Death at Whitechapel

Table of Contents

 

 

 

... In their first encounter, Kate Ardleigh and Sir Charles
Sheridan pursue separate solutions to a deadly puzzle involving
an occult society whose membership includes Conan Doyle.

 

... Kate and Sir Charles find themselves attracted to one
another as they rescue a kidnapped child and solve the mystery
of a policeman's brutal murder—along with the aid of Beatrix
Potter and Jemima Puddleduck.

 

... Kate and Sir Charles find murder, aristocratic corruption,
and romance at a countryhouse party held at the home of Daisy,
the Countess of Warwick, and attended by Daisy's lover, the
Prince of Wales.

 

... The Sheridans, newly married, host a promotional motorcar
and balloon race for Charles Rolls and Henry Royce (of Rolls-Royce
automotive fame). Amid the hoopla and high jinks of the
early days of the British motorcar industry, the murder of a
racing-car driver occurs.

 

... Lord and Lady Sheridan, in the company of Rudyard
Kipling, seek a quiet holiday at a quaint seaside village where
they discover murder and a bizarre smuggling conspiracy.

 

MORE PRAISE FOR ROBIN PAIGE'S
VICTORIAN MYSTERIES ...

 

“Absolutely riveting ... An extremely articulate, genuine mystery, with well-drawn, compelling characters.”
—Meritorious Mysteries

 

“An adventure worth reading.”—
Romantic Times

DEATH AT BISHOP'S KEEP
DEATH AT GALLOWS GREEN
DEATH AT DAISY'S FOLLY
DEATH AT DEVIL'S BRIDGE
DEATH AT ROTTINGDEAN
DEATH AT WHITECHAPEL
DEATH AT EPSOM DOWNS
DEATH AT DARTMOOR
DEATH AT GLAMIS CASTLE
DEATH IN HYDE PARK
DEATH AT BLENHEIM PALACE
DEATH ON THE LIZARD

 

 

THYME OF DEATH
WITCHES' BANE
HANGMAN'S ROOT
ROSEMARY REMEMBERED
RUEFUL DEATH
LOVE LIES BLEEDING
CHILE DEATH
LAVENDER LIES

MISTLETOE MAN
BLOODROOT
INDIGO DYING
AN UNTHYMELY DEATH
A DILLY OF A DEATH
DEAD MAN'S BONES
BLEEDING HEARTS

 

CHINA BAYLES' BOOK OF DAYS

 

 

THE TALE OF HILL TOP FARM
THE TALE OF HOLLY HOW
THE TALE OF CUCKOO BROW WOOD

 

 

WRITING FROM LIFE
WORK OF HER OWN

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England
Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Mairangi Bay, Auckland 1311, New Zealand
(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,
South Africa

 

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

 

A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the authors.

 

PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / February 2000

Copyright © 2000 by Susan Wittig and William J. Albert.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors' rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

 

ISBN: 9781440672965

 

BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME
PRIME CRIME Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
The name BERKLEY PRIME CRIME and the BERKLEY PRIME CRIME design
are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

 

We are grateful to Ruby Hild and her late husband, Ron Hild, who introduced us to Dedham, the River Stour, and the beauties of Essex. Thanks, too, to the legion of Ripperologists without whose diligent research and imaginative speculations we could not have devised this plot. And thanks, as well, to the loyal readers who have encouraged us in the creation of these historical mysteries.

 

Robin Paige
a.k.a. Bill and Susan Albert

Cast of Characters

Lord Charles Sheridan, Baron of Somersworth

Lady Kathryn Ardleigh Sheridan, Baroness of Somersworth and mistress of Bishop's Keep

Jennie Jerome Churchill, Lady Randolph Churchill

Lieutenant Winston Churchill, Jennie's older son

George Cornwallis-West, Jennie's lover

Manfred Raeburn, managing editor of
The Anglo-Saxon
Review

Fredrick Abberline, Detective Inspector, Scotland Yard (retired)

Walter sickert, artist, Number 13 Robert Street

Bradford Marsden, master of Marsden Manor

Mr. Hodge, butler, Bishop's Keep

Sarah Pratt, cook, Bishop's Keep

Mary Plumm, kitchen maid, Bishop's Keep

Dick Pratt, Sarah's husband

 

 

35A Great Cumberland Place, London 3 October, 1898

 

J
ennie Churchill opened the drawer of her writing desk and took out an envelope. Her mouth taut, dark brows pulled together, she counted the notes, feeling an enormous resentment, then sealed the envelope and addressed it, fiercely, to A. Byrd. She was done with it—until the next time.

The small black pug at her feet roused and looked up at her with an anxious expression, as if to ask what the matter was. The next time! Jennie picked up the little dog and held it close, rocking back and forth. “How much longer can this terrible thing go on, Caro?” she whispered. “And what in heaven's name shall I do if he asks for even more? How can I—”

There was a rap at the door, and it opened. A slender young man wearing the dress uniform of the 21st Lancers stood in the doorway, stick in one hand, helmet under his arm.

“Hello, Mama,” he said.

“Darling boy!” Jennie cried. She put the pug down and leaped to her feet, holding out her arms. “What a
relief
!”

“Dearest Mama!” Winston threw aside his helmet and stick, strode across the carpet. “How wonderful to see your face at last!”

The two could scarcely have looked at each other, however, so close was their embrace. Eventually, this emotional greeting gave way to holding each other at arm's length, each exclaiming how marvelous the other looked, then returning to the embrace again, and to more exclamations and more tears. After a time—a very long time—they seated themselves on the sofa, still quite close together. They made a striking pair: the son not yet twenty-four years of age, pale, with thin reddish-brown hair and his father's protuberant eyes; the dark, elegant mother, astoundingly youthful at forty-four and renowned as one of the great beauties of England.

“I cannot tell you, my dear, dear Winston,” Jennie said gravely, “how frightened I have been for you.” She pushed her heavy dark hair away from her face with a shudder. “Omdurman—even the name conjures up fears. The news of the attack was in
The Times
on that Friday. I waited all through the day, and the next, for your telegram, which didn't arrive until after luncheon on Sunday. Lady Grenfell sent word that the offensive against the fort had been successful and that we had suffered no casualties, but you can imagine my state.” She shook her head, making a wry face. “And to think how hard I worked to get around General Kitchener and get you posted to Egypt. And then, at the last, you had to pay your own expenses! I know it was your heart's desire, but if anything had happened to you, I should have blamed myself.”

“To be sure, Mama.” Winston smiled. “You left no wire unpulled and no cutlet uncooked to put me into the Expeditionary Force. I shall be eternally grateful to you for giving me my chance to join a significant action. But you know my luck in these things. At Omdurman, I was under fire all day and survived without a scratch, not even a rip in my sleeve.”

“Thank God for that,” Jennie said.

Winston made a dramatic gesture. “I am sorry to say, however, that I shot five men, perhaps seven—although out of ten thousand dead Dervishes I don't suppose my effort signifies. We lost only five officers and sixty-five men, but Colonel Rhodes was wounded and poor Hubert Howard was killed with a friendly shell. You cannot gild war. All the raw shows through.” He smiled faintly. “But I intend to settle down to writing another history—
The War for the Waterway,
I am calling it. You can read all the glorious details there.”