Her Saving Grace (18 page)

Nate comforted Damaris; he didn’t need to pretend as he did feel quite protective of her, and looked to Mrs Murray.

“Can we take a dose away, perhaps in a cup? She’s quite distraught about this whole situation and I wouldn’t want to add to her burdens.”

Mrs Murray raised an eyebrow, silently asking if he hadn’t already given her enough burdens.

“You’ll need to pay for the cup.”

“Of course,” he readily agreed.

She got a small
, chipped teacup and let the viscous substance seep from the spoon and into it. Since a lot seemed to remain on the spoon, she added a little more from the jar.

“Take it all,” she advised, handing the cup over. “Hot water helps to loosen the remnants from the sides.”

Nate handed over a few more coins and looked at the brown contents of the cup.

“What’s in here?” he asked.

“Saffron, ergot, pennyroyal, things like that.”

“And it will work, won’t it?”

Mrs Murray shrugged. “I can't give guarantees but if it don’t, come back and I’ll give you another dose. Sometimes it takes more than one.”

“I understand,” Nate nodded. “Thank you.”

Mrs Murray got to her feet, a clear indication that the meeting was over, then showed them to the front door. He thanked her and she closed the door without replying. Damaris leaned into him all the way to the carriage, which he helped her into, climbing in after her.

Damaris had taken a seat and was pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Are you all right?” he asked, as the carriage moved off.

She nodded and after a moment, raised her head.
“Can I see?” She held her hand out for the cup, which he handed to her. She held the cup towards the light from the carriage window and after looking, sniffed the contents.

“She said it was pennyroyal,
saffron and something else,” he reminded her. “Is there any way to check?”

“If Dr Worthington wouldn’t mind me using his equipment, I should be able to discover what’s in here but to be honest, it smells like treacle, with some dried, crushed sage leaves added.”

“And is that effective at…”

“Not at all,” she shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m more upset at the idea of women being desperate enough to kill their babies, or them being lied to and tricked into buying a useless placebo.”

“A placebo?” he asked, never having heard the term.

“It’s defined as
a medicine given more to placate, than to help the patient. They’re often given to people with imagined ailments or hysterical women.”

The carriage
stopped up at the local midwife’s house and a boy of perhaps fifteen came out to greet them.

“Can we h
elp you?” he asked. His clothes were a little old and worn but neatly darned and spotlessly clean.

“We’re here to see
Mrs Stephens,” Nate said.

“She’s out with a patient but she should be back soon, she’s been gone most of the night. Come in,” he said, leading them back into the house and leaving them little choice but to follow.

Once again they were led to a kitchen and here they found another boy of perhaps ten and two girls, both of whom looked to be about 12. The girls were chopping vegetables, while the boy was boiling something in a caldron over the fire.

“This is Alf, Kelly and Joanna,”
the oldest boy explained, and each child curtseyed or bowed to them as they were introduced. “And I’m George. My elder sister, Laura’s out helping Mam with the birth.”

“When do you expect her back?” Nate asked.

“Hard to say. Sometimes it’s an hour, others she can be gone two days, just sending Laura back for supplies and such. I can take a message for you if you’d like, or you can have a cuppa tea and wait for a while.”

Nate wondered that he wasn’t at all phased by the presence of two wealthy
people in his home.

“Do strangers often turn up here?” he asked.

“All the time.” George said with pride. “Mam’s very good at what she does, so we even have women from neighbouring villages come to her.”

It was unusual to see a boy of his age not at work and Nate said as much.

“I do work,” he smiled. “I do books for people, shopkeepers mainly. Mam taught me how so that I could do her books and keep a track of her stocks and such, but there wasn’t enough to keep me busy, so I offer my services to others who need help but can't afford someone full time. Me older sister’s being trained up to be a midwife herself, so will these when they’re older.” He pointed to the girls, who were sitting at the kitchen table.

“W
e’re wasting time,” Damaris sounded impatient. “You wait here and I’ll go to the courthouse.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“No need, I read faster anyway.”

Nate didn’t much like the idea of leaving her alone. With two recent murders, he feared that
he and Damaris might be next but he supposed that ensconced in the court archives, she couldn’t come to much harm and she was right, she did read faster than he did.

“The clerk won’t let you in without my say so, but I’ll come straight back once you’re settled.”

“But I am Acting Constable, why wouldn’t he let me in?” She frowned.

“Because
he doesn’t know that yet, and I haven’t retrieved Smyth’s tipstaff from Dr Worthington.”

“Very well.” She seemed upset that he was accompanying her but everything he’d said was true.

***

Damaris almost breathed a sigh of relief as the clerk closed the door behind himself, leaving her alone in this great room of records. She had spent far too much time of late in the company of others, and she need
ed to be by herself for a time.

The clerk had explained how the records were stored and
since she was able to recall the date of each newspaper article detailing O’Grady’s cases, she found the records without too much trouble. They weren’t particularly detailed but did give her the basics of the court cases. O’Grady had never pleaded guilty and so there was a list of those called to the stand and a summary of their testimony. Within two hours, she had found and read each case and had the possible names of three of O’Grady’s associates, but she doubted that it would do her much good.

One
associate was referred to by a witness as being ‘Old John’, last name unknown. She could have visited the witness and asked him, except that having been written by an overfull quill tip, the ink had spread until his surname was little more than an ink blot.

The next associate was referred to as having fled the vicinity and the
final one had been convicted and transported to Australia.

In
almost every trial, the witnesses had recanted their earlier statements, possibly frightened into doing so, and there were no more recent trials, since Smyth hadn’t been inclined to arrest his friend.

Damaris put the records away again then sank into the chair she had been using, her hands covering her face.

Now that she had nothing to occupy her, the faces of the children from this morning kept coming back, haunting her. She didn’t have much experience of children but little Thomas had always been full of life, always having to be held back as his natural inclination seemed to be to run, jump or skip everywhere. To see those children this morning, so still and lifeless, with such fear in their eyes, pained her.

But what could she do about it?

It wasn’t illegal to give your child to another, nor was it illegal to discipline a child so no matter how abhorrent those things were, there was nothing she could do, not even with her title of Acting Constable.

She supposed
that she could buy the children from Mrs Murray but that would be rewarding her mistreatment of them and besides, then what would she do with them? She had the means but not the facilities to care for them. She supposed that she could fund an orphanage where they could live but setting that up could take weeks, even months. In the meantime, those children would continue to live a wretched existence and what’s more, even if she did buy their freedom, they would quickly be replaced with new charges.

As soon as this case was solved, she would set up some
kind of orphanage, she decided. After all, the more places that would take in unwanted children, and the less likely it was that desperate women would resort to answering the adverts in newspapers. That however, did not solve the problem of how to help these children.

She knew that it was illogical to be upset by them spending
a little more time with Mrs Murray; they had likely lived with her for years after all, so what did a few more weeks matter? But the fact was that the idea of them spending even one more night with that woman nauseated her.

She got to her feet and quickly left the building, determined to save those
children, one way or another.

Nathaniel had returned to the midwife’s house and after waiting
fifteen minutes, she turned up, looking haggard but happy. She was surprised to see him but knew exactly who he was.

“
My, haven’t you grown up well,” Mrs Stephens said as she came into the kitchen, a warm smile finding its way through her obvious lethargy.

Her grey hair was swept back from her face into a tight bun and she looked to be about 50, although he had a feeling that her tired expression might be adding undue years to his estimate.

“Have we met?” he asked.

“Not since the night you were born,” the other woman explained. “I was the midwife your mother used. I like to keep up with my babies, kee
p an eye on them over the years and I must say, you’ve grown up into a fine young man; your father would be proud.”

“I thought doctors attended my mother’s births?”
Doctor Worthington, if he wasn’t very much mistaken.

“The later ones, aye, she had some real problems your poor mam, but you were her first, and one of my firs
t once I’d finished my training, and luckily, you were born healthy and happy and with a fine set of lungs on you.”

Her manner was so easy and open that Nate found himself not wanting to lie to her
, as he had to Mrs Murray. “Is there somewhere that we can speak in private, Mrs Stephens?”

She
showed him through to the study.

“This sounds serious,” she said as she sat down.

“It is, I’m afraid; I’m here in my capacity as Justice of the Peace.” He took a deep breath, unwilling to accuse this kindly woman of murder. “Please be assured that I don’t mean you any harm and what we discuss will remain between us.”

“Go on,” she prompted.

“I have been given to understand that you provide herbs to some women which induce miscarriage.”

She gave him a long, hard look. “And if I did?”

“Do you use pennyroyal?”

“Only a fool would use that.” She contemplated him for a few more moments and seemingly liked what she saw. “I do help women in trouble,” she confessed
, her voice low but not a whisper. “The Church might have a problem with it but I believe some children are better off bypassing life and going straight to Him, and I can't believe Him so callous that he would blame a child for the actions of its parents, or me.”

Nathaniel found that he couldn’t argue with her, what kind of life would a child born to one of O’Grady’s women have, raised around sin and alcohol?

“I have a tea mix that has to be drunk every day for seven to fourteen days, until its effective.”

“But it doesn’t contain pennyroyal?”

“Lord no. That stuff’s dangerous. I use it for women who have trouble regulating their monthlies, because that only takes a drop. The strength needed to get rid of a baby would be as dangerous to the mother as it would be to the unborn child.”

“Has anyone asked you for pennyroyal recently?”

“How recent?”

“In the last two months?”

“Three people, two were recent mothers whose cycle was a little off, the other a girl, just entering womanhood.”

“Did you give any of them enough to do any harm?”

“Oh no. I give them seven drops in a jar and they take one drop a day. They’ve to come back each month if they need more. Can I ask why the interest in pennyroyal?”

“I believe that a man was murdered using it.”

She grimaced. “That’d be a nasty way to go. Who was it?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“I’ve been over in Lambeth for a day and a half. Fourteen year old girl who wasn’t big enough to birth a baby. I don’t know why they let ‘em marry so young.” She shook her head sadly.

“Is she all right?”

“She came through it, but I can't say the same for the babe.” She suddenly looked far older than her years, and as if she hadn’t slept in weeks. He decided that perhaps it was better not to dwell on the loss.

“The
man poisoned was Mick O’Grady, do you know him?”

“Aye, unfortunately I do… or did. Can't
say I’m surprised someone did him in, but the method does surprise me.”

“You offered your services to him, is that correct?”

“I’ve never taken a penny of that man’s money but his girls, them I helped from time to time, even born a few babes in that awful tavern of his over the years.”

“Do you know of
anyone who wanted him dead? Or who might have used pennyroyal to do it?”

“I’d say that everyone who owed him a gambling debt wanted him dead. As to pennyroyal, it’s not hard to come by,
the apothecary stocks it but as for knowing how to use it, well that would likely take someone who could read and write and so knew what it was for.”

“Would your
patients know what it was for?”

“Other than regulating monthly cycles, I doubt it. I
emphasise that they aren’t to take too much or it could be dangerous but I doubt they know why.”

“And if I asked you to name the likeliest suspect for killing O’Grady?”

“I’d tell you that I don’t know. I helped his girls out when they needed it but I stayed as far away from that man as I could.”

He believed her.

“Thank you, Mrs Stephens.”

He
said his goodbyes and then left.

K
nowing that Damaris would likely need time to go through the records, not to mention that she hadn’t seemed keen on his company, he headed out to Wallace Sondham’s house, since it was his land that Charles Howard had been discovered on.

Sondham was new money and as such, not much liked by the aristocracy. Nathaniel preferred to judge
people on their character rather than title, but he hadn’t had many dealings with the man to date.

Sondham’s
father had made a little money as a merchant sailor, which he had invested in a cotton mill and done very well for himself. His son had taken over twenty years ago now, when his father felt the desire to travel again, although this time in style and with his wife. The business had gone from strength to strength under Wallace’s guidance but he had sold up and invested in property, saying it was a far easier life to rent a mill to a business, than it was to run one. He also rented out houses in London and Lanford, although these were not very high end.

His own house was new, although built on the site of his father’s home. Wallace had torn that house down soon after he had inherited it and built this, far larger one in its stead. Despite its newness, Nathaniel had to admire the classic Palladian style, even if he thought it a
little vulgar.

Unfortunately
the butler informed him that Sondham wasn’t home and was expected to be in London for the rest of the week. Nathaniel left a calling card and asked that Sondham contact him when he returned.

He next stopped in at the doctor
’s house and collected the constable’s tipstaff, although Dr Worthington didn’t have time to chat so he didn’t linger.

With nothing else to occup
y him, he returned to the courthouse, only to be informed by the clerk that Damaris had left.

“Did she say where she was going?”

The clerk looked a little frightened.

“Just say it, man.”

“She looked upset,” he admitted. “The only thing she said as she left was, ‘I can't leave them there’.”

He knew exactly where she had gone or at least, where she would turn up.

He directed his driver to take him back to Mrs Murray’s house but as they passed the High Street, he spotted Damaris and knocked on the front of the carriage to get the driver to stop, He had jumped from the vehicle before it had stilled and ran to Damaris, who did indeed look upset, even distraught. He caught her by the shoulders, halting her progress.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m going to get those children,” she said. “I’ve been to the bank and withdrawn money, so I’ll buy them from her.”

“And then what?”

She tried to pull from his grasp but he held tightly.

“Damaris! Then what!” he demanded, shaking her slightly. They were drawing attention but he didn’t care.

“I don’t know!” she cried. “I just can't leave them there, I can't, they were so-” Her words were cut off as she began to cry, huge sobs wracking her frame.

He put his arms around her and she allowed him to lead her to the carriage, although she tried to pull away when they got there.

“No, please, I have to do something, Nate, I
have
to! You haven’t had a child, you don’t know what they’re supposed to look like but it isn’t like that! They had no spirit left, Nate, they were broken, and I can't,
I can't
let them stay there. Please, don’t make me.”

“We will go and get them,” he assured her, “but we’re making something of a
spectacle of ourselves and I think we need to get back into the carriage.”

“Do you
really mean that?” she asked, her tears stopping as she searched his face.

“I will never lie to you, I promise.”

After a moment, she nodded her acceptance of his words and allowed him to help her into the carriage. He directed the driver to continue but to go slowly.

“I’m sorry,”
Damaris said as she got into the carriage. She had found a handkerchief and was wiping her eyes. He wanted to sit next to her and hold her but she seemed to be doing her best to cling onto her composure; offering sympathy might weaken her defences further, so he took the seat opposite.

“You must think me insane,”
she said, sounding forlorn.

He didn’t think her insane. He thought that she had been holding her emotions in check for
too long, but those children had finally broken through her defences. After years of not feeling anything, he wasn’t surprised that she was overwhelmed.

“I know it doesn’t make any sense,” she continued before he could reply. “I don’t know what I’ll do with th
em, I only know that I can't leave them to suffer for one more day.”

“My thoughts have been taking a similar line,” he
admitted. “I have a friend whose father sponsors an orphanage in London. I was planning to write to him and ask his advice.”

“That’s sensible,” she admitted, but tears began to leak from her eyes again.

“Hey,” he reached over and caught her hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I understand how you feel and we’ll get those children right now. The details can be sorted out at a later date.”

“You’re a good man.”
She smiled through her tears.

“And
you are a good woman,” he said, moving to sit beside her. She moved down to make room for him.

“So, what
are you planning to do?” he asked.

“I got money from the bank,” she explained. “I was going to buy them from her.”

“Why not arrest her?”

“Because she isn’t doing anything illegal.”

“Did you forget what she gave us when we visited this morning?” he asked. The cup, filled with the tar-like substance, was sitting under the opposite bench.

“It’s just treacle,” she said.

“But she sold it to us as something to induce miscarriage. We can either charge her with that or if it does turn out to be harmless, charge her with larceny, or obtaining monies by false representation.”

“Some constable I am.” She sounded defeated.

“You’re
Acting
Constable,” he reminded her. “And it is only your first day.” He took the constable’s tipstaff from his pocket and handed it to her. “And now it’s official.”

She smiled and took the
tipstaff, running her fingers over the crown which was carved into the end. As well as being a badge of office, it was supposed to be used for defence as well, but she doubted she would have to fight anyone.

“So what happens to Mrs Murray after I arrest her?” she asked, feeling foolish for not knowing.

“She’ll be taken to the courthouse and kept in the cells there until I can bind her over for trial, unless she pleads guilty, in which case I’ll send her straight for sentencing.”

“And what so
rt of sentence can she expect?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. It depended on what s
he was charged with, if she pled guilty or not and whether the sentencing judge would listen to his opinion. Although juries were inclined to be lenient these days, theft of goods worth more than 12 pence could be punished by hanging. “What would you like her to get?” he asked.

“Transportation.” She answered without hesitation. “That way she won’t be able to set up somewhere else and take in other children.”

He thought that he could manage that, especially if he could get Mrs Murray to plead guilty and willingly accept a sentence of transportation. He just had to make her crime sound far graver than it actually was.