An Immortal’s Protection by P’al Kwai
Author’s Notes:
The different Jack the Ripper theories in this story are all considered valid suspects and were taken from The Casebook of Jack the Ripper, http://www.casebook.org/intro.html .
The five generally accepted victims of Jack the Ripper = Mary Ann Nichols 8/31/1888, Annie Chapman 9/8/1888, Elisabeth Stride 9/30/1888, Catherine Eddowes 9/30/1888, Mary Jane Kelly 11/9/1888
From The Casebook of Jack the Ripper, http://www.casebook.org/intro.html .
Prince Albert Victor Christian Edward = (known as "Eddy" to his friends) is one of the most famous suspects in the Jack the Ripper case, figuring in no less than three major theories.
Walter Sickert = Walter Sickert had been tangentially implicated in the Ripper crimes as early as the 1970s, with the release of the now infamous "Royal Conspiracy" theory. But it wasn't until the early 1990s, with the release of Jean Overton Fuller's Sickert and the Ripper Crimes, that the peculiar artist became a Ripper suspect in his own right. More recently, Patricia Cornwell has claimed to have found DNA evidence linking Sickert to at least one "Ripper letter".
Francis Tumblety a.k.a. J.H. Blackburn, a.k.a. Frank Townsend = A legitimate suspect in the Ripper murders. He was charged on suspicion of the Whitechapel murders on the 12th (suggested he was free to kill Kelly between the 7th and 12th). He was bailed on November 16th. A hearing was held on November 20th at the Old Bailey, and the trial postponed until December 10th. Tumblety then fled to France under the alias ‘Frank Townsend’ on the 24th, and from there took the steamer La Bretagne to New York City.
Lord Chamberlain’s Office = The Department is responsible for some of the most ancient traditions connected with the monarchy. These include the Body Guards (Gentlemen at Arms, Yeoman of the Guard, Royal Company of Archers), the Crown Jewels, and The Queen's ownership of swans on a stretch of the River Thames. It also handles all matters of protocol and certain Household appointments.
From the Royal Household, http://www.royal.gov.uk/output/Page362.asp .
Since I’m an American, I wasn’t sure what government department would perhaps be involved in any kind of cover up initiated by the Palace. After some research, I deducted that Lord Chamberlain’s office could be a logical choice. I did ask a native Scotsman, who agreed with me, but I’m not too confident that he was really sure. So if any native of the British Isles knows a better answer, please e-mail me. I will then revise the story.
London, England, July 24, 1900
Rapping hard on the massive, wooden door, Mina was thinking the most uncharitable thoughts about her former lover, Dorian Gray. This was the second day in a row that she had come calling, and the second day in a row that he refused to open his door.
"Who would have thought that Gray could be so uncooperative?" Henry Jekyll said ironically.
"He knows we only want to see how Tom is doing." Mina thoughtfully studied Dorian's front door. Despite its sturdiness, she was pretty sure she could smash it in.
"Mina," Henry said warningly. He knew what she was thinking. "Breaking Gray's door down will not foster his good will. Perhaps we should come back later. Gray might step out, and hopefully Tom will. . . ." He broke off, as the front door opened, surprising both he and Mina.
It took no more than a split second and Mina had regained her usual smooth composure. "Tell Mr. Gray that Mrs. Harker and Dr. Jekyll are here to see him."
"The master is not in residence," the butler informed them. "You may leave your cards, and when he returns I will see that he receives them."
"Is Mr. Sawyer in residence?" Mina asked.
“No ma’am.” The man answered in a proper English butler way. “But as I already stated, you may leave your cards, and. . . .”
“Where are Mr. Gray and Mr. Sawyer?” Mina took a threatening step closer to the butler with a glint of fang.
“Mina,” Jekyll protested mildly with a sigh, already knowing that saying anything was pointless.
“Where?” Mina snarled as her eyes flashed red.
Stepping backward, the butler couldn‘t spit the words out fast enough. “Residing at Mr. Gray’s country estate.”
“And where exactly is Mr. Gray’s country est. . . ?” Jekyll began, but was cut-off by Mina, who was already pulling him away from the door.
“I know where Dorian’s country estate is. I was once wined and dined there.” Mina’s voice was filled with cynicism, as she pulled Jekyll to their carriage.
**
Hertfordshire, England, July 27, 1900
“So your plan is to sneak into the house, find Tom and then?” With a bit of ill-humor Henry Jekyll stomped through the field after a surprisingly fast paced Mina. Her long garments did nothing to slow her down.
“I hope to speak to Tom without Dorian in attendance.” Hiking up her outer coat and skirt up further, Mina lengthened her stride. “I believe Tom will speak more freely without his. . .his keeper present.”
Jekyll heaved a long suffering sigh “I don’t disagree with your assessment, but even if we were to luck out and find an opportunity to speak to Tom alone, I don’t like the idea of going behind Gray’s back. If we were to be discovered. . . .”
Stopping abruptly, Mina spun around. “Does Dorian frighten you, Henry?”
“Well. . .I, I. . . .” Taken by surprise, Jekyll could only stammer.
“ If we do have a problem with Dorian,” Mina turned and resumed walking, “I’ll take care of him.”
“Promises. Promises.” A voice mocked, as a horse-mounted Dorian seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “The question I have. . . .” Although his words were playful, his eyes were hard. “Is, do you keep your promises?”
“You know I do,” Mina answered without the slightest hesitation.
“So.” Dorian kneed his horse closer to the two trespassers. “To what do I owe the honor of a visit from two old friends?” His gaze swept over both Mina and Jekyll. “And how discourteous of you to not give me notice of your visit nor to not knock on my front door.”
“We came to see Tom,” Mina stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “We’re concerned about him.” She paused a moment, studying Dorian, who had not been able to hide the flicker of emotion that crossed his expression. “And how is Tom?”
“Improving,” Dorian lied. “But still weak. Too weak to entertain guests.”
“Dorian,” Mina purred as she took a step and reached out to grab the bridle of Gray’s horse. “I came all the way from London to check in on Mr. Sawyer, and I will not permit anyone, even you to prevent me from seeing him.”
“I sense a challenge in your tone, Mina.” Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “Because if that’s the case, let me warn you; I’m not giving in to your demands again. Cross me, and you’ll find yourself in another battle.”
“If I remember correctly.” Mina gave Gray a fanged smile. “The last battle I got the better of you. So don‘t be. . . .”
“Gray.” Jekyll decided he needed to interrupt. “Tell me. Is Sawyer suffering from loss of appetite, nightmares, depression?” Taking Mina by the arm, he gave her a telling look, while gently pulling her away.
“Perhaps.” Dorian’s body stiffened in surprise. Dr. Jekyll had accurately described Tom’s behavior since being rescued from the Ripper.
“You must realize that he needs closure,” Jekyll said in his best objective, clinical doctor’s voice. “Let us visit him. We can satisfy our curiosity on his well-being, and also ask him what he can tell us about the Ripper. Talking it out will be theraputic for him, and any information he has will be helpful to us.”
“Don’t try and hoodwink me with your fancy physician’s talk.” Dorian gave Jekyll a sneer. “I’ve already met Sigmund Freud and was not impressed.” Wheeling his horse toward the house, he did give the pair a small concession. “All right. The two of you may visit Tom for a short time, but if you upset him, I won't hesitate to show both of you the door.”
**
After preparing a pot of tea, Mina began to search the panty and other compartments of Dorian’s kitchen. “I find it odd that you do without servants, Dorian. If I recall correctly, you were never keen on having to help yourself.”
“Not keen, but not incapable,” Dorian answered, glaring over at Mina. He was not pleased that his former lover was checking out every nook and cranny of his kitchen. “And what may I ask are you looking for? I assure you that I do not hide anything of value in this part of the house.”
“Your coffee, Dorian. Where’s your coffee?” Mina stopped her search and looked over at Gray.
“You don’t like coffee, so stop using that excuse to nose around my kitchen.”
“I may not like coffee, but Tom does. Coffee is the American beverage of preference. Haven’t you learned that yet?” Mina gave Gray a falsly sweet smile. It gave her such pleasure to annoy him.
“He’s lives in England now, so he can bloody well drink the English beverage of preference.” Grabbing some saucers and teacups, Dorian slammed them down on the table. “And you, Mina can stop your snooping.”
Giving a woeful-looking Tom a discreet eye roll, Mina triumphantly pulled out a a tin of sugar and a can of preserved milk. If the poor boy had to drink tea, at least he could drink it in the cloyingly sweet way, she was sure he liked.
“What’s that?” Dorian watched Mina set the items on the table.
“Milk and sugar,” she answered, deliberately keeping her gaze on Tom. “Tom likes them in his tea. Don’t you?” She winked discreetly at the American.
Tom’s lips drew up in a slight smile, but it went nowhere near his eyes. They remained haunted and lifeless.
“So Tom,” Mina said, as she filled a teacup with half tea and half milk, and then began ladeling sugar in it. “Is the country air making you feel any better?”
Shrugging, Tom picked up a spoon and began to listlessly stir his tea. “Maybe. I guess it’s better than London.”
Mina exchanged a quick look with Jekyll. The same emotion ran through both them, sorrow for the loss of the young, eager American, who was now a gaunt shadow of his former self.
“London has been stiflingly hot the last couple of days,” Henry started with the small talk. “You’re lucky you’ve not have to be ther. . . .”
“Did you find him yet?” Tom broke in, voice frantic. It was the first spark of life that he had shown.
“No, Tom, we didn’t,” Mina spoke calmly. “We need help. Can you give us any?”
“He doesn’t know anything, and if this is the real reason you came here, you both can get out now.” Still standing, Dorian’s body conveyed its usual nonchalance, but his eyes had darkened with anger.
“Dorian, please.” Mina turned to Gray. “If he knows anything, we need to. . . .”
“I never saw his face,” Tom interrupted. “I was down on the floor and only glimpsed his feet and legs.”
“Did you hear his voice?” Henry asked.
Staring down at his teacup, Tom didn’t answer for a moment. Since the evening he had been kidnapped, he had spent most of his days and nights trying to repress the nightmare of his torture by the Ripper, so it took a bit of inner turmoil to conjure up the memory.
“Tom.” Dorian was watching him closely. “Would you like me to show our guests out?”
“No, I, I. . . .” Tom took a deep breath. “He said. . .said, ‘I do so love my work.’ That was after he killed. . . .” He took another breath. “That woman.”
“It definitely was a masculine voice then?” Mina sipped her tea, as she watched Tom with an intense stare.
Expression puzzled, Tom shook his head in the affirmative.
“So much for the Jill-the-Ripper theory then,” Mina commented to Jekyll.
Her statement caught even Dorian by surprise. “Jill the Ripper?”
“A theory proposed twelve years ago by Inspector Abberline. That Jack the Ripper was in reality a woman, probably a midwife,” Mina explained, before turning her attention back to Tom. “Did he say anything else?”
“He, he.” Feeling bile in his throat, Tom stammered. “He. . . .”
“Take your time, Tom,” Henry instructed. “It’s hard, but in the end, talking about this will make you feel better.”
“He. . .said one more thing, ‘the idiot police can't catch me, and neither will your friends, the glorified League. Ha!’” Tom exhaled sharply, as his heart pounded in his chest. He felt like he had just endured a battery of physical endurance tests.
“He said ha?” Mina asked with interest. “Well that certainly fits with. . . .” A loud pounding on the door interrupted her. “Expecting company, Dorian?” She turned to Gray, who looked even more annoyed than before.
“I most certainly am not,” Dorian said, as he grabbed Mina by the arm and pulled her with him. “You, my love, can come with me and help turn away these other uninvited guests.”
“You don’t need my assistance for that,” Mina protested as she was swept along with Dorian.
“I’m not leaving you alone with Tom. You’re a bad influence on him with all your madcap schemes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mina snapped back. “If anyone is the bad influence. . . .”
The rest of her retort had turned into just a mumble to Henry and Tom.
“I guess we probably should be leaving soon,” Henry said lightly. “Or those two will start pointing sharp objects at each other again.”
Tom smiled ever so slightly. Despite having to discuss the Ripper, he was finding that company and conversation was making him feel better.
“So, anything more you can tell me?” Henry asked.
Tom shook his head as he awkwardly lifted his teacup to his lips. Awkward because he used only his four fingers with his thumb standing straight up.
“Are you able to move your thumb at all?” Henry held out his hand in a motion that conveyed he wanted to examine Tom’s thumb.
“A little.” Tom wiggled his thumb ever so slightly. “Hurts like hell.”
“A severed thumb would hurt like hell.” Henry took Tom’s hand ever so gently. Pinching the tip of the thumb, he began to cautiously move it back and forth. “You do have some movement in it. That’s a good sign. Now I’m going to. . . .”
Raised voices and a series of loud bumps and thumps stopped any further examination. Tom and Henry exchanged puzzled looks, before they both stood up quickly; their curiosity had to be satisfied.
“Gentlemen.” The usually composed Dorian looked absolutely livid, as he addressed three men, two respectably dressed, and one garbed in the clothes of a commoner. “If you do not take leave from my residence immediately, I’ll forcibly remove you.” Grabbing his cane from the umbrella stand, he fingered the top of it.
At Henry and Tom’s entrance, the roughly dressed man pointed a finger, yelling. “That’s ’im.” He stared directly at Tom. ’e’s the one.”
“Thomas Sawyer?” One of the better dressed men stepped forward. “I have orders to bring you in for questioning. If you would accompany us?”
“Questioning? For what purpose, and on whose authority?” Mina stared at the men suspiciously.
“That, madam, is none of your business.” The man didn’t bother to turn his head to look at Mina, his dismissal obvious.
“But it’s my business,” Tom said firmly, a spark of his old self coming forth.
“This is ridiculous,” Dorian spoke through gritted teeth. “Mr. Sawyer is not going anywhere with you, and I will say again, leave my house immediately.”
The hand tried to move unnoticed, but Henry saw it. Standing off to the side, the man, who had identified Tom, pulled out a gun and aimed it at Sawyer.
Henry shouted a warning, but it was Dorian, who saved the day. Stepping sideways, he moved in front of Tom. The bullet hit him in the shoulder harmlessly.
Shaking his head with disapproval, Dorian looked at the man as if he were a child about to receive a scolding. And then his hand moved in a blink, pulling the hidden sword out of his cane, and stabbing the man in the chest.
Before either of the other men could react, Mina had one by the throat and the other thrown against the wall. The body hit with a thump, knocking pictures down and breaking furniture.
“Clumsy, Mina,” Dorian reprimanded, as he thrust again, and the man in Mina’s arms collapsed to the floor, a bloody wound where his heart had been.
“Will you stop!” It hadn’t been Mina’s intention to kill. “We don’t know who these men are.”
“And I don’t really care,” Dorian said with unconcern, as he pulled his blade out of the man and wiped it clean with a snow white handkerchief.
“You should care,” Mina argued. “They came here to specifically kill or kidnap Tom.”
“Well, here’s a concern.” Henry had walked over to check on the man, who had been thrown against the wall. He felt for a pulse, which throbbed with a regular beat, while checking a pocket for identification. “This man has papers saying he’s from Lord Chamberlain’s office.”
“He’s not anymore.” Two steps and Dorian buried his sword in the man’s head.
“Dorian!” Mina and Henry spoke at the same time. “This is, this is mur. . . .” Mina began to protest, when she remembered to whom she was protesting. “You have three dead bodies in your hall.”
“Really?” Dorian raised an eyebrow at her. “How comforting to know you’re here to inform me of the obvious.”
Heaving a sigh of exasperation, Mina looked over at Henry, who could only shrug.
“As enjoyable as your visit was, I must insist that you now leave.” Dorian acted the perfect host. “I have. . . .” He looked around his foyer. “Three matters to take care of.”
**
The British Museum, London, August 1, 1900
“Sanderson,” Mina addressed the man, who had been their contact to the shadowy M a year ago and now continued to be their contact to another mysterious employer. “I don’t understand. Both the London Police and Scotland Yard had requested our help in bringing in Jack the Ripper, so who exactly is now saying that they want us off this case?”
“Neither.” Mr. Reed glanced around the room at the members of the League: Mina, Henry Jekyll, Captain Nemo, and Rodney Skinner. “This decision.” He paused to clear his voice. “Was made by our mutual employer.”
“But why?” Mina asked, as she and the rest of the League exchanged looks. “It’s been a little more than two weeks since the Ripper’s last murder, not to mention the fact that he kidnapped and tortured Mr. Sawyer, a very member of this League.”
“Tom Sawyer,” Mr. Sanderson said in a dismissive tone. As far as he was concerned Sawyer had only been allowed to part of the League because of the late Alan Quatermain. “Our employer has been receiving pressure from certain. . .err, sources to withdraw from this particular case.”
“These sources wouldn’t by chance be from Lord Chamberlain’s office?” Henry asked. It hadn’t been hard to put two and two together.
Taken aback, Reed could only stammer for a moment. “Well, I. . .umm. . . .”
“Just tell us the truth, Sanderson,” Mina ordered.
“Well, as it happens, you’re correct.” Reed looked at Henry. “It seems that the Palace itself has requested. . . .”
The doors banging open interrupted any further discussion. Entering the room with an angry step, Dorian greeted the group with, “explain to me what the bloody hell is going on?”
“Dorian!” Mina stood up with surprise. “What are you doing here, and.” She spied a slim figure, wrapped in a blanket behind Dorian. “Tom?”
“Hiding out from all the people you have watching my house,” Gray spit out this accusation, as he put a gentle arm around Tom to lead him to a chair.
“I assure you, Dorian, we don’t have anyone watching your house.” Mina walked around the large table to check on Tom.
“It’s probably more men from Lord Chamberlain’s office,” Henry said slyly. “The same office, which by the way is requesting our withdrawal from the Jack the Ripper case.
“Yes.” Mina quickly understood Jekyll’s strategy. “And Mr. Reed here was just explaining how Lord Chamberlain’s office was involved in all this.” She turned to their liaison. “Please continue, Sanderson.”
“This is a confidential matter for the League’s ears only,” Reed protested, as he eyed Dorian warily. He knew all about the Immortal.
Giving Reed a murderous stare, Dorian spoke softly. “Don’t try my patience. I’m not in the mood.”
“All right then.” Reed found that he had to look away from Dorian. “A man named Walter Sickert has been spreading an interesting tale around London.”
“Sickert. Sickert.” Rodney Skinner was thoughtful, as he tried to place the name. “Name sure ringgs a bell.”
“He’s a painter, who I believe, has a studio or two in the East End.” A long time resident of the East End, Dorian was quite familiar with the happenings of the neighborhood.
“Mr. Sickert likes to paint prostitutes; and thus is acquainted with many of them,” Reed continued to explain. “Back in the late 1880’s he knew a young woman named Annie Crook. He’s telling a story about how this Annie Crook was married in the church to our own Prince Albert Victor and bore his child, a girl named Alice Margaret.”
Rodney blew out a long whistle. “A bastard 'eir ter the throne.”
“Not a bastard,” Reed said with emphasis. “According to Sickert the girl and the Prince were married at St. George's Cathedral.”
“So how is this connected to Jack the Ripper?” Mina asked.
“The rest of the story goes like this. When the Queen found out about her son setting up a household with a commoner and a Catholic, she ordered the Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury to resolve the situation. He had both the Prince and Annie taken away. At the time, the child was with her nanny, a woman named Mary Kelly. After the raid, Kelly hid the child with nuns and then fled to the East End. There she took up prostitution again, and it was not long before three of her friends soon heard the entire story of Annie and the Prince. They were Polly Nichols, Liz Stride, and Annie Chapman.”
“All Ripper victims,” Mina said softly. “But what about the fourth victim, Catherine Eddowes?”
“We believe, a mistake,” Reed explained. “She often went by the name Mary Kelly.”
“So the Ripper murders were the Palace’s cover up for Eddy’s indiscretion,” Dorian said cynically. “How droll.”
Mina could only roll her eyes in disgust at Gray’s comment. “Those murders were twelve years ago. If Sickert had this information, why didn’t he come forward then?”
“Because he was in on it,” Reed continued. “Bought off by Salisbury, but these new murders must have awakened his conscience.”
“In on it?” Henry asked. “What do you exactly mean by in on it?”
“We believe that he helped murder those women twelve years ago, although I don‘t believe he knows anything about the new killings.”
“So why don't the Palace just silence 'im?” With his index finger, Rodney made a cutting motion across his throat, causing Henry to wince, and Nemo to mutter, “The English and their barbaric ways.”
“Because Walter Sickert is a prominent painter, who travels in prominent circles.” The enraged Dorian had now reverted back to the bored Dorian. “Having him silenced would certainly raise more questions than silencing a few Unfortunates. Well, gentlemen and lady.” Giving Mina a nod, he stood up. “I offer my thanks for the information.”
“What are you planning? And what about poor Tom?” Mina reached over and covered the hand of a weary looking Sawyer. “Two weeks ago he was kidnapped by the Ripper, and by coincidence, men from Lord Chamberlain’s office are now looking for him. I would say that Lord Salisbury must have brought back the Ripper and wants no eyewitnesses. He’s trying up his loose ends.”
“Indeed.” Dorian did not disagree. Putting his hands on Tom’s shoulders, he signaled his companion that it was time to go. “When the enemy is stronger, the wise man flees. And if the story Mr. Reed just regaled us with is true, all of you.” He glanced around at everyone in the room. “Would be wise to distance yourself from this case.”
**
Epilogue
A Ship In the Atlantic Ocean, August 4, 1900
Standing out on the first class deck, Tom lifted his face to the sea breeze. Salt water and sun filled his nostrils. With England behind him, and the United States in front of him, he actually found himself smiling. He was fleeing his nightmares and going home.
“Tom.” A familiar voice was heard behind him. “The dinner bell is about to sound. Would you like to try the dining room tonight, or do you still want your food served to you in our room?”
“In our room.” Tom turned to face his custodian. “I really don’t have the wardrobe.” He looked down at his casual American garb. “For the dining room.”
“You can borrow something of mine,” Dorian offered generously. “We’re close to the same size.”
Looking back out at the ocean, Tom considered. He felt well enough now to be social, but did he feel comfortable with the wealthy, upper class that patronized the first class dining room? Funny how the events of the last year had changed him. A year ago, he would not have been intimidated by anyone, including snooty aristocrats.
Hands grabbed his shoulders from behind, as Dorian whispered in his ear. “I promise that no one will eat you. If they try, they will have to deal with me. I‘ll watch out for you.”
“I didn’t used to need someone watching out for me,” Tom said with some bitterness. His last year’s experiences had turned him into a feeble, powerless invalid. “And why do you suddenly want to protect me?”
“Suddenly?” Dorian asked with a quirk of an eyebrow. “Haven’t I been protecting you all along?”
“Yes,” Tom admitted but not without reservation. Dorian’s behavior of late had been of a concerned defender. A sharp contrast from the indifferent lover or sadist jailor. Dorian’s paradoxical behavior had Tom’s head spinning with confusion. He didn’t know if he loved or hated Gray.
“Come in now.” Dorian had pressed up against him, and Tom could feel the other man’s desire. “We’ll have our dinner in our room tonight. You can then tell me again about your hometown. I’m anxious to see it.”
“I told you,” Tom joked lightly, glad the decision of dinner had been taken out of his hands. “You wouldn’t like St. Petersburg. It’s just a small Midwestern town.” With Dorian’s arm thrown around him, he turned to head for the ship’s entrance. “We should probably think about finding a home in New York, or some other big city.”
Engrossed in each other, the two men did not notice a lone figure, standing in the shadow of the ship’s awning. He had been watching them both with intent interest. He, like Tom was an American, who had traveled extensively between America and England. His name was Francis Tumblety a.k.a. J.H. Blackburn, a.k.a. Frank Townsend.
****
Finis