“You’re not really considering Colonel Lindbergh’s invitation, are you?” she asked Papa.
“I’m not going to lie, Grace,” Papa said. “The thought interests me. And Lindbergh assures me it’s safe. He wouldn’t ask Anne to go if it wasn’t. The American military attaché wouldn’t invite Lindbergh, or any other military personnel, if it was dangerous.”
We walked down the long hall toward our rooms, and Papa tookMama’s hand in his. “I won’t go if you don’t want me to, but I don’t want to miss this opportunity. If I can help America prepare for whatever lies ahead, then I want to do my part.”
I stopped at my door and said goodnight, but I knew their conversation would continue as they went to their own room.
My room was cool as I entered and flipped on the light. A window was open, allowing in a soft breeze.
I went to the window and looked at the River Thames, glistening under the bright moon. My thoughts were so full tonight, but I couldn’t wait to get back to 1888 and find out if my father was a Freemason. I wasn’t sure how that might help me find my sister, but if all the people in power surrounding Jack the Ripper were Freemasons, then perhaps there was something to it. And if all the victims were somehow linked, could they be involved with the Freemasons, too?
It was an interesting theory to consider.
9
London, England
September 8, 1888
Our townhouse was warm and crowded that Saturday evening as I stood near Father and Mother by the front door, greeting guests. Mother’s laughter was only reserved for nights such as this, and it was so unnatural to my ears that it made me tense each time I heard it. She was a lovely woman with dark red hair like mine, and clear, beautiful skin, especially for her age. She stood next to Father with pride and thrived on hosting events like this one. They filled her days with purpose, especially when she could highlight a favorite performer or artist.
“Ah, there you are!” Mother said with a cry of delight when a tall, handsome man entered the front door of our townhome. He looked to be in his early thirties and carried himself with the suave confidence of a performer. “Mr. Maybrick, how good of you to come.”
Michael Maybrick was one of the most renowned composers and performers in Europe. We had seen him on stage at the London Opera House the year before. Mother had been trying to get him to come to her dinner parties ever since.
Mr. Maybrick bowed deeply before Mother as many of her guests turned to see the famous musician. “It is a pleasure to be in your home, Mrs. Kelly.”
Mother’s cheeks filled with color as she allowed him to kiss her hand. Then she turned to me, her eager expression telling me all I needed to know. Mr. Maybrick was single, and Mother would use any excuse she could to push me in front of an eligible bachelor. “Mr. Maybrick, may I present my daughterMissKathryn Kelly?”
He took my hand and bowed over it. “It is an honor to meet you, Miss Kelly.”
I curtseyed and smiled. “And you, Mr. Maybrick.”
When he straightened, he offered a dashing smile and his gaze lingered on me for a moment before he tore it away to be introduced to some of Mother’s friends.
I stepped back, happy to be out of the spotlight for a moment. My corset had been pulled especially tight tonight, and I struggled to catch my breath. Pungent perfume cloyed the air, and the extravagant jewelry and clothing in the room made me feel uncomfortable. I was wearing one of the most expensive—and exquisite—gowns I’d ever owned. It was a House of Worth creation, sent from Paris for this event and made of the finest gold silk I’d ever seen, with dark purple silk embroidery along the bodice and the skirt.
But all the finery only made me think about Mary even more. She’d been raised with the same wealth and privilege, the same set of skills. How was she surviving on her own? Was working as a charwoman enough? Or had she resorted to taking a male companion to help pay for her room and board? Was she a night worker, as Mrs. Barnett called prostitutes?
The very thought made a shiver run up my spine. I couldn’t imagine such a life for Mary.
At the appointed hour, Mother allowed Mr. Maybrick to escort her up the stairs and into the drawing room. It was the largest ofthe rooms in our home, and all the furniture had been moved to the attic to allow everyone to fit inside.
Father offered me his arm to escort me upstairs. It was the first time we had been within speaking distance since I’d woken up that morning, and it might be the only chance I would get.
“Do you know anything about the Freemasons?” I asked him.
His footsteps faltered, and he almost tripped as he turned his face toward me. “What do you know of the Freemasons?”
“Very little.”
“Why would you think I know something about them?”
How was I supposed to answer that? He would never believe me if I told him the truth. “I’m just curious. I have heard it whispered that most of the powerful and influential men in London are Freemasons, so that made me think you might be.”
His chest puffed out just a bit with pride, but he frowned at me. “It’s no secret that I’m a Freemason, though I rarely talk about it outside of my meetings.”
It was my turn to miss a step, but I held tight to him as we continued up the stairs. “Is that why you went to Jerusalem? To the Temple Mount?”
