“Who is it?” came a small, feminine voice on the other side of the door.
My heart squeezed at the sound, and tears stung my eyes. “Mary, my love. It’s me. Kathryn.”
The door creaked open, and Mary stood before me, a shell of the woman she’d once been. Tears of shock and joy filled her eyes as she fell into my embrace. “Kathryn.”
I clung to Mary with desperation, horrified at how thin and careworn she looked. There was a stench about her that was appalling, though she probably didn’t notice. The thought of a warm bath and clean clothes was a luxury in Whitechapel. I wanted to take her away with me at that very instant—but a voice of reason spoke from behind me.
“Perhaps we had better go inside before we’re seen,” Austen said as he touched my lower back.
Mary pulled away from me and glanced at Austen, fear and uncertainty in her gaze.
“Hello, Mary.”
She nodded at him and then said, “Come in,” as she opened her door wider, allowing me to see her foul living conditions. The fact that she could afford her own room was a miracle. Jack’s other victims were all homeless, living on the streets, prostituting themselves for doss money to have a shared bed in a boardinghouse.
Mary glanced behind us toward the courtyard, as if she was looking for something—or someone.
Her home was smaller than I imagined, only about twelve feet square, with a single bed, three small tables, and a chair. A picture of a forlorn woman sitting near the seaside hung above the fireplace, and there were two irregular sized windows looking toward the yard. Three of the walls were made of brick, but a fourth wasmade of wood and looked like it was a partition that separated this room from the rest of the larger house.
Mary closed the door again and then looked out the window, clearly worried. “I don’t know how long you can stay before Joseph returns.”
“Joseph?” I frowned. “Who is Joseph?”
Embarrassment and shame colored Mary’s cheeks as she went to the small fireplace and moved a tea kettle off the flames. “Joseph is my—my man.”
I’d forgotten about Joseph Barnett. He was the man who would give testimony about Mary after the murder. A murder I wouldn’t let happen. “Your man?”
She turned to me, her eyes pleading with me to understand. “If you don’t have a man to protect you in Whitechapel, then you’re forced to have several men.”
My stomach turned, but not because of Mary’s decisions. She was simply trying to survive the unthinkable. Everything about her current life contradicted the one she used to lead, but she had no choice.
She stood before me, her hands clasped in front of her dirty apron, and she couldn’t meet my gaze. She had aged in the past eleven months. She’d always been pretty, but now she looked gaunt and haggard. Her red hair, so much like mine, was thin and dirty. Her dress was worn and hung on her frame. And her green eyes had lost their shine.
“Don’t look at me like that, Kathryn,” she whispered. “I don’t want your pity.”
I glanced at Austen, but he wasn’t looking at me or Mary. He was looking at his feet, probably to spare Mary from embarrassment and shame.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
I couldn’t tell her the truth because Mary didn’t know I was a time-crosser.
“I hired someone to look for you,” Austen said.
Fear tightened the edges of her eyes. “You cannot tell anyone where I’m at.”
“We won’t,” Austen assured her. “The man who found you is someone I trust with my life.”
“If a hired man could find me, then I’m not safe.”
“You’re safe for now,” I said to Mary, taking her hand in mine. “I promise you.” I swallowed and looked at the small, uncomfortable room. “What happened? Why did you leave without telling me? Did Father force you out? He and Mother refuse to speak of you or allow me to speak of you.”
Mary shook her head and pulled her hand away. “It doesn’t matter. This is my life now. I’m getting along as best I can.”
“Itdoesmatter. You left without warning, Mary. And look at where you’re living. None of this makes sense. You’re from a genteel family. We love you. We want you to come home.”
“I know you thought you were coming to help me,” Mary said, her voice tightening. “But you’re putting me in more danger, Kathryn. You’re right. I left without warning, but not because Father forced me to leave.”
I stared at her, speechless.
