The postcard was written in the same hand as the first letter, the loops too similar to be a coincidence. The front of the offending document held no greater clue than the one before it had. It was addressed to:
Central News Office
London City
“Good morning, Amelia, Liza. I believe your carriage is ready.” Father strode into the dining room with a paper of his own tucked under an arm and concern set upon his face when his attention turned to me. “Filling your head with safe and appropriate things? Or are you disobeying my wishes so soon, Audrey Rose?”
I lifted my face and smiled, an action more akin to a sneer.
“I was unaware keeping abreast of the daily news was inappropriate. Perhaps I shall spend my time, and your money, on new corsets to bind my will from my lips,” I said sweetly. “Wearing something so constricting ought to tether my vocal cords nicely. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Father’s eyes flashed a warning, but he’d not find me cowering today. I would solve this Ripper case even if it meant awakening the sleeping beast from within whomever it was resting. That same creature was scratching and howling for a chance to be set free from inside me. I promised it all in due time, placating it for the moment.
“Well, then.” Aunt Amelia stood, motioning for Liza to do the same. “It’s been such a lovely visit. Thank you for hosting us in your absence, dear Brother. You must take some time away from town and breathe in our country air again soon.” She turned her attention on me, lips pinched in scrutiny. “Might do Audrey Rose a world of good, getting away from this madness for a bit.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Father opened his arms to his sister, embracing her quickly before she left the room.
Liza ran over to where I was still sitting, leaned down and gathered me into an uncomfortable hug. “You must write to me. I want to hear more about Mr. Thomas Cresswell and everything regarding the infamous Jack the Ripper. Promise you will.”
“I promise.”
“Wonderful!” She kissed my cheek, then hugged my father before dashing into the corridor. I was sad to see her go.
Father crossed the room and sat in his chair, ignoring me in a way that accentuated his displeasure with my behavior. Which suited me fine.
After Nathaniel had confessed the truth about our family’s secrets, I could barely look at Father. Mother was dying of scarlet fever, and Father knew of her already weakened heart. He never should have allowed Uncle to operate on her when her immune system was under such attack. He knew Uncle had never been successful before.
Though I couldn’t blame him for being desperate to save her. I did wonder why he’d waited so long to ask Uncle for help. I’d been under the false impression that Uncle had operated on her before she’d taken a turn for the worse. I let a sigh escape. Uncle should have known better, but how could he turn his brother away? Especially when Lord Wadsworth had finally broken down and asked for help? The tragedy of what led us here, to this broken shell of a family, was overwhelming, and I feared I’d be as consumed by grief as Father was if I thought too hard on the past.
I received word Uncle was back home late last evening, so I’d stay with him and see what I could discover there.
I opened my paper again, not caring what Father had to say about it.
“Are you so keen to end up a wretch on the streets?”
I took a sip of tea, relishing the bright taste of Earl Grey on my tongue. Father was playing a dangerous game and hadn’t a clue. “You’d know a thing or two about wretches on the street.”
He dropped his hands onto the table, knocking his flatware askance. His face was pale yet angry. “You will respect me in my own home!”
I stood, revealing my all-black riding ensemble. I allowed a full thirty seconds to pass, letting Father take in my mannish attire, shock and disbelief filtering through his expression. I tugged my leather gloves on as violently as I could, then stared down my nose at him.
“Those who deserve respect are given it freely. If one must demand such a thing, he’ll never truly command it. I am your daughter, not your horse, sir.”
I stepped closer, enjoying the way Father leaned away from me as if he were just now discovering that a cat, while precious and cute, also had sharp claws. “I’d rather be a lowly wretch on the streets than live in a house full of cages. Do not lecture me on propriety when it’s a virtue you so grossly lack.”
Without waiting for a response, I swept from the room with nothing but the sound of my heels ringing out against the silence. There would be no skirts or bustles to wrangle with anymore. I was through with things confining me.
Uncle’s laboratory was a wreck, much like the man who resided there.
Papers were scattered about, tables and chairs upturned, and servants were nervously cleaning on all fours, their attention flitting between their work and Uncle’s never-ending tirade. Whether he was upset because his precious work had been tampered with or because he’d come close to being caught for his crimes, I couldn’t tell.
But I was not leaving here without finding out.
I’d never seen him in such a state. Police brought everything back from the evidence chambers when he was released from Bedlam, but threw it back in the laboratory without a care. It seemed Blackburn was no longer interested in winning my affections.
“What miserable fiends!” Another crash reverberated in the small room off the main lab. “Years and years of documentation, gone! I’ve got half a mind to set Scotland Yard ablaze. What sort of animals do they hire?”
Thomas entered the room, taking stock of the mess. He righted a chair, then folded himself into it, annoyance scrawled over his features.