A Fatal Freedom (26 page)

The noise of the traffic, the blaring horns and cries of drivers as they tried to negotiate the crowded streets, together with a struggle not to be separated from Rachel, made conversation difficult.

As they approached Victoria station, Rachel shouted at her, ‘Have you travelled underground before?’

The underground railway! Ursula was aware of its existence but had not had occasion yet to travel by its means. Tunnels had always seemed thrilling to her. To burrow through land like a mole, to be like the Romans and force a direct way through whatever obstructions nature placed in your path, made man seem mighty. Below the streets there could be none of the congestion she saw all around them, the only traffic there travelled on well-ordered lines.

Not quite so well-ordered were the crowds of travellers Ursula found herself jostled by as they made their way below ground to a beautifully brick-lined tunnel.

‘We shall not have long to wait,’ Rachel said. ‘The trains are frequent. The line goes round in a great circle, one can travel in either direction and it is much the fastest way of getting across town. It will only take us some twenty minutes to reach Islington.’

It might be the fastest way to travel, but the steam of the train’s engine made the air sulphurous. Ursula spent the journey trying to tell herself the atmosphere was nothing compared with the indignities Alice was having to suffer. It was a relief to rise above ground once again.

Outside the Islington station, Rachel found a hansom and gave their direction. The cab offered privacy and the chance of conversation. As they drove off, Rachel turned to her and said very quickly, as though she didn’t want to think too hard about what she had to say, ‘Ursula, it is good of you to come to visit Alice. I never asked if you are reluctant to enter a prison. Many would feel it beneath their dignity.’

Ursula laughed. ‘I am not a stranger to prisons.’

‘You aren’t?’

‘I lived for a time in silver fields in California, and then ran a boarding house in San Francisco that made the one I live in now seem a palace. The company I mixed with then often found themselves locked up, for all sorts of offences. Usually, though, for days rather than weeks or years.’ She might have added that she once had been arrested herself but the blackest period of her life was not one to be talked about. Here, in civilised London, she was able to put that time behind her.

Rachel looked thoroughly taken aback.

‘So, you see, I don’t mind at all visiting your sister. My reluctance this morning was purely because of having to go to my new job.’

‘I hope you will forgive me for my behaviour then. I had no right to expect you to be prepared to come with me without notice.’

Ursula was touched. Rachel seemed a very proud person and to apologise in such a generous manner must have cost her dear.

‘I was sorry not to be able to respond as you wanted. To have your sister in such a dreadful situation and not be able to help must be terrible.’

Rachel’s lips tightened and she looked away. After a moment she said, ‘Ursula, do you really have no income apart from what you earn?’

‘Indeed not,’ Ursula said cheerfully. ‘But I am used to earning my living and looking out for myself.’ For a fleeting moment she wondered how Rachel would survive in a mining camp or running a seedy bed and breakfast establishment in San Francisco with its down and outs, Chinese quarter, property profiteers and women of easy virtue. It made the area where Thomas Jackman lived that had so upset Rachel seem a haven for civilised living.

After a little pause Rachel said, ‘What … what did you and Alice talk about during the time she stayed at your lodgings?’

Ursula thought back. ‘She was very interested in my travels. Although Mr Peters frequently went abroad, it was on business and she did not accompany him. She said she longed to see Paris and Vienna, to climb the Alps, sail on Lake Lucerne. She told me she loved to hear Daniel talk about his travels. Apparently he had spent much time in Europe. She said he brought the places he’d visited alive for her.’ Ursula remembered the way Alice’s eyes had glowed with an inner intensity when she talked of how Daniel had wanted the two of them to make a home in either France or Italy.

Rachel seemed surprised. ‘I hadn’t realised she was so anxious to travel. Or that she wished to leave England. I am several years younger and since her marriage Alice has not always been open with me. She said there were things she as a married woman could not discuss with someone unmarried. I can’t think why. Surely marriage is not such a mystery!’

Ursula said nothing.

‘Did she not talk about Joshua, Mr Peters, and why she had run away?’

‘Your sister seemed to me a very private person, one who kept her innermost feelings to herself.’

‘That is Alice. She has never been very communicative. So what else did you talk about?’

‘It was mainly what you might call safe subjects; for instance we discussed books we had enjoyed. She recommended I read the works of Mrs Gaskell and I suggested she should try the American writers such as Mark Twain and Edith Wharton. We both said we loved Mr Dickens and Mr Trollope. And she was very interested to hear about life in America. Perhaps she wondered if she and Daniel could live there rather than in Europe.’

Rachel sighed heavily. ‘It must have taken so much courage to leave that dreadful man. My aunt was devastated with the shame of her action. Did you, Ursula, feel that she would indeed be happy with Daniel?’

‘Oh, yes! She seemed desperately in love. And I think that parting from him broke her heart.’

Rachel was silent.

‘Tell me,’ said Ursula, ‘were you able to discover what Albert was doing with Count Meyerhoff in that public house? Have you talked to Mr Jackman and discovered why he was there as well? Was he, as it seemed, following Albert?’

Alice gave a contemptuous snort. ‘Neither Albert nor Mr Jackman has been available. When I went round to the Peters’ household only Cook was there. The servants seem to think they have been given a holiday! My aunt has spoken to them about the necessity for keeping everything in proper order ready for Alice’s return. I do feel Mr Jackman should call on me with details of how his investigation is doing. I wonder,’ she said angrily, ‘whether we were right to employ him.’

‘I believe him to be very reliable,’ Ursula tried to sound reassuring. ‘I am sure he will let you know as soon as he has something to report.’

Inwardly, she wondered what Thomas Jackman had been up to in following Albert, if that indeed was what he had been doing. Did she really know enough about the ex-policeman to be completely convinced he was to be trusted? Then there was Count Meyerhoff. It seemed so unlikely that Joshua Peters or his valet had any business with him. That morning, beginning to sort out the
Maison Rose
accounts, Ursula had looked for a mention of a Mr or Mrs Joshua Peters, thinking that perhaps Alice had visited
Maison Rose
as a client. So far, the name of Peters had not appeared.

The cab came to a stop. They alighted and Ursula had her first, astonished sight of Holloway prison. ‘But it looks just like a castle from a fairy tale!’ she exclaimed, taking in the towers, the battlements, the fanciful lines and elaborate stonework.

Rachel turned from paying off the cab and gave a snort of derision. ‘Some fairy tale! Heaven only knows what the authorities were thinking of to choose such a design, for it has always been a prison. Originally both male and female inmates were housed there but this year it was converted to hold all females. At least that has worked to Alice’s advantage.’

There was nothing fairy tale about Holloway’s grim interior. Dark corridors led to a series of wings that reached back in several directions; the prison was much larger than had seemed possible from its frontage. There must be room for many, many cells. A depressing smell of boiled cabbage and unwashed bodies hung about the reception hall. The walls were whitewashed but, though there was no discernable dirt, nothing appeared clean. Odd cries and the sound of clumping feet echoed down the stone corridors giving an impression of constant activity. A girl in an arrow-decorated prison uniform worked at scrubbing the floor on her knees. She didn’t glance at the visitors.

The two girls were directed to an office, where a thorough search was made of the change of clothes Rachel had brought for her sister; as a remand prisoner, Alice did not have to wear the official uniform.

Rachel handed over Ursula’s Visitor’s Permit. It was scrutinised by a wardress whose expression suggested she doubted it would be in order. She then fixed Ursula with a basilisk stare, laid the permit on her desk and watched while another wardress conducted a quick but comprehensive search of Ursula’s person. Finally she gave a nod.

‘You are not allowed any contact with the detainee. You must not touch her hand nor any part of her. You must not ask about details of any prisoner she may have come into contact with or their treatment. You understand?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Ursula said hurriedly. ‘I will abide by all your regulations.’

‘You, Miss Fentiman, will remain here.’

By now Ursula wondered whether there wasn’t a danger she could end up in one of the cells herself. She followed another wardress to a small room that held a plain table and two chairs.

‘Sit, Miss Grandison.’

She did so and waited on her own for several long minutes before Alice was brought in by the stern-faced wardress.

Ursula rose and the officer held out a warning hand, enforcing the space between the two girls.

Alice’s appearance shocked Ursula. She had lost weight. Her dark dress hung on her small frame, it was so loose it took a second look to discern that she was with child. Her face was very pale, her hair greasy and pulled back without any attempt at style. Her eyes, though, lit up when she saw Ursula and she smiled.

‘How kind of you to visit me,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I cannot imagine what has brought you.’

The wardress took up a position by the door, her face expressionless.

Ursula wanted so much to enfold the girl in her arms, to offer comfort and reassurance. She had to force herself to make no movement but could not stop herself saying impulsively, ‘How can you bear it here?’

Alice’s gaze flicked towards the wardress, who was frowning.

Ursula sat down and tried to look innocent.

‘It is not so bad,’ the girl said steadily, sitting at the other side of the table. ‘Rachel has visited and so have my uncle and my lawyer.’

Ursula drew a deep breath. ‘Alice, Rachel is very anxious about you. We all are. We understand you will not explain, will not comment in any way on the writings in your diary.’

For a moment something flashed deep in Alice’s eyes, then she looked away.

Ursula waited.

Finally, in the same low voice, the girl said, ‘I wrote what I wrote. I cannot deny it. I have told my sister so.’

Without thinking, Ursula extended her hand across the table.

‘Contact with Peters is not allowed,’ the wardress said sharply.

Ursula flushed and withdrew her hand. ‘But why, Alice? We cannot believe you meant those words, that you really wished Mr Peters could leave this life.’

Alice gave her a straight look. ‘It was wrong of me to write in that way. I have offended against the preachings of the Church. But I did not send Joshua poisoned chocolates.’ It was a solemn declaration.

Could Ursula believe her? Here, faced with such a dogged spirit in these surroundings where despair seemed to leach from every wall, she felt that maybe she could. She knew she wanted to.

‘We understand that you wrote you had reason for believing that your husband was a wicked man and did not deserve to live. Can’t you tell us why?’

Alice closed her eyes and said nothing.

‘I believe before your husband died, you met with Mr Jackman. At that time he had been hired by Mr Peters to follow you. Have you heard that he is now investigating your husband’s murder and trying to discover who did send those chocolates so that you can be released?’

The faintest of nods.

‘Can’t you help him? Can’t you tell us what it is you know about Mr Peters? It must be more than that he mistreated you.’

Silence.

‘Surely you understand what danger you are in?’

A long pause, then Alice placed a hand over her thickened waist. ‘I know that whatever happens, my child will be safely delivered.’

Ursula cried out in frustration. ‘Do you want your child to be born in this place?’

The girl flinched. ‘You don’t understand. I am innocent but I cannot have my child growing up to despise its father.’

‘And what will he or she think of a mother hanged for murder?’ Ursula felt she had to shock Alice into revealing what it was she thought she knew.

Again Alice closed her eyes. ‘I cannot believe any jury will convict an innocent woman.’

‘Your sister has been trained in law and believes that they could.’

A shudder ran through Alice’s frail frame. ‘I must believe otherwise.’

‘Please forgive me for asking this but I think it could be important. Alice, you were obviously very unhappy with your husband. If he had not died, were you planning to take your child and leave him a second time?’

The girl did not seem upset by the question. ‘I should have remained with him. It was my duty; a child should be with both its parents. Nor could I have brought myself to abandon him or her. If I left their father, I would not be allowed to take his child with me.’

The situation seemed so extraordinary, Ursula was left bereft for words.

‘Miss Grandison, Ursula, I miss our discussions on books. Can you perhaps see that I am sent some volume that will allow me to forget this place while I turn its pages? I believe it is permitted.’

‘Of course I will. But Alice, Mr Jackman needs your help to uncover why Mr Peters died. Please, you must tell him what you know.’

Alice gave Ursula such a sweet smile, it almost broke her heart. ‘Our time will soon be up. Please, tell me how Mrs Maple is and Meg and Mrs Crumble. And I would love to hear how your employment with Mrs Bruton proceeds.’