An Unwelcome Guest

by Emily Organ

  “Something unpleasant must have happened for her to have pursued such a profession,” I said. “Women don’t willingly seek out that kind of work.”

  “There is good money to be made from it,” said Edgar.

  “It’s the only way for women in desperate circumstances to earn money, and perhaps it was something she turned to as a last resort. If only we knew more about her we might be able to understand why she made that choice.”

  “It’s easy, though, isn’t it?” Frederick piped up.

  “What is?”

  “This profession you speak of. There is no need for education or an apprenticeship of any sort. A lady can merely put herself out there, so to speak.”

  “And it’s not just ladies who put themselves out there,” said Edgar.

  “So I’ve heard, but I have no wish to dwell on such matters.”

  “It is certainly not easy,” I retorted. “For some women it is the very last profession they turn to in order to feed themselves.”

  “Or to buy drink,” said Edgar. “They’re drinkers, a lot of these women, and that’s what they want the money for.”

  “Miss Hamilton wasn’t a drinker,” I said. “In fact, she appeared to be in good health.”

  “There’s always the possibility that she happily chose that type of work,” said Mr Sherman. “Do you think she was untypical for a lady of her profession?”

  “Possibly,” I replied. “She seemed well educated enough to have done something else instead. She had a copy of the Morning Express from the eighth of November in her possession. Can you think of anything significant about that particular issue, sir?”

  “No.”

  “Neither can I.”

  “Well, why not have a look through it for yourself?” asked Mr Sherman. “Perhaps something you read will strike you as being pertinent. In the meantime, please obtain a copy of the paper the Farmers’ Alliance has just published. It’s called The Present Crisis in Agriculture, and a meeting will be held to discuss it.”

  Edgar tutted. “There is always a crisis in agriculture, according to the farmers.”

  “Were you asked for your opinion, Fish?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I think they’re convening down at the Holborn Restaurant today, so see if you can get down there, Miss Green. I realise the Gallo case is taking up a lot of your time, but we will need some other work from you, too.”

  “I shall follow up on it, sir.” I folded up the latest edition of The Times, which I had been reading to see how Mr Blackstone was reporting on the Gallo case. Despite his supposed rapport with Chief Inspector Fenton he didn’t appear to have gleaned any more information than I had. “May I request permission to spend a short time in Croydon tomorrow, Mr Sherman?” I ventured. “I ask because it’s not strictly to do with work, but I should very much like to be there.”

  “What’s happening in Croydon?”

  “The breach of promise case against Inspector Blakely is to be heard there.”

  “Goodness, is that so?”

  “You’re a brave lady if you plan to attend the hearing, Miss Green!” said Edgar with a laugh.

  “Why is she brave?” asked the editor.

  “Because it’s her fault!”

  “That’ll do, Fish,” scolded Mr Sherman.

  “Edgar’s right,” I said. “Inspector Blakely has urged me not to attend, but I must take responsibility for what has happened. The punishment shouldn’t be his to bear alone.”

  “If he doesn’t want you to go, why on earth are you setting yourself up for it?” asked Edgar. “I should be glad of the opportunity to keep my head down if I were in your shoes.”

  “That’s because you are considerably less honourable than Miss Green,” said Frederick. “You’ve always been one to shirk responsibility.”

  “That’s a tad harsh, Potter!” exclaimed Edgar. “If I’ve done wrong I’ll always own up to it. But if someone tells me they’re going to shoulder the blame instead I’ll happily step aside and allow them to do so!”

  “Good luck, Miss Green,” said Mr Sherman, solemnly. “Unusually for me, I must say that I agree with Fish on this occasion. If Inspector Blakely is happy to accept the punishment single-handedly, why not allow him to do just that? There’s a risk that you may attract the ire of the spurned woman.”

  “Then it will be no more than I deserve,” I said.

  “I know why you’re doing this, Miss Green,” said Edgar. “It’s because you feel terribly guilty about what has happened. If you can give the offended party an opportunity to scold you, perhaps you’ll feel as though you’ve received your just rewards.”

  “My intention is to go there in support of James,” I said. “But I think there may be some truth to what you say, Edgar.”

  Chapter 29

  Croydon Town Hall was an imposing, classical-style building situated just off the high street. I paused when I saw the gathering of people standing outside it and pulled my silk scarf up over my chin. I wore an old-fashioned bonnet with a wide, soft brim, which would help to shield my face.

  The fog had lifted, and the sun was doing its best to make an appearance between the heavy grey clouds. A man in a dark coat and bowler hat caught my eye, and I smiled as I recognised James’ familiar mannerisms. He was talking with another man, whom I guessed was his solicitor. The two men walked up the steps of the town hall and disappeared inside.

  A few moments later a brougham pulled up and a fair-haired young lady in a burgundy skirt and jacket stepped out, followed by an older couple. It could only be Charlotte Jenkins and her parents. I felt my heart pound as I watched them ascend the steps to the town hall. Once they were safely inside, I cautiously approached.

  A noticeboard in the town hall foyer stated that Jenkins vs Blakely was to be the first case of the day. I stepped inside the noisy, wood-panelled courtroom and seated myself as quickly as possible on the public benches. I dared not look up for a while, and when I finally did I saw James sitting with his solicitor. He kept swallowing nervously, and there were spots of colour high up on his cheeks. I prayed that the hearing would be over quickly.

  I surveyed the press benches and felt a snap of anger when I spotted Tom Clifford from The Holborn Gazette. Although it was quite usual for the press to report on cases such as these, I felt sure that his presence was fuelled by personal interest. Why else would he make the journey from London town to Croydon? Fortunately, I felt sure that he hadn’t noticed me. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Mr Bolton, who worked for the South London Reporter, seated near Tom on the press benches. However, it felt odd to see him in the courtroom, and I fervently hoped that he wouldn’t spot me here.

  Heads turned as Charlotte entered the room. Her hair was pinned up beneath a small burgundy hat, and there was something more refined about her than I remembered. Her face was a little thinner and her jaw jutted forward in a defiant manner. She didn’t look over in James’ direction at all as she sat with her solicitor on one side and her father, who was a large, red-faced man with thick grey hair and whiskers, on the other. He kept turning toward James and glowering, and I noticed that James studiously avoided his gaze.

  Mr Justice Meeks eventually began the proceedings and the jury was sworn in. I breathed deeply in an attempt to calm the pounding of my heart. Perhaps I was imagining it, but I could feel people’s eyes resting on me as if they had worked out who I was.

  Charlotte’s counsel, Mr Duncombe, rose to his feet and began: “The plaintiff is compelled to bring this action in order to recover compensation for the suffering she has endured in consequence of Mr Blakely’s breach of contract. The promise of marriage and the breach of promise has been admitted by the defendant, so the only matter for the jury to contemplate this morning is the sum Miss Jenkins is entitled to in damages.

  “Miss Jenkins is twenty-six years old, and is the daughter of Mr Napier Jenkins, an accountant. She resides with her parents in Garland street, Croydon. She is respectably con
nected as the niece of a vicar and the cousin of a magistrate. At no point can any criticism be made with regard to her reputation or conduct. She has remained entirely blameless throughout.”

  I felt a bitter taste in my mouth.

  “The defendant, Mr Blakely, is thirty years old, and is the youngest son of Chief Inspector Roger Blakely of the Metropolitan Police, now retired. Mr Blakely is an inspector at Scotland Yard and resides at Henstridge Place in St John’s Wood.

  “The facts of the case are as follows. Miss Jenkins and Mr Blakely first met in April 1882. They were introduced through their families, with Miss Jenkins’ mother, Mrs Mary Jenkins, already being quite well acquainted with Mr Blakely’s mother, Mrs Eleanor Blakely. The introduction, made at the suggestion of Mrs Jenkins and Mrs Blakely, culminated in a marriage proposal from Mr Blakely to Miss Jenkins on the third of September 1882. Miss Jenkins agreed to marry Mr Blakely with the full consent of her parents, and the parties became engaged from that hour.

  “Mr and Mrs Blakely expressed their approval of the engagement. At the time of the proposal, their son was employed as a sergeant at Scotland Yard and received an annual wage of one hundred and ten pounds. In 1883 he was promoted to the rank of inspector and his salary increased to one hundred and sixty pounds.

  “The engagement progressed well, and the wedding date was arranged for the twelfth of January this year. However, this coincided with a period of time Mr Blakely had to spend in Manchester for his police work, so the date was rearranged to the thirteenth of September.

  “The wedding was due to take place at St John the Baptist Church in Croydon at eleven o’clock. Shortly after nine o’clock that morning the defendant called at the home of Mr and Mrs Jenkins and requested to speak with them and their daughter, Miss Jenkins. In no uncertain terms, Mr Blakely stated that his feelings for the plaintiff had changed, and that he could no longer consider marrying her. An angry exchange of words between the defendant and the plaintiff’s father, Mr Jenkins, ensued.

  “Mr Blakely promptly left the family home, and two days later wrote a letter to Miss Jenkins offering a payment of three hundred pounds as recompense. Miss Jenkins and her father felt that Mr Blakely had not offered suitable compensation and decided to place the matter in the hands of their family solicitor. This is why we are here today presenting this breach of promise action.”

  Charlotte was then called upon. She stood to her feet and avoided James’ gaze.

  “Can you confirm that the statement I have made is complete and correct?” asked Mr Duncombe.

  “Yes, I can.”

  “Did you notice any sign of Mr Blakely’s feelings toward you changing before the day of the wedding?”

  “No obvious signs, no. But a matter had caused me some concern prior to the wedding day.”

  “Can you explain to the jury what that matter was?”

  “I had become concerned about a lady with whom Mr Blakely had made an acquaintance.”

  My heart thudded heavily, and I stared down at my hands in my lap. James’ hope that I wouldn’t be mentioned in the case had been futile. Charlotte clearly intended to ensure that everybody knew about me.

  “How did Mr Blakely make this lady’s acquaintance?” asked Charlotte’s counsel.

  “Through his work. She is a news reporter.”

  I heard mutterings around me and felt my face heat up. I wished now that I hadn’t attended the hearing. I wasn’t aware that anyone around me had realised who I was as yet, but I felt sure that it would only be a matter of time before they did.

  “And what concerned you most about this acquaintance?”

  “Mr Blakely spoke of her often. A little too often.”

  “Your words suggest that he possessed a certain level of affection for her.”

  “I believe that he did.”

  “Enough affection for him to change his mind about your engagement?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “So it is your belief that the reason behind Mr Blakely’s change of heart was that he held another lady in his affections.”

  “That’s right, yes.”

  I still daren’t look up. I had no idea what James made of this revelation, but I imagined that he felt every bit as uncomfortable as I did.

  I felt relieved when James’ solicitor was finally permitted to cross-examine Charlotte.

  “Miss Jenkins, you mention that Mr Blakely spoke of another lady a little too often for your liking.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he talk about her within the context of his work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he talk about her as if he knew her personally?”

  There was a pause. “I was aware that he was quite well acquainted with her.”

  “As a result of his work?”

  “Yes.”

  “But he wasn’t acquainted with her on a personal level?”

  “I don’t know.” I sensed a growing impatience in Charlotte’s voice. “He carried out a substantial amount of work alongside her.”

  “And was it necessary for him to do so?”

  “I couldn’t really say. She’s a news reporter, so presumably she pushed her way in as these people often do.”

  “Miss Jenkins, I wish to ascertain whether your former fiancé was intimately acquainted with this lady or not, in your opinion.”

  “I don’t have any evidence of it, if that’s what you mean,” she snapped. “But I could tell there was something between them. They used to meet at the Museum Tavern in Bloomsbury.”

  “In the course of their work?”

  “That was his excuse, but I believe they also met there for personal reasons. My fiancé was attracted to another woman. Her name is Miss Penelope Green.”

  As I sank down into my seat I felt the person sitting beside me glance sideways; not because he recognised me, but in an attempt to ascertain why I was trying to hide from view. I realised that my attempts to avoid being seen were having the opposite effect.

  I felt relieved when Charlotte sat down, but then her father was called upon. He had a scowl etched across his large face, and he glared at James as though he were little more than a naughty schoolboy.

  “You approved of your daughter’s engagement to Mr Blakely, Mr Jenkins?” Charlotte’s solicitor asked.

  “At the time I did, yes.” He spoke loudly and brusquely. “He was a sergeant at Scotland Yard, and I thought he was a thoroughly decent, respectable chap. I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

  “So you had no concerns about his conduct or standing during their courtship?”

  “None at all. I had no knowledge of this other woman Charlotte has mentioned. It’s a disgrace! The fellow has behaved despicably!”

  “When did you first become aware of this other woman?”

  “I wasn’t aware of her at all. It was only after the ignoramus called the marriage off at the last minute that my poor daughter told me about her. ‘This is because of Penny,’ she kept saying, over and over. The poor girl was distraught. No man should have to see his own daughter in that condition. I wouldn’t wish such a thing on my worst enemy. It is a dreadful state of affairs, and he should be thoroughly ashamed of himself. And he calls himself a police officer! If this is the manner in which the officers at Scotland Yard conduct themselves I fear for the future of this country, I surely do! This man isn’t fit for any profession. If those in charge at the Yard have any sense they’ll dismiss him at once.

  “And as for this woman who calls herself a reporter, it is said that she writes for the Morning Express newspaper. She should also be dismissed from her position. The pair of them should be thoroughly ashamed, and I should like to see them both publicly disgraced!”

  Chapter 30

  I felt a bead of perspiration trickle down between my shoulders and into my corset. I closed my eyes and willed the hearing to be over.

  “Mr Blakely has offered your daughter some form of recompense for the breach of promise, I believe?” Mr Duncombe asked
Mr Jenkins.

  “Oh yes, he was quick to do that. The very last thing he wanted was an action to be brought against him. He offered me a paltry three hundred pounds, and I told him, ‘To hell with it!’”

  “I must remind you to respect the order of the court, Mr Jenkins,” said the judge.

  Mr Jenkins sniffed in response.

  “So Mr Blakely offered you damages of three hundred pounds.”

  “Three hundred pounds, and I told him—”

  “So you have already said. In summary, you and your daughter decided that the sum offered was insufficient, and that was why you decided to pursue this action.”

  “It is nowhere near enough!”

  “Thank you, Mr Jenkins.” The solicitor turned to face the judge. “I have no further questions, Your Honour.”

  Fortunately, James’ solicitor declined to cross-examine Mr Jenkins. I felt sure that the jury had already heard enough.

  Then James was called upon. He stood to his feet, cleared his throat and gave a nervous smile. This was the first time Charlotte had looked directly at her former fiancé, and she stared at him with her upper lip curled. Mr Jenkins’ face was red, his frown even more pronounced.

  James’ solicitor asked him, “Mr Blakely, may I ask when you realised that your feelings for Miss Jenkins had changed?”

  He cleared his throat. “It was the night before the wedding. I couldn’t sleep that night, and when the day of the wedding dawned I realised I didn’t have the strength of feeling toward Miss Jenkins that would have been necessary for a long and happy marriage.”

  “And you informed Miss Jenkins of this at your earliest convenience?”

  “I did, yes. I travelled by cab to London Bridge station and took the train down to Croydon as swiftly as possible. I arrived at Miss Jenkins’ home at approximately nine o’clock.”

  “Which the jury will recall Mr Duncombe stating in his opening statement. And you offered Miss Jenkins three hundred pounds in damages, did you not?”