Read Online Murder in Whitechapel (The Judas Reflections) by Aiden James, Michelle Wright - Free Book Online

something other than the stagnant articles I’m forced to read. The description of the murderer is vague, misleading and occasionally downright ludicrous. One day he is someone from the butchers market, and then he is an eminent surgeon and possibly a member of the royal family. The last thing I read was that he was a Russian sailor who had absconded from his ship at the East India docks and by all accounts was running amok in Whitechapel.”
    “So many rumors and conjectures. Perhaps expected in a case where the murders appear to have been committed by the same hand. Until he is apprehended, the newspapers will continue to speculate. Let us pray they catch the scoundrel soon,” said I.
    I wanted to speak out and say I am waiting in the wings to strike. That I hoped the stolen files were on the way, and I would hunt Jack down until the bitter end. But I was bound by silence for my own good.
    “Roderick, old chap, you’re looking under the weather. I hope the influenza isn’t striking.
    Regretfully, the Captain was unable to ignore his complexion had paled considerably.
    “I am overworked, far too many long hours in the office.”
    “I hope that is all it is and that you are not coming down with something,” he replied as he stared intensely at Roderick. I had to agree his complexion was dreadful, a distinct lack of face powder revealing all.
    To my relief, he excused himself and made haste to my bedchamber. There he could make use of a mirror to reapply enough of the darkest power so he appeared to belong in the land of the living. Meanwhile, the Captain and I joined the ladies, whereupon Mrs. Braithwaite did not waste a moment to comment.
    “I do not understand why a charming and handsome man like you is not yet married. Pray tell me Emmanuel, are you intending to become an eternal bachelor?”
    The eternal part was correct, that I could do nothing about, but the bachelor status was a bone of contention. I yearned for true love and the one and only woman who would steal my heart. But where would I find such a special woman, who would know she was to wither and grow old while I did not? This was not something I could confide with the formidable Celia Braithwaite, a woman who sat on the high echelon of society and whose name was on everyone’s guest list.
    “The right woman has not yet appeared. Besides, I really have to concentrate on my business interests first.”
    My response appeased her. I was sure it was talk of marriage with Marianne that encouraged her to ponder on my lack of a suitor. Meanwhile, to my relief, Roderick reappeared looking much healthier and smiling.
    “I beg your pardon for my absence. Captain, Mrs. Braithwaite, I feel much better now. It was the quail not agreeing with me,” said he.
    “Oh my goodness. I hope the quail was fresh Emmanuel?” replied Mrs. Braithwaite.
    “I found it quite delicious and the freshest it could be. Roderick has a very delicate stomach, like a baby’s,” said Marianne finding another avenue of insult.
    “My stomach is that of an ox, dear woman. Is minic a bhris beal duine a shron!”
    “My dear man, what is it that you are saying? I’m sure you are aware that Gaelic eludes me.”
    “In a nutshell, Miss Marianne, your mouth will lead you into a lot of trouble.”
    “How dare you insult me with such sarcasm? I am highly offended!”
    “Then I have done a good deed for the evening!”
    “The hour is late. It is time for us to take our leave, thank you for a wonderful dinner Emmanuel, soon you must dine with us,” said the Captain, ushering Mrs. Braithwaite to her feet with Marianne following suit. Their sudden escape was the perfect solution to end the building tension and a chance for me to discover what was really bothering Roderick. Marianne, once calmed would, as she had done in the past, think on what was said and brush off the comment, taking very little to heart.
    “Let us partake of a small brandy and talk,” I suggested, wanting to find