The Daughters of Gentlemen (31 page)

Mr Flood cleared his throat and tapped his gavel again as the audience muttered excitedly. ‘While I cannot prevent Mr Miggs from reading the item, I would like to remind him that Inspector Sharrock will be exercising his judgement as to the legality of the proceeding. I also suggest that any ladies present, if they do not wish to be offended, should now take the opportunity to retire.’

There was a brief pause during which the ladies had to decide whether they were motivated more by the need to demonstrate their moral superiority or by curiosity. It was a difficult choice, and apart from one or two venerable matrons regaled in fur and Parisian hats, who rose from their chairs and made a great show of leaving the room with self-conscious dignity, curiosity won.

‘Very well,’ said Miggs, ‘I will proceed.’

Frances saw Mrs Venn grow pale. Her hands were resting on the table in front of her and one was very tightly gripping the other. Frances thought that this ordeal was too much for any individual to bear, and decided that before anything was said, she must appeal to the meeting and ask if at the very least the pamphlet could be studied in private.

‘The title of the pamphlet —,’ began Miggs as Frances was preparing to rise to her feet and make her plea, but both were interrupted by the loud boom of a drum from inside the hall. While every eye had been turned towards Miggs two more people had entered the room; Jonathan Quayle, who was now carrying the drum, and Flora, who was holding the two poles of the Suffrage Society’s banner, one in either hand. Such was the length of the strip of silk that it might have trailed on the floor behind her so she had wound it about her slim waist, and held the two poles so that the white fabric with its red embroidery rose from her high on either side. Her long golden hair was streaming loose and the bandage was a halo around her head. She looked like an angel with bloodstained wings.

As Jonathan stayed at the back of the room, Flora, marching to the beat of the drum, advanced down the aisle between the rows of seats to the front, and so startling was her appearance that the occupants of the room, mesmerized by the apparition, said and did nothing until she paused in front of Mr Flood. The drumbeat stopped.

Sharrock rose from his seat, his eyes upon his constables, ready to instruct them if required.

Matthews gazed on Flora with some discomfort, and then he leaned to one side and had a whispered word with Flood, who nodded. Beside him, Paskall, paralyzed with horror, stared at the angelic figure as if she was a demon conjured up from the depths on purpose to torment him.

‘Young lady,’ said Mr Flood kindly, ‘I am afraid you may not be in the best place to make your exhibition. Might I ask you to withdraw?’

‘No,’ said Flora, ‘because I have something to say, and I
will
be heard!’

Flood glanced at Sharrock and shook his head. ‘I really think, Inspector —’

‘This can have nothing to do with our business here,’ said Miggs. ‘I suggest she be removed and her family advised to look after her better.’

It was the moment in which the game could be lost or won. As Sharrock made to signal his constables, Frances stood up. ‘Allow me to ask that this lady be permitted to speak. Inspector – you know I would not lightly make such a request.’

‘Let her speak!’ came a voice from the back of the hall, which sounded like Cedric’s.

‘Yes, let the lady speak!’ came another voice and then another, and eventually by popular demand, Flora faced the crowd. Sharrock shrugged and sat down. Matthews was staring at the floor, his expression dark as a thundercloud, while Paskall squirmed in his seat and looked as if he was about to run away.

‘This man,’ said Flora, pointing a wing at Matthews, ‘was once my guardian. I was entrusted to his care by a cousin, and he repaid that honourable duty by making an assault on my virtue!’

There were little cries of horror from the crowded room. ‘The woman is obviously mad,’ growled Matthews.

‘But
were
you her guardian?’ asked Flood and Matthews grudgingly gave a sharp nod. Flood motioned Flora to continue.

‘When I resisted him, he offered me marriage,’ said Flora, ‘and as I was young and ignorant, I accepted. A wedding took place, one which I believed at the time to be lawful, but I have since found that it was a sham, devised only that he might achieve his reprehensible purpose, and that the clergyman was no clergyman at all, but a friend of his who connived at the foul plot.’

‘You can’t prove that,’ said Matthews. ‘Really, how long must I tolerate this attack on my character?’

Theodore, who had been lurking at the back of the room, hurried forward and addressed Mr Flood. ‘I beg of you, stop this charade at once! Can you not see that this unfortunate young woman has suffered a violent injury to her head? If she was to be examined by a physician it would be apparent that her memory is disarranged, and nothing she says is to be trusted. Dr Collin, please could you see that this unhappy female is removed to some secure place where she can be cared for. It would be the kindest thing.’

‘I am not so sure,’ said Dr Collin, drily, ‘that your father does not also require some attention.’

Bartholomew Paskall was cowering in his seat, his whole body shaking in fright. ‘That is the man!’ cried Flora. ‘The false clergyman. I did not know who he was until today, when I saw his portrait in the newspaper, and now I see him again in the flesh, I know him without any doubt.’

The room erupted with exclamations and Flood hammered with his gavel. At last the tumult subsided.

‘Mr Paskall?’ said Flood, but the aspiring Member of Parliament, looking as though he was about to suffer a fit, was unable to speak. ‘Young lady,’ said the chairman, ‘do you have any proof of these allegations?’

‘Of course she doesn’t,’ said Theodore. ‘Would you believe her unsupported word against that of my father? A poor lunatic who has had her brains stirred with a poker and no more memory of what happened to her than a new-born baby?’

Flora gazed at him calmly. ‘Oh, but my memory is clear again. I remember everything. I remember when you came to my door last Monday and I admitted you because your face looked familiar to me. I thought at first that you were the man who had performed the marriage and you would be able to answer all my questions, but then I saw that you were too young. And that was when you struck me down.’

In the middle of a fresh tumult, Jonathan Quayle threw his drum aside, bunched his fists, and ran up to confront Theodore, but two burly policemen seized the anguished husband before another crime could be committed, and Frances got to Theodore first. He was backing away from the struggle, sweating with agitation and there was a dangerous light in his eyes. Theodore, thought Frances, who would do anything to protect his father, who had been alerted to Flora’s disappearance by Jonathan Quayle’s frantic searches and who had abandoned his work to hurry to the meeting and prevent just such a scene as this.

‘Perhaps you would like to explain how you know that Mrs Quayle was struck with a poker?’ she asked.

‘Whatever do you mean?’ demanded Theodore. ‘Everyone knows it. It was in the newspapers.’ There was another outburst of discussion in the hall, and Frances took the folded copy of the
Illustrated Police News
from Jonathan Quayle’s pocket and handed it to Mr Flood.

‘No one knew it except the police and the family and the man who attacked her,’ said Frances. ‘You wanted to silence her, didn’t you, so she would not reveal your father’s crime.’

‘It wasn’t a crime!’ squeaked Paskall. ‘It was a joke, that was all, a masquerade. We had many a jape when we were schoolboys together. I thought he would tell her afterwards and then do the honest thing, but …’

‘You fool!’ bellowed Matthews.

‘I suggest,’ said Inspector Sharrock, holding up his hands for quiet, ‘that this is a discussion best continued at the station.’ He signaled two more constables to apprehend Theodore. ‘Best to come quietly, Sir,’ he advised.

Theodore stared about him and as the ponderous officers of the law advanced towards him, he made a run for the door. The men holding Quayle dropped the poet and charged after him, but he was slender and fleet of foot, dodging around chairs, and pushing startled people aside, until suddenly he tripped and fell headlong, his legs tangled in Cedric’s best silver-topped walking cane. He was at once seized and hauled to his feet.

‘Bring him here,’ said Sharrock, and Theodore was dragged forward. ‘Now young lady, are you prepared to swear that this was the man who attacked you?’

‘I am,’ said Flora.

‘Well,’ said Sharrock, ‘I am very glad that I thought to bring four constables. I think we can safely say that the meeting is over.’

‘But what about —,’ demanded Miggs, waving the pamphlet.

‘Oh we can leave that particular piece of nastiness for another day.’ Sharrock dispatched one of his men to hire a four-wheeler. ‘I just hope Paddington has enough upper-crust cells. Mr Matthews, Mr Paskall senior, you’ll both have to come with me as well.’

‘I really can’t see why a harmless peccadillo is treated with such seriousness,’ Matthews protested.

‘Harmless, Mr Matthews?’ growled Sharrock fiercely. ‘The young lady doesn’t seem to think so. And no father of daughters would either.’

‘I have more to say,’ said Flora, but there was such a buzz around the room that she could hardly be heard, and all eyes were on the three prisoners being removed. Frances ran forward, snatched the gavel from an astonished Mr Flood, and banged it until everyone was silent.

‘This man is worse than you can imagine,’ said Flora, pointing at Matthews again. ‘I fled from his house in terror because I found that he was a murderer.’

Matthews rolled his eyes. ‘Idle gossip of foolish country folk and the ravings of an imbecile,’ he announced. A constable had his elbow but he was able to stab an angry finger at Flora. ‘Another word and you will be sued for slander. ‘

‘There is a witness,’ said Frances.

He turned to her, ‘Oh,
really
? Well I don’t see one!’

‘Daisy Trent.’

He laughed contemptuously. ‘That is your witness? She is
insane
!’

‘She is here,’ said a voice from the back of the hall.

Everyone turned to look. Sarah had just arrived, and beside her stood a young woman clad in the sombre habit of a nun. ‘I was once Daisy Trent,’ she said, ‘and betrothed to a good man whom this man murdered. I am now Sister Evangeline of the Church of St Augustine, Kilburn.’ She walked forward and placed one hand on Flora’s. ‘My poor dear friend,’ she said. ‘I know that you have suffered, but with justice comes an end to suffering. I have told my story many times, and never been believed.’ She turned to Sharrock. ‘Inspector, if I was to tell you all I know, would you listen to me?’

‘I wouldn’t miss it for the
world
!’ said Sharrock. He looked at Frances. ‘This is your doing, isn’t it? I can tell. Other stations get nice simple crimes, I get bamboozlement and you!’ He started to sneeze. ‘I think I need another cab!’

The prisoners were led away, although in Theodore’s case he was half dragged. As he passed by Selina Sandcourt his eyes turned to her, and Frances saw that the young woman was staring at him in a very direct manner, with a look that seemed to be either asking or demanding. She placed a finger to her lips and the other hand lay in a graceful gesture, her fingertips resting on her abdomen. He nodded and was taken away.

Frances did not know if anyone else saw that rapid exchange, but it told her more than she could absorb for the moment. Theodore and Selina – not merely known to each other but so close that they could speak without words.

As the crowds filed out, already honing their gossip, and reporters hastened back to their offices with the news, Frances could only stand by and watch as Mrs Venn was comforted by Miss Baverstock and Mrs Fiske. The headmistress had been spared the humiliation of having the pamphlet read out in public, but with the arrest of two of the school governors the Academy’s days were at an end. Poor Mrs Venn, thought Frances, had only wanted to be useful to society, both protecting and educating girls, and now she would never again be entrusted to do either, or see her labours bear fruit under another’s care.

Freddie Matthews was looking dejected as Cedric introduced him to Frances. ‘I know that father will be getting what he deserves,’ he said, ‘and it’s time he did. I am only relieved that it did not come about through my actions.’

‘May I ask you something?’ said Frances. ‘Did Mrs Sandcourt ever tell you her secret? I am speaking of Horace.’

‘I don’t know how you could have found that out,’ said Freddie, astonished.

‘Oh Miss Doughty is the
nonpareil
of finding things out,’ said Cedric. ‘Beware or she will tell you things about yourself that even
you
did not suspect!’

Freddie blinked at Frances in some alarm. ‘Well, yes, she did tell me.’

‘And did she mention the name Daniel Souter?’

He nodded. ‘But I was not sure at first if I could believe her.’

‘Oh? Why not?’

He hesitated. ‘It was at the harvest festival the year before. There was a dance and people of all classes of society were free to attend. I saw Selina … she – flirted with Daniel. She knew, even so young, that her beauty gave her power to attract or torment men. But Daniel rejected her, he said he was affianced to another and would be true to his love. Later she told father that he was the cause of her misfortune, and I suppose it must be so, for I can’t imagine who else it might have been.’ He sighed. ‘Selina hides her nature behind an enchanting face, but when her beauty fades she will be doomed. Lydia is the lesser witch, but she makes no secret of it.’