Only the Thunder Knows_East End Girls (21 page)

Chapter

9

Eliza couldn’t get over her
elation having just delivered a breech baby. The odds of that even happening
and the infant surviving in the East End were staggering, but she’d done it. A
part of her wanted so much to have the carriage stop at Henrietta Street so she
could tell Professor Huxley, but she decided against it. The last thing she
needed was anyone questioning why she’d been at East End, and she hoped James
would not become a herald. 

When Eliza
arrived home, Mrs. Sutton met her in the foyer. “How was your day, Miss?”

“It was
wonderful.”

“Good to hear
it. Your mother is in the parlor again and would like to speak with you.”

“Can’t it
wait? I have to wash up.”

“There’s a man
with her. They’ve been waiting a while.”

“Please let
them know they’ll have to wait a little longer.” Eliza huffed and headed
upstairs.

She rushed
cleaning up and changing, but was back downstairs within the hour. Before
entering the parlor, she stood at the doorway and peeked into the room. A
mousy-looking bald man wearing thin-wired spectacles sat in the Queen Anne
chair next to her mother’s chaise. There was a large group of assorted floral
arrangements on her mother’s Chippendale table in front of them. Lady Covington
looked up and saw Eliza.

“What are you
doing over there creeping about? Come in here and meet Mr. Grey. He’s going to
be doing the flowers for Michaelmas dinner. And if we like them, he may very
well do the arrangements for your wedding.” The florist got up, an eager smile
on his face, and Lady Covington rose from the chaise. Together they walked
toward Eliza.

“Mr. William
Grey,” the man said, extending his hand. “Hello, Miss.”

Eliza went to
shake it, but Mr. Grey gasped and jerked his arm away.

“What is it?”
Lady Covington said. She looked down at Eliza’s fingers, which were still in
midair. “Catherine Elizabeth!”

Dried blood
had caked around the cuticles, underneath the fingernails, and in the wrinkles
of her knuckles. “Oh forgive me.” Eliza lowered her hand. “I was sure I got it
all off.” She ran out of the room, while Lady Covington yelled for Mrs. Sutton.

A while later,
Eliza returned to the parlor and there was tea and a tray of biscuits in front
of Mr. Grey. For the next hour, they spoke of nothing but flowers. Eliza had
never met such a man before—squeamish of a little blood but so knowledgeable
about everything botanical. If he hadn’t reacted the way he did when he saw her
hand, her mother would never have noticed. This made Eliza dislike him.
Particularly while watching him nibble on the corners of the biscuits and
sipping tea.
Exactly like a mouse.

“Pardon me,
Mother, may I be excused? I’d like to lie down a bit before dinner.”

“Yes, of
course.”

“Goodbye Mr.
Grey. It was nice meeting you.”

He stood up
when Eliza did. “It was my pleasure. Oh, and silly me, I nearly forgot to ask.
Please, tell me, what are your favorite flowers?”

“Lilies,” she
said, “white ones.” Mr. Grey stood there, his face pale with wide eyes.

Lady Covington
huffed. “Silly girl,” she said. “Don’t mind her, Mr. Grey. She knows nothing of
feminine things such as flowers.”

“Those are for
funerals,” he muttered. Eliza turned to leave the room.

*   *   *

As much as
Eliza wanted to speak with her father after dinner, she was exhausted, and took
her meal upstairs. Mrs. Sutton was kind and sympathetic, adding a piece of her
scrumptious pear tart to the tray.

After eating,
she rested her head on a pillow and quickly fell asleep. Eliza dreamt she was
walking in the East End and Annie Chapman was following her. The uterus Eliza
had removed and burned was dragging just behind the prostitute, connected by an
umbilical cord that came out from the bottom of her skirt hem. “You won’t get
away from me,” Annie yelled. “You’re a murderer!”

Eliza
quickened her pace, but so did Annie. In her haste, Eliza tripped on a broken
cobblestone and fell onto the wet filth that covered the street. Her hand
landed in one of the cesspool puddles and splashed muck onto her face and into
her mouth. A bitter-tasting grit stuck to her tongue, and she turned her head
to the side and spat. The prostitute caught up to her and launched her body on
top of Eliza’s, pinning her down. Eliza struggled, and when she tried to call
out for help, Annie grabbed the back of her head and pushed her face down into
a puddle. Eliza fought harder, kicking and grabbing at the woman. Her skin
stung from scraping against the abrasive pavement. Then Annie grabbed her by
the shoulders and started shaking her violently, smashing Eliza’s face against
the foul, slimy wet ground.

“Wake up,
Eliza! It’s a bad dream.” Her father’s voice called out. She opened her eyes
and saw his hands on her arms.

“Father,” she
cried. He pulled her close to him.

“Do you want
to talk about it?”

“No.” She
sobbed into his shirt.

“I was just
going to bed when I heard you screaming. Did you have a bad day?”

She shook her
head. “I had a fabulous day. You would have been proud.”

“I’m always proud,
dear.” He moved her away from him, and she lay back down in bed.

“Thank you,
Father.”

“Good night.
We can talk about this in the morning if you like.”

Eliza nodded
and closed her eyes.

This time, no
nightmares of the dead invaded her sleep.

Chapter

10

Lord Covington wasn’t at
breakfast the next morning. “Where’s father,” Eliza asked.

“He was called
out very early.”

“The Royal
Family? Is someone ill?”

“I don’t know
the details. You’ll have to ask your father.”

“You look a
little tired.”

“Well, it’s no
wonder with his coming to bed so late then having to leave at all hours.”

“Maybe you
should take a nap.”

Lady Covington
sighed. “I suppose I will. For once I’ve a break from wedding planning.”

“Then make
good use of it. I’ll try and come home early.”

“It would be
nice to have you home. You’ll be leaving me soon.”

“Please, don’t
start.” Eliza downed her tea, grabbed her toast, and rose from her seat. “I’ve
got to go.”

Her mother was
still talking when she went out to the foyer to put on her coat and grab the
doctor’s bag. Eliza made sure she’d had her cloak as well, hoping to try the
London Hospital again if she finished before schedule. There was also the issue
of talking to James about keeping quiet regarding what happened. Then she had
the other prostitute, Catherine, to locate and take care of.

Despite the
promise she’d made to her mother, she knew it was going to be a long day.

*   *   *

 “Miss
Covington, I heard news of someone delivering a breech baby at East End
yesterday. Would you happen to know who that was?”

“Um…no, sir.”

“I heard there
were some great heroics and quick thinking involved.”

“Indeed?”

Professor
Huxley smiled and continued dissecting a cadaver spleen. Who would have thought
the artery attached to it was so large?

At the end of
class, the professor announced that three girls would soon be graduating. “Miss
Blake, Miss Johnson, and Miss Covington will be moving on the latter part of
this November.” The rest of the women knocked on their books and cheered.

Eliza was in
high spirits when she left Henrietta Street and took a hansom to the London
Hospital at East End. So much so, she never noticed someone following her until,
like in her nightmare, she stumbled on a broken cobblestone and fell onto her
hands. This triggered the memory of the dream and a feeling of unease. Eliza
looked behind her and caught a glimpse of a woman ducking into an alleyway. A
couple of men walking by stopped and asked if she was all right, then helped
her get back on her feet.

“I thought I
saw someone down there.” She pointed to the alley.

One of the men
went to investigate. He walked halfway to the end. “No one here, Miss.”

Feeling silly,
she brushed herself off and thanked them, then went straight to the hospital.

Eliza greeted
a few midwives and nurses she knew. “Where is Doctor Riley?” she asked Helen,
one of the newer nurses.

“He’s in C
Ward, Miss.”

“Thank you.”
Eliza headed to the area where they kept patients with breathing disorders.

Doctor Riley
was writing in a patient chart when he turned and saw her walking toward him.
He smiled and put the chart down. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so
soon,” he said.

“You didn’t
tell Professor Huxley did you?”

“Don’t be
upset.”

“James, you—”

“Doctor Morton
was the only person I told, and I swore him to secrecy.”

“He’s good
friends with Professor Huxley. You knew that. How could you?”

“I had to tell
somebody, Eliza. You were simply amazing.”

“It
was
rather exciting news to keep quiet.” She made a small smile. James was too
innocent in his intentions to get distressed over. “Just promise me you’ll tell
no one else.”

“I promise,
and I don’t think Huxley will say anything either. He’s more afraid of your
father than anyone I know. I’ll never figure that one out.”

“Father yelled
at him once about a mistake he made regarding something he told a patient.
Humiliated him essentially, and it hurt…practically ruined his reputation.”

“Ah, that
makes sense. Always wondered why a man would go into teaching women.”

“James, you’re
horrible.”

Doctor Riley
laughed. “You know I’m teasing.”

“Thank you
again for coming to my rescue yesterday. It really meant a lot to me.”

“You know I
would’ve, I
would
do anything to help.”

“I
understand.” Eliza leaned closer to him and kissed his cheek again.

“You really
have to stop doing that, you know.”

“Why?”

“It wrecks me
for the next day or two.”

“That’s silly.
Come on, I’ll help you make rounds.”

The two doctors
worked side by side for the rest of the afternoon. Eliza used it as an
opportunity to quietly ask patients she thought might be the street-working
type if they knew any women named Catherine, and she would give them a brief
description. She didn’t gain any leads, but she enjoyed her time spent with
James. Eliza had forgotten how fond she was of him. When they’d finished seeing
patients, James walked Eliza out and they said their goodbyes.

Outside, it
had begun to rain. Eliza pulled her hood over and walked quickly down the
street. She passed an alley and heard someone shout out. “Miss Jane!”

Eliza stepped
back, looked up and down the street to see if she saw anyone she knew, then
headed down the alley. Behind some wooden crates, a woman was huddled against
the wall. “Can I help you?” Eliza said.

“I’m sure you
can.” The woman looked up at Eliza. At once, she knew that long rat face. It
was Catherine. The prostitute was filthy, and smiling up at Eliza with a
missing tooth and a blackened right eye.

“What do you
want?”

“You’ve got to
know. Lucky I didn’t turn you in.”

“Have you been
following me?”

“You bet I
have. Can’t let my future slip away, if you know what I’m saying.”

Eliza’s heart
began to race. This harlot knew where she came and went. “What exactly are you
saying?”

“Don’t play
dumb with me, miss. I want your money.”

“I don’t have
any.”

“You must have
some! I’ve seen you take hansom after hansom. I was never able to follow you
past East End. You could be heading home to Buckingham Palace for all I know.
The one time I saw you on Henrietta Street I was taking a friend up to the
Royal Free Hospital. She’s all uppity these days and prefers it, and that’s
when I saw you leaving and followed you ‘til you caught a hansom. So I’m smart
enough to know you’ve got a lot of cab money, Miss.” Catherine stopped talking.
Her eyes targeted something on Eliza and then widened a bit.

Eliza looked
down and saw her great-grandmother’s broach through the keyholes of her cloak
and frock coat. Her heart sunk.

“That’ll do,” Catherine
said with a wicked smile pointing to the broach.

Eliza gasped
and tightened the cloak around her neck. “I can’t. It’s a family heirloom.”

“I don’t care
whose family it belongs to. If you want me to keep quiet, you’ll be giving that
to me.”

Unable to
catch her breath, Eliza began to hyperventilate.

“Don’t go
faking sick on me. I’ll scream out, I will.”

“I’m not.”
Eliza gasped and tried to think quickly. She reached into her pocket and pulled
out a small silk pouch with a drawstring. “Take this,” she said. “It’s all I’ve
got.”

“Why thank
you, Miss.” Catherine snatched the pouch out of her hand. “But I’ll still be
wanting that pretty pin.”

“Please, not
now, let me think about how I’ll explain it going missing. It’s my mother’s.
She only leant it to me. The excuse will have to be a good one because she’ll
have every copper in London looking for it when it’s gone. You see, this broach
is highly unusual and, well, if you’re found trying to sell it—”

“Fine, then!
You think of a good way to hand it over. And don’t you try and give me the
slip. I know where to find you.”

“Come to me in
three days. I should have a plan by then.”

“Aye, you
better.”

“But don’t
meet me near the hospital. It’s too risky that I’ll run into someone I know.
Perhaps we’ve been seen already.” Eliza turned and looked up the alley. No one
was in sight.

“Where then?”
Catherine said.

Eliza turned
back. “Someplace farther away, but still busy,” she mumbled while thinking hard
and fast for a plan. “Mitre Square, about the same time as now.”

“Don’t try and
cross me.”

As Eliza’s
idea was coming to a realization, she felt herself mentally getting stronger.
Then she became angry. “I won’t. And don’t ever threaten me again.” She pointed
her finger down at the Catherine’s face.

The woman rose
slightly, opened her mouth and put it around Eliza’s gloved finger, then sucked
it. Eliza pulled her hand away, repulsed by the harlot’s vile actions.
Catherine cackled as Eliza ran.

She heard
coins jingling in the pouch from the alleyway behind her.