London, England
October 16, 1888
I woke up in 1888 with an ache in my chest that didn’t disappear as I dressed in a simple walking gown. Austen was still not back from Scotland, but I wouldn’t spend my day waiting for his arrival. After breakfast, I planned to take the carriage to Mile End, not far from Whitechapel, where Catherine Eddowes’s ex-husband, Thomas Conway, was reported to live. I still hadn’t been able to locate William Nichols, Polly’s husband, and both John Chapman and John Stride, Annie and Elizabeth’s husbands, had died.
Hopefully Thomas might answer my questions and tell me why all five women ended up in Whitechapel. I had sold a piece of jewelry for funds to hire the cabs that I’d been using, but I was running dangerously low and would need to sell something else soon.
My mother entered my room as Duffy helped me finish my toilette.
“I do wish you’d come calling with me,” Mother said as she adjusted her gloves. “I’m running out of excuses for your absences.”
“I don’t feel like making calls.” And I didn’t feel like fighting her about it, either.
“Mrs. Kelly?” A maid appeared at the door.
“Yes?” Mother turned to address her.
“There is a caller here to see you and Miss Kelly. A Mr. Maybrick, I believe.”
“Michael Maybrick?” Mother asked, her voice rising a notch. “How very interesting.”
Michael Maybrick had come to see us? I couldn’t stop thinking about what Austen had said about him. Mr. Maybrick suspected that Austen was trying to find answers about the Freemasons, and he’d hinted that Mr. Maybrick was a threat, someone I shouldn’t trust. Had he somehow learned that I knew about the trip to Jerusalem? There was no way he could know. I hadn’t spoken to anyone about what Austen told me.
Mother turned back to me. “Come, Kathryn. He’s asked to see both of us.”
“Must I?”
Mother smoothed back a strand of my hair and fastened the top button on my collar. “Of course you must speak to him. Mr. Maybrick is one of the most eligible bachelors in England, and I saw how he admired you when he was here before. I didn’t think it would take him this long to call on you, but he’s here, nonetheless.”
“Surely he’s not here to see me.”
“Of course he is.” She batted her eyes in a playful manner. “I may have dropped the hint that you’re quite eligible yourself.”
“Mother, you know—”
“Hush, Kathryn. You’re running out of time and options. And Michael Maybrick would be the catch of the decade. I don’t know what—or who—you’re waiting for, but it’s time to settle down.”
I couldn’t look her in the eyes, knowing I might give away my true feelings about Austen if she saw my emotions.
She squinted and put her finger under my chin to lift my gaze to hers. “I know Austen was here a couple weeks ago and that you’ve been sneaking over to his house.”
“I haven’t been sneaking,” I clarified, quite proud of myself for using his front door.
“Perhaps there was a time when I would have welcomed a union between you,” she said, her voice serious as she let go of my chin. “But after—but since—” She paused.
“After the trip to Jerusalem?” I asked her.
Her gaze narrowed, and she nodded for Duffy to leave the room. When my maid was gone, Mother said, “What do you know about that trip?”
“Very little,” I said honestly. “I know that Austen’s parents died, and nothing has ever been the same.”
“Precisely. Perhaps if things had been different, I could encourage you and Austen. But nothing good could come from a marriage with him now.”
“Why not? What happened in Jerusalem?” I couldn’t help asking. She was the only woman there who hadn’t been killed. She must know something.
“What do you mean?”
“How did Austen’s parents die? Who else was with you on the trip?”
