25
November 8, 1888
London, England
I looked at my reflection in the mirror as the hall clock struck seven chimes the next day. Mother had insisted that I go shopping with her and had found one excuse after the other to keep me away from home, which made me suspect that Father had told her about Austen.
As Duffy finished styling my hair for supper, I wanted to go to Austen, but my parents were expecting me in the dining room. This would be my last meal with them. My final good-bye. I would miss them, but I’d known for years that I wasn’t going to stay. Our relationship wasn’t warm or affectionate. On the contrary, I’d always felt more like part of a business than a family. Every decision made was for the prosperity and positioning of the family. And as easily as they had pushed my sister out of their lives, I wasn’t too concerned that it would take them long to push memories of me out, either.
Though it didn’t make saying good-bye any easier.
It would be a quick supper, and then I would feign illness and sneak out of the house to spend the final few hours with Austenas we went to Miller’s Court to save Mary. It was all I could think about.
“You look beautiful,” Duffy said as she stepped back to admire her work. “It’s a shame that Mr. Baird can’t see you like this.”
I met her gaze in the mirror, thankful for her loyal support, and smiled my appreciation.
She nodded and then busied herself with putting away my toiletries as I left my room.
I was wearing one of the green gowns that Austen had so often admired. I contemplated changing before we left for Miller’s Court, but it wouldn’t matter what I was wearing tonight. I didn’t need to blend in to save my sister. I had a satchel packed for Mary to take with her to New York, and in it was a fashionable gown she would wear on the ship. I wanted both of us to look our best as we said good-bye to each other in Southampton.
As I drew closer to the downstairs parlor, conversation filtered out, surprising me. A man’s voice lifted above the others, making me pause.
It was the voice of Michael Maybrick.
My pulse picked up speed as I began to suspect what my parents had planned. Mother had been anxious all day, and Father had come home early from the hospital. They hadn’t told me that Mr. Maybrick was coming, so they intended to surprise me.
If I went into the parlor now, I would be cornered. It wouldn’t be a quick supper. It would take hours, and then I’d be expected to entertain Mr. Maybrick long into the evening.
Austen and I planned to get to Miller’s Court by nine. From everything I’d researched, there were different accounts as to Mary Jane Kelly’s last appearance, but most believed she was killed between one and seven in the morning on November 9th. We wanted to get her away from there after dark so we wouldn’t draw as much attention, but not wait too long for the possibility that Jack might be watching. We couldn’t risk him following us and knowing where we had sent Mary.
Mr. Maybrick’s arrival could potentially change all our plans.
Slowly and as quietly as I could, I turned on my heels and retreated the way I’d come, reentering my bedroom moments after I’d left.
“Did you forget something?” Duffy asked as she looked up from the dress she was brushing.
“I’m suddenly not feeling well,” I said, though it wasn’t entirely untrue. “I think I might be getting a migraine.”
Duffy frowned as she set down the brush and came to me. “You haven’t had one of those in a long time.”
“I’d like to lie down,” I said as I moved toward the bed.
“Shall I help you change into a nightgown?” She pulled the bedding down so I could sit on the mattress.
“Not now. I just need darkness and quiet. Perhaps I’ll feel better in an hour or so.”
Duffy nodded as she helped me into bed.
It wasn’t easy to maneuver in a corset and petticoats, and if I’d had a real headache, I would have wanted to get into my nightclothes, but I didn’t have time to change and then try to dress myself afterward.
Hairpins poked my scalp as she pulled the covers up to my chin. “Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like me to get the headache powder?”
“No. I just want some quiet. Please turn out the lights and then give my regrets to my mother.”
Duffy paused, uncertainty in her gaze. She wouldn’t want to be the one to tell my mother I wasn’t going to supper, but she had no choice.
She turned out the lights and then slipped out of my room.
