“But you sent Mary to America when she was supposed to end up in Surrey.”
“That I didn’t know,” I said. “So I didn’t knowingly change that part.”
Mama was still frowning. “I suppose I don’t understand all the rules of time-crossing. My mama told me that she saved the life of Virgil Earp using a medical technique that wasn’t known in 1861. She thought she had changed history, as well, and that she might lose 1861, but she didn’t. It appears that there are loopholes to the rules that each generation is learning as we go.” She studied me closely. “But none of this solves our most pressing problem. How will we meet Sir Rothschild’s demands? Where would we even begin to look for the Book, and how would we get access to it?”
I took a seat on the bed, ready to answer this question. “It would be impossible. I suspect it’s in Windsor Castle, but it’s probably hidden cleverly and under guard.” I’d been thinking about this all day yesterday as I went through files at the Public Records Office, though every Bryant I found turned out to be the wrong man. “I think I’ve come up with a plan,” I said. “I can’t access the Book, but I do know where the letter from Sir Charles Warren is hidden in Buckingham Palace. It confirms that thereisa Book, and hints at where it might be located. I will tell Sir Rothschild that I have information for him, but that I want to see Papa first. I’ll tell him to bring Papa here tomorrow, and between now and then, Austen and I are working to try to find Sir Rothschild in 1888 to see if we can stop him there.”
“What will you do if you find him there?” Mama asked.
“I will threaten to unmask him and reveal his name to the world unless he releases Papa.”
Mama stared at me, her brown eyes filled with uncertainty. “But you don’t know his real name in 1888, and in 1938, no one would believe that Sir Rothschild is also Jack the Ripper.”
“That’s why Austen and I are working to find him in 1888 and threaten to reveal his name there. I cannot let him hurt Papa.”
She studied me and slowly shook her head, though I saw respect in the depths of her gaze. “If you do learn his real name, and you tell the world, you would be forfeiting both paths, Kathryn. I admire your desire for justice and your determination to save those you love, even if it costs you everything.”
I wanted to pretend I wasn’t scared, or that it was easy for me to make the offer, but I couldn’t lie to Mama. “I am praying it doesn’t come to that. My hope is that he will let Papa go when I give him information about where the Book is located. I might not be able to get it, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t try.”
“That’s what I am hoping and praying, too.” Mama took a deep breath and then said, “What are you planning to do today?”
“I need to find more information on Sir Rothschild here. His address, his connections—anything that might be a clue to help us know where he’s keeping Papa. I also want to find out if his real name is Bryant, because if it’s not, I’m wasting my time with public records in 1888.”
“I’ll get dressed and help you.” She was about to get out of bed when she stopped and said, “We should go to Lady Astor first. She knows Sir Rothschild. She’ll be a good place to start.”
I nodded, but added, “Are we doing the right thing by not bringing the authorities in?”
“We’re dealing with a man who has not only gone to great lengths to abduct your papa, but he’s also responsible for the most famous and gruesome murders in London’s history. I fear that if we make him upset, he could be capable of anything—both here and in 1888.”
“So we won’t tell Lady Astor that we know who took Papa?”
Mama slowly shook her head. “I hope I don’t regret this, but I don’t think it’s wise. Not yet. If you and Austen can’t find Jack in 1888 tomorrow, then we’ll contact the police here in the morning. We need a little more time.”
I hoped we wouldn’t regret it, either.
As I got dressed, my thoughts slipped to Austen. He’d come home late the night before and simply sent me a note, through his maid, telling me that he had followed Mr. Maybrick all day but had not yet identified Jack.
After Mr. Maybrick had left our townhouse, he’d gone home, then he’d gone to a café for lunch, and then he’d gone to a cotton exchange building near the waterfront, where Austen had learned that he’d met up with his brother, James, who was a cotton merchant. From there, Mr. Maybrick had gone to a theater and given a performance that evening. After he’d gone back to his home, Austen had returned to his.
Apparently, Mr. Maybrick’s comment about taking care of the mess had been a ruse because he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary, leaving us back at square one.
After we dressed and Mama called Lydia to tell her there was no news yet, we hailed a cab and gave the driver Lady Astor’s address at St. James Square.
London had gone back to normal after the scare with Hitler in the end of September. Everyone was still wary and concerned about Hitler’s plans, but less and less people were carrying their gas masks, and all work on temporary bomb shelters had ended.
Mama held my hand in the back of the cab as we made our way to the Astors’ townhouse. I knew she was praying about Papa, about me, and about how we would find answers without risking my life in both paths. I leaned into her strength, offering up some prayers of my own and realizing that no matter what I planned, God was surprising me constantly with His answers.
I hoped He would continue.
When we finally arrived at St. James Square, my entire body was trembling with anxiety. After we knocked on the front door, the butler answered and led us into the parlor. He left to tell Lady Astor that we’d come, and then we waited.
“I’m happy she’s home,” Mama said as she stood in front of a large painting, looking at it but probably not seeing it.
I paced, trying to think of new ways to deal with Sir Rothschild.
“Oh, my dear Grace,” Lady Astor said as she entered the room. “Is there word on Luc?”
Mama turned away from the painting and shook her head no.
