Jack the Ripper Victims Series: The Double Event (27 page)

On a Saturday in the beginning of summer, Conway sent Thomas off on a Band of Hope youth outing so he and Katie could have a little free time. As they walked to Hyde Park to listen to the music, Conway said, “I don’t care much for Band of Hope’s religion, but if they can keep Thomas on the straight and narrow, it’s worth it. I’d rather he grow up to be like the rest of those prater bastards than become what my father was. They’ll make him sign the pledge. It won’t keep him from drinking, but he’ll have to think about it.”

Conway worried unnecessarily about Thomas drinking, but Katie would stay out of it. He was Conway’s boy, as Annie was her girl. The couple had come to an unspoken agreement about that long ago.

They spent their afternoon near the bandstand, enjoying a sixteen piece brass band dressed in blue and gold uniforms and playing selections of American music. A pleasant change in the weather had brought cleaner air and all was fresh and new.

On one of the paved walks, Katie found a handbill for Dr. Carter Moffat’s Ammoniaphone which was said to create artificial Italian air. With slogans like,
Recommended by the Best Physicians
, and,
Invaluable in all Pulmonary Affections
, it touted the Ammoniaphone as an aid to vocalists and public speakers. Since the greatest voices developed in Italy, it explained, it followed that Italian air was the key. Breath taken through the Ammoniaphone, a long tube charged with an aromatic chemical compound,
Resembles the soft, balmy air of the Italian Peninsula.
What really caught her attention was,
Has proved of the utmost value in the treatment of coughs
.

The Ammoniaphone was not the sort of thing that could be afforded right now, but one day in the future perhaps, for it could help with both breathing and singing. Katie folded the handbill and slipped it into a pocket.

On the way home, they passed through Covent Garden Market to see the flowers, fresh fruits and vegetables.  Perhaps Conway would get a taste for something interesting and he’d pay the price to buy it for their supper.

Annie was supposed to be off all day with friends, but Katie knew she was seeing Mr. Phillips. As many young couples courted in the Covent Garden Market because of the beautiful colors and fresh smells, it wasn’t a surprise to see Annie strolling along the avenue, arm in arm with her beau, carrying a tussie-mussie of white primrose. In the language of flowers it meant,
I can’t live without you
.

Conway turned in their direction, and Katie’s heart skipped a beat. The young couple had paused beside the fountain on the eastern side of the avenue. Katie gripped his shoulder and turned him around to face her. He looked at her with a frown. She produced a calm, sweet smile and then planted a kiss on his lips. “Thank you for a wonderful day out.”

“You haven’t kissed me in so long I’d forgotten what it felt like.” A slight frown settled on his face. Finally he said, “You’re quite welcome.”

He turned back to continue southeast across the avenue, perhaps attracted by the fountain which sparkled brightly in the sunlight, but it wasn’t exactly the direction they needed to take to get home, and he was headed straight toward the loving couple.

Katie took him by the arm and turned him again, then gestured as casually as she could toward the vendors at the southern side of the avenue. “If we can afford anything at all here,” she said, “it will be found at these carts.”

"I am not buying vegetables today," he said, turning again toward the fountain and couple. "We have potatoes at home."

"Yes, but I fancy a treat, don’t you?" She put her arm around him in a loving, companionable way, as she turned them as one toward the wagons on the western side of the market.

Conway pulled himself free and stopped. He stared hard at Katie, his head cocked to one side. “What are you trying to keep me from, woman?”

Shock and innocence would be the best defense, but she wasn’t pulling it off. “I—I was—”she began, but Conway cut her off.

“Be still,” he said, and she became silent, her heart racing, while he looked all around.

“I’m merely suggesting we deserve something special to end a wonderful day,” she said too loudly, as his eyes turned in the direction of the loving couple.

Conway spotted them. He turned back to Katie. “You and your daughter have been keeping a secret, haven’t you? Thomas said as much, but I didn’t believe him.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Her words weren’t believable.

“We’ll see about that,” he said and began walking swiftly toward Annie and Mr. Phillips.

Katie hurried after him. She grabbed Conway again, jerking him to a halt, and he allowed it. Dropping all pretense, she said, “Please don’t. You’re not dressed well. Mr. Phillips will think less of Annie if he sees you dressed as you are.”

“My clothes are fine. This Mr. Phillips will not think less of me for the holes you’ve patched. If he does, he’s not for Annie.”

The couple could be seen out of the corner of her eye. Perhaps they would become lost in the crowd as she spoke. “He’s a man with a good income. He’s become devoted to her.”

Conway stared at her again, hard, as if he could penetrate her mind and see what else she might be hiding. “Yet you’ve tried to keep this from me.”

People flowed around them, occasionally obscuring Annie and her suitor. “Because you want her to take my place and work with you,” Katie said. “I want her to have better life, and Mr. Phillips could make that possible.”

“She’s too young for you to be making her wedding plans. I am her father and I will have a word with him. Remain here.”

Conway located the couple in the crowd and caught up with them. Annie was clearly startled and distressed to see him, but she made introductions. Conway gestured toward Katie and Annie came to join her while the men spoke privately.

“He’s spoiling everything,” Annie said bitterly.

“He is your father. We couldn’t keep it from him forever.”

“Still, I’ll be lucky if Mr. Phillips will even look at me after this.”

“Don’t get so high and mighty that you forget all your father has done for you.” That was a surprising reaction, but defending Annie against Conway had gone on for so long, it was strange to be defending
him
even though it was the right thing to do.

Annie bowed her head and remained silent.

Presently Conway left Mr. Phillips and came to stand next to Katie. He turned to Annie with a stern expression and said, “Go to your beau. He’ll escort you home.”

Annie did as he said, and Katie and Conway left the market.

“Annie’s Mr. Phillips smells of creosote,” Conway said, wrinkling up his nose.

“His family runs a lampblack factory.”

“So he said.” Conway became silent for a time as they walked, clearly lost in thought.

He’s looking for grounds to put a stop to Annie’s courtship.

Finally he turned to her. “The execution of your cousin comes next week. I’m almost finished with his ballad. I must prepare to travel to Stafford."

Six months ago, Katie’s cousin, Charles Robinson, was arrested for the murder of a woman, his lover, some said. He was a troubled man, prone to anger and violence, but that was not the way he’d always been. For a time, when they were both young, he had been sweet to Katie, and their interest in each other had led to her first kiss. She’d never forgotten it. The news was heartbreaking.

"I’ll need Annie to help sell chapbooks at the hanging," Conway said. "She’s too young to become serious about a man.”

Seeing Charles hang would be horrible, but allowing her daughter to go to the execution was worse. “Annie is done with selling chapbooks,” she said. “That’s my job.”

“You told me you once loved Mr. Robinson,” Conway said. “How can you want to be at his hanging?" He shook his head emphatically. "No, you aren’t the pretty girl you were. I need Annie’s sweet face to draw attention.”

“Yes, I loved him once. I still have a place for him in my heart. If it were up to me, we would not earn money from his misery. He’s part of my family.”

“We can’t afford to pass up the opportunity,” Conway said.

“I don’t want to see him hang, but I don’t want her in danger. And you know Annie
cannot
sing.”

“There’s danger everywhere,” Conway said. He shook his head again. "You’ve lost the desire to attract a crowd. Your singing lacks the life it once had.”

It’s not the type of crowd I want to sing to
.
“Only because I don’t enjoy the work,” she said. “I
will
do better. Give me another chance and allow Annie to be a child just a little longer.”

“She’s grown now and has had her time to be a child. I need her. She’ll not marry until she’s twenty-one years old.”

He was too pragmatic and arguing with him never helped. Still, there must be a way to appeal to a part of him that was not strictly practical.

“Please allow her to stay behind this once,” she said. “She is hardly healed from the last time.”

Conway winced.

That was it; he felt sorrow for her injury.

After a long silence he said, “I suppose we can get along without her one last time.”

“We’ll travel to your cousin’s execution by rail,” Conway said, showing Katie the tickets while she cleaned up the table after an evening meal. “The fare wars between the lines have made travel by rail the best price.” Traveling city to city in the crude wagons Conway hired had always been a trial. Going to Stafford in a London Northwest Railway third class carriage was going to be a treat, but being in a black mood over her poor cousin’s eminent death, Katie turned away from Conway without a word and finished up her work.

They set out early for St. Pancras Station the morning of the execution and were in their railcar by 6:00AM. Her first time traveling by train, the vibration and unusual sounds were frightening. As the train left London and picked up speed, the experience became nearly as intoxicating as the liquor she’d had many years ago. As they sped downhill, over a river on a viaduct and into a valley, the reality of their visit to Stafford had no power. Katie knelt on the hard wooden bench and leaned out of the small window behind it. She spread her arms like wings and yelled over the rushing wind, “We’re flying!”

“We’re going too fast,” Conway said, pulling her back in. “The wind could break your neck.”  He insisted she take her seat. Conway was embarrassed, but he was smiling, making it easier to respect his wishes.

Still breathless when they arrived at Stafford Station, Katie disembarked with Conway, and as they walked to the prison with their bundles of chapbooks, the reality of the visit and sobriety returned.

Charles Robinson was the son of her mother’s sister, Martha. Aunt Martha and her family lived in Birmingham. On the few occasions when the families met, Charles paid close attention to Katie. The last time they met, six months before Catherine died, Martha had come to London for some purpose or another. She brought Charles with her and they stayed at an inn. Katie and Catherine went to visit them in their room and later they all had a delicious fish dinner at a local tavern. Martha paid for the meal. In the room and at the tavern, Charles sat close to her and tried to draw her out with conversation. Katie didn’t make it easy for him. His constant and insistent eye contact was unnerving as well as exciting. On the walk back to the inn from the tavern, the two mothers were distracted by their own conversation.

“May I have a kiss?” Charles asked.

Katie shook her head, grinned and turned away. To kiss him would be wonderful, but the idea was frightening.

If he asks me again, I’ll kiss him passionately
. But what did passion feel like?
I don’t want to lose his attentions.

When they arrived at the inn, the adults went inside while Katie and Charles remained on the street out front. She leaned against the wall of the building while he stood close and talked about his life in Birmingham. What he had to say wasn’t interesting, but he was handsome. After a while he became quiet and merely looked at her with a smile. Finally he put a finger under her chin, gently raised her face to meet his own and kissed her lightly on the lips. A pleasant shiver ran through her, and for a moment she was in love.

“You two stop that right now.” Aunt Martha’s voice boomed from the front step of the inn.

Katie shied away. The shame came so swiftly, it was dizzying.

Charles released her and headed for the door leading inside. Martha struck him on the crown of his head as he passed by.

Katie remained on the street until Catherine came to fetch her.

“He is your cousin,” she said. “One day you’ll find a proper love.”

That moment of innocent desire was held dearly in her heart ever since.

~~~

At the prison gate, as the hour approached for Mr. Robinson’s execution, the crowd grew from perhaps one hundred to nearly a thousand. Through the afternoon Katie called on her charmed memories of the young Charles over and over as she sang the ballad lamentation contained in the chapbook. “The Awful Execution of Charles Colin Robinson” was sung to the tune of “Long Lost Ellen” by Noel Wincott.

Come all you feeling Christians,

Give ear unto my tale,

It’s for a cruel murder

I was hung at Stafford Gaol.

The horrid crime that I have done

Is shocking for to hear,

I murdered one I once did love,

Harriet Segart dear.

Charles Colin Robinson is my name,

With sorrow was oppressed,

The very thought of what I’d done

Deprived me of my rest

Within the walls of Stafford Gaol,

In bitter grief did cry,

And every moment seemed to say

“Poor soul, prepare to die!”

I well deserve my wretched fate,

No one can pity me,

To think that I in my cold blood,

Could take her life away,

She no harm to me had done,

How could I serve her so?

No one my feelings now can tell,

My heart was so full of woe.

O while within my dungeon dark,

Sad thoughts came on apace,

The cruel deed that I had done

Appeared before my face,

While lying in my prison cell

Those horrid visions rise,

The gentle form of her I killed

Appeared before my eyes.

O Satan, thou demon strong,

Why didst thou on me bind?

O why did I allow thy chains

To enwrap my feeble mind?

Before my eyes she did appear

All others to excel,

And it was through jealousy

I poor Harriet Segart killed.

May my end a warning be

Unto all mankind,

Think on my unhappy fate

And bear me in your mind.

Whether you be rich or poor

Your friends and sweethearts love,

And God will crown your fleeting days,

With blessings from above.

With no hanging to watch, Katie’s singing was the main attraction at the prison gate. At first, only a few gathered around the couple, but then Katie lifted her voice to express sorrow for her cousin’s fate. She’d not expressed such feeling in song for a long time, and it felt good. The crowd grew quickly, and soon they were ringed in and surrounded. People in the rear pressed forward to get a better position while those in front defended their ground stoically, listening to Katie sing the ballad over and over before allowing others to take their place.

Conway took care of sales and business was brisk.

At one point, it became clear that word had been passed from the prison gate and a roar went up from the crowd. Katie knew that Charles Robinson was no more. She sang the song two more times as the crowd began to disperse. Throat sore and heart aching, Katie was spent.

Conway was simply giddy. “We sold over four hundred copies!” he nearly shouted, breaking his own rule against talking about their earnings in public. “We had no right to expect as much from that small crowd, but your singing brought them in.”

In the midst of a coughing spell, Katie didn’t respond.

They stayed in an inn near the train station that night. Katie was exhausted and although Conway wanted to stay up talking, he was considerate enough to allow her to get some sleep. They caught an early train back to London the next morning, arriving mid-afternoon at St. Pancras Station.

Leaving the station, Conway took Katie by the arm and led her away from their intended route. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“There is a gift I’d like to offer you,” he said, sweeping her down a side street. Katie smiled uncertainly while trying to keep up.

“You’ve wanted fine clothes for some time.” He opened the door to a little shop below street level and they passed within. “If you’ll always sing as you did in Stafford, we can’t help but prosper. We can still further improve our lot by making you more attractive.”

With Conway obviously so impressed with her singing, it was easy to tolerate his slight about her appearance.

“May I help you?” asked the shopkeeper, a round red haired woman with pink cheeks and green eyes.

Katie was fitted for the green silk and black velvet bodice and skirt she’d always imagined she should have. To go with it, she chose a black straw bonnet trimmed with green and black velvet and black beads. She chose abalone buttons that had come all the way from Australia. All the fabrics were crisp and clean, and the buttons sparkled with newness under the numerous gas lamps that lit the interior of the shop. Conway was charged all they had earned the previous day and then some. He was told it would be ready in a week.

Katie was so light, the long walk home was hardly noticed. Conway talked about plans for her singing at future executions, his smile flashing, eye winking, all that he said and did meant to inspire a sense of camaraderie and clever conspiracy. 

She too was taking her singing seriously again, but her plans did not dovetail with his.

Arriving home, they were met at the door by a gloriously beaming Annie. “Mr. Phillips has proposed marriage!” she cried.