- Against Jack The Ripper Chapter Six

CHAPTER 6: THE NIGHT RAIN OUTSIDE THE WINDOW

I didn't want to go home tonight, beside, I was absolutely exhausted. Typically each case, I would be absent from home for at least two days to investigate; about a case as serious such as this... it would be a whole month. So typical of me. Well, I lived alone, so it didn't bother the other much (perhaps except for Madame Smitheford). But the problem at this moment, was Clara had not been home, but I was definitely so tired. If be allowed, I would like to rest for a night, then about dawn I would leave and continue my investigation. Yet— Claramenthe had locked her door, and I had not an acquaintance in Kensington... I was the type of person that kind of a lone wolf, thus I was also usually the one saving my pitiful self from troubles. Alas, Helen had returned to her dearest Moskva, my faithful "personal physician" had gone, yet I didn't prefer hospital so much; a lone wolf that was also alone... I must find somewhere to shelter, or else risking catching a cold. And if I did catch a cold... let us just talk about some displeasure.

Wait— a minute! The château of Sir Robert Arrison, yes, why not! My adolescent years with the intriguing wonders yet full of dangers, I departed and left everything behind; my acquaintances and relatives might have all gone and seemingly nobody was living here likewise... Of course unless my uncle and his wife decided to move back here instead of staying in Suffolk.

I opened the grand iron gate and stepped in the yard. This great yard, I still remembered, and there was my little tea table in the corner. This yard was at its most beauty when dawn came...

I approached the front door and rang the bell, then knocked several times.

Suddenly, it poured cats and dogs.

A few moments later, an elderly woman aged around eighty, and another person, a middle-aged man, opened the door. That woman, I wasn't familiar to, in fact I had never met her. So, this manor wasn't abandoned, at least... it was bought by someone wealthy, it seemed.

- Who are you? - asked the man.

- I... would like to ask you if I can stay for the night. It is raining heavily and I cannot return to my... flat.

I had to hide the "truth", because beside Scotland Yard, no one would believe a lady would go investigating like a full-fledged investigator. I would just pretend myself as a governess coming for afar, for the sake of simplicity and perhaps my own business too.

The man looked behind his shoulder and asked:

- Madam, your permission?

- It has been dead night, anyway. Just let her in and prepare a bedroom. This manor is too empty it will not bother anyone. Besides, my husband said, people came to this manor were all our guests.

The mistress, holding the candle, turned inside, and the man opened the door wide for me to enter. I took off my wet coat and hat, giving him, he said he would return them to-morrow after he dried them.

- Is the fourth room counted from the grand window empty, sir? - I asked.

- Always empty, ma'am. If you desire so, I will prepare for you that room.

- Yes, please.

- I heard it used to belong to a girl, an acquaintance or relative of the manor's master, I believe... Nobody has touched said room for eighteen years, the mistress told me so.

A girl's he said... however that room was... in fact mine. It used to be mine before I departed for America... Great (with somewhat... negative connotation)! And now I was technically spending the night... in my own bedchamber, instead of guest's room. The "girl" he mentioned was now a thirty-one-year-old woman, little did everyone know.

Here, was a place I called "my room", which eighteen years ago was my "safe haven" in London. Eighteen years, was it a period too long Perhaps. Somehow time passed so quick I didn't even realise what had I missed... My childhood, my memorable adolescence lasted for just a mere year... A time of interest satisfied my seemingly endless curiosity, from the Southampton-London train at the beginning of summer 1870 to the cross-Atlantic ship sailed me to America at the end of spring 1871... Only in those days, I was able to shed the lacily aristocratic veil to follow Scotland Yard wandering places throughout from East End to West End, then from Portsmouth toward Alyth. Dear, why was that time so wonderful in my memories! No longer the confinement of a high-born child of nobility, no longer the "must-have" etiquettes and protocols, I was no one but me, only my self and not some girl from some noble house whom I was raised to be!

Stepping into the room, all of a sudden appearing in front of my eyes was a little girl, looking through her window into a starry sky... Right, the stars sparkling like countless of diamonds, crystals shone high in the darkness of night. It seemed to me... each star was a fainting hope of someone still remained after said person had fallen deep into the sorrowfully endless abyss. It shone brightly, as if the belief was blazing... Hope my dear, it was something I would like to forget from very long ago. Because of life, as I knew it, was cruel and rife of lies... This life was ruthless, thus I had to be ruthless also to survive.

How a snowflake knows when it thaws, how a person knows when they die; why should they believe in miracles, the inherently unreal magic? Said "miracle" was just faith, belief in something utterly coincidental or "having been arranged". Why believing when it itself was just something illusory, invisible even unreal? The rain this night and the stars that year had let me know a "truth" which seemingly no one beside I accepted...

My lines of thought was interrupted by some knocks. Here he was, the butler.

- Allow me to replace the sheets and blanket, ma'am. For so long no one has used this room so it's filled with dust. There's the wash bowl, also here's the pitcher, ma'am.

Now that I had paid attention to the surrounding, it was indeed that my room had become quite dusty. Well at least, the sheets were still fairly clean.

- Sorry to bother you, sir, but I can do it myself. Please lend me the duster, to-morrow you may come to retrieve.

He gave me clean bedsheets and blanket, as well as a duster and water pitcher. I tidied my own room and a while later, the bed was the first thing well-cleaned. I requested as such instead of letting him do the work because... I wanted to be alone. Just leave me here, with the sound of rainy night outside the window, was fine.

I dusted and wiped clean the wash bowl, replaced the old pitcher with the filled one, polished the vanity; cleaned the wardrobe, the lamp and added a little oil in. I recalled the oil pot was put at the end of the corridor, which meant four rooms apart from here; I then lighted the lamp and checked if I let any spot uncleaned. By the way, perhaps to-night I had to pass the night in my petticoat, since my nightgowns I left them all at my Baker Street house. Also my gown was dampened with rain, so I would let it dry on the armchair till to-morrow.

I heard the Big Ben echoing its two after-midnight bells in the merry sound of this end of autumn night rain.

I opened the wardrobe trying to find something dry I could wear. In this old wardrobe should have those clothes of that "younger" Sherline Holmes if the butler's words were true, "left untouched for eighteen years"; however, I recalled having cleared the wardrobe before I departed for America. Alas, no way but sleep in this damp petticoat.

Before bed, I tried to review several details about the murder. I almost forgot everything I learnt of the murderer, but as I lied there reviewing them all, they seemed to lead me to nowhere.