Whitechapel: The Final Stand of Sherlock Holmes by Bernard J. Schaffer Read Free Book Online Page B

Monty.”
    He looked back at Clifton, feeling his cheeks glowing hot. “If you want to play house with some strumpet, feel free, but do not pretend that it will make you happy.”
    Clifton’s face clouded with anger. “That is enough, Mr. Druitt. Good day, sir.”
    “It is best that you call me sir, you lowly little farm scum. That is all you are and all you will ever be. You, your whore, and whatever little creatures you two manage to grunt into existence. Scum, the lot of you.”
    Clifton stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder. “I am sorry if I’ve hurt you, Monty. Some things are beyond our control, though.”
    “If I showed you what was beyond your control it would be that whore’s guts spread across your conjugal bed.”
    Clifton turned, half-smiling in surprise at the sudden malicious turn in Monty’s normally gentle voice. As their eyes met, Clifton’s smile turned to a scowl, seeing the naked fury in Monty’s face, and he found himself wondering if it had not been a rather serious threat. “Go away from here and never return, Mr. Druitt. If you come anywhere near me or my loved ones ever again I shall hurt you.”
    Monty turned and began walking quickly into the woods. By the time he reached the trees he was running, crashing through branches, unable to see.
     
    ~ * * * ~
     
    Dr. William Druitt stopped practicing medicine and devoted his later years to the care of his wife. Ann’s condition deteriorated to the point where William kept her confined to her bedroom. She had broken, smashed, and cracked every possible thing within it until nothing remained but a bare room with four walls. William threw a mattress on the floor for her to flop around on in between fits of shrieking. Ann lost the ability to attend to even the most basic bodily functions and William risked his own safety even attempting to bathe her. She had become wild.
    One night William’s eyes were mere slits as he sat on the couch, clutching his chest. “What is wrong, father?” Monty said.
    “I just need to rest a moment,” William said. “Your mother has been even more active than usual today.”
    Monty considered this for a moment and then picked up a blanket and draped it over the old man. “Stay here and relax. I will attend to her.”
    William thanked him and patted his hand. “Be gentle with her, son. She is a fragile creature and she loves you dearly, even if she is incapable of showing it.”
    “I will,” Monty said.
    Ann Druitt was lying on the floor, covered by a thin sheet. Her eyes did not look away from the window when Monty went into her room with a tray of tea and biscuits. “Good evening, mother,” Monty said. “I will leave these by your bed in case you would like them. Father will be in later after he has rested.”
    “Do you ever see her, Monty?”
    “See who?”
    “Your sister,” Ann said. “I do. She comes down from her bed sometimes and whispers things to me. Things about you.”
    He thought of that night so long ago when the black eyed corpse had stared at him while he slept in her bed. “No,” he said. “Never.”
    Ann turned toward him sharply, “Georgiana could not endure knowing what she was. She was too weak. It is up to you now, Monty.”
    He set the tray down on the floor and said, “I have no idea what you are talking about, but I will not stand here and listen to the ravings of a lunatic. Goodnight, mother.”
    “Why do you think you are so in love with that farm boy? It is your natural instinct to be like the women of my family.”
    Monty pounced on top of her and covered her mouth with his hand as she bit and squirmed under him. “If you utter one more word I will snuff out your life, you wretched, evil creature. I would be doing everyone in this house a favor by putting an end to your misery.”
    “Monty?” his father called from downstairs. “Is everything all right up there?”
    Monty pushed up from the mattress and told her to be silent. She laughed shrilly.