A Death for a Cause

by Caroline Dunford

  ‘I have smelling salts in my reticule – oh, blast it. They took that away,’ said Martha. ‘Fan her face.’

  ‘With what?’ said Abigail as Eunice flapped her hands uselessly around her sister’s face. ‘Undo her stays, you silly besom. There’s no way she should have slept in something that tight. It’s a wonder there’s any blood left in her head.’

  ‘Allow me,’ said Constance. She turned Jasmine on her side and then quickly and efficiently loosened her stays. Gradually the colour came back to Jasmine’s face. Constance helped her sit up slowly and demanded someone find her a glass of water.

  I found some leftover water in a forgotten mug and passed it to her. ‘Did you learn about this sort of thing from your husband?’ I asked, impressed.

  Constance nodded. ‘I asked him for information on the sort of injuries that one might expect to find after a march.’

  ‘He does not mind you attending?’ asked Martha.

  ‘Of course not,’ said Constance. ‘He says that in another time I would have had the brains to be a doctor myself.’

  ‘What a forward-thinking man,’ said Martha in somewhat shocked tones.

  ‘There are women who have qualified as doctors, I believe,’ said Mary. ‘A very few indeed. Of course they are not allowed to practise.’

  ‘Then what the hell is the bleedin’ point?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘Why, to show the men they are capable,’ said Mary. ‘Just as I have taken degree examinations, but will never be awarded a degree in my lifetime, despite my excellent marks.’

  ‘I do believe the female brain, while smaller, makes many more internal connections than the male, and thus leads to a superior intelligence when correctly trained.’ Angela Blackwood spoke for the first time. ‘I am an amateur, but extremely keen, anatomist and botanist. Angela Blackwood. You may have heard of me.’

  26 Only a man could have come up with a name like that. It sounds terribly school boyish to me.

  27 I am of course imagining what a bear would sound like. I have yet to meet one. Although my life has so far proved so unpredictable that I am not ruling out encountering a bear one day.

  28 Not that I have ever been to India, but I can imagine. Stapleford Hall had a rug that was once a tiger and still displayed quite daunting teeth and claws. I used to dream it had awakened and was stalking the house looking for people to eat. When I told Merry, she said she would leave a trail of breadcrumbs from it to Richard Stapleford’s study just in case.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Introductions

  ‘I am afraid I did not know.’ Mary was the first to recover. ‘It is not my field of speciality.’

  ‘Yes, I heard you say you were an academic,’ said Angela brusquely. ‘Never wanted to have a man sanctioning my learning.’

  ‘The college I attended was entirely staffed by women,’ said Mary calmly.

  ‘Bet they were all appointed by men. All their learning would come from books written by men. I make up my own mind.’

  ‘But you cannot disregard the accumulated knowledge of all those who have gone before us,’ said Mary astonished.

  ‘Don’t see why not,’ snapped Angela. ‘A sharp knife and a dead rabbit will teach me as much as any anatomy book.’

  ‘But not of human anatomy,’ I pointed out.

  ‘Yes, well, I’m wearing one, aren’t I?’ She waggled a long finger at us, and I could not help noticing the fingernail was ragged and especially dirty.

  ‘How extraordinary,’ exclaimed Martha, putting into words what we were doubtless all thinking; then she added, none too quietly, ‘She must be quite mad.’

  ‘Doubtless I would be considered so by some,’ answered Angela, ‘but for me the world is full of the insane and I am among the few to notice.’

  ‘As an anatomist,’ I ventured, ‘do you have any views on how a young woman might be strangled silently with a stocking.’

  Angela shrugged. ‘Easily enough. Tie a knot in the stocking. Get that over the lump you have here in your throat.’ She thrust out a grimy hand to touch my neck. I managed to force myself not to step back, but I could not repress a wince. ‘Preferably have her on the front. Knee in the back, cross the stocking and pull. She wasn’t much of a girl. I doubt it would have taken much effort or much time. Of course, the better the stocking the better it would have worked.’

  ‘And how would you know this?’ asked Mary.

  Angela tapped the side of her temple. ‘The application of a little logical thought.’ She gave a sneer showing yellowed teeth. ‘I would have thought a mathematician, of all people, would be able to do some rudimentary deduction.’

  Jasmine gave a low moan. ‘Oh my dear,’ said Eunice, patting her hand. ‘Mrs Woodley, do you think she will recover?’

  Constance came over and sat beside Jasmine again. She took her wrist in a light grip and closed her eyes. A moment later she commented, ‘Her pulse is still a little fluttery, but it is quite clearly there.’

  ‘If she didn’t have one she’d be dead,’ said Angela sharply. ‘Any fool can see she’s still breathing despite those damn fool things!’ She indicated the half-open stays. I had to agree that the Pettigrew sisters, perhaps in deference to their age and experience, were among the most tightly laced women I have ever beheld. ‘Never wear underthings myself. Much better to let nature do its work and have a fresh flow of air round there!’

  Jasmine, who had opened her eyes at this extraordinary speech, gave a little cry and slumped back down on the floor.

  ‘Playacting,’ muttered Angela, none too quietly. I felt she had a point, but I was aware I would make myself extremely unpopular if I sided with her. As it was my frequent trips away from the cell would surely have aroused suspicions. And as if on cue, Abigail Stokes rounded on me. ‘Where you been gadding off to again?’ she snarled. ‘You a coppers’ nark?’

  ‘Is there anything in particular you are worried about me narking about?’ I countered. I sensed with Abigail one needed to give as good as one got.

  ‘You saying I’m a murderer?’ growled Abigail.

  ‘It appears one of us is,’ said Mary calmly.

  ‘Yeah, that’s as may be, but I want to know if Lady High-and-Mighty here is accusing me.’

  ‘I am accusing no one,’ I said as icily as I could, ‘and I am hardly high and mighty. I am the paid companion of Richenda Muller.’

  ‘A German?’ asked Abigail. She spat on the floor. ‘Bloody Germans.’

  ‘We have met some very nice German people on our walking holidays,’ said Eunice suddenly. ‘A most tidy and correct people.’

  ‘Lovely table manners,’ added Jasmine weakly.

  ‘Oh, Jasmine,’ cried Eunice. She and Constance helped Jasmine to sit up.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Mary, ‘it might help if we shared a little of ourselves with each other.’

  ‘What good would that do?’ demanded Angela, ‘The murderess is bound to lie.’

  ‘But the others will tell the truth,’ I countered.

  ‘Think you’ll be able to tell the difference?’ asked Angela. ‘It seems to me that even those of you who are supposedly trained in the ways of analysis have exceptionally poor skills.’

  ‘I think it would be a good idea,’ said Constance. ‘If we all work together perhaps we will be able to expose the killer in our midst.’

  Jasmine gave another little moan at this. Constance gave her a sideways glance and an expression I recognised crossed her face. It was exactly how I felt when Richenda was being particularly tiresome.29

  ‘We could start with explaining why we joined the Sisterhood?’ suggested Mary. ‘As I have said I am a trained mathematician, but barred from holding the same degree as my male peers despite proving I am their equal. I feel the injustice between the sexes most keenly.’

  ‘As some of you know I am a doctor’s wife,’ said Constance, picking up the thread, ‘My husband is keen for our son to follow in his footsteps, but it is already clear to me that my daughter is the brighte
r of the two. Why should she not enjoy the same opportunities?’

  ‘Because it is our duty to bear sons and daughters for our husbands,’ cut in Martha Lake.

  ‘Regretting joining the Shrieking Sisterhood, are you?’ asked Abigail.

  Martha blushed red. ‘I do not wish to disturb the natural order of things. A woman’s role is to raise children for the future of the Empire. It is her whole purpose in life.’ There was a sharp intake of breath and I saw Eunice’s mouth was tightly pursed. Even her fingers had curled into fists. ‘However,’ said Martha. She licked her lips. ‘However, I do see that women are as intelligent as men. Often more so.’ She gave a short little laugh. ‘And I think it is right we have a say in the running of things. I believe we should have the vote.’

  ‘What about earning our own livings?’ burst out Eunice. ‘It may be alright for those born into the upper classes, or those endowed with such natural graces that they avail themselves of marriage to escape their station, but some of us have little choice. My sister and I cared for elderly father until his death two years ago. He had been respectably in trade, but the early death of our mother in a terrible accident and the ruination of his business by an unscrupulous banker, occasioned the loss of his health. For the greater part of our lives my sister and I have supported him through our work as teachers.’

  ‘And we were happy to do so,’ added Jasmine. A tear trickled down her cheek.

  ‘But as impoverished school teachers with a dependent father and, we both own it, no exceptional looks, there was never any prospect of marriage for either of us. Let alone bearing children.’

  ‘No indeed,’ said Jasmine. ‘But working with them helped, didn’t it, dear?’

  ‘Of course, dear,’ responded Eunice, ‘we have helped shape the minds of many children. Who knows but that one of them may not do the Empire a great service.’

  ‘Or you may have simply helped them grow into decent, moral adults,’ I said. ‘That in itself is a worthy life choice.’

  ‘Thank you, my dear,’ said Eunice. ‘Not everyone appreciates that the natural human animal is one that comes completely uncivilised into the world. Manners may maketh man, but they must be learned.’

  ‘Oh, give me strength,’ muttered Angela.

  ‘I assume your reason for joining the Sisterhood is that you believe men and women are created equal.’

  ‘No,’ snapped Angela. ‘I believe women are better. In fact I prefer women.’

  Again there was the sound of intakes of breath while this statement was considered. ‘Well, I don’t,’ said Abigail firmly. ‘I like men a lot of the time.’ She nodded at Martha, ‘Though I accept a lot of them can be right little bug –’ she coughed and corrected herself, ‘blighters. My mam’s mam was a worker in a mill. She was one of twelve. Didn’t fancy spending her whole life in the mill, so she ran off to London to make her fortune.’

  ‘That would not seem very wise,’ said Eunice, frowning.

  ‘Nah,’ said Abigail, ‘it wasn’t, but she didn’t have a lot of options, did she? Had even bleedin’ less in London. Ended up, like most of you ladies have guessed, walking the streets. That’s ’ow I came about,’ she looked around and seemed to stare at Martha in particular, ‘but despite how she had to earn her crust, she were a good ma. Determined I wouldn’t end up the same way she did. Saved up she did and apprenticed me to a seamstress. Now, I sew gowns for some of the finest in the land. Not that they will ever know it.’

  And your mother, dear?’ asked Jasmine.

  ‘Dead, I expect. Didn’t want me to be associated with what she did – and the seamstress who took me on, only did ’cause Mam overpaid and promised not to hang around me.’

  ‘You can’t know that,’ I said.

  ‘Lifespan on the streets ain’t that long,’ said Abigail. ‘Besides, she’d be too old for the game by now. One of her men or the drink will have done for her.’

  ‘Good heavens,’ I said, ‘how terrible. She must have been very brave.’

  Abigail gave me a strange look.

  ‘Very foolish,’ said Martha. ‘If she’d stayed in the place God had given her she would have been perfectly safe.’

  ‘I take it you have never visited a mill?’ asked Constance. Martha reddened further. ‘Neither have I,’ continued Constance, ‘but my husband has been called to attend accidents at one and the stories he has told me would make your blood run cold if I were to repeat them.’

  ‘Sounds to me like you lot are of more a load of Bolsheviks than women seeking enfranchisement!’ said Angela from the corner, where she retreated to.

  ‘What about you, coppers’ nark?’ asked Abigail, but she seemed less angry and more curious.

  ‘I confess I am here by mistake. I foolishly failed to realise my employer’s intent, nor why she had dressed me in this fashion.’ I looked around at seven pairs of eyes that now seemed a lot less friendly. ‘However, I do support the right of women to have the vote. I believe that many women, like Mary, Eunice, Jasmine, and Constance’s daughter, are capable of great intellectual feats and that we are denied our rightful place in what we call civilised society.’

  ‘And exactly how do you support the cause?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘I am forthright in my views,’ I said.

  ‘But you don’t march or give public speeches?’

  I shook my head. ‘Until today those opportunities have been denied to me. Generally we live quite quietly in the country.’

  ‘Well that’s got us a lot further forward, hasn’t it?’ said Angela sarcastically.

  I did not respond, but in my heart I agreed with her. I felt we had come no nearer to finding who was the murderess in our midst and the thought of spending another night in this cell filled me with horror.

  29 That is to say, the recipient of the glance could do with a jolly good slap.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fitzroy Frets

  It is difficult to tell the time when incarcerated. Time stretches and overfills one’s attention. After the bout of exchanges between us, the women again lapsed into silence. Eunice and Jasmine whispered quietly to one another from time to time. And when the guard came past us at what I imagined was luncheon time to inflict upon us yet more stale bread, this time accompanied with a hard-rinded cheese that was well beyond its best, they did their best to convince the young guard that they required the return of their knitting bag, which remarkably they had brought upon their trip with them to the march.

  ‘You never know when you will able to snatch a moment,’ Eunice had explained.

  ‘My sister and I are avid knitters,’ contributed Jasmine.

  ‘We were raised never to be idle,’ interjected Eunice. I thought for one remarkable moment that the guard would cave under their onslaught. He could not have been more than two and twenty, and sported eight or nine hairs proudly on his upper lip. He was polite and it was clear that dealing with what might otherwise have been considered ‘ladies’ he felt quite unsuited to deal with their various demands. He had also most foolishly stepped inside the cell rather than shoving the food through and escaping as the others had done. Now, he was caught between the two sisters, who hovered mere inches from his person. Sweat beaded on his forehead and I felt a little sorry for him. Though not sorry enough to intervene.

  ‘Poor boy,’ said Mary quietly at my side. ‘Should we rescue him?’

  ‘He should be ashamed of supporting the harassment of women,’ I retorted loud enough to see the tops of his ears glow red.

  ‘I imagine he needs to keep his job,’ said Mary. ‘Not all of us are lucky enough to enjoy a private income.’

  Stung by her words, I snapped, ‘I have been quite clear that I am a paid companion.’

  ‘I was referring to myself,’ said Mary calmly. She tilted her head to one side, ‘It must have occurred to you that I was fortunate in my circumstances. One does need to pay for university tuition, regardless of whether one is awarded a degree.’

  Now it was my turn to
blush. Mary’s manners were those of a woman gently bred, but the surname she had given me was a most ordinary one. I had also gained the impression that she was unwed. She certainly wore no ring on her finger. Of course I had no way of verifying anything that any of these ladies claimed without resorting to Fitzroy, but the back of my neck was tingling and I had begun to suspect that Mary Hill harboured more than one mystery.

  ‘Ah, they have let him go,’ said the object of my attention. I turned to see the guard now on the other side of the cell door, locking it behind him. The expression on his face was one of unguarded relief. Eunice and Jasmine retired to their favourite spot on the bench and commenced whispering to one another again. ‘I must confess to being somewhat relieved that he appears to have denied their request,’ said Mary, so softly that I could barely hear her. ‘The thought of knitting needles among us in the cell when we have already had one death would, to me, not be conducive of a decent night’s sleep.’

  ‘You mean they could be used as a weapon,’ I responded shocked. ‘You think Eunice and Jasmine …’

  ‘My dear, at this point I suspect everyone,’ said Mary. ‘I am convinced that poor little Maisie would not have harmed a fly. I cannot conceive of a reason for her to be killed unless one of our cellmates harbours some unnatural tendencies or an affliction of brainstorms.’

  It was with these ominous words still echoing in my brain that I entered the room where Fitzroy awaited me. It appeared he shared my concerns, for I had been summoned once again. The doctor awaited to check my injury and once more a civilised meal awaited me. Fitzroy and I ate in silence. I was preoccupied with my own thoughts and the spy seemed intent on watching me closely. I therefore took the only option open to me inside a locked room and ignored him completely. When we had finished, never a stickler for convention, he poured me a cup of coffee himself. ‘Are you still determined to stay in the cell overnight?’

  ‘I cannot say I am looking forward to the experience, but I feel it is my duty.’

  ‘I warn you, Euphemia, this is your last chance. I will from now only remove you from the situation if you expressly ask. I have wasted more than enough time on this point.’