City of Darkness (City of Mystery) (28 page)

BOOK: City of Darkness (City of Mystery)
5.1Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“You know I’m not speaking of the
mint sauce,” Leanna fairly howled in exasperation, for it was impossible to
tell when John was joking and when he was not.  “We’re alone, quite utterly
alone, and please don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed of course, but thought
it would be ungentlemanly to comment on the fact and thus cause you distress.”

“And thus cause me distress?  Honestly,
John, sometimes you can be as thick as plank.  I have plotted all morning to get
everyone out of the house.”

“Is there something you wanted to
discuss?”

Leanna nervously fiddled with the
lace of her gown.  Of course there was something she wanted to discuss, but
there was no way a lady could ask a gentleman to declare his intentions.  Strange
that she had planned how to get him alone, but been unable to script the
conversation to follow.  She looked at John hopelessly.

“Are you upset with me?” John asked.
“Because of the cancelled theater dates?  I know no apology can suffice…”

“Your apologies have all sufficed. 
It’s just that you seem so casual about our courtship.  Is this even a
courtship?  Is that the right word?  I don’t know where I stand.”

His eyes were so dark it was
impossible to distinguish pupil from iris and Leanna noticed he was nervously
pulling at the buttons on his waistcoat as if attempting to mirror her own
bodice fiddling.  “I explained to you, Leanna, when we first met, that I am not
in a position to inherit from my family.”

“Meaning what?” Leanna asked, anxiety
now becoming an acute pain in her chest, for she knew what was to follow.

“Meaning that I must restrain any
feelings toward you until that point in time where I am capable of pressing for
a serious courtship.  I have a practice to establish, a clinic to build, and to
declare my intentions to you before I am in a position to offer…”

“You’re saying you won’t be able to
court anyone for years!  Money isn’t all that matters.  My family – “

“Your family is wealthy, is that what
you’re about to say?  That doesn’t make things better, it makes them worse.   It
only means the gulf between us is all the wider.  Do you plan to take me home
to the country, to the family estate?  Do you think your mother and brothers
would be delighted to welcome their precious Leanna and her penniless suitor?”

“You’re hardly penniless, John.  You
have a thriving practice.  And that wasn’t what I was about to say about my
family at all.  If you only knew how things really stand….”

He turned from her, resting his chin
on his knuckles so that she could only see his profile.  “I wouldn’t ask you
anything until I was in the position to give you the world.  It wouldn’t be gentlemanly.”

“Oh, dash that word ‘gentlemanly’
from the language. More pain has been given to more girls by men who were trying
to be gentlemanly…I don’t want the world, John.  When have I suggested that I
expect you to give me the world?”

“How old are you, Leanna?”

She swallowed, knowing that the
answer would be used against her.  “Twenty.”

“I am thirty-two.  When you are my age,
you will see what I mean and you’ll thank me for not promising what I cannot
deliver.”

“If you’re saying that you think your
whole career must be established before you marry, that’s foolish,” Leanna
said, carelessly reaching across the table to grasp his arm.  “I understand
life better than you think I do, and besides, I know wealthy people.  So does
Aunt Geraldine.  I could help you with your work.”  My God, she was close to
begging.  She forced herself to release his wrist, sit up straight again and control
her voice.  He was still unwilling to meet her eyes and suddenly her
desperation gave way to anger.

“But that isn’t it, is it?  You’re
only using your work and your lack of money to shield me from the real truth. 
You don’t have to choke back passion for my sake because there isn’t any
passion.  It’s easy to restrain an emotion you don’t feel, isn’t it John?  And
to receive a reputation for saintliness in the bargain…”

“You understand nothing!” he suddenly
roared, sending the silver flying and causing Leanna’s to jerk back her hand. 
“You don’t know me at all, don’t know what I think!  How dare you tell me what
is and isn’t hard to bear?  Thank you for the lunch, Leanna, but I’m leaving.”

Leanna could barely see him rise
through her tears.  “I only wanted you to touch me, once, just so I would know
that you cared.”

“You think that when a man touches a
woman it’s proof of his love?” John rasped, his face splotched with anger and
his hands unsteady.  “By God, but you are young and stupid.   And you think you
can help me in my work!  That is quite the joke, Leanna.”

“Then go.  You’ve insulted me
enough.”

“No, I haven’t, you’ve insulted
yourself.  You may not like this, probably won’t, but there are certain social
truths you must learn to accept.  There are women men may freely touch and
there are those whom they may not.  You fall into the latter group and why you
find that insulting, I can’t begin to guess.”

“Oh, spare me your analysis,” Leanna
said, her own composure returning a bit.  “What you really mean is that women
are like curios in a shop.  Some are laid out and marked quite clearly and
affordable to anyone who ventures in.  Others are on a high shelf and if you
must ask the price, then that in itself is a sign you cannot afford to buy.  To
obtain one of those curios you have to enter into lengthy negotiation with the
shopkeeper who keeps telling you how special and unique each one is.  All
you’re saying, John, is that I am on a high shelf.  In your heart you believe
that, one way or another, all women are for sale and the only problem between
the two of us is that you can’t afford me yet.”

“If that is the way you see our
relationship, then there is nothing more to discuss,” John said.  “I’d ask Gage
for my coat, but as you point out every ten minutes, Gage isn’t here.”  He looked
at her, his expression flat.  “You’re quite spoiled and I can’t believe I ever
took you so seriously.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me.  I know you want to.”

He stood up, looking down at her, and
a new emotion came into his face.  Sadness.  “You’re playing games and I can’t
say I fully blame you.  You’re young, and I may be your first suitor.  You want
to turn me into one of the men in your books.  Restraint may be foolish in
fiction, but not in real life, Leanna.  No, I won’t kiss you.  I’m not a toy.”

“Neither am I, John.  I want some
sign that you really do care.  Evidently I am expected to wait…”

“No one is asking you to wait.  Do as
you please.”

“I want to wait,” Leanna said, vowing
not to break into sobs for a second time.  “Just give me a reason to believe…”

“If you need proof of my feelings
then you don’t know me.  No, I won’t kiss you.  I won’t touch you at all.”

Leanna took a big gulp.  “Why not?”

“Because I intend to marry you.”    

Leanna sank back into her chair,
breathless and tearless, and John pulled on his coat and left the room without
a backward glance.  The oaken door onto Kingsly Place slammed shut with an
angry crack, but Leanna did not flinch at the sound.  A minute passed, measured
by the dull thuds of the mantle clock, then another.  Still Leanna did not move
and she waited for some feeling to come.  Despair?  Triumph?  Relief?  Frustration? 
But no emotion rose from the solid surface of her numbness and finally, with
surprising steadiness, she stood and began to collect the dishes on a platter
to take to the kitchen.  She gazed down at the scattered silver and linens
under John’s chair.  A great war had evidently been fought here, but Leanna was
not sure if she had won or lost.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

October 29

4:15 PM

 

 

“I don’t know how to thank you,
Welles.”

“Then don’t.  If I can’t go to Paris
myself, you’re clearly the man for the job.” Trevor looked back as he held the
door for Abrams.  “And there is something you can do in compensation.  I’m on
my way to meet Mabrey and Phillips for an overview of the case.  Come with me. 
We’ve been through this all so often, and we can use a pair of fresh eyes.”

Abrams looked about, nervous as a
naughty schoolboy.  “Eatwell insisted –“

“Bother Eatwell.  I plan to use your brain
as much as I can while it’s still in London.  In a matter of days you’ll be
sailing to France, on direct order of Her Majesty, and even Eatwell’s jurisdiction
doesn’t reach that far.  Come on, man.  We go through the notes every week, for
all the good it’s given us.”

Abrams nodded and followed Trevor
deeper into the belly of Scotland Yard, down each level until they ended up in
the mortuary where Phillips and Davy were already waiting.  If they were
surprised to see Abrams coming through the door with Trevor, neither made a
sign.  The four men sat down around the table and Trevor pulled out his
notebook.

“I thought we’d see if Abrams brings
any new thoughts to the discussion,” he said.  “Davy, would you like to begin?”

“Three hundred thirteen people interviewed
so far,” Davy said promptly.  “Eighty- one of them detained, most on the
grounds of a prior arrest for violence with a woman, particularly a
prostitute.  Most of the men are untrained, illiterate, over half of them
foreign-born.  Which is, of course, quite a different profile from how we
originally viewed our killer.” Davy looked at Abrams.  “The ships bring more
men in and out every day and we could continue to interview them until the turn
of the century, couldn’t we, Sir?  But I don’t think we’ll hear anything new.”

He’s different from the boy I met a
few weeks ago, Abram thought.  All that lad could do was stammer “Yes, Sir” and
“No, Sir,” and the bobby before me now isn’t afraid to express an opinion, even
in the midst of superiors.

“Sounds like you’ve found three
hundred and thirteen Micha Banasiks,” Abrams said.  “Have you interviewed any people
who aren’t illiterate and foreign-born?”

Davy nodded.  “Of course, Sir.  An
actor who is apparently too good at his craft,  a writer of children’s books
who likes to play word games similar to those in the letters,  several doctors,
even a woman or two.   Either interviewed them or indirectly sought alibis,
just as you did for the Duke of Clarence.”

“The Queen’s grandson?” Phillips said
with surprise.  “Even I hadn’t heard that part. Whatever for?”

“Granted, he has no medical skills,”
said Trevor.  “Or, for that matter, apparent skills of any sort.  But he is known
to be a frequent patron of the brothels in the East End.”

“It’s quite a jump from saying he
visits whores to saying that he kills them,” Phillips said sharply.  His use of
the word “whore” surprised Abrams.    In all they had been through, he had
never heard the doctor refer to the women of Whitechapel as anything but
patients or victims.  But Welles and Davy laughed easily.

“Quite right,” Welles said.  “He may
be a fool or a reprobate, but the man has alibis to spare.”

“Other than that, we don’t have much
more than we had when you worked the case,” Davy said, turning back to Abrams. 
“It’s most likely a man with some medical training who is ambidextrous. “

“Not a slaughterhouse worker?” Abrams
asked, just to confirm.

Phillips shook his head.  “I’m afraid
the last two killings ruled that out completely.  The work on Eddowes…Well, you
saw.  Too complete.”

“We received a kidney courtesy of
George Lusk, the man who leads the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee,” Trevor
said. 

“So the newspapers got that part
right?” Abrams said.

“Unfortunately yes,” Trevor said. 
“That was one thing we were hoping to keep under our hats but Mister Lusk seems
to have an unquenchable thirst for public attention. We considered him a
suspect, briefly, because he always seemed to be close to the trouble, but he
has excellent alibis as well.”

“But he did provide the kidney,” Phillips
said.  “Which is human, of a size that would suggest from a woman, and in the
right state of decomposition to have been removed about the time Eddowes was
killed.  An expert job of removal, especially under the circumstances of haste
and darkness, and it was then I knew beyond question that we weren’t dealing
with a dockworker or a barber or a butcher.”

“So why are you still interviewing
men from the East End?”  Abrams looked around at the three solemn faces before
him.  “I’m sorry if it’s a rude question, but it seems to me you’ve eliminated
the very sort of man you’d find there as a suspect.”

“Some of the men in the East End
started life higher,” Davy said. “You’ve got to remember, Sir, not everyone is
like you and Detective Welles.  I mean no disrespect, but –“

“He’s fumbling around trying to find
a polite way to say that not all men are ambitious climbers like us, Abrams,”
Trevor said with a mirthless laugh.  “Not all men rise above their born
station.”

Davy looked down at the table.  “Just
the opposite for some, Sir, that’s my point.  A man who was once educated or
professional…. he could fall in status, take a step back in his prospects.   Due
to a taste for alcohol or for certain type of woman or even because he emigrated
from some lesser country and then he’d be dead bitter, wouldn’t he, Sir? 
That’s why I’m still interviewing men from the East End.”

Other books

Dancing Together by Wendi Zwaduk
The Rightful Heir by Angel Moore
Final del juego by Julio Cortázar
Secret sea; by White, Robb, 1909-1990
Purebred by Bonnie Bryant
The Duke's Messenger by Vanessa Gray
Commuters by Emily Gray Tedrowe
The Cockney Angel by Dilly Court
More Than Courage by Harold Coyle
Linda Castle by The Return of Chase Cordell