by Kerry Tombs
‘Mildred Chilton?’ offered Crabb.
‘Take charge of it, Tom. This is valuable evidence. We will make enquiries at the house to see if it’s owner was indeed the young lady. I take it that you found nothing else, constable?’
‘No sir. We’ve gone up to the lock gates in either direction, but there is no trace of the girl.’
‘And the river?’
‘Nothing there either, sir.’
‘The girl could have dropped it into canal on another occasion?’ suggested Crabb.
‘Yes. That could have been the case. Miss Petterson should be able to tell us whether Miss Chilton had this handkerchief in her possession on the day she disappeared,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘Begging your pardon sir, we have made quite an extensive search in either direction along the railway, river and canal, but do you want us to widen the search area?’ asked the constable.
‘No, I think you and the men have done your best. I’m sure that if the girl ran away from the churchyard and met with a serious accident down here, we would have found her remains by now. It seems more and more likely that she was taken against her will. Stand down the men, constable.’
‘Right sir.’
‘Well Tom, I think it is time we returned once more to Hill Court. Sir Charles may have returned there by now, and we also need to have further words with the governess concerning her visit to the church,’ said Ravenscroft moving away from the canal.
‘I think someone over there is trying to attract our attention sir,’ said Crabb. ‘Over here boy!’
A postboy ran towards them along the bank of the canal. ‘Telegram for Ravenscroft! Telegram for Ravenscroft!’ he called out.
‘I am Ravenscroft. Thank you,’ replied the detective taking the envelope and giving the youth a coin. ‘Looks as though we have a reply from Lord and Lady Roberts of Warminster to our enquiry regarding the governess. Well I’m blessed! This certainly throws a different complexion on the case.’
‘What sir?’ asked Crabb.
‘It seems, Tom, that our Miss Petterson died five years ago!’
CHAPTER FOUR
LEDBURY
‘Please ma’am, there’s a young lady who would like a word with you.’
‘Thank you Susan. Did you tell her that Mr Ravenscroft is away at present,’ replied Lucy without looking up from her needlework.
‘Yes ma’am but she says she must see someone, and I thought you might wish to help her.’
‘I think it would be better if she called when Mr Ravenscroft is at home.’
‘I’ve told her that, but she is most insistent that she sees you. She seems quite distressed, ma’am.’
‘Then I think you had better show her in, Susan,’ said Lucy placing her sewing down on the small table at the side of her chair.
‘Miss Corbett,’ announced the maid returning a few moments later.
‘Miss Corbett, I’m afraid my husband is not at home at present,’ said Lucy rising from her seat and looking across at the forlorn figure who had just entered her living-room.
‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you ma’am, but I had to see someone,’ said the young woman suddenly bursting into tears.
‘My dear Miss Corbett, please do not distress yourself,’ said Lucy coming forward and placing an arm on the new arrival’s shoulder. ‘Do take a seat on the sofa. Susan, will you bring a glass of water for the young lady. Whatever is the matter?’
‘I’m sorry ma’am. It’s my baby, my poor Lily!’ sobbed the woman accepting the seat and drawing her shawl closer round her head.
‘Your baby?’
‘She has gone! She is not there. They have taken her away!’
‘Someone has taken your baby?’ asked Lucy sitting down beside the visitor.
‘They said she would be looked after. They promised me that she would have the best of everything,’ continued the woman, tears falling down her face.
‘There now, pray do not distress yourself, Miss Corbett. Here, drink this water,’ said Lucy handing her the glass of liquid, that the maid had just brought into the room.
‘Thank you ma’am. You are most kind.’
‘And when you have drunk that, you shall tell me all about it,’ said Lucy reassuringly.
‘Thank you.’
‘Now Miss Corbett, I cannot keep calling you Miss Corbett. What is your first name?’ asked Lucy after a few moments had elapsed.
‘Alice.’
‘And where do you live Alice?’
‘I work at Brewster’s Farm out at Wellington Heath.’
‘And what do you do there?’
‘I am a milkmaid, ma’am,’ replied the young woman gradually recovering her composure and turning back the shawl from her head.
‘And how long have you worked at Wellington Heath?’
‘Three months ma’am.’
‘And where were you before that?’
The woman hesitated for a moment and drew back, before eventually replying. ‘Hanbury near Droitwich.’
‘How long has your baby, Lily, been missing?’
‘Three months, Mrs Ravenscroft.’
‘Three months!’ replied Lucy somewhat taken aback. ‘Why on earth did you not report the matter sooner?’
‘Oh she wasn’t taken then.’
‘I think perhaps you should start at the beginning,’ suggested Lucy looking perplexed.
‘I’ll try and explain, ma’am. It was while I was working on the farm at Hanbury. It were those soldiers. They were camping out near the farm for two weeks. He said he would take care of me, but then he was gone with the rest of them, and I was with his child — and I did not know where he had gone.’
‘I see,’ said Lucy turning away.
‘Do not think bad of me, ma’am. He said he loved me; said he would marry me, and that everything would be right with us.’
‘I do not think badly of you, Alice. You were young and no doubt easily lead astray. I more than comprehend your situation. Men can be so feckless,’ said the older woman placing her hand on the other’s arm.
‘You understand, Mrs Ravenscroft,’ replied Alice looking sadly into Lucy’s eyes.
‘Tell me what happened?’ asked Lucy quickly seeking to change the nature of her questioning.
‘They were very good to me at Hanbury. Said I could stay on until after the baby came. Then when she was born, I decided to call her Lily.’
‘That is a very pretty name.’
‘There was a pond on the farm, and I thought the lilies looked so beautiful there. So peaceful and quiet. Then a few weeks after Lily had been born, the farmer said I would have to leave. Said the baby was always crying and they didn’t want the other servants disturbed. I was desperate. I had nowhere to go,’ said Alice tears again forming in her large eyes.
‘Had you no parents, or brothers or sisters? Someone who could look after you and the baby?’
‘No ma’am. My father died when I was quite young, and my mother married another who did not want me. That’s why I had left home all those years ago. I was so desperate!’ she sobbed.
‘There, take another drink of the water.’
‘Thank you ma’am, you are very kind. They said either the baby would have to go, or we would have to leave together. I did not know what to do. Then I saw the advertisement in the local newspaper. The Droitwich Guardian. It said that a lady had just lost her baby, and was anxious to take on another, and bring the child up as her own.’
‘I see. So you replied to this advertisement?’
‘Yes. She seemed such a nice lady. Told me in her letter how she and her husband lived in a fine house in Cheltenham, how very sad they were that the Lord had taken away their only child. When I wrote and told them all about Lily, they said God had answered their prayers, and that they would do everything they could to see that my baby would have a good life, if I would agree to let them have her. They said I would still be able to visit her as often as I could. So I took her to the railway station and g
ave away my darling Lily!’
‘There, there, do not distress yourself so,’ said Lucy placing her arm round the shoulders of the sobbing girl. ‘You did what you thought best for your child. You have nothing to reproach yourself with. I have no doubt that you were acting in your child’s best interests. Any other young mother in your situation would have done the same.’
‘Thank you ma’am, but I don’t deserve your words of kindness. What kind of mother would give away her own baby?’
‘A mother who was desperate to do all she could for her child. It seems as though this couple were very Christian in their actions. Did they not require anything from you in return for their generosity?’
‘The lady said her husband wanted five pounds to help towards the costs of Lily’s upbringing.’
‘Five pounds is rather a lot of money.’
‘I had a few pounds put by, sold the old ring I had, and the farmer gave me some towards the amount, he was very good, but said I would have to go elsewhere and find work. They did not want the disgrace on the farm. I did not want my baby taken away ma’am, and put in the workhouse.’
‘Of course not. So you met this woman and her husband at the railway station and gave her five pounds. What happened next?’
‘She took away my darling Lily,’ sobbed Alice.
‘That must have been very distressing for you, but at least you had the reassurance that your daughter was being looked after by these kind people, and that you were free to visit her at any time?’
‘That’s what I thought, ma’am. She said I should wait six months before I could come and visit Lily. Give her time to settle in, she said. But I missed her so much. You understand that, Mrs Ravenscroft?’
‘Of course; that is only natural; you are her mother.’
‘So last week I went to their house in Cheltenham, but when I knocked on the door the servant came out, and told me that there was no one by the name of Huddlestone living there, and that there had never been anyone living there with that name.’
‘Perhaps you went to the wrong house?’ suggested Lucy.
‘No Mrs Ravenscroft, it was the right house. 22 Suffolk Square in Montpellier, Cheltenham. That is what she told me, and that is the address that was on the letter.’
‘Do you still have the letter?’
‘Yes ma’am,’ replied Alice reaching into her pocket and retrieving a folded sheet of blue paper.
‘Do you still have the envelope?’
‘No ma’am.’
Lucy read aloud the letter—
22 Suffolk Square,
Cheltenham.
3rd November 1889.
My Dear Miss Corbett,
Thank you so much for your letter.
My husband and I were very touched by your story, and are looking forward so much to seeing both you and little Lily.
I thank the day the good Lord bought us together!
Now, to our arrangements:
Please bring Lily to Droitwich railway station on Thursday afternoon. Mr Huddlestone and I will meet you on the platform at three o’clock. Do not forget the items that we discussed.
We have so much we can give Lily.
God bless you, my dear!
You are our salvation.
Your good friend,
Amelia Huddlestone.
‘I am sorry, I threw away the envelope. Tell me, Mrs Ravenscroft, what have they done with my Lily? Why were they not there when I went to the house? If something terrible has happened to her, I shall never forgive myself! To think that I have given away my baby!’
‘There now, Alice, do not be alarmed. I am sure that there must be a sensible explanation for all this. I will have a word with my husband when he returns from Droitwich tonight, and we will go together to Cheltenham sometime in the near future and make enquiries on your behalf.’
‘Oh, thank you ma’am. I am so besides myself with worry. I would be so grateful to you and the Inspector.’
‘Can you tell me what this Mrs Huddlestone looked like?’
‘She was thin, with grey hair, probably around forty in years and she spoke in a strange kind of voice, soft and musical it were. I could tell, though that she wasn’t from around these parts. Her voice was different.’
‘May I keep the letter?’ asked Lucy rising from her seat.
‘Yes ma’am.’
‘Did you give this Mrs Huddlestone anything else besides the five pounds?’
‘She asked that I give her all of Lily’s clothes. I did not have much. I wrapped her in a red shawl.’
‘Now you leave the matter with us. I’m sure that my husband will be able to get to the bottom of this. He is very good at solving mysteries,’ smiled Lucy.
‘Oh thank you, Mrs Ravenscroft,’ said Alice drawing her shawl over her head once more as she rose from the sofa.
‘As I said, my husband is investigating a case over in Droitwich at the moment, so it may be a few days before he can go to Cheltenham.’
‘I understand ma’am. I cannot thank you enough,’ replied Alice.
‘Now you are not to worry,’ said Lucy reassuringly placing her fingers on the girl’s hand. ‘As soon as we have any news we will let you know. Brewster’s farm at Wellington Heath, I think you said?’
‘Yes ma’am. Oh thank you so much, Mrs Ravenscroft. You have put my mind at ease.’
‘Susan, will you show Miss Corbett out please.’
Lucy watched as her visitor left the room, then she sat down on the chair deep in thought.
‘The poor woman,’ said Susan returning to the room. ‘To think she had to give up that poor mite.’
‘Yes Susan, it is a very sad state of affairs. She must have been desperate to surrender her young child in such a fashion.’
‘Still I suppose Mr Ravenscroft will soon be able to get to the bottom of it.’
‘Yes, I expect so — although I think he will be very busy in Droitwich for the rest of the day.’
‘The poor woman,’ repeated the maid shaking her head. ‘Pity we could not help her sooner, Mrs Ravenscroft.’
Lucy thought deeply for a moment.
‘Susan, fetch me Bradshaws. Let us see when the next train leaves for Cheltenham. Would you mind looking after Master Richard and Master Arthur for the rest of the day — and then looking out my new grey coat and hat?’
* * *
Later that afternoon Lucy turned away from the busy area of Montpellier with its eloquent buildings, wide roads, horse-drawn vehicles and busy shoppers, and found herself walking down a secluded tree-lined road. After going on some steps, the road abruptly opened out into a strangely quiet oasis of calm, that declared itself to be Suffolk Square. Here the rows of five storey houses gazed sedately at one another from opposite sides of the square. The late afternoon sun shone fitfully on the spacious pavements, as a light breeze blew the remnants of last year’s leaves along the road. Lucy could see three small boys were engaged in a game of hide and seek behind the railings of a small enclosed park, from where a young woman was visible, gently pushing a pram back and forth beneath the trees.
Removing the blue folded paper from her purse and reading the address once more, Lucy made her way past several buildings, until she reached a brass plate with the number 22 neatly engraved into its surface. She reached out and raised the ornate knocker, but before she could bring it down upon the wood, she found the door suddenly opening before her.
‘Good afternoon. I wonder if Mrs Huddlestone is at home?’
‘I’m afraid you must have the wrong address miss. This is number 22,’ replied the young housemaid.
‘No, I believe I have the correct address. I was told that Mr and Mrs Huddlestone resided here.’
‘You are mistaken, miss. This house belongs to Miss Jameson and her sister.’
‘And how long have they lived here?’ persisted Lucy.
‘For nearly thirty years I believe; long before I came.’
‘I see. Perhaps you know of someone else with th
e name of Huddlestone who lives in the square?’ asked Lucy hopefully.
‘I’m sorry miss, I know of no one in this neighbourhood called Huddlestone, although there was a young girl, now I think about it, who knocked on the door last week, who was asking to see the same person,’ replied the housemaid, a puzzled expression on her face.
‘I wonder if it might be possible to speak to your mistress?’
‘I don’t know about that, miss. Mistress is not taken to receiving unannounced visitors.’
‘It is a very urgent matter. I would be very much obliged,’ pleaded Lucy.
‘Well I suppose I could ask, miss.’
‘Thank you,’ smiled Lucy.
‘Whom shall I say is calling?’
‘My name is Mrs Ravenscroft. My husband is a police inspector.’
‘If you would just wait here, ma’am,’ said the maid closing the door.
Lucy looked across the square towards the drab, austere church hall and wondered whether she had been somewhat impetuous in her decision to seek out the Huddlestones of Cheltenham. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have consulted her husband first, and to have allowed him to make enquiries? That would have been the more prudent course, but the unexpected events of earlier that day had prompted her to bring about a swift reunion between the unfortunate young woman and her abandoned child. The address at the top of the letter had clearly stated number 22 Suffolk Square, and yet no one of that name appeared to reside in the vicinity. All she could do was hope that the owner of the property would allow her to call unannounced, and that such an interview would furnish the information she was so anxious to obtain.
‘Miss Jameson says you may call upon her,’ announced the maid.
‘Thank you.’
‘If you would care to follow me, ma’am.’
Lucy followed the maid across the hall and into a spacious drawing room, where she found herself standing in front of two elderly ladies.
‘Mrs Ravenscroft, ma’am,’ announced the maid.
‘Mrs Ravenscroft,’ said one of the ladies coming forwards to meet her. ‘Florence Jameson. How can my sister and I be of assistance to you?’
‘I am sorry for the intrusion ladies. I was under the impression that a Mrs Huddlestone resided here.’