Mark and I involuntarily exchanged looks. ‘Ah, so that’s how it is,’ said the horrible little man. ‘A little tit for tat. That’s what you were up to. Never mind. I’ll hand her back to you when I’m finished.’
‘I am under orders to return her to her cell,’ said Mark, barely masking his confusion.
‘Yeah, well, there’s another toff what wants to see her. Dead popular, she is. Free with your favours, are you, luv? I can be a lot nicer than I appear.’
I shrank back against Mark. ‘I’ll take her down,’ said Mark firmly.
‘Suit yourself,’ said the sergeant. ‘Same room.’
Mark led me off. I glanced back and the sergeant blew a kiss at me. ‘You’ve got to get me out of here,’ I hissed at Mark. ‘I do not feel safe with that man on duty.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Mark in my ear, as she showed me into the room. There, waiting for me, pacing backwards and forwards, was an agitated Richenda. She flew at me the moment Mark let me go and embraced me. I managed to brace myself against the wall. ‘Thank goodness, you are safe.’
‘Has Hans seen you?’ I asked.
‘I saw him coming out of the station as I was heading in. I hid behind a dustcart. It was terribly smelly, but I needed something of decent size to ensure I was not spotted. Rather reminded one of playing Hide and Seek with Bertram when we were all little. Little rotters that we were, Bertram had a habit of climbing into cupboards to hide and we always locked him in! But as to Hans, I rather think he has come to take me home.’
A mulish look crossed Richenda’s face, so I said, ‘I think you should go. Amy will be missing you.’
Richenda pursed her lips and gave herself a little shake.37 ‘I have every intention of going home,’ she said. ‘I do not need to be fetched like some lost puppy!’ She stretched out a hand to me and touched my arm. ‘I am very sorry to be leaving you, but you are right that my daughter needs me and at least Bertram is now in town. You, at least, seem to find him of use.’
‘Yes, he has visited me.’
‘I only came to tell you what I had discovered before I left.’ A mischievous smile crossed her face, ‘I must say, if this what all your adventures are like they must be jolly fun.’ I looked at her aghast. Richenda batted her hand in front of her face as if she was waving away a fly. ‘I do not mean the being locked in jail part. That was frightful.’ She gave an exaggerated shudder and I had a sudden vision of her regaling her next suffragettes meeting of all her doubtless exaggerated sufferings, and glowing in their praise.
‘… is rather fun!’
‘What did you say?’ I asked. ‘I am afraid I am rather tired.’
‘I said this business of asking questions and looking for clues is rather fun.’
‘What have you done?’ I asked, trembling inwardly.
‘No more than you asked,’ replied Richenda. ‘I asked around a few of the ladies I know – and it took quite some doing, I can tell you. If she had been of my class it would have been easier, but I had to ask a whole range of people to get down to that level.’
I looked at her blankly.
‘The woman, who died, Agnes whatever her name was, lived in a reasonably respectable boarding house.’
I straightened up at this. So she had not lived in the store as was the norm for shop girls.
‘She was on reasonable terms with other women on her floor. Their landlady is a bit of a dragon, but I soon saw to her! Tried to pose as a lady come down in the world. As if! Anyway, she insists they all take dinner together at night. She locks her doors at 9.30 p.m. to prevent immoral behaviour. As if immoral behaviour is confined to the hours of darkness. Although I suppose some of it is.’
I bit my tongue and let her ramble on. I hoped she would soon reach the point.
‘Anyway, one of the dead girl’s particular friends was a Miss Annie Hallows, who is also a suffragette.’
‘So that’s how you traced her!’
Richenda gave me a fierce-some look and continued. ‘Of course, the landlady is much against such matters, so it had created a bond between them. So much so that Miss Hallows told me she and Agnes had been planning on attending the march together. I take it from other comments she made that Agnes was not of an overly likeable character, but she was a most devout suffragette.’ Richenda gave a big sigh. ‘Anyway,’ she reiterated, ‘the morning of the march Agnes received a letter.’
‘What did it say?’
‘Miss Hallows only knew of it as she heard the landlady knocking early on Agnes’ door. She admits to opening the door a crack. Apparently, it was most unusual for the landlady to venture above stairs unless she was collecting overdue rent and Miss Hallows says Agnes what’s-her-name was always very correct and proper about paying on time. Anyway,’ – under the table I clenched my right hand into a fist, allowing the nails to dig in a little – ‘anyway, she was very put out. The landlady, that is. She said she had been awoken early by a special post for Agnes what’s-her-name and she was not used to such goings-on in her lodgings.’
‘How did Aggie react?’
‘That’s the funny thing. Miss Hallows said she seemed quite as put out as the landlady. She certainly hadn’t been expecting anything. She said as much and the landlady immediately said she hoped it was not bad news. Miss Hallows said she – the landlady – is a bit of a nosy parker and it was clear Agnes what’s-her-name wasn’t going to get rid of her now until she’d opened the letter. I mean, I would have told her where to get off, but I suppose if you owe the roof over your head to someone else, you can’t be quite as forthright.’
I gave a level look, but Richenda missed my meaning entirely.
‘Anyway, so here is Miss Hallows still listening through the crack in the door and she hears Agnes …’
‘Her name was Aggie Phelps,’ I said, unable to contain myself any longer. ‘Are you sure you got the right woman?’
‘No, you’re right, that was it. Agnes. Aggie. Probably short for Agnes anyway. Anyway, Aggie said it was a letter from a friend, but Miss Hallows said she sounded very surprised. Like she had looked at the signature and given a little start.’
‘That’s a bit fanciful,’ I said gently.
‘Anyway,’ continued Richenda, ‘the landlady was not one to easily give up and she pressed hard for more details.’
I held my breath.
‘But all Agnes – Aggie – said was, and her Miss Hallows is quite clear on this because of what came afterwards, that a good friend required an urgent favour and would Mrs Breem, that’s the landlady, excuse her at once.’ Richenda sat back in her seat, looking pleased. ‘What do you think of that?’
‘What happened afterwards,’ I prompted.
‘Oh yes, that. She – Aggie – knocked on Miss Hallows’ door and explained she would no longer be able to go with Miss Hallows to the march. Miss Hallows said you could have knocked her down with a feather. They had been arranging it for months. Apparently women who work only get so much free time, so it had been quite a big issue for them to arrange time for both of them to be off work together. So much so that Miss Hallows said she became quite angry. Something she regrets now, of course, and demanded to know the reason why there plans were to be so disrupted, but all Aggie would say was exactly what she had told Mrs Breem and no more. ‘
‘Did she say if Aggie seemed frightened?’
‘I thought of that,’ said Richenda triumphantly. ‘Miss Hallows said she did not seem frightened. If anything she seemed more confused. As if she was very much taken aback by what was in the letter. Miss Hallows pressed her for details, but Aggie said the letter swore her to secrecy and she could not on her honour as a suffragette say more. Indeed Miss Hallows said it took a great deal of persuasion even to get her to say as much. Of course, now she believes the letter was instructing Aggie to take the firebomb to the station and she blames herself for not insisting on knowing more.’
‘Does she think Aggie was capable of such a thing?’
‘I
asked that too,’ said Richenda beaming. ‘Poor thing broke down at that. I had to make her a cup of tea on her own little stove. Not that she drank it.’
I kept silent. I could only imagine what tea made by a woman who had never set foot in a kitchen might be like.
‘She said if anyone had said anything like this about Aggie before the incident she would have refused to accept it.’
‘Yet now that it has happened she is not so sure?’
‘Exactly. I must say, you are quite sharp, aren’t you, Euphemia? Anyway, the poor woman was all torn up about it. It seems Aggie was certainly one for smashing windows, something her friend had never done. Miss Hallows is not your more militant type, if I am any judge. Much more your reasoning female. I get the impression that perhaps Aggie was trying to make her more active. She said that Aggie had invited her to some meetings which were not generally open to the public, but she had had to decline due to her work commitments. She said she was very glad she had not gone, as goodness knows where it might have led her. I thought it rather a shame as it might have led us to some women who knew more. I’m presuming they were active planning meetings for civil disobedience.’
‘I should imagine so,’ I said. ‘Honestly, Richenda, you have done brilliantly. Where was this lodging.’
She gave me the address and then leant over the table, speaking in a quiet voice. ‘I think that means one of the women in the cell with you must have been in on it too. What about the dead girl?’
‘You mean another member of the group feared she might say give them away?’
‘Exactly,’ said Richenda,’ and killed her to keep her own skin safe. I imagine after you have killed once it gets easier. Like eating oysters. They seems so slimy at first, but one quite gets into the way of it after the first half-dozen.’
‘I can’t imagine Maisie involved in any such thing. She was so timid.’
‘Maybe she saw or overheard something? That would be enough if you feared being hanged, wouldn’t it?’
‘I suppose so,’ I said slowly. ‘I hate to think these murders are down to the Sisterhood.’
‘I agree,’ said Richenda, looking downcast. Then she collected herself. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I must go back to the hotel and Hans.’
37 Not unlike her horse, which she unfortunately resembles, does at home when it is refused an apple.
Chapter Twenty
A séance in a cell
By the time I returned to the cell the day was ending. A dusky light filtered through the bars, casting a grey shade over the faces of the women inside.
‘Ah, you’re back,’ said Angela. ‘I reckon we can start now.’
‘Start what?’
‘Why, the séance, of course.’
‘What was it this time?’ asked Abigail Stokes with a sneer. ‘Swapping recipes with the sergeant?’
I could not repress a shudder at the thought of Sergeant Givens. ‘No, it was my employer.’
‘Been fired, have you?’
‘No, he has hired a lawyer to defend me.’
‘Blimey,’ said Abigail, looking genuinely taken aback. She turned her back on me, but I thought I heard her mutter, ‘that’ll set the cat among the pigeons.’
It occurred to me then that perhaps giving the impression I might be out of there soon might put me in danger. I mentally shrugged off the idea. After all, I had seen nothing on the day of the march and hopefully whoever was Aggie Phelps’ partner-in-crime knew that. I found myself reconsidering the women in the cell in the light of what Richenda and I had discussed. It seemed most likely Abigail Stokes would be the culprit. Although I could not rule out Angela Blackwood, but she was an odd fish and I could not rightly pin down her motivations.
‘In a circle, please, ladies,’ said my odd fish.
‘Oh, Eunice, do you think we should?’ wavered Jasmine. ‘I doubt Father would approve.’
‘Then if Miss Blackwood really can contact the dead perhaps he will come through and tell us so,’ said the practical Eunice.
Miss Blackwood flashed Eunice a smile. ‘Who knows what spirits are liable to come this way? I have no control over the dead. I can only petition that they speak to us.’
Mary Hill settled herself on the floor, arranging her skirts neatly around her. ‘I am quite content to join the experiment, Angela,’ she said, ‘but I have to tell you I am not a believer.’ I sat down next to her.
Abigail sighed and said obscurely, ‘In for a penny’ and joined us. The Pettigrews were fussing, sweeping aside space on the floor for themselves to sit.
‘So unladylike,’ muttered Jasmine. ‘Our dresses will be quite ruined.’
‘Sister, I hate to tell you,’ said Eunice, ‘but when we are released we will need to burn these clothes. I fear mine are already infested.’
‘Aw, Gawd,’ said Abigail, ‘I should have bleedin’ known it! Fleas.’
‘It was really only a matter of time,’ said Mary Hill. ‘This place is most insanitary.’
Martha Lake stood hesitating on the edge of the circle. Angela looked up at her. ‘I need everyone if this is to work. Do you have a moral objection, Mrs Lake?’
‘No, not as such,’ said Martha. ‘I too wonder if it right to tamper with such things, but I am aware it is not unusual for séances to be held in the best drawing-rooms.’
Abigail gave a crack of laughter at this. ‘Let’s hope the spirits don’t mind coming down a bit in the world.’
‘They are beyond such things,’ said Angela haughtily. ‘Now, if you would take your seat, Mrs Lake. I can begin. I warn you that this is not a light undertaking and there are dangers –’
‘Oh dear,’ wailed Jasmine.
‘But,’ said Angela, raising her voice to speak over her, ‘if you follow my instructions no harm will come to anyone in this room.’
The rest of us looked up expectantly at Martha. She sat down in the space left between Angela and Eunice. ‘Now, if you could all hold hands,’ said Angela. ‘It is not quite as dark as I would like …’ Even as she said it the light level dropped and the air turned a little colder. ‘Ah,’ said Angela, ‘good. If you wish you may close your eyes. Especially if it helps you concentrate. Once we begin at no time must the circle be broken. Hands are only to be released when the spirits had been banished once more.’
‘So you do send them away?’ asked Jasmine.
‘Yes,’ said Angela.
‘But I thought you said they were always with us,’ commented Mary. She said this in an enquiring sort of tone rather than a sarcastic one, but Angela’s eyes flashed.
‘They are indeed always with us, Miss Hill, but it is only with the help of a medium that they can transcend into a communicative state. It is from that state I will banish them when we have concluded our business.’
‘Oh, that sounds so unpleasant,’ said Jasmine. ‘To be wandering the earth, seeing all, but being able to speak to no one.’
‘That is why people such I as exist,’ said Angela, her tone becoming increasingly acerbic. ‘Now, let us begin. I will call upon the spirit of Maisie and ask her to come to us.’
‘So you do not have a spirit guide,’ asked Martha. ‘I thought that was quite the fashion.’
‘I do not need one,’ snapped Angela. ‘I am in harmony with the other side.’
‘How uncomfortable,’ muttered someone.
‘Ladies! Please! We are here to avenge the death of a poor young girl. Let us take this situation seriously. Unless, one of you has good reason not to wish tonight’s séance to work?’
‘Like being the murderess?’ said Abigail Stokes. ‘I’m game. Call ’em up.’
The other women all nodded. The coldness of the cell was increasing. I told myself that this was only because we were seated, and not moving around as we were wont to do to keep warm. ‘I warn you my voice may change,’ said Angela, ‘but do not be afraid. Others may speak through me.’
Jasmine suppressed a little squeak as a glance from Angela quelled her. ‘Now to begi
n with, if you could all close your eyes and concentrate on the face of Maisie.’ I closed my eyes and lowered my head so I could peek, hopefully unseen. Angela’s eyes were open and she raised her head to the ceiling. Why, I wondered, do mediums always look at ceilings. If we were outside under the sky it would make sense, but inside surely the spirits would not be hiding among the ceiling plaster.
‘Is there anybody there?’ she said in a deeper voice than she was wont to use. ‘I am calling to the other side as my grandmother and mother did before me. I am Angela Blackwood and I am using my gift to open the channel between worlds. Is there anybody there, who wants to speak to anybody here?’
There was silence. I felt a shiver run down my back, but I was more concerned it might be a flea than a spirit. My left leg was beginning to ache. None of us gently bred ladies were used to sitting on the floor. I straightened my shoulders and adjusted my posture to a more correct attitude. As I did so I could have sworn I felt a light touch on the nape of my neck. My head shot up. My eyes open, ready to spot the trickery. Everyone in the circle was still present. Indeed with the exception of Angela, whose eyes appeared to have rolled back in her head, everyone else had their eyes tightly closed.
‘OMMMM!’ said Angela in a deep voice. ‘OMMMM!’
I observed Jasmine Pettigrew screw her eyes even tighter shut, so her face resembled nothing less than a pickled walnut. Abigail Stokes heaved a large sigh. Mary’s face was calm. Martha had her head bowed like mine. Was she too sneaking a glance around the circle? She looked more as if she was at prayer.
‘I feel you,’ moaned Angela. ‘I feel you! Someone is coming through.’ Jasmine gave another little smothered squeak of dismay. Honestly, her lips were almost touching her eyebrows now. She looked grotesque. Could this be a sign of guilty fear or simply superstition? I would have expected a schoolmistress to have a cooler head,
‘Here she comes,’ wailed Angela is a high-pitched screech that made me wince. Though I remained rather colder than before, I did not believe this was caused by any wandering spirits. To me Angela’s theatrics were almost comical. I had no doubt she was a fraud. Why on earth was she doing this?
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