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With that, she turned to her sisters in arms, plotting our wedding. Thomas leaned in, a smile in his voice. “Remind me to never cross your cousin. She’s more fearsome than my father.”
Everyone spoke in rushed spurts, nodding one moment, shaking their heads the next. It was fascinating to watch. They truly were like an army, assembling a plan of attack as swiftly as if they’d practiced this formation for years, unbeknownst to me or Thomas.
“She can alter the dress she’s wearing,” Ileana offered, nodding at the blush ensemble I wore. “It’s close to a wedding gown already. The beadwork is exceptional.”
I glanced down at the princess gown I’d had made at the highly acclaimed Dogwood Lane Boutique. It would be quite lovely. Liza and Daciana both drew back, holding their hands against their hearts. “No! Absolutely not!” they said in unison. Then Daciana elaborated, “Her gown ought to be new—made specially for this most treasured day. It’ll be white, like the queen’s was, with layers of flowing gauze and crystals sewn into the bodice.”
Arguments went back and forth so quickly, I felt dizzy. I found an empty seat next to my father and uncle. “Thank you, Father. I know you’re not entirely comfortable—”
“I’ve found I am most content when my daughter is happy.” He hugged me. “Plus, your Thomas is quite the brave young man. Look how he’s challenging your cousin on the colors of the flowers.” My father shook his head, smiling. “He’s unique. Unique enough to keep you looking this happy for the rest of your lives, I’m sure.”
Uncle grunted. “I knew pairing the two of you together would be trouble.”
“Well, I’m pleased you played such an important role.” I kissed him on the cheek, surprising us both. Uncle flushed bright red. “Meeting that annoying student in your laboratory last autumn turned out to be one of the best chance encounters of my life.”
Uncle muttered something and quickly exited the room.
After he’d gone, my father laughed, shaking his head. “My dear girl. If you believe it was a chance encounter, you have much to learn. Especially about your uncle.”
Sounds of friendly chatter and clinking forks against porcelain plates faded into the background while I mentally turned his words over. “You must be mistaken. The night I met Thomas, he’d come uninvited.”
Father’s eyes danced with mirth. “Sweet daughter of mine. Jonathan’s more apt at reading people than Thomas is. He knew long before that boy ever walked into that laboratory that the two of you had the potential to change the world together. Know this—he took Thomas on as an apprentice because he is and always has been the Wadsworth who believed love could bridge the barrier between life and death. If you think me a romantic old fool, my brother is twice as much on both counts.”
Twelve days came and went; time slipped through our grasp like a wily career murderer. The women in our families—along with my father, who, surprisingly enough, rather enjoyed all the preparations and shopping—worked from sunrise until sunset, planning and ordering and amending their lists. Thomas and I tried assisting but were shooed away. Murders didn’t slow in the city, though no more seemed to be committed by the Ripper’s hand. It ought to have proven joyful, but the churning unease in my center knew otherwise.
If Jack the Ripper was no longer in New York, he was stalking another city. I did not delude myself into believing he’d simply given up killing. If anything, he’d been experimenting with new variations on his methods. Unusual, and troubling for a killer. He’d already been an efficient murdering machine; with more practice and altered methods, we might never stop him.
Uncle tossed his scalpel into a bucket of carbolic acid, careless of what else got splashed with the liquid. “Nothing! It’s as if he’s disappeared.”
I set my cane down and picked up the bucket, fishing the medical tool out. Uncle’s anger had been simmering for days and was coming to a full, maddening boil. I’d never seen him take his frustration out on his blades before.
“I—” I paused to gather my courage. “I may know of a place we might learn more.”
Uncle’s attention shifted to me. “How?”
I glanced at Thomas, suddenly unsure I wanted to share this fact with Uncle. My betrothed nodded, giving me his support, but wouldn’t offer an opinion on the matter. This was my secret to reveal and mine alone. It was strange, feeling as if I was about to betray my brother. I couldn’t reconcile my innate urge to protect the person who hadn’t protected others.
“Well?” Uncle asked, losing his already fraying patience.
I steeled myself against any more fits of his rage. “Nathaniel’s journals. They—they contain quite a lot of information. Regarding the murders.”
I didn’t need to elaborate on which murders.
Uncle’s eyes grew distant, his posture straightening. “Your brother knew nothing worthwhile regarding those murders.”
“I’m quite certain he—”
“He was yet another unfortunate victim, though I know many would find that hard to believe.”
I pressed my lips together, refusing to argue when he was clearly in denial. I knew the feeling all too well and wouldn’t steal his stubborn peace from him, misplaced though it might be.
Whether Uncle wanted to confront his own truth or not, the fact remained: Nathaniel knew more about Jack the Ripper than any of us.
FOURTEEN
COURTING A CRESSWELL
AUDREY ROSE’S ROOMS
