On reaching the ticket barrier, Beech extended his hand and, for a moment, Billy was confused as he realized he was expected to shake it. Embarrassed at this break from protocol, he nevertheless co-operated with the handshake and said gruffly, “Good train journey, sir?”
“Yes, yes!” Beech seemed enthusiastic. “P.C. Rigsby—Billy—I am glad you are to be a part of my special team. May I introduce another member of that team—Victoria Ellingham.”
Momentarily, Billy was stunned and he managed a cursory nod and a croaked “Ma-am” by way of acknowledgement.
Beech smiled. “I can see you are somewhat taken aback, P.C. Rigsby. All will be revealed shortly. Ah! Here’s the porter with Mrs Ellingham’s luggage!” A small mountain of suitcases was wheeled past and Billy recognized expensive luggage when he saw it. “We shall take a taxi to the Women’s Hospital and I will explain everything on the way,” Beech commanded everyone to follow and a bemused Billy took up the rear. It had been a long time since he had been in a taxi—not something a Constable’s pay would stretch to—and he was unsure how to deal with this unusual situation.
It took a while to carefully load the luggage into the front of the taxi cab beside the driver, then Beech and Victoria sat inside. Billy took off his helmet and hunched down to peer into the cab. “Um … there’s really not enough room for me, sir. I’ll find other transport and meet you there.”
“Nonsense!” said Beech, as breezily he could. “Victoria, sit on my lap, then you can squeeze in beside me, Rigsby. I really must talk to you.”
Victoria obligingly moved onto Beech’s lap, and Billy reluctantly maneuvered himself into the vacant space and, once seated, he stared fixedly ahead, clutching his helmet in embarrassment.
Then Beech began to talk about the need for women to be involved in the policing of women’s crimes. He explained, without too much of the horrific detail, the case of Lady Harriet, who refused to speak to anyone other than a woman. Then, finally, he detailed his conversation with the Commissioner and the team he was being allowed to set up. By the end of all that, Billy Rigsby was looking squarely at Beech and seemed to have overcome his discomfort at the lady perched on the Chief Inspector’s lap. When Beech explained that Victoria was a trained lawyer, Billy exclaimed, “Get away!,” and flashed her an admiring smile.
“So what, exactly, would be my role in this team, sir?” Billy asked hopefully.
“Well, firstly as a bodyguard for the two ladies,” Beech explained and Billy nodded. “Strong arm” he could do. He began to feel more relaxed about everything. “And, secondly,” Beech continued, “if the ladies uncover a crime, you, of course, as a serving policeman, will be the only one with the actual power of arrest.”
“P.C. Rigsby seems to be happy now,” murmured Victoria to Beech, noting the smile that was slowly spreading across Billy’s face.
Yes, Billy was happy. The whole set-up was unconventional but that suited his rebellious nature. It had to be kept a secret and he rather liked that too. But, most of all, he understood the role he was to play. Being a bodyguard and making arrests appealed to his strong sense of masculinity. Billy was a very happy young man indeed.
On arrival at the Women’s Hospital, the taxi disgorged its occupants and was told to wait. Billy, still clutching his helmet, followed the others obediently.
A woman in a white coat was being embraced enthusiastically by Victoria Ellingham and Billy hung back a little, awaiting instructions.
“Rigsby,” said Beech, “Meet another member of our team, Doctor Caroline Allardyce.” This time Billy was prepared and he extended his hand to the female doctor with relish. “Caroline,” Beech added, “Billy will be your strong right hand.”
“How very obliging of you, Peter, to provide us with our own personal Adonis,” Caroline said dryly as she shook Billy’s hand.
Billy laughed. He didn’t understand what she had called him but it sounded Greek and he figured it was complimentary. He liked this one. She had curves in all the right places and a look of fun in her eyes.
“Now behave yourself, Caro,” admonished Beech. “Let’s not frighten the poor lad before we’ve started work. How is Lady Harriet?”
Caroline became businesslike. “She’s awake but heavily drugged. It will be touch and go, Peter. She won’t talk to me. I have tried but she doesn’t regard me as her equal. I think, whatever the sex, she regards doctors as higher servants, I’m afraid. You know—one step above butlers. I do believe that this woman was raised in the Georgian era. I’ve never met any young woman with such entrenched and enclosed views of Society. Let’s hope that Victoria has more luck.”
“You must introduce Victoria as the Honorable Mrs Ellingham,” counseled Beech. Victoria made a small protest but Beech insisted. “No, no. Caroline is not exaggerating. Lady Harriet has the most developed sense of snobbery. You must go in with all titles on display or we shall never get anything out of her. Now—” he turned to Billy “—you and I, Rigsby, shall leave the ladies to their task and we shall visit our new headquarters and then the crime scene.”
“Yes, sir.” Billy stood to attention and then made a little bow to the women. “Ladies, pleased to make your acquaintance.” And with that the men left.
Caroline watched them lope back to the taxi with a look of wonderment on her face. “Wherever did Peter find such a specimen?” she murmured. “I shall ask P.C Rigsby to donate his body to medical science when he dies. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Caroline, you’re incorrigible!” Victoria was greatly amused. “Stop salivating and show me to Lady Harriet’s room!”
Caroline interrupted her reverie to say, “Do you know, I’ve just noticed how terribly thin you are, Victoria! Are you quite well?”
“I’m fine and I’m eating for England! I have truly missed you, Caroline. And, by the way, I loathe your hair.”
The two friends linked arms, laughing, and made their way up the stairs.
* * *
Beech and Billy arrived at Lady Maud’s house in Hanover Square and it took the two of them to unload and transport Victoria’s luggage to the front door.
“Why do women own so many clothes?” sighed an exasperated Beech, after he had unlocked the door and Billy had piled the suitcases up in the hallway. Billy grinned and then whistled in appreciation at the grandeur of the interior of the house.
“Is this to be our HQ, sir?” he said in a disbelieving voice.
“Ha! Yes! Courtesy of Mrs Ellingham’s mother, Lady Maud. Who will be joining us later, by the way, along with her cook and maid. So, you shall have good grub, lively conversation and a decent bed to sleep in.”
“What, sir? I get to sleep here?” Billy could hardly believe his luck.
“Well, we can’t have you dossing down at the station house, can we?” Beech was quite emphatic. “It’s your job to look after the ladies, Rigsby, and I’m afraid that may be a twenty-four hour job. I should have warned you, I’m sorry.”
“No, no apology needed, sir! Believe me, I’m only too happy to oblige.” Billy felt like the cat that got the cream.
Beech patted him on the shoulder. “Good man. Chose you for your Guards’ discipline and all that.”
“Yes, sir. Won’t let you down, sir.”
Beech was restless. “Look, Rigsby, we’ll sort out your actual room and stuff later. Right now, I really want to go back to the crime scene. Oblige me by hailing another taxi cab, would you?”
“Right away, sir.” Billy stepped swiftly out on to the pavement, put on his helmet, spotted a passing taxi, and blew a piercing blast on his police whistle. The taxi obligingly swerved into the kerb and Billy opened the door for his new Chief and then followed him into the cab.
On the way to Belgravia, Beech filled the young policeman in on the more intimate details of Lady Harriet’s injuries.
Billy sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Sounds like the bastard husband got his dues, sir, if you don’t mind me saying.”
; “Mm. My sentiments exactly, Rigsby. But the problem is that Doctor Allardyce believes that Lady Harriet would have been so badly injured that she would not have been able to inflict the fatal blow on her husband, so I think we are looking for someone else who stabbed Lord Murcheson to save the wife from further attack.”
“The butler, sir?”
Beech laughed. “That would be nice and pat! But I think not. Another man would possibly have struck Lord Murcheson a blow and knocked him out, or shot him or, at the very least, restrained him. Stabbing him through the heart with a pair of scissors strikes me … and I may be wrong in my assumption … as a woman’s action. What do you think?”
Billy was flattered to be asked his opinion. He felt that the Chief Inspector was right and told him so.
“Which brings me to my next point.” Beech looked at Billy with some embarrassment. “I have noted that you seem to have a way with the fairer sex, Rigsby. Would I be wrong in that observation?”
Billy laughed and flushed a little. “I must admit, I like to chat to the ladies and they seem to like to chat back, if you know what I mean.”
Beech smiled. “Quite. You have an ability that I entirely lack. Oh, I mean I can talk to ladies, if I’ve known them for a very long time—but not with any great ease. So, I think it might be best if you have a little chat with the female servants in the Murcheson household. Not question them … just go down in the kitchen and make yourself at home. Get the cook to give you a cup of tea and a sticky bun. Let the women chat around you, as it were. Do you get my drift?”
“Perfectly, sir. Don’t you worry; it’ll be like visiting my womenfolk at home. Before you know it, they’ll be telling me all their aches and pains and all the neighborhood gossip. Leave it to me.”
“Good man.” Beech heaved a sigh of relief. “Knew I could count on you.”
Once in the house in Belgravia, Beech told the butler that he would need to undertake a detailed examination of the bedroom in which the murder had taken place.
“Of course, sir,” the butler nodded in deference. “Will there be anything else that you require?”
“Er, yes.” Beech adopted an air of authority. “I shall require you to attend upon me in the bedroom please, as I have some further questions for you. But first, could you take my constable downstairs to your cook? He’s been on his feet since the early hours and is in desperate need of a cup of tea and some food.”
“At once, sir.” The butler inclined his head toward Beech and motioned with his hand for Billy to follow him.
“Thank you, Chief Inspector. Most kind of you.” Billy winked at Beech as he passed by.
The butler opened the kitchen door at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m sure you can fend for yourself, constable. Just ask Cook for what you want.” Then the butler turned back up the stairs.
Billy stepped through the half-opened door and grinned.
“So,” he said cheerily, “which one of you lovely ladies is going to make a starving policeman a cup of tea and a sandwich?”
Four women’s mouths opened as they gazed upon Billy Rigsby and, suddenly, the kitchen burst into a frenzy of activity as they sat him down and began catering to this unexpected gift of the day.
CHAPTER 5
Victoria sat patiently beside Lady Harriet’s bed. Caroline had introduced her, in the manner ordered by Beech, and the sick woman had indicated that Victoria was acceptable. After a brief exchange regarding Victoria’s background, resulting in a thin smile and a nod from the patient, the woman had closed her eyes and lapsed into unconsciousness. Caroline had warned Victoria, before they entered the room, that Lady Harriet would lapse in and out of consciousness as her condition was grave and required powerful drugs. All Victoria could do was wait.
She looked around the room. Caroline said that the maid, Esme, had arrived last night to bring Lady Harriet’s personal items. All Victoria could see on the side table was a Bible, a Book of Common Prayer and some handkerchiefs. She opened the Bible and read the inscription:
To Harriet, Faithful Daughter in Christ, from Sr. Mary Francis
She replaced the Bible and then looked at the Book of Common Prayer. It too had an inscription:
To Lady Harriet Montcrieff on her wedding day from your Sisters in Christ
“It was given to me when I left the convent,” said a soft voice from the bed, which made Victoria start.
“You were a nun before you married?”
Lady Harriet smiled. “No. I was placed in the care of the convent when both my parents died in an accident in India. It was an Anglican convent in London.”
“Was it a school? Were there other children there, Lady Harriet?”
“No. Just me. And one novice of my age. I was eleven when I went there. They were very kind.”
Victoria understood immediately why this woman lying in the bed was so unworldly and could not bring herself to speak to a male police officer. My God, she thought, couldn’t they have sent her to a boarding school with girls of her own age?
“How did you meet your husband then?”
The smile faded from Lady Harriet’s face and she turned her head away, staring fixedly at the door, rather than into Victoria’s face.
“My husband came from a good aristocratic family, who were patrons of the church. The Archbishop arranged for us to meet—chaperoned, of course. He … seemed … was … very kind, in our courtship days.”
“And after you married?” As soon as she said the words, Victoria saw a small flush creep across the woman’s otherwise deathly pale face.
“He … was … very patient with me. I had no understanding of the physical side of marriage. At first it revolted me …” She looked at Victoria and one small tear trickled from the outside corner of her eye on to the pillow. “I don’t suppose you can understand that.”
“Of course I can,” Victoria answered gently. “Especially for someone as innocent as you must have been.”
“Is your husband a good man?” Lady Harriet turned her face back.
Victoria hesitated, then drew in a long breath. “My husband died last year, at the battle of Ypres. Ours was not a happy marriage but he was not a bad man—just …” she struggled to find the right word “… lost, I think would best describe his personality.”
“Lost. Yes. A good word.” Lady Harriet’s hand moved a few inches and covered Victoria’s hand momentarily. “My husband was lost, when he came back from France. He … he … was not patient anymore. His personality changed and the medicines his doctor prescribed made him worse. He would fly into rages and … and … force himself upon me …” Her head turned away again in embarrassment “… sometimes brutally.” She shuddered at the memory and Victoria clasped her hand firmly in reassurance. “Then, come the morning, he would no longer remember that he had … violated me … and would accuse me of lying. In these last few weeks, as he became more and more reliant on the medicines he … couldn’t … he was …”
“Impotent,” Victoria said, knowing the word that Lady Harriet was struggling to find.
“Yes. So … when I told him that I was expecting a child … he flew into a rage and accused me of having a lover.” She laughed hollowly and then she cried out in physical pain.
Victoria sped to the door and called for a nurse.
“Lady Harriet appears to be in tremendous pain,” she said, as both a nurse and the Matron appeared in the corridor.
The Matron looked at her watch. “I can give her half a dose of morphine but no more. Nurse, fetch Dr Allardyce.” The nurse marched briskly away, while the Matron propelled a trolley into Lady Harriet’s room.
“Lady Harriet,” she said while arming a syringe, “I shall give you some pain relief but the doctor will need to examine you.”
Victoria felt it wise to step outside the room while the Matron gave the injection and she briefly nodded to Caroline as she sped past to enter the room as well. She heard Lady Harriet cry out in pain several times and deduced that the situation was s
erious. Matron came out of the room and then returned with a large brown bottle of fluid. Finally, both Matron and Caroline appeared, looking grave and, after a brief discussion, Matron left. Caroline approached Victoria.
“It’s not good,” she said quietly, “her abdomen is swollen and painful, and an infection has certainly developed. There is little we can do for her, other than apply topical antiseptics. I fear she does not have the strength for me to open her up again and irrigate the wound. Damn!”
Caroline seemed close to tears, and Victoria grasped her arm in sympathy.
“You did your best, Caro—no one could have done more.”
Caroline was fighting back the tears. “If only I had been called soon after she received her injuries! Any damage to the bowel will only spread infection the longer it is left and the poor woman sat there, in agony, for almost sixteen hours, refusing any kind of assistance …” she trailed off, knowing any further discussion was useless. She wiped her eyes and turned to Victoria. “She is asking to speak to you again but, I warn you, she is heavily drugged, and I don’t know how much longer she will last. If there are any problems, just call us.”
Victoria nodded and gave Caroline’s arm one last squeeze before re-entering the room and sitting once more beside Lady Harriet.
Lady Harriet stirred, her glazed eyes struggling to focus on Victoria.
“Mrs Ellingham?” she asked weakly.
“Yes, Lady Harriet, I am here.” She took the young woman’s hand again.
“I want to make a full confession and sign it. Will you write it down for me?”
Victoria nodded and reached inside her handbag to produce a notepad and pen.
“May I have some water first, please?”
Victoria poured some water into an invalid cup and gently raised Lady Harriet’s head, so that she could drink.
“Thank you.” She sank back on to the pillows and began to dictate, slowly.
“I, Lady Harriet Anne Cecilia Murcheson nee Montcrieff, aged twenty-two years, do hereby state, being of sound mind and fully aware of my actions, that I did, in the early morning of Wednesday the twenty-eighth of May, 1915, stab my husband, Lord Murcheson, fatally, in self-defense, after he brutally attacked and injured me.” She paused to allow Victoria time to catch up, then she resumed. “I wish to state, for the record, that no other person was involved in this tragic event—that I alone was responsible.” Then she whispered, “May God have mercy on my soul.”
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