The Daughters of Gentlemen (9 page)

An hour passed before Jem returned. When he flung the door open and Frances saw the shocked and stricken expression on his face, she left the house at once.

As Frances hurried down Salem Gardens with the anguished cries of Mrs Springett echoing down the street, she could not help but think that she might bear some responsibility for the tragedy. Had it not been her rigorously pursued enquiries, her determination to find out the truth that had impelled Matilda to run away? She imagined the girl afraid, not knowing where to turn for help, lost in the dark, and stumbling to her doom. Or was there a still greater horror awaiting the bereaved family? Could guilt and despair have led the housemaid to take her own life? From the little she had seen of Matilda, Frances had to agree with Davey; such an action was not in the girl’s character. It was not as if Matilda, soon to be a bride, had to worry about losing her place. Davey seemed like a good man, and Mrs Springett a caring mother. Frances was suddenly accosted with an unpleasant and unworthy wave of self-pity. Her own mother, as she had only recently discovered in a revelation that had changed all she had ever believed about that parent, had cared nothing for her.

Frances stopped walking for a moment and had a firm word with herself. She had done without a mother’s care since she was three years old and nothing she had learned could undo that or make her any less the person she was now. Skirting around the stables of Queen’s Mews she was soon in Chepstow Place, where she rang the bell at the school door. Two or three minutes passed and she was about to ring again when the door was opened by a flustered looking maid of about sixteen. Frances had no difficulty in gaining admission and impressing upon the girl the urgency of her need to see Mrs Venn at once.

The expression on Mrs Venn’s face as she was conducted into the study suggested uncomfortably to Frances that she was looking neither calm nor controlled. ‘I apologise for this intrusion, but I am the bearer of bad news,’ she began.

Mrs Venn waved Frances to a seat, poured water into a glass from a carafe and handed it to her. Frances sank gratefully into the chair clutching the glass, and took several sips. ‘I have just come from seeing Mrs Springett and while I was there she was informed that Matilda is dead. The poor girl was found in the Serpentine. Her brother has identified the body.’

Mrs Venn was shocked, rather than grieved. ‘That is very terrible news,’ she said. ‘I assume – I hope – that it was an accident.’

‘That remains to be seen,’ said Frances. ‘I expect there will be an inquest. But questions will undoubtedly be asked.’ She felt steadier, and put the glass down. ‘Thus far, I have been required to keep confidential the incidents that have taken place in the school, and since it seems that no actual crime has been committed, merely an indiscretion, I was agreeable to that, but now that a death has occurred, and the death of someone who was suspected of being the culprit, it will be necessary to reveal the truth.’

Mrs Venn shook her head. ‘I cannot agree to that,’ she said. ‘Exposing the school to gossip and scandal will not bring the poor girl back to life, and our suspicions will only fuel rumours that she took a desperate course of action. Are her family not in pain enough that they must suffer this additional distress?’

Frances sensed that the plight of Matilda’s family was not of great moment to Mrs Venn, who had mentioned them only to strengthen her argument. ‘Nevertheless, the truth may come out whether you wish it to or not,’ she said. ‘I have already found in my enquiries that the rumour has spread well beyond these walls.’ There was no mistaking the expression of keen suffering that passed briefly across the headmistress’s features before she was able to compose herself. ‘I will need to arrange a meeting with the governors to find if they wish me to continue my enquiries,’ added Frances, ‘but I will advise them that I should do so, since it is my belief that Matilda was only the agent of another. Her death may not put an end to incidents of this nature.’ She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. ‘And now, Mrs Venn, before I proceed any further, I would like you to tell me the
real
reason you destroyed the pamphlets.’

The headmistress’s expression suggested astonishment that such a question could even be asked. ‘Pardon me,’ she said with great dignity, ‘but I believe I told you so at our very first meeting.’

Frances paused, looking for the right words with which to indicate that she thought that Mrs Venn had been telling untruths. It was only an impression, and she had neither proof nor power to force an admission. At that moment there was a ring at the doorbell, followed almost immediately by a loud, insistent knocking.

‘Whoever can that be?’ said Mrs Venn, rising quickly from her chair. Soon afterwards heavy footsteps were heard almost running up the stairs and the door of the study burst open to admit a figure all too familiar to Frances. The new housemaid hovered behind him, her hands waving like the flippers of a performing seal, stammering, ‘Mrs Venn – I’m sorry – but it’s the police!’

‘That will do, Hannah, please leave us,’ said Mrs Venn curtly. Hannah, who was obviously finding her new position a source of anxiety, disappeared with a little squeal of fright.

‘Inspector Sharrock, Paddington police,’ said the new arrival, taking a large handkerchief from his pocket, applying it to his nose, which looked even coarser and redder than Frances remembered it, and making a noise like several trombones. He stopped in mid blast when he saw Frances and gazed at her suspiciously. ‘Miss Doughty,’ he said, between sniffling nose-wipes, ‘I hardly expected to see
you
here.’

‘Miss Doughty is employed by the school,’ said Mrs Venn, hastily.

‘Ah,’ said the Inspector with a nod of understanding, and Frances saw that the headmistress’s clever comment had suggested to him that she was there in a teaching capacity. She decided not to enlighten him.

‘Inspector, I assume that you are here about my housemaid, Matilda Springett. We have only this very moment received the sad news,’ said Mrs Venn. Given the suddenness and nature of the intrusion she had offered him neither a seat nor refreshment, but he seemed not to expect them.

Sharrock narrowed his eyes and looked at Frances. ‘I see – well I have a few questions to ask and then I’ll be on my way.’ He took a notebook and pencil from his pocket. ‘Can you tell me when you last saw Miss Springett?’

There was a sudden cry from far below, piercing enough to travel up the stairs and through the closed door of the study. ‘That would be my constable giving the news to the cook,’ said Sharrock. Frances wondered if the constable in question was Wilfred Brown, whose company she found far more pleasant than that of the Inspector. Constable Brown was a good-natured young man who had shown her great kindness during the tribulations of the last few weeks, and she wished, not for the first time, that she had met him a few years ago, when he was single.

‘I last saw her on Thursday,’ said Mrs Venn.

‘Two days ago,’ said Sharrock. ‘And you, Miss Doughty?’

Frances pushed away the foolish daydream. ‘The same.’

He peered at them both over his notebook. ‘When on Thursday?’

‘In the evening,’ said Mrs Venn. ‘It was about eight o’clock. She was not required later on, and I assumed that she had completed her duties and gone to bed. On Friday morning I realised that she was not on the premises and saw that her bed had not been slept in.’

The pencil scratched busily. ‘And how long has Miss Springett been employed here?’

‘A little over ten years. From the opening of the school.’

He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then you must have found her reliable and a good worker to have employed her for so long.’

‘Indeed.’

‘So much so, that when she went missing overnight for no good reason, you took action at once, and engaged a new maid to take her place,’ said Sharrock.

‘I —,’ Mrs Venn remained calm but a slight flush appeared on either cheek. ‘I had no reason to believe that anything amiss had occurred.’

‘Why? Had she disappeared before?’ Sharrock demanded. ‘But no, she can’t have done, can she, because you have just told me she was reliable. Maidservants who go off on their own without so much as a by your leave will soon find themselves without employment, so I understand.’

‘Matilda has a sweetheart – they are due to be married soon —,’ Mrs Venn sighed, ‘
were
due, I should say. I thought that the excitement had turned her head and she was with him.’

‘And this sweetheart would be —?’

‘Davey Harris. He lodges with Matilda’s mother in Salem Gardens.’

‘Inspector,’ said Frances. ‘It is not true to suggest that Mrs Venn took no action to find Matilda. She sent me to Salem Gardens to see if she was there.’

‘Ah, doing a little light detective work were we Miss Doughty?’ asked Sharrock with more than a touch of mockery. ‘How very unlike you. And what did you find when you went there?’

‘I spoke to Mrs Springett, who informed me that she and her son had not seen Matilda since church on Sunday and Mr Harris not since Tuesday. They had all assumed that she was here. I returned there today to see if there was any news and found that Mr Harris and Matilda’s family had been out making enquiries and looking for her.’

‘Really? You must all have been very concerned for her safety,’ said Sharrock. Frances saw the trap and refused to be drawn.

‘I do not believe that anything could have been achieved by informing you when she had only been gone for a day,’ said Mrs Venn defensively.

Sharrock strode rapidly to the desk and faced the headmistress. ‘We might not have started our own enquiries at that stage, but I could have given her description to my constables and asked them to keep their eyes open. As it was, neither you nor her family reported her absence to the police. I can’t help wondering if she ran off because she was in some sort of trouble – trouble that both you and the Springetts would rather we didn’t know about. Trouble that might have led to her death.’

‘How did she die?’ asked Frances, trying to avoid an awkward silence.

‘That will be for the inquest to decide,’ said Sharrock. ‘There’s to be a post-mortem examination.’

‘But it
was
an accident?’ said Mrs Venn. ‘I was told she had been found in the Serpentine, so I presume she fell in and was drowned.’

Sharrock looked as if he was about to sneeze, and blew his nose again with even greater force than before. ‘I expect that would suit you very well, if you don’t mind my saying so. Keep it all quiet, no publicity, no gossip, never mind about the girl.’

Mrs Venn gasped at being spoken to in this way. Frances felt a moment of envy for the Inspector, able to speak his mind as he wished and not worry about causing offence. ‘I am sure you must have you own opinion,’ she said.

‘I do,’ he said, ‘which I am not inclined to share.’

‘Inspector,’ said Frances softly, ‘I can assure you that Matilda was very content in her place here, and there can be no suggestion that this unfortunate occurrence is connected in any way with the school. You will appreciate that the daughters of some of the leading citizens of Bayswater, including Mr Paskall, a future member of parliament so I understand, are educated here. For the reassurance of anxious parents, it would be advisable if the cause of Matilda’s unhappy death could be established as soon as possible. We can only hope that it was simply an accident – a stumble in the dark that could have happened to anyone.’ She waited, hoping for some confidence, but Sharrock simply pursed his lips and wrote in his notebook again.

‘Oh pray heaven the poor girl did not do anything desperate!’ said Mrs Venn.

‘Oh? Was she the type to do that?’ asked the Inspector.

‘Not in the slightest! And even if she had some secret sorrow, she knew she could have come to me and I would have listened to her sympathetically. And her mother is a kindly woman who would have helped her in any difficulty.’

‘Is there anything else you would like to tell me, Mrs Venn?’ asked Sharrock.

Frances gave the headmistress a very pointed look which that lady found it impossible to ignore. She gave a groan of resignation.

‘Matilda,’ she began. The Inspector raised a shaggy eyebrow. ‘We suspected that she might have …’ She looked pained and Frances took pity on her.

‘It is thought that she might have committed a small indiscretion,’ she said. ‘Nothing of a criminal nature – the possession of cheap literature.’

‘Oh, I
see
,’ said Sharrock with a knowing smile, and Frances saw that it was unnecessary for her to elaborate.

‘You understand that as a school it is essential to be beyond the smallest reproach,’ she went on. ‘I was intending to ask her about it when she ran away. I thought – we thought —’

He nodded sagely. ‘
You
thought that the maid was so frightened of your reputation as the terror of malefactors that she had gone away to hide rather that have you question her?’

‘I’m not sure I would express it quite in that way,’ said Frances. ‘There is another matter you should know. On Thursday afternoon I saw Matilda with a note. It may have had nothing to do with what has happened, but it is possible that it was to make an appointment for a meeting later that day.’

‘We didn’t find a note on the body,’ said Sharrock. ‘Perhaps it will still be in her room.’ He looked at Frances suspiciously. ‘You don’t know where this note is?’