Chapter 3

The third chapter of Ripper.

Goulston Street, Whitechapel, 1894

William and Margaret Wright walked into the pub. It wasn't very popular. Few people knew about it. Even fewer went to drink there. It was very unsanitary, even for the time. Thankfully, the Wrights didn't drink much. No, they came to the pub to do business.

"Well then, Mr. Garvey. You took your time."

"I'm sorry, sir. I had an errand to run."

"Nothing more important than this meeting, I hope?"

"No sir. My wife was very ill. I had to take care of her."

"I heard. That's no excuse."

"I am truly sorry, sir."

"Anyway, now to business."

"Ah, yes. You wanted to know about my mill in Wimbledon, didn't you sir?"

"Indeed I did. I wanted to know if I could send my son there."

Garvey's face paled. William Wright was a wealthy man, an extremely wealthy one. The idea of his son working at a mill was preposterous.

"Sir, I don't understand..."

"Why don't you? It's very simple. I want to send my child to a factory, the mill is the best option."

"Sir, not to be rude, but you have quite a few shillings in your coat pocket, more than enough to give your child a proper life. I do--"

William slammed his hand onto the bar table. Heads turned, not many heads, probably 3 or 4, but all of them were startled.

"I will not turn my own child into one of those little devils on the street, I will not spoil him either!"

"Bu--"

"Do you know what makes the Earth spin, Mr. Garvey?"

"God, sir?"

"No, not God. Money. Money is the only thing man craves, just as a beast would crave for food. I am yet to meet a man who wouldn't sell his brother for a couple of shillings. I want my son to be more than a man. He shouldn't crave money like a spoiled brat."

"Be that as it may, sir, but working in a mill is like Hell on Earth. I do not mean to be rude, sir, but it is hardly the place for a child."

"He is no child, Mr. Garvey. He is a young man of age 12."

"Sir, but the government--"

"I don't bloody care what the bloody government says! My son must work in the mill, he must learn to respect us, cherish every moment he spends with us. Doesn't it say so in your own Bible, honour thy father?"

"Yessir, but you can't force your child into this. My mill would make him work for half a day. He will grow up to resent you, not love or respect you."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Garvey had to stand his ground now.

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't take your child into my mill. I just can't, sir. I am truly sorry."

William reached into his pocket and pulled out five gold sovereigns.

"How about I give you this? Then will you let my child work at the mill?"

"Um..."

Garvey now had a choice. There was 5 quid up for grabs. But to gain it, he had to compromise his own morals. He normally wouldn't do it, but then again... 5 quid.

"Done, sir. He can begin work whenever you feel like he is ready."

William gave him the sovereigns.

"Pleasure doing business with you."
William and Margaret walked out of the pub.

"Just as I said." whispered William to Margaret, who looked somewhat appalled at the deal her husband struck.

Author's Note

How fun is it?