I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.
He squatted to get close to me, and I backed away.
“I could pick you up right now and carry you away,” he said with a strange chuckle, as if he was trying to make a joke, though it sounded too sinister to be funny. “No one would be the wiser.”
My entire body trembled at his words. “Wouldn’t my parents suspect something if you didn’t return to supper?”
“I left as soon as your mother told me that you wouldn’t be joining us. They think I’ve gone home. But I decided to wait out here to see if you would make an appearance.” He stood, towering over me again. “You know, it’s not safe to be out at night alone. Especially with Jack the Ripper on the loose. There’s no telling what might happen to you.”
My breath stilled as a new thought filled my heart with terror.
Was Michael Maybrick Jack the Ripper? Had he been working with the Freemasons?
“Cat got your tongue, Kathryn?” he asked as he reached down and picked up my satchel.
I had a choice to make. Every moment I waited was a moment I might lose to save my sister. Whether Mr. Maybrick was Jack or not, I needed to get Mary out of there. I had no proof or reason to think he was Jack, except that he was a Freemason, and his very presence made my skin crawl.
I stood without his help and said, “Please hand that back to me. It is none of your concern what I’m doing or where I’m going.”
He stared at me for a moment, and then he slowly held out the satchel.
I took it and brought it close to my chest.
“You’re all the same,” he sneered. “No better than my sister-in-law, Florence. Sneaking around, lying to the people you’re supposed to love. You’ll hurt your father, just as Florence has hurt my brother, James. She’ll pay, just as you will.”
I stared at him, confused and uncertain. Why was he talking about his sister-in-law? And then I recalled the file I’d found in Sir Rothschild’s drawer several weeks ago about the trial of Florence Maybrick. She was accused of poisoning her husband just two days from now, and Michael would be the loudest accuser at her trial.
Would he set her up?
“I should tell your father what you’re doing,” he continued before I could grasp what he meant about Florence. “But I think I’d rather watch you suffer because of your own foolishness. You won’t get far, Miss Kelly. None of you do.”
And with that portending comment, he strode out of the courtyard, toward the alley.
A shiver ran up my spine as I raced to the hedge.
We needed to get Mary out of Whitechapel immediately.
The moon was hidden behind a bank of clouds as Austen’s carriage came to a stop on Dorset Street, not far from Miller’s Court. I was still upset from my encounter with Michael Maybrick, though I had chosen not to tell Austen about it. What couldhe do? We were already on edge because we were about to change history and rescue my sister.
Austen held my hand, and I squeezed his back. “I wish you weren’t here with me,” I whispered, my pulse racing.
“I would never let you do this alone.”
“But you’re changing history, too.”
He silenced me with a kiss and then said. “I’m fulfilling my destiny, Kate.”
I shook my head and took a deep breath. “I pray we can save her.”
“She has you, me, and Miles working on her behalf. We will see that she gets out of Whitechapel.”
“I hope you’re right.” I glanced at the ceiling of the carriage for a heartbeat, also hoping and praying that God would forgive me for what I was about to do. I couldn’t knowingly allow my sister to die. It wasn’t right. I had to believe He understood that.
The street was dark, but people were still walking along the road and conducting business at the grocers, the coffee house, and other buildings nearby. Austen held the door open for me, and I stepped out, staying close to him as we walked toward Miller’s Court for the last time. He carried the satchel I had packed for my sister.
Every shadow felt ominous, and every person was a suspect. Was Jack already here? Watching? Miles had brought a pistol and would wait in the carriage, ready for us to leave the moment we got inside.
A man and woman stood in the passageway, speaking in low, suggestive tones. At first, I thought it was Mary, but as we passed, I realized it was someone else.
