Murder in Whitechapel (The Judas Reflections) (8 page)

Marianne adored champagne, Krug being her favorite and it surprised me how many glasses she could consume, yet keep her faculties in order. My other guests were frequently shocked at the amount, anticipating her drunkenness, but there was none. I once asked if she thought herself sinful at times. She replied, if enjoying one’s life to the fullest was a sin, then hell must be very full and heaven empty. Of course, she arrived after the hour. Late as usual, looking radiant and her cheeks flushed, she greeted my guests with enthusiasm.

“I am to be married!” she exclaimed loudly.

“So who is the lucky man then? Do we know the gentleman in question?” The Captain was a man of some standing and had dined with Royals. In spite of Marianne’s way of life, he expected her not to marry someone beneath her station. That would be too unthinkable.

“Why it’s Mr. Robert Pratt, of course. Surely, Captain, you know of him? He is the toast of the town on account of his large investments in many fine theatre productions.”

“A man of considerable wealth, you can do worse than that my dear. I give a toast to you and congratulations, my dear girl.”

We toasted our glasses, but silence befell me. There was a strange feeling in my stomach, as if I had been hit by an object of some weight.

“Be happy for me, my darling,” said Marianne, quietly in my ear.

“I am truly happy for you. Now you can move to Cornwall and have your many children.”

“Sarcasm is
not
a form of wit, Emanuel, and it does not suit you one bit!”

“I expect deep down he’d be wondering how long it will last. How long before you give up domesticity and return to the bright lights of London?” said Roderick.

“I am far from amused at your rudeness. You have resented my acquaintance with Emmanuel from the start. For the years we have been acquainted, and the months I have known you, I resent your intrusion into our friendship. But, you can rest assured it will be improper for me to call on him alone as I have been doing. I am soon to be engaged so I must act accordingly.”

“Does that mean the well-meaning friendship is over?” he replied.

“Of course not. It’s just taken a different direction.”

The Captain and his wife looked the other way, causing me to become embarrassed and uncomfortable. Her comments would now, via the Captain, reach the ears of many who will conclude a tawdry, clandestine relationship between Marianne and I had occurred. They would jump to conclusions concerning her late night appearances. If word reached Robert, her engagement would be in jeopardy. I had to act quickly.

“Captain and Mrs. Braithwaite, I can assure you that there was never any impropriety between Marianne and I. We are the closest of friends and her visits to me after hours were simply social. She would relax with a glass of champagne and gentle conversation, having worked so hard on stage.”

“Of course, I understand dear fellow, and Marianne, although it is a trite risqué to call on a gentleman alone after hours, we know you are both of good morals, fine, upstanding and honest citizens.” If only the Captain knew how far from the truth he was, the scandal would be torrid indeed.

Roderick was far from amused showing his discontent by turning away and appearing to take in the view from the garden. It did occur to me the carefully applied cosmetic powder would rub off due to his stress and the Captain and his wife would be mortified by his zombie like appearance. I had already convinced everyone Roderick’s eyes had been severely weakened by light, hence the darkened glasses he must wear constantly and his unnatural tallness due to a growth deformity that ran in the family.

I was saved by the announcement dinner was served and, making my way to the dining room, I observed Roderick and Marianne seemingly called a truce. She slipped her arm in his and he, like a real gentleman, escorted her to dinner. I breathed a sigh of relief.

After a sumptuous meal, Marianne and Mrs. Braithwaite retired to the drawing room, leaving us men to enjoy an after dinner brandy.

“I expect you’re somewhat relieved to see Miss Marianne settled at last. She is something of a wild cat at times, don’t you think?” asked the Captain.

He was of an older generation who, faced with Marianne, a free spirit who refused to be oppressed by rules and morals. The poor old fashioned Captain didn’t know quite how to take her.

“I’m hoping Robert will be the one to settle her down, though I’ll wager he’ll have a job on his hands to do so,” replied Roderick.

“I am most pleased for her, and Robert Platt is an agreeable chap. It’s a good match, they both love the theatre,” said the Captain. “So, Emmanuel, what news of Jack from your acquaintance, Albert?”

“I have no new updates. Nothing other than what you see in the daily newspapers.” I had become expert in covering my tracks, having been forced into situations where dishonesty was required and sometimes a necessary evil.

“Surely your friend has something other than the stagnant articles I’m forced to read. The description of the murderer is vague, misleading and occasionally downright ludicrous. One day he is someone from the butchers market, and then he is an eminent surgeon
and
possibly a member of the royal family. The last thing I read was that he was a Russian sailor who had absconded from his ship at the East India docks and by all accounts was running amok in Whitechapel.”

“So many rumors and conjectures. Perhaps expected in a case where the murders appear to have been committed by the same hand. Until he is apprehended, the newspapers will continue to speculate. Let us pray they catch the scoundrel soon,” said I.

I wanted to speak out and say I am waiting in the wings to strike. That I hoped the stolen files were on the way, and I would hunt Jack down until the bitter end. But I was bound by silence for my own good.

“Roderick, old chap, you’re looking under the weather. I hope the influenza isn’t striking.

Regretfully, the Captain was unable to ignore his complexion had paled considerably.

“I am overworked, far too many long hours in the office.”

“I hope that is all it is and that you are not coming down with something,” he replied as he stared intensely at Roderick. I had to agree his complexion was dreadful, a distinct lack of face powder revealing all.

To my relief, he excused himself and made haste to my bedchamber. There he could make use of a mirror to reapply enough of the darkest power so he appeared to belong in the land of the living. Meanwhile, the Captain and I joined the ladies, whereupon Mrs. Braithwaite did not waste a moment to comment.

“I do not understand why a charming and handsome man like you is not yet married. Pray tell me Emmanuel, are you intending to become an eternal bachelor?”

The eternal part was correct, that I could do nothing about, but the bachelor status was a bone of contention. I
yearned
for true love and the one and only woman who would steal my heart. But where would I find such a special woman, who would know she was to wither and grow old while I did not? This was not something I could confide with the formidable Celia Braithwaite, a woman who sat on the high echelon of society and whose name was on everyone’s guest list.

“The right woman has not yet appeared. Besides, I really have to concentrate on my business interests first.”

My response appeased her. I was sure it was talk of marriage with Marianne that encouraged her to ponder on my lack of a suitor. Meanwhile, to my relief, Roderick reappeared looking much healthier and smiling.

“I beg your pardon for my absence. Captain, Mrs. Braithwaite, I feel much better now. It was the quail not agreeing with me,” said he.

“Oh my goodness. I hope the quail was fresh Emmanuel?” replied Mrs. Braithwaite.

“I found it quite delicious and the freshest it could be. Roderick has a very delicate stomach, like a baby’s,” said Marianne finding another avenue of insult.

“My stomach is that of an ox, dear woman. Is minic a bhris beal duine a shron!”

“My dear man, what is it that you are saying? I’m sure you are aware that Gaelic eludes me.”

“In a nutshell, Miss Marianne, your mouth will lead you into a lot of trouble.”

“How dare you insult me with such sarcasm? I am highly offended!”

“Then I have done a good deed for the evening!”

“The hour is late. It is time for us to take our leave, thank you for a wonderful dinner Emmanuel, soon you must dine with us,” said the Captain, ushering Mrs. Braithwaite to her feet with Marianne following suit. Their sudden escape was the perfect solution to end the building tension and a chance for me to discover what was
really
bothering Roderick. Marianne, once calmed would, as she had done in the past, think on what was said and brush off the comment, taking very little to heart.

“Let us partake of a small brandy and talk,” I suggested, wanting to find exactly what was amiss.

“Not for me… talk or brandy, I want nothing.”

“What
is
it that’s irking you, my friend?” I asked, concerned.

“That’s a bothersome missy, irritating and very annoying at times. Good God man, can’t you see she is madly in love with the great Judas? Robert Platt is only a pawn she’s using in the vain hope of evoking anger and jealousy within you.”

“I see it, but want can I do? She is well aware that my intentions toward her are not of the romantic kind.”

“Then why did you bed her?”

“A stupid, thoughtless mistake, passion getting in the way of reason. I cannot make my point any stronger than I have done. If she chooses not to listen, then it’s not my concern.”

Our conversation reached a stalemate. Attempting to speak with my closest friend about a woman he found so disagreeable was futile and best forgotten, but not for Roderick.

“I am anxious to see you settled, Manny. I don’t mean you have to marry, just settle and be responsible.”

“I desire to be settled and I was. Well I thought as much. What I
mean
to say is that I am doing my best to focus on matters of importance. The Ripper case is far too intriguing to ignore and, rightly or wrongly, I intend to follow it through.”

Could it be two immortals drifting through centuries, sometimes together, was a bad mix? The challenges we faced, best left ignored, as we did our utmost to live amongst mortals, forced to be but a caricature of our true selves. Level minded Roderick was a rock in my storm, and while his advice was given in good intentions, severing ties would be inconceivable.

He left on a good note after I informed him, once I had done what I needed to do in Whitechapel, I would, at my earliest convenience, work on expanding the business. With good intentions, attempt to find a suitable manager to take some of the burden. There would be a slight increase in salary for Malcolm, relieving his burden and securing his future. My selfless suggestion went down extremely well. For once I pleased him.

I retired to sleep on a positive note. News of the files would come soon, enabling me to finally begin the hunt and, in spite of her passions for me, dear sweet Marianne had found happiness at last. Too much free time forced me to become very reflective. The past, present and future collided often in muddled thoughts. My behavior, somewhat impetuous and irresponsible, led me into hot water too many times to mention and, in moments of isolation, memories of the past intruded. I feared the wrath of God from the very first moment I wronged him, straight after I awoke from self-strangulation and scurried far away into obscurity. I had no understanding at that point I was still alive, assuming I had become a phantom ghost and denied access to the kingdom of heaven. Doomed to wander, unseen, for all eternity. Alas, I was to be seen by everyone I encountered, a new beginning in purgatory. My God discussions, prayers and pleads became so entwined in my immortality, I could not imagine ever
not
talking with him or writing down my thoughts, often no more than mere ramblings.

‘God, I harbor a deep desire for you to forgive me my sinful ways. I fully admit to have stolen, fornicated, lied and manipulated before and after my immortality. Yet, the Bible states we are all born with original sin, therefore I am predisposed. But I have confessed, therefore, I do deserve your mercy. What of my dishonest selling of opium? Will that doom me to eternal punishment, or does it matter when I am already in purgatory?’ I asked many times for compassion, forgiveness, understanding and tolerance, often wondering if he had turned his back on me. And… what of Jesus? Was he looking down on me with disdain, or pity and a warm, forgiving heart?

After a restless night, I awoke to the sound of a knock at the door. It was Edward, with a much anticipated telegram from Albert.

‘On my way to you. Stop. Have gift for grandmother. Stop.’

I was, in my sleepy state, not quite sure what he meant, and then the realization came. It was a code, a cover. He had obtained the files!

I hurried my breakfast and perpetually looked out of the window onto the street, eagerly awaiting his arrival with renewed anticipation. One hour later, much to my delight, he was on my doorstep.

“Master Richards has come to call and needs money for the taxi cab, sir,” Edward announced. Rather typical of Albert to presume payment for his travel expenses was on me.

His whole demeanor was one of a nervous man hiding something as he rushed me into the corner of the study, urging me to lock the door to keep Edward out.

“Here, take these,” he whispered, handing me a brown paper parcel. “They are inside, everything you need
and
I must have three hundred guineas for payment. The scoundrel forced me to pay him fifty guineas in advance before he agreed. He had no trust in me.”

“A tidy sum, but, I surmise, I’m not able to negotiate with such a man. To whom do I write out the bill of exchange?”

“Emmanuel, do you wish for the trail to lead back to you? It must be all in cash. If anything should go amiss, then there is no evidence to point the finger in your direction.”

I had no choice to go to my safe and give Albert money. He was right; a bill of exchange would be too dangerous. What was I thinking?