The Daughters of Gentlemen (11 page)
Read The Daughters of Gentlemen Online
Authors: Linda Stratmann
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General
Frances followed the path that skirted the Serpentine in the direction of the bridge. She could now see that in addition to the five arches spanning the water, there was also a deep arch at either end of the bridge forming a tunnel over the lakeside pathway. Frances stepped into the damp hollow darkness of the tunnel and stared up at the stonework above. ‘I wonder,’ she said, and turned to Sarah. ‘What do you think? Would this be a good place for a secret meeting?’
‘Good place to get murdered,’ said Sarah.
‘My thought exactly,’ said Frances. ‘But Matilda would never have come to such a spot to meet someone she felt she could not trust. Someone must have gained her confidence and then betrayed her. And once the poor girl was dead, she could easily be carried to the water’s edge and put in without making a noise. I wonder how the body came to be lodged under the arch of the bridge – there is no current to carry it there.’
Sarah glanced back at the row of boats. ‘Perhaps he used one of the boathooks to push her further out so it would look as if she had jumped off the bridge. But he wasn’t very clever – he didn’t think about the marks on her throat showing up.’
Frances recalled something she had read in a medical book. ‘There was not enough light to really see any marks at the time,’ she said, ‘and bruises can look much darker two days after death.’
As they walked back to the gate Frances realised that Sarah was unusually quiet, a worried expression furrowing her broad features. Frances stopped suddenly and turned to face her companion. ‘Sarah, I can see that something is troubling you,’ she said.
Sarah looked awkward for a moment. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to say what I think plainly and straight out.’
‘I would welcome it if you were always to do so,’ said Frances. ‘You know me better than anyone alive and I value your opinion on everything.’
Sarah looked encouraged by the thought, but was still uneasy about what she was about to say. ‘The thing is – what happened to Matilda – well, the person what killed her might have done it so she wouldn’t speak out against him and let on that it was him who told her to put the pamphlets in the school. And if that person was to find out that
you
are asking questions, then he might come after you as well. So what I was going to say was that I don’t want you going out meeting people on your own at night in dark places. So if you got a note that said you had to go somewhere then I want to go along with you and keep you safe.’
Frances, who knew from personal observation that Sarah’s powerful fists could fell a man with a single blow, smiled and nodded. ‘That is very good advice,’ she said, ‘and I will make sure to have you as my personal guard.’ Sarah looked relieved. The two women linked arms and walked on together like two companionable yet very unalike sisters.
At nine o’clock on Monday the inquest on Matilda opened in the boardroom of the infirmary near Grosvenor Square. The infirmary was part of the parish workhouse, a large, plain building of some antiquity, which had suffered over the years from a number of reconstructions forced upon it by rising demands for accommodation, and the understandable feeling of the guardians that it was undesirable for paupers to be sleeping four to a bed.
As anticipated, the hearing was brief and poorly attended. Mrs Springett was a silent, veiled figure supported by her son. Davey, who was presumably still under suspicion, was not present. There was one newspaperman, who did nothing but draw caricatures in his notepad and was obviously waiting for something more interesting. The court took evidence of identification from Jem, after which the proceedings were adjourned for a week. Frances next called at Paddington Green police station but Inspector Sharrock was out with his constable. She learned only that Davey Harris was still being questioned by the police, but had not yet been charged with any offence, and left a message saying that she would return. Back at the apartment, she and Sarah ate a small and gloomy luncheon of a chop with potatoes, with Frances too preoccupied to even consider pudding.
That afternoon, with Sarah scouring ladies’ reading rooms for the elusive pamphlet, Frances, promising faithfully to be home before dark, called at Chilworth Street to meet the ladies of the Bayswater Women’s Suffrage Society. She was met at the door by a respectable looking maid who conducted her to a first-floor apartment.
‘Miss Doughty!’ exclaimed a lady of buxom figure and a girlish deportment quite out of keeping with her age, which was about forty. ‘You cannot imagine my
delight
when I received your letter! I am Esme Gilbert and this is my dearest and most trusted friend and companion, Marianne John.’ A tiny and very slender lady with frizzy, slightly greying hair and timid eyes sat in an armchair by the fire, embroidering what appeared to be a banner large enough to span a church hall. She looked up and gave a shy but friendly smile.
The room was furnished with the intention of being very warm and comfortable. There were no hard chairs with stiff wooden backs which might oblige the occupant to sit with painful but polite rigidity, but all was softness, and cushions, and doilies. The door was heavily draped in a burgundy coloured damask curtain, a small round table was covered in overlapping lace cloths, and a padded couch dripped silken shawls, its arms cradled in embroideries. Frances had never seen so many fringes and tassels in one room. A side table with a pretty cutwork cloth was piled neatly with books and pamphlets, and a bentwood coat stand held not coats but about twenty purple sashes.
‘Miss Doughty, it is quite impossible for me to adequately express how much the ladies of Bayswater hold you in admiration,’ enthused Miss Gilbert. ‘You are a bright and shining example of the woman not only of today but the future. Please take a seat – here, by me —,’ she plumped onto the couch and patted the place beside her. ‘There will be tea and scones very shortly. Have you ever considered joining our campaign? I have a great deal of literature for you to read which I know you will find of the utmost interest. And we have a meeting planned on Wednesday evening – you
must
come. We are in Westbourne Hall on the Grove, a most suitable place, which I believe can hold up to one thousand persons, and I have every confidence that all the places will be taken, and more demanded. It is a sad state of affairs that there is no larger meeting hall in Bayswater and I have written to the newspapers several times on that very subject.’
‘I wish you every success,’ said Frances politely and sat down, while Miss John quietly stitched away. The maidservant brought in a well-laden tray, which she placed on a folding table in front of the couch, and Miss Gilbert busied herself pouring tea.
‘Would you perhaps consider making a short speech to the throng? We are expecting many persons of influence in Bayswater, including several gentlemen, to whom we must perforce at the present time look for our demands to be met. Once we have more women in positions of authority it is on our sisters in the struggle that we may then depend to carry the banner forward. You see, Miss Doughty, and I do hope it will not be long before we can address each other on more familiar terms, you have shown to the
world
what it is that a woman can do, that a woman’s intelligence is the equal, or even the better of any man. If anyone says to me that a woman’s mind is not as good as a man’s, that she can deal only with the frivolous or gentler considerations, I say to them at once “What about Miss Doughty –
she
will prove you wrong!” Scone and butter?’
‘Thank you,’ said Frances, accepting tea and a scone. ‘You have given me a great deal to consider. I will certainly come to your meeting, but as I have never before made a public speech I think that on this occasion I will watch others and learn how it is done.’
‘But you will at the very least honour us by taking a seat on the platform?’ urged Miss Gilbert. ‘My dear Marianne says, and I agree with her, that your patronage of our great cause will add greatly to our powers of persuasion.’
‘I am very flattered,’ said Frances, ‘and I will sit on the platform and will, I am sure, feel very insignificant in the company of so many prestigious persons. I hope, however, that you may be able to do me some small service.’
‘Whatever is in my power!’ Miss Gilbert gave a little gasp of anticipation. ‘Are you tracking down another murderer? How
very
exciting!’
‘Oh, nothing as remarkable as that,’ said Frances, which was not, she told herself, a lie as she was still officially only engaged to find the person behind the pamphlets. ‘I am interested in an item of literature and it was suggested to me that you would know where I might find it. None of the newsagents or bookshops in Bayswater seem to have heard of it.’
‘Well, now, let me show you some of our publications,’ said Miss Gilbert, bouncing out of her seat and going to the side table. ‘What was the title?’
‘It was called “Why Marry?” and the author was called “A friend to women”. The tenor of the pamphlet was, I understand, to persuade young women not to enter the married state.’
Miss Gilbert returned to her seat clutching a bundle of pamphlets. ‘That sounds most interesting, but I cannot say I have ever seen or heard of it. Marianne is a great reader and would, I feel certain, have mentioned such a thing to me. I assume, Miss Doughty, as you find this subject so interesting, that
you
have no plans to marry?’
‘No, there is no gentlemen to whom I wish to attach myself.’ Frances was suddenly assailed by visions of a certain young constable’s nut-brown moustache but thrust the inappropriate thought aside.
‘I hope you do not live alone?’ said Miss Gilbert, anxiously. ‘You are – and my comment is offered only in the spirit of friendship and sisterhood – very young to be alone in the world.’
‘Indeed, no,’ Frances reassured her, ‘I have a loyal friend and companion, a lady in whom I place the utmost trust.’
Miss Gilbert smiled and nodded with approval. ‘I see that we understand each other perfectly. Dear Marianne is more to me than just a friend. She is my rock, my anchor, my bright beacon! How fortunate you are!’
Miss John laid her sewing aside for a moment and took tea in dainty sips, then carefully cut a quarter of a scone and laid it delicately on her plate. ‘I have heard,’ she whispered, ‘that pamphlets of a
most advanced nature
have recently been placed in a girls’ school.’
Miss Gilbert, about to take a large bite of a scone, stopped and stared at Frances. ‘Is
that
your interest? Oh do tell!’
‘I would take it as a very great favour if you were to treat my enquiries with confidence,’ said Frances, in a conspiratorial tone, and the ladies, with the thrilling sense that they were now a part of a secret mission, quickly agreed.
With Miss Gilbert temporarily incapacitated from speaking by a superfluity of jam, Frances took the opportunity to glance through the Society’s pamphlets, which were mainly concerned with the campaign to extend the suffrage to women, but also urging for a change in the laws governing the property of women to permit them to retain ownership after marriage. All the pamphlets were printed on good quality paper, and all bore the name of the author.
Frances, who had neither property nor any prospect of marriage, had never given a great deal of thought to the question of women’s property rights, but now she considered it, thought it very insulting to assume that a woman might not do with her own property as she pleased, and must by law hand it over to her husband on marriage, a man who might prove to be a scoundrel or a fool. She wondered what ‘A friend to women’ might have to say on the subject.
Since Westbourne Hall lay at a point half way between Frances’ apartments and Chilworth Street, it was agreed that she and Sarah would meet Miss Gilbert and Miss John outside the hall at a quarter to seven on Wednesday evening. Tickets, Miss Gilbert assured Frances with a twinkling eye, would not be a difficulty. Frances, clutching a sheaf of literature, succeeded in extricating herself from the warmth of the lady’s regard and returned home.
Later that evening, Frances and Sarah were seated in Mr Paskall’s study facing that gentleman and the other two governors. It had taken a certain amount of obstinate persistence on Frances’ part to ensure that Sarah should also be in attendance. On their arrival it had been assumed without question that Sarah was a maidservant who was best accommodated in the basement kitchen, but on it being revealed that Frances regarded her as a trusted assistant whose presence was essential to the proceedings, some alarm ensued. Eventually, it was agreed that Sarah should be admitted to the meeting, and so she sat arms folded, with an expression of intense concentration while the men, when they dared to look at her, which was not often, regarded her as they might have done had Frances instead arrived with a trained wild beast which she had assured them was under her complete control, but which they feared might turn savage and bite them at any moment. In this they were probably nearer the truth than they imagined.
Frances looked at the three governors, two of whom she had not previously met – Paskall his bright blue eyes keen as a hawk, his thin frame hunched and alive with nervous energy, Matthews laconic and relaxed, but, thought Frances, with a certain calculating intelligence in his dark eyes. She felt no liking for either of them, but had some sympathy with Mr Fiske who, it seemed, did all the actual work of the board, while the other two always appeared to have things to do of too great importance to be able to spare any time to assist him.
‘I am most intrigued,’ said Matthews, fiddling in a leisurely way with his cigar holder, ‘as to the reason we are here. As I understand it, the whole matter has been settled. If this is simply about recompense then I am agreeable to anything you gentlemen may consider reasonable. Fiske, can you see it it?’ He took out a cigar and began to roll it gently between his fingers. Frances felt sure he would not light it while she was there, and this was his way of suggesting that the interview, having not even properly started, was about to conclude.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Paskall impatiently, ‘I concur. I am a very busy man, Miss Doughty, and can waste no more time on this.’
‘I am not here about finances,’ said Frances firmly, ‘and neither is it my belief that the enquiry is at an end.’
‘Oh?’ said Paskall, ‘but I thought that wretched girl who drowned herself is the culprit!’
‘That is my suspicion,’ said Frances, ‘but until we have the verdict of the inquest, we do not know the manner of her death and I would not attempt to pre-judge the matter. There is also the question of her motive.’
‘A silly prank, surely,’ said Matthews with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘She was probably weak-minded, and jumped into the Serpentine because she was afraid of losing her place.’
‘She was neither,’ said Frances. ‘I believe that she was a moderately clever and artful girl who somehow became involved in something more dangerous than she thought. And she had everything to live for, and no fear of losing her place, as she was soon to be married. Matilda may have distributed those pamphlets but I think she was being directed to do it by someone else.’
‘And who might that be?’ asked Matthews.
‘That I do not yet know,’ Frances admitted.
Paskall suddenly leaned forward and thumped on his desk. ‘You see! I was right!’ he exclaimed. ‘Miss Doughty has hit upon it! This is a plot by my political enemies! The maid was just a tool, probably bribed, and then —,’ he suddenly paled, gulped with fright and pressed his knuckles to his mouth.
‘What is it now, Paskall?’ asked Matthews, wearily.
‘But don’t you see?’ said Paskall, gesturing with trembling hands. ‘There are powerful men involved, men who will stop at nothing! Perhaps the girl was killed to ensure her silence!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Matthews, but it was muttered under his breath and Paskall probably didn’t hear.
‘What do you think, Miss Doughty?’ asked Paskall nervously.
‘As I have said, we will not know the truth until we hear the verdict of the inquest, but,’ she paused and proceeded cautiously, ‘having said that, I do have confidential information which suggests that murder is not an impossibility.’
Matthews said nothing, but opened his eyes wide and quite forgot about his cigar.
‘What do you propose?’ asked Fiske in alarm.
‘If Matilda did meet her death by violent means that is a matter for the police. They have already made a visit to the school and interviewed Mrs Venn and myself.’ Paskall groaned and Fiske shook his head in despair. ‘They are currently interviewing Matilda’s sweetheart, Davey Harris, but there is no real evidence to suggest he is the culprit. Your concern, I know, is to resolve the question of the pamphlets, which may or may not be connected with Matilda’s death, and it is that which I wish to continue investigating.’
‘Do the police know about them?’ asked Paskall.
‘They have been told that Matilda was suspected of being in possession of unsuitable literature,’ said Frances. ‘You appreciate that I have been placed in a very difficult position as I believe that neither you nor Mrs Venn wish the police to be told the whole truth of the matter. Should it become clear to me that the information is material I will have no alternative but to tell them everything.’
‘Well, we must hope it will not come to that,’ said Fiske. ‘Perhaps the young man will confess.’
‘But he may be innocent,’ said Frances. ‘In fact, I think he is. And neither he nor Matilda’s family know anything about the pamphlets. Do you agree that I should continue my investigation?’
All three men nodded.
‘That is good, because I need to ask all of you some questions. ‘
Matthews, who now seemed to regard the meeting as affording him far more entertainment that he had anticipated, happily put his cigar case back in his pocket. ‘Question away, Miss Doughty.’
‘My enquiries have shown that the pamphlets must have been placed in the desks at some time between twelve on Tuesday 2 March, when Charlotte last used her arithmetic book, and nine the next morning when the discovery was made. I know that Mr Fiske and Mr Miggs paid a visit to the school during that time, but I would like to ask you, Mr Matthews and Mr Paskall, if you visited the school between those hours and if so, did you see anything of note? Was there any person there you might not have expected to see, or was there anything in Matilda’s manner that was unusual?’
‘Oh, I have not been there for many months,’ said Paskall, ‘and neither has Mrs Paskall.’
Matthews shook his head. ‘Can’t recall the last time I stepped through the door,’ he said.
Paskall and Matthews both looked at Mr Fiske.
‘I can assure you that both I and Mr Miggs were shown straight to Mrs Venn’s study and then departed after the meeting,’ said Fiske. ‘I saw no one else. Now you mention it, I did think that the maidservant was not so respectful as she might have been.’
‘I assume that none of you gentlemen have seen the pamphlets in question?’
They shook their heads. ‘My difficulty is that Mrs Venn, not realising that someone would be appointed to investigate, destroyed them before I arrived. She said that they were unsuitable for young minds.’
There was a knock on the door and Paskall’s housemaid entered with a telegram on a small tray. ‘Urgent for you, Sir,’ she said.
Paskall leaped from his chair as if fired from a catapult, tore open the message and, having read it, almost collapsed back again. ‘Gentlemen!’ he exclaimed breathlessly, waving the paper aloft, ‘the hour is at hand!’
‘Whatever do you mean?’ said Matthews.
‘There was an announcement made in the House tonight! Quite unexpected! Lord Beaconsfield is dissolving parliament early.’
‘Then there is to be an election soon?’ asked Fiske.
‘Yes – very soon – oh my word –
this month
!’ Paskall was half excited and half alarmed. ‘But there is so much to do, so much to be settled that I thought I had months to achieve!‘ He turned to Frances. ‘This business at the school must be solved without delay, and with no breath of scandal! I must go to the Conservative club at once – there are meetings to be arranged – Matthews – we have a great deal to discuss!’ Paskall ran to the study door and wrenched it open. ‘Theodore! Come here – I need you urgently!’
The tousled head of Paskall junior soon appeared at the door ‘Now then father, where’s the fire?’
‘Oh it’s good news! The best! But we need to make haste! I’m to be in parliament before the month is out!’ He thrust the paper at his son, who read it with some pleasure, then, looking up, saw Frances.
‘Well, bless me if isn’t the lady detective! Have you come to take us all prisoner?’
‘I am merely reporting on my progress in the matter of the pamphlets,’ said Frances, ‘and now I believe the meeting has concluded.’
‘I think,’ said Fiske, ‘it is safe for you to assume that your services continue to be required, and that all necessary expenses will be met. But there was one thing I was about to say. I called upon Mrs Venn on the afternoon that Charlotte was sent home, and asked to see the pamphlets, but she told me that they were locked in her strongbox and the key had been mislaid. It seemed so unlike her, but she was obviously distressed by the incident and not her usual self and so I let it pass. I assumed that by the time you had gone there she would have found the key. Now you tell me they have been destroyed. Some servant’s mistake, I suppose, but very unfortunate.’
Frances stared at him. ‘Mr Fiske, when you engaged me in this matter you told me that you had been unable to view the pamphlets yourself, and when I spoke to Mrs Venn she said that they had been destroyed. I assumed therefore that you had not seen them for that reason. Are you now telling me that she destroyed them
after
your visit to her and not before?’
‘Well – I —,’ he looked dismayed. ‘That does seem to be the case.’
Frances was suddenly angry, both with Mrs Venn and with herself. Now she was sure that the headmistress had lied to her. What if the pamphlets had been in the strongbox all along? What if they were there still? She must demand to examine the contents at the first opportunity.
As Frances hurried along the street, she was seething with annoyance. ‘We are going to the school,’ she told Sarah. ‘I need to speak to Mrs Venn and it will not wait!’