went about its own business.