On his knee, a rather suave man extends a glittering diamond ring to the woman before him. Lucy Baderski stands, shedding tears of sheer joy. The supposed love of his life, whom he had met only five months ago, throws herself to him with a smile. "Yes! Yes! A million times, yes!" she cries, throwing herself into his arms as he stands.
Severin Klosowski smiles, holding her tightly. "Oh, thank the heavens! You were so silent there for a moment, I thought you would say no, Lucy dearest." He swings her about in a circle. She laughs joyously. Bright, beautiful sephia-coloured eyes. Tawny hair that cascades down her back in waves as gentle as her touch with children. Pale skin never once kissed by the light of day because of her ornates dresses and parasols to match. The perfect woman, surely.
Setting her down gently, he slips the ring onto her finger. She sobs, gazing at him in wonder. "Oh, Lucy. How about we settle down in America? I'll land a job at that barber on Whitechapel High Street to save up for the wedding," he hums, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. She blushes at the attention, chaste and sweet, as she delightedly nodding along to his words. "Save up for the voyage. For our future."
"That sounds wonderful, Severin," her voice, softer than the breeze through a meadow. "I love you."
She gave her the ring, the promise for a future. Yet, he never gave her his heart.
"I love you most."
YOU ARE READING
Whitechapel
Historical FictionJack the Ripper was never caught-but was it one man who could have gotten away with murder? Taken from the perspective of both the killers and the police, the two groups desperately strive to complete their goals. The killers, to avoid being caught...
