The Ratcliff Killer – On December 7, 1811, a linen draper, his wife, child and an apprentice were clubbed to death in their home. The savagery of the incident, and its proximity to the Radcliffe Highway, a major thoroughfare in London, spread panic across the city.
On December 19 in the same area of town, a naked man escaped out the window of a pub by tying two sheets together, yelling they are murdering people inside. The bodies of four people, including the pub owner, were found, once again clubbed to death. The Radcliffe Killer—or killers, for some speculated it was a gang—could not be found.
The murders gripped the imaginations of London citizens, changing where they went to how late they were out. Citizens went about armed, doors and windows were barred; a reward of 500 pounds was offered.
On December 24, John Williams, a former ship mate of the linen draper was arrested and charged with the murders. Evidence was weak, and his motive was said to be an old grudge from their sailing days, but what about the second family? Recent scholars believe another man was involved, but he was never arrested, and authorities were satisficed of John Williams’ guilt when he hanged himself with his scarf in Coldbath Fields Prison four days later. Public panic and the investigation came to an abrupt end.
Frost Fairs – Between 1608 and 1814, during the Little Ice Age, the Thames River froze over several times during the extra cold winters. The river was shallower then and the old London bridge was built in such a way that it created ice jams, allowing the river to freeze. At such times, the town set up commerce and entertainment on the ice with a party atmosphere. You can be sure Lucien and Lady Anne will notice the Frost Fair when their story reaches 1814, the year of the last fair. It was common for the aristocracy and the lower classes to mingle on the ice buying and selling goods, food, a place by a fire, or a sled ride on converted wagons.
The Great Beer Flood of 1814 – The Horseshoe Brewery stood at the corner of Tottencourt Rd and Great Russell St. In 1810 they built a huge cask, holding 320,000 gallons of beer. On Oct. 17, 1814, one of the bands around the wooden cask broke, sending 15 foot waves into the surrounding area, filling basements, knocking down walls, and drowning eight people. Those not adversely affected were scooping up the free beer with any handy container. The area smelled of beer many months later.
And now–in hopes of enticing you to become a series follower–I offer an excerpt from The Dead Betray None.
In the silence, he grew aware of footsteps behind him. The sound unmistakable and somehow furtive. He stole a glance over his shoulder. In the dim light of the solitary lantern at the last road crossing, he made out two figures ducking into a shadowed storefront. Lucien increased his pace. Perhaps they were on their own business that had nothing to do with him, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Many years had passed since he first learned the scent of peril.
Moments later, the rhythm changed, the footsteps drawing closer. Lucien wasn’t worried yet. He had an army knife in his right boot. What concerned him was the possibility more cutthroats had circled around to get ahead of him. He eyed the shadowed, foggy road crossing just ahead.
Changing direction without warning, Lucien cut across the street. As soon as he heard running steps behind him, he broke into a run. Rounding the first corner he came to, he slipped into a dark lane and yanked the knife from his boot. The putrid smell of rotten food, human refuse, and things he chose not to think about assailed his nostrils with rabid persistence. Rats rustled in the debris at his feet, but Lucien didn’t flinch. He had played this game before. He gripped the knife, waited…and listened.
Stealthy footsteps crept nearer. Two male voices, low and cautious, whispered in a language Lucien knew well. Frenchies.
“Where did he go?”
“In there. I am sure of it.”
Lucien stepped into their path, flashing the knife in their faces so they couldn’t miss it, and spoke in their native tongue. “Looking for me?”
Reacting clumsily, one man swung a wooden club, missing him, while his companion scuttled backward, shouting for help. Three men sprang from the fog on the far side of the street.
Bloody hell.
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Dead-Betray-None-J-Buck-ebook/dp/B09VM9RSS9
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-dead-betray-none-j-l-buck/1141104585
Kobo: www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-dead-betray-none
and at other booksellers