Jack the Ripper Victims Series: The Double Event (8 page)

Elizabeth looked up at her neighbor’s smiling face in the warm light of the candle lamp beside the bed. Ada had gently awakened her. Relieved to think that the room currently belonged to the woman, Elizabeth was in no hurry to get up. She groaned and stretched her sore and aching frame. She smelled coffee.

Ada sat on the edge of the bed, helped Elizabeth to sit up, and gave her a warm cup. “You’ve grown so thin. Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said.

Ada gave her bread. Elizabeth dunked it into her cup of coffee, took a bite and chewed. She’d never known coffee and bread to taste so good.

“I’ve a story to tell you, Elizabeth,” Ada said, “a wonderful story.”

Elizabeth busied herself with the food and drink, and paid little attention to her friend’s words.

“A woman came looking for you two weeks ago. I was leaving my room at the time. She asked after you, but I wasn’t certain what I should tell her at first. When she asked if I worked for Klaus, I said I did. She said that she did too, and gave me her given name. She said she was Leena—”

Elizabeth looked up, instantly intent on Ada’s words.

“—and that she had worked with you in a nearby household.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, eager to hear more.

“As we talked I could see she was a decent sort. I told her what had become of you and that we are friends. Because I visited Kurhuset frequently to find news of your wellbeing, I was able to tell about your progress and when you might be released.”

Elizabeth was embarrassed. “What was her response?” she asked

“She was sympathetic. She said that her employer, whose name she would not say, had been looking for you.”

Fru Ellstromsdotter?
Elizabeth wondered.

Perhaps to gloat over your suffering,
Liza said.

Possibly, Herr Olovsson,
Bess said.

“What would he want with me,” Elizabeth wondered aloud.

“I have not spoken to your benefactor, the employer, I presume. Leena took away the news I offered.” Ada paused and smiled before continuing. “Klaus came to me a few days later. He said I was to clean your room and help you when you returned from Kurhuset. He said I would not see clients for whatever length of time it took to bring you back to health. While I cleaned the next day, he brought fresh clothing into your room.”

She got up and moved to the cabinet. “It’s all folded neatly in here.” Ada picked up a letter off the cabinet, and handed it to Elizabeth. “Then, this came for you yesterday.”

Elizabeth tore the envelope open and read.

Dearest Elizabeth,

I hope this letter finds you feeling better. I am saddened to hear of your recent suffering. I did not know that Herr Lydersson kept women in such cruel circumstances until Herr Olovsson asked me if I knew if you were doing well, and I took it upon myself to find out for him. I have since disassociated myself from Herr Lydersson.

When I found out about your suffering, I was reluctant to tell Herr Olovsson about it for fear of revealing that which your pride might prefer to keep. But he is a good-hearted man, and I had a feeling he might find a way to help since he was a policeman for many years and keeps his ties to the city police.

And, indeed, he has been able to help. Herr Lydersson is now watched carefully. His women are to be protected.

When you are feeling well again, hopefully soon, Herr Olovsson has found possible employment for you with a German musician and his wife who have recently come to our city. They eagerly await a chance to meet with you. If you cannot come soon, and the opportunity passes, be assured that Herr Olovsson will make available further opportunities.

Of most importance is the task of regaining your health. When you’re ready, write to me at my mother’s address, 28 Timmer Mans Platsen.

Herr Olovsson said to tell you he misses your coffee.

My most fervent hopes for you,

Fru Leena Jensson

Tears fell from Elizabeth’s eyes as she handed the letter to Ada. The older woman wept as she read. Finished, she took Elizabeth in her arms, hugged her, then stood.

“Rest,” she said before dousing the light, and leaving the room.

Elizabeth needed no further encouragement. She lay back on her fresh, clean bed. With no concerns requiring immediate attention, she gratefully closed her eyes.

Leena remained the go-between for Elizabeth and Herr Olovsson. She suggested that Elizabeth take a heritable name to create a separation from her record with the police. Out of respect for her family, Elizabeth was reluctant, yet finally she took the name Gustavsson, after the family name she’d given her stillborn girl since it was not so different from her Gustavsdotter.

In November of 1865, she gained employment within the household of the German musician, Carl Kirschner, a violinist with the Gothenburg Grand Theatre. Although Elizabeth’s income was slightly less than what she’d earned within the Olovsson household, she didn’t mind. She had a warm room in the Kirschner home, and plenty to eat.

Elizabeth immediately liked her new employers. Herr Kirschner acted much younger than his forty-four years; his thin body, balding head and expressive features more animated than most men of his age. He had a heavy German accent that Elizabeth had difficulty understanding until she began to pay attention to his movements while he spoke.

His wife, beautiful, graceful Inga, acted like the successful actress she hoped to one day be. Elizabeth enjoyed watching and listening to her, as the woman put at least a small measure of drama into everything she did. With her long, dark hair, full mouth, large blue eyes, and rosy cheeks, she would make a striking addition to any stage.

Their home, though large, was in no way ostentatious, but had a large parlor for social events. The couple held small parties frequently. They led exciting lives with their many friends from the theatre. The handsome men and women who visited the house, charmed Elizabeth with their flamboyant behavior, and their colorful and stylish clothing.

Fru Kirschner studied English with the hope of expanding her potential on the stage. With delight, Elizabeth practiced the use of the language with her. They spent many hours together, having conversations in both Swedish and English, and reading the newly released
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
. The story seemed so odd that, even with the visual cues of the illustrations by John Tenniel, Elizabeth and Inga were uncertain they understood the tale at all. All the same, they laughed at their strange interpretations and enjoyed the book.

In brief moments, Elizabeth saw her new life as too good to be true, and had the feeling that she walked through a dream.

To be around such excitement and beauty,
Bess said,
is certainly something better than the life of a prostitute, and you do deserve it.

Elizabeth knew she’d survived a great ordeal, and felt humbled yet strengthened by the experience. She believed she knew the worth of life for the first time, and eagerly listened to her hopeful half. Liza had little to say, almost as if she were sleeping, and Bess’s attitude came to the fore.
Never again must anger, melancholy, pettiness, complacency, and selfishness sully your days
, Bess suggested.
You can go forth and love life and all it has to offer with a childlike abandon.

While skeptical that she could continue with the same rosy outlook, Elizabeth intuitively knew the truth of Bess’s statements. She clung to her joy and the gratitude that went with it, knowing they were the key to maintaining the positive frame of mind.

Elizabeth knew happiness in the first week as she went about her duties, cooking, cleaning, and serving. In the time that followed, Liza Black Tongue slowly emerged from hibernation.

~ ~ ~

Elizabeth had been with the Kirschners for about a month when they held a party for ten or twelve guests. As the evening wore on and the visitors lounged in the parlor with liqueurs and brandy, the men told of the foolish things they’d done to impress women. When not serving, Elizabeth stood beside the doorway to the hall and listened.

Following a humorous story told by a loud fat man with wild auburn hair, Herr Kirschner spoke up. “My story is not as funny,” he said, glancing at his wife with a mischievous look, “but I’ll tell it anyway. We were hiking in the Alps with the Ehrlich’s, and Inga kept eyeing Hans’s posterior.”

Frau Kirschner blushed, and covered her mouth as she giggled. The guests shouted their approval.

“Although not normally the jealous sort, it came to me that I needed to regain Inga’s attention by an act of physical strength. I decided to climb a rock face. I could have walked a small path to the top, which was some thirty feet up, but my intention was to amaze, to astonish!” Herr Kirschner held his thin arms out in a strongman pose.

The guests jeered in good humor while Frau Kirschner laughed.

I should not know such things about those I serve,
Elizabeth decided.
She slipped out the door to go to the kitchen to fetch more brandy. As she went, she heard intermittent laughter from the guests between the murmurs of Herr Kirschner’s statements.

Upon her return, the tale seemed to be winding down. She moved about the room, offering more brandy to the guest whose glasses were almost empty.

“Inga had given me the fine jacket as a birthday present,” Herr Kirschner said. “Looking much more heroic, Hans was able to lift me to safety. The jacket was ruined, torn against the rock.”

“It was much more expensive than you deserved, anyway!” Inga shouted in drunken mock-anger.

“Now, gentleman,” Her Kirschner said, standing and bowing slightly, “
that
is how to impress your woman.”

The guests agreed with great guffaws.

Elizabeth decided she hadn’t missed much. Seeing the exaggerated reactions of the audience, she concluded the story was meant to appeal to intoxicated listeners.

They seem to think that because they’re in the theatre, the things they say are entertaining,
Liza said.

Elizabeth rejected the bitter thought. She liked the Kirschners. Their marriage was one of true love. They treated her with respect. She had been encouraged to feel comfortable enough to speak her mind within their household.

“You seemed a little uncomfortable last night, Elizabeth,” Frau Kirschner said the day after the party.

“No, Frau Kirschner, not at all.”

“Inga, please.”

“Yes, Inga.”

“During parties, though you are serving, you should relax and feel free to talk to the guests,” Inga said. “As long as you don’t have too much and become foolish or clumsy, you should have a drink.”

“Thank you, Frau Kirschner—I mean, Inga,” Elizabeth said, “but I don’t care much for the way I act with drink.”

“I understand about drinking. Some of us have difficulty. I should not drink as much as I do.”

Elizabeth smiled shyly. In the short time she’d served in the household, she’d helped Inga to bed more than once when the woman had had too much to drink. Alternately attracted to the drinking and repulsed by it, Elizabeth became increasingly uneasy with amount of drunkenness within the household. She hadn’t had a drink in several years, and remembering the consequences from times past kept her from it.

With time, Inga offered up her history to Elizabeth as if to a close friend. Both she and her husband told more stories of their adventures and their rather tame improprieties. Elizabeth became uncomfortable with her own reticence and thought that she should express herself more. Perhaps she should tell them something of her past.

Yet she didn’t have daring and humorous adventures to tell. They would not want to hear about her prostitution, her bout with venereal disease, and the loss of her infant. Ultimately, she had trouble feeling worthy of their confidence and good graces.

Yes, excitement and beauty had come into Elizabeth’s life, but she could only stand in the wings and watch. Her existential delight had been short-lived.

It seems that
something better
has it’s limits
, Liza said.

~ ~ ~

Almost a month later, while Elizabeth was cooking dinner, Inga came to the kitchen to ask for a cup of coffee. “You make a most wonderful cup, my dear.”

“I have heard that before, Inga. Thank you.”

As the lady of the house sat at the big oak kitchen table, Elizabeth put a pot of water on the stove, measured out finely ground coffee from an earthenware jar with a wide cork in it, and dumped them in.

“Do you recall meeting Herr Godvin Bohlander last week?” Inga asked.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, “the handsome actor.”

“Yes. Do you know that he kissed me in the hallway when no one was watching?”

Elizabeth didn’t know what to say. She remained silent for a moment, then simply smiled.

“He wanted to take me to his bed,” Inga said with a girlish giggle, “I wouldn’t let him because I love my husband.”

A question had been nagging at Elizabeth, and, remembering that she’d been invited to speak her mind, she spoke up. “Inga, you and Herr Kirschner are very good to me, but why do you treat me like such a good friend when you don’t truly know me?”

“I hope I haven’t shocked you,” Inga said, a look of concern on her face.

“Not at all,” Elizabeth said. “I have had experience with men.” She looked for a new way to ask the question. “Customarily, those who have been hired to serve are not considered to be the friends of those they serve.”

Inga’s face became sad. “You’re asking why we don’t treat you as an inferior from a lower class.”

Elizabeth nodded uncertainly, and Inga pinched her lips together as if the answer was difficult to formulate.

“Well, my husband is a follower of the writings of Karl Marx.” She paused. “I don’t understand all of it, but…we don’t believe there should be separate classes. We don’t believe some are better or worse than others. We think that…everyone should be treated equally.”

Elizabeth didn’t find an answer in what the woman had to say—not one that she understood—and it must have shown on her face.

Inga became flustered. She stood and approached. “Oh, you are so serious, my dear.” She cupped Elizabeth’s chin in one hand and smiled. The motherly gesture was more than a little uncomfortable for Elizabeth since she was two years the woman’s senior.

She treats you like a little girl, even as she says you’re equals,
Liza said.

She’s being affectionate, Bess said.

Elizabeth kept an even gaze.

“You are our servant,” Inga continued. “You’re
also
our friend.” She laughed and rolled her eyes as she stepped back. “I don’t tell about my dalliances to just anyone. I know you’re not judging when you look at me. I can say
anything
to you!”

Elizabeth took the boiling pot from the stove, and poured the woman a cup of coffee.

“Thank you, dear,” Inga said.

“What I meant to ask,” Elizabeth said, “is why do you befriend
me
in particular.” She regretted the question immediately.

“And why not?”

Elizabeth choked on her words. She didn’t want to admit the truth—she didn’t want to face it herself—but the lady of the house was still waiting for an answer. Finally Elizabeth decided to take a big risk. “I have done a terrible thing,” she said quietly.

“Nonsense!” Inga waved her hand in the air as if she could dispel blame for the worst deeds with a simple gesture. “You’re a charming person. We’ve all done things we regret.” She smiled brightly, picked up her cup of coffee, and headed for the door to the hallway.

“What I did to Fru Andersdotter…,” Elizabeth said.

The lady of the house gave no indication that she’d heard. She left the kitchen and moved down the hall.

Elizabeth felt abandoned. She would have opened up for the woman. She could see that Inga didn’t take her seriously enough to want to listen. Elizabeth lost her courage—she would never again reveal feelings of any real importance to the woman.

She doesn’t want to know, and you shouldn’t tell her,
Liza said.

You can’t blame her for not wanting to hear the worst,
Bess said.
She wants to think the best of you. That’s the way of friendship.

~ ~ ~

A month later, as the year of 1865 came to a close, and Inga announced that she was expecting, Elizabeth found herself inexplicably wanting out of her employment. After only two months with the Kirschners, she began to think about other opportunities outside their home.

Am I so afraid of the alcohol,
she asked herself,
or am I merely foolish and ungrateful again?

You fear the newborn will remind you of your loss,
Bess said.

You know that if you stay, you’ll end up having to raise her whelp,
Liza said cruelly.

Looking for a reasonable explanation for abandoning a perfectly good position, for a time she entertained the excuses provided by her two selves, although neither was at the heart of her desire to leave. She tried to tell herself that at the age of twenty-two, she didn’t want to watch others go on about their lives while she merely served and had no life of her own. When that didn’t fit, she tried out several more excuses, yet none of them stood up to scrutiny and the truth pressed in.