An Unwilling Earl

by Sharon Cullen

  “He is the son of a baron, raised in a somewhat well-off household. Educated, I presume?”

  Charlotte was surprised by the direction of the detective’s thoughts. “I’m unsure of his education,” she said. “I believe he was sent away to school for a time, before his father died.”

  O’Leary sat back and considered her for a long while, tapping his fingers on the desktop. “These types of crimes, murder like this, are often perpetrated by a lower class of people. Men who cannot control their…urges. Men who are burdened by their situation in life. Typically, barons and other gentlemen do not perform such heinous crimes. Their crimes are more in the line of extortion and bribery. Things like that.”

  For a moment, Charlotte was speechless. He was telling her that because Edmund was a baron and educated that he couldn’t possibly perpetrate these crimes? It was the most foolish thing she’d ever heard.

  “Pardon me, Detective, but I believe that deep down, when you strip away the titles and the education, people are the same. Just because a man has money doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the same urges as a poor man. The idea that certain type of men commit certain types of crimes seems a bit narrow-minded.”

  Jacob’s fingers tensed on her hand, and it appeared that O’Leary was holding back a grin. But Charlotte was incensed. Outraged at such barbaric ideas.

  “That is the modern take on crime,” O’Leary said, casting a glance at Jacob.

  “But that is absurd,” she said. “If anyone could perform such an act it would precisely be an educated man. Who else but an educated man would know how to hunt these girls down and find them at their most vulnerable?”

  “I assure you that there have been many educated men who have studied the crime statistics of this city and other cities as well. It is usually the uneducated man who commits the more serious crime of murder. Your cousin, while he sounds like a disturbed individual, does not fit the mold of a person who is capable of doing… Well, what was done to these women is horrendous, and a man of such education could not have done this.”

  Jacob sat forward. “If I may interrupt. O’Leary, you are open to the observations of Armbruster and myself. We certainly don’t know of the studies done on crime and criminals. We bring a more pedantic approach to your job. Lady Ashland has lived with this man for nearly five years. She has observed things that no one else has. I think she might offer a fresh approach to the subject.”

  O’Leary leaned back and contemplated Charlotte for a time.

  Jacob squeezed her hand. O’Leary placed his hand on his chin and rubbed his lips with his fingers, deep in thought.

  “What you are proposing is frightening to most people, even police detectives,” O’Leary said. “People don’t want to think that an ordinary man, a man who walks among us, eats dinner beside us, can do such vile deeds. They want to think that someone who does these things is a monster and that they can easily pick such a monster out from a crowd. What you are telling me is that evil can be anywhere.”

  “That is precisely what I’m telling you,” Charlotte said. “Because I have seen it myself.”

  “Charlotte believes that there are monsters in all of us, but most of us can control them,” Jacob said.

  O’Leary seemed intrigued by that idea and seemed to think about it for a moment. “We have nothing,” he said. “No leads. No witnesses. Nothing but panicked servants. The victims have all been working women, most probably servants. Why do you think someone like your cousin would want to associate with a person so far beneath him?”

  “Because, as you said, he is disturbed. A monster, if you will.”

  “I can’t just barge into the home of a baron and accuse him of being a killer.”

  “It’s him,” she said. “He’s the one killing these women. If you don’t stop him there will be more.”

  O’Leary looked down at his desk, deep in thought.

  “What kind of proof do you need?” she asked.

  “Something that clearly points to a baron who kills women,” O’Leary said.

  The three of them fell silent, each in their own thoughts.

  “The heads,” Jacob said. “You said the heads were missing from all of the bodies. Did you ever recover them?”

  “No. We assumed they were thrown in the river with the bodies and were unrecoverable.”

  “What if they weren’t thrown in the river?” Jacob asked.

  “What would he have done with them?” Charlotte said.

  Jacob looked at her with a crease between his brows. “The cats.”

  She drew in a horrified breath. “No. You don’t think…”

  “Cats?” O’Leary asked.

  Charlotte looked at O’Leary but wasn’t seeing him.

  “Maybe he would want a memento, something to remind him of his deeds. Something he could keep,” Jacob said.

  “But why?” Charlotte whispered. “Why keep the heads? That’s horrific.”

  “Will someone please tell me what you are talking about?” Clearly O’Leary was becoming exasperated, but Charlotte and Jacob were still turning thoughts over in their minds.

  “He kills the women because his mother instilled in him a fear and hatred for all women,” Jacob said. “Maybe he’s killing the servants because he can’t kill his mother. It’s a release of sorts. And taking the heads is a reminder that for once he is in charge.”

  “You can’t keep severed heads on a bookshelf,” O’Leary said. “They would rot.”

  “But you can bury them,” Charlotte said.

  “In the garden,” Jacob added.

  “So you think that Lord Morris kept the heads and buried them in the garden like he did the cats?” O’Leary asked.

  “I think it’s a possibility,” Charlotte said.

  O’Leary looked at Jacob. “I believe Lady Ashford would challenge you and Armbruster in your sleuthing. She’s remarkable.”

  Charlotte’s face heated in a blush. She still wasn’t sure about the sleuthing business, but it seemed high praise coming from O’Leary.

  “Can you dig up the Morrises’ garden?” Jacob asked.

  “I can see what I can do,” O’Leary said.

  “Tell me, Detective. Do you know the names of the women pulled from the river?” Charlotte asked.

  “Unfortunately, no. Without the…heads…it’s proving difficult.”

  “Surely there are family who have reported women missing? Houses who have a servant who suddenly disappeared?”

  “Of course there are many reports, but we’ve had a difficult job following up as there are so many and not enough of us.”

  “There was a young woman named Penny. She worked in my aunt’s house as a servant. She had become a friend of mine. And then she disappeared. My aunt said that Penny was not worthy to work for us—too sinful. Everyone was too sinful for my aunt. Perhaps Penny was his first human killing.”

  The thought made her sick, but she wanted to know what happened to Penny. She’d been so kind to Charlotte, helping her keep in contact with Sarah.

  “What is our next move?” Jacob asked O’Leary.

  “Our next move?” O’Leary appeared amused. “You go about your business, and I will try to convince the people above me to investigate this.”

  “And in the meantime, girls all over London are in danger,” Charlotte murmured.

  “I will push as hard as I can.”

  Feeling defeated, Charlotte climbed into the hansom that Jacob had flagged down and looked dejectedly out the window.

  “What if they’re right,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “The police. The studies. O’Leary. What if they’re right and it is some vagrant or deranged person and not my cousin at all? Maybe he stopped with just the cats.”

  “I think…” Jacob stared out the window at the scenery rolling by. “I think that at some point your aunt broke Edmund. Maybe he was broken from the beginning, or maybe she wore him down over time, like a creek smooths the ragged rocks. Her constant
badgering, her continuous lecturing on the evils of men and how sinful they are. And then there are the women who lead the men into sin. I can see where that would scare a boy into thinking that all women are sinful and a threat. Maybe a rage has built inside of him, or it could have been guilt. What age was he when he destroyed your doll?”

  Charlotte had to think about that. “I don’t know, maybe sixteen years.”

  “Maybe he had this rage inside of him, and he didn’t know what to do with it.”

  “But why my doll?”

  “Who knows? It could have been anything that triggered him to do that. You said that his mother had just finished yelling at him. Maybe he was angry, and he walked past your room and saw the doll. It was an innocent object with no feelings, and therefore safe.”

  “Or maybe he was mad at me and wanted to get back at me.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Because I was female. It couldn’t be because I replaced him in his mother’s affections because that was definitely not the case.”

  “I think the point is that we never know what our actions can do to a person in their formative years.”

  “Are you saying that my aunt created a monster?”

  “Maybe.”

  The hansom pulled up to their house, and Jacob exited, taking her hand to help her down. As they climbed the steps Charlotte was startled to find Suzette sitting there, a large bruise purpling her eye.

  Suzette stood slowly, wincing, her eyes darting around fearfully. She looked like a different person than when Charlotte and Jacob had left her in the rookery. Thinner, frightened, sick.

  “Suzette?” Charlotte asked. “What happened to you?” One eye was bloodshot, a ring of purple and blue bruises around it. “Come inside.”

  Charlotte led a silent Suzette into Jacob’s front office while shooting Jacob a concerned look.

  “I’ll ask Mrs. Smith to bring some tea.” Jacob disappeared down the hall.

  Charlotte sat Suzette in one of the chairs and knelt in front of her. “Tell me what happened.”

  Suzette began to cry, huge sobs that shook her thin frame. Charlotte handed her a handkerchief from her reticule.

  “I didn’t know where else to go,” she said between sobs.

  “You’re welcome here.”

  “The maid called you her ladyship. Is that true? Are you a lady?”

  Charlotte hesitated. She and Suzette had never shared their past, had never told each other where they had come from or why they were in the rookery. It had been a time of survival, and Charlotte had guarded her identity.

  “I am the granddaughter of a marquess.”

  Suzette wiped her eyes. “I always knew there was more to you than a rat in the rookery. A true lady, huh?”

  “I wasn’t raised as one, and truthfully I don’t even know if I qualify as a lady. My mother was one.” Charlotte hesitated. “Mrs. Smith calls me a lady because I married Jacob.”

  Suzette’s eyes widened. “My, aren’t we full of surprises. You up and married the solicitor.”

  “He’s actually an earl.”

  Suzette barked out a laugh. “Well, that’s rich, in all ways. From the rookery to royalty.”

  “A countess is not royalty.”

  “Close as.” Suzette sounded bitter as she stared down at the balled-up handkerchief in her hands. “Wish I had me a rich gent who’d sweep me out of the rookery and give me a title.”

  Charlotte was feeling a bit uneasy. This was a different Suzette. Not the laughing, feisty woman she’d met in the rookery. She was relieved when Mrs. Smith and Jacob entered with tea and biscuits.

  “This will warm you up,” Charlotte said a bit too brightly as she poured Suzette tea and handed her a plate with biscuits. She remembered the first time she had come here and had eyed the plate of sandwiches, thinking it seemed like so much food, and how hungry she had been and how much she’d wanted to shove every one of those sandwiches in her mouth but had somehow refrained.

  Suzette was eyeing those biscuits the same way.

  “Mrs. Smith,” Charlotte said. “Do we have any of that cherry pie left over from last night?”

  Mrs. Smith eyed Suzette warily. “Some.”

  “Can you pack some up for Miss Suzette? Along with any other food we can spare?”

  Mrs. Smith hesitated, then nodded and left to gather the food.

  “Miss Suzette.” Suzette snorted.

  Jacob pulled a chair up and sat down. “What can we do for you, Suzette?”

  She eyed Jacob with her one good eye. “I got myself in a bit of a bind.”

  “What kind of a bind?”

  “Just a spot of gambling. I owe a few people.”

  Charlotte’s heart sank. She’d given Suzette almost all of the money she had so that Suzette could remain in their lodgings, but it seemed Suzette had gambled it all away.

  “How much do you owe?” Jacob asked.

  Suzette whispered an amount that made Charlotte gasp. “How in the world did you lose that much money? How did you have that much money to lose?”

  Suzette looked offended. “They spotted me the coin, and they were fleecing me. Cheaters, the lot of them. I was playing fair and square, but they wasn’t.”

  “I’ll give you the money,” Jacob said.

  Charlotte looked at him in surprise.

  Suzette’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I knew you would help. I just knew you had a good heart and wouldn’t want to see Charlotte’s friend suffer. Thank you.”

  Jacob held up his hand. “There are restrictions.”

  Suzette sniffed and looked at Jacob warily, as did Charlotte. This was a side of Jacob that she had never seen before. A hard side.

  “If I give you this money, I don’t want you to darken this doorstep again.”

  Suzette’s gaze swept over Charlotte then shifted away as a guilty look crossed her face. Charlotte felt used, and it saddened her. She’d considered Suzette a friend, and Lord knew that Suzette had helped Charlotte out of a difficult situation when she’d first entered the rookery. It was Suzette who had taught her how to survive. But the rookery was all about survival, using what resources you had and doing whatever it took to make it to the next day.

  Suzette knew that she could count on Charlotte, but Jacob was right, they had to draw a line, especially now that Suzette knew that Jacob was an earl and she his countess. If they didn’t put an end to this, Suzette would be on their doorstep asking for money every week.

  “I thank ye,” she said quietly, but Charlotte could see the seething anger in her eyes.

  Charlotte looked at her friend sadly. Not because she was upset that Suzette wanted to use her, but because Suzette was in that situation in the first place and that the woman felt there was no escape, no hope for a better future.

  Jacob left the room, and the two of them sat in awkward silence.

  “Go ahead and take another biscuit.”

  Suzette shoved a whole biscuit in her mouth and put another in her pocket.

  “I’d like to help you, Suzette.” There had to be something she could do, something other than giving Suzette money.

  Suzette’s expression softened. “There ain’t nothing for me out here. Not like there was for you. You were different. I always knew that.”

  “You don’t know until you try.”

  Suzette smiled sadly. “You weren’t ever cut out for the rookery anyway. I knew that soon as I saw you. Knew I had to take you under my wing or you’d be eaten alive.”

  Charlotte’s throat tightened with emotion. “I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”

  Suzette waved her dirty hand in the air in dismissal. “The theater is working well for me. I have a steady job. Most people can’t say that.”

  “What about the gambling?”

  Suzette shrugged. “It’s just a spot of fun. Everyone needs a spot of fun now and then.”

  “Most people’s spot of fun doesn’t get them beat up.”

  Suzette gingerly touched her
eye and looked away. “Won’t happen again.”

  Charlotte figured that it probably would happen again. “I can’t keep giving you money.”

  “I ain’t asking for more money after this.”

  “But I can try to help you out of your situation.”

  “What situation? It’s my life. It’s who I am. Hell, my mother was born and raised in the rookery and raised me the same. Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of. We’re just different than you, that’s all.”

  Just different. But not really. They both had hopes and dreams and fears and all of the emotions that normal people had.

  “We’re not so different,” Charlotte said.

  Jacob entered and handed Suzette a bag of coins. Charlotte could hear them clinking as Suzette put the bag in her pocket.

  “There’s some extra for rent and food,” Jacob said.

  “Thank you.” Suzette looked embarrassed for a moment. “I best be going. I won’t be back. I can promise you that.”

  “You’re welcome to visit,” Jacob said.

  “Nah. I’ll be moving on. Find something better. Maybe I can find some work in those factories in the country. I could use a touch of country air.”

  Charlotte hugged Suzette, feeling her fragile bones beneath the thin gown. For a moment Suzette didn’t move, then she hugged Charlotte back tightly.

  “Stay safe, Suzette. Be careful out there.” She thought of the dead women and how they had probably been much like Suzette. Working women who didn’t have much to their name. Perfect victims because they were the forgotten ones.

  Charlotte watched as Suzette left, her slight form disappearing into the shadows. Jacob put his arm around her, and she leaned into him.

  “I feel bad for her,” Charlotte said.

  “If we keep giving her money she’ll continue to get into trouble and expect us to bail her out.”

  “I know. I just wish I could do more for her.”

  “She has to want to help herself.”

  “I can’t help but think that she is exactly the type of person that this killer would go after. No one would know if she disappeared. No one would care.”

  “And that’s why he picks those women.”