The Butchered Man

by Harriet Smart

  ***

  Mrs Fforde was not squeamish, which was as well, for the task in hand was not for the faint-hearted. Felix had set to work with a stomach pump and every emetic he could lay his hands on. The Fforde household pantry was raided as well as his own supply of drugs, and on a third attempt with a strong vinegar solution, and a particularly violent bout of vomiting, Abigail opened her eyes, gazed at him wildly, only to sink back into unconsciousness a moment later.

  “We’ll try that solution, again, the dark vinegar,” he said.

  “Of course,” Mrs Fforde said and handed him the jug. “But be gentle with her, Mr Carswell.”

  “I cannot be. There will be no helping her if I am gentle.”

  “Are you sure she can still be helped?” said Mrs Fforde, after a moment. “If she is dying, then I beg you be gentle.”

  “I cannot let her die,” he said, struggling with the mechanism. “I cannot.”

  He began the process again, but even as he did so, he felt the weakness in her response this time. He looked across at Mrs Fforde who held the girl in her arms, feeling the panic rising inside him.

  “Come now, Abigail, come now,” he said, and began again.

  But it was futile. The emetic had no visible effect. She was still profoundly unconscious.

  “Let her be,” said Mrs Fforde putting out her hand and staying his hand. “Let her die quietly. You must let her go.”

  A servant came in, holding a note.

  “Major Vernon told me to give you this, sir,” she said. “It is from Mrs Lepaige. He told me he was riding out to Brinklow again.”

  Felix took the note and read it. It was a list of innocuous ingredients.

  “This wouldn’t do it,” he said to Mrs Fforde. “This wouldn’t have drugged a mouse! Somebody is lying about this!”

  “My brother will find out the truth, I am sure of it,” said Mrs Fforde.

  He stood and watched as she washed Abigail’s face and neck clear of the vomit and emetic, her actions gentle and loving. He wished he could find such calmness. All he felt was a tide of impotent fury and a sense of creeping shame at his own profound failure.

  “I damn well hope so,” he muttered.

  Mrs Fforde looked up at him.

  “Help me with this,” she said, holding out a towel to him. “Help her to make a good death. That is your duty now.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “It’s so very late,” Miss Hilliard said.

  “These are exceptional circumstances,” Giles said. “Did you make your inquiries?”

  “Of course.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing – are you sure? To whom did you speak?”

  “Mrs Fulwood and I spoke to all the girls very firmly and there was nothing. It is a mystery.”

  “And did you speak to Mrs Fulwood?”

  “Fulwood is my old and trusted servant, Major. I do not think –”

  “You have not questioned her, then.” He could not hide the disappointment in his voice.

  “No, but it is not possible that she – sir, your manner is very –”

  “Miss Hilliard, there are unaccountable and possibly illegal things happening here. Anything is possible. I will question her myself.”

  “I can vouch entirely for her loyalty, Major. She has been with me since I was a girl.”

  “Yes, yes, I understand,” he said. “And that loyalty works both ways, does it not? We can never suspect those whom we love and trust, but Miss Hilliard, you must put aside your sentiment. I will question her whether you want me to or not and whatever must come out, will come out. You will have to deal with that sooner or later, I think.”

  “I do not know what you think you will find,” she said. “Fulwood and I have no secrets.”

  “Then if you know anything about this business, for your own sake, you must tell me sooner rather than later.”

  “Are you accusing me of something?” she said.

  “Yes, to be plain, I think I must,” he said.

  “This is outrageous,” she said.

  “Is it?” he said. “With the greatest respect, ma’am, I think you are concealing something from me out of some sense of misguided pride. You do not want your reputation or the reputation of this establishment to suffer. That is natural enough after all your hard work. It is painful to admit mistakes that have been made, and that those we trust have done wrong and have betrayed us, but for you own sake I urge you to face this as you should!”

  She bit her lip and sat down, her hands folded in her lap.

  “You are very unkind to me,” she said. “I had thought we were friends, but it seems that... Oh, why will you not believe me?” She looked up at him. “Why on earth should I lie to you? This dreadful thing is bad enough to bear as it is without you reproaching me. You sound just like your wretched Mr Carswell. I think he has turned you against me. But really, I think you should consider him with the same cold eye that you are so eager to turn on me.”

  “Are you in earnest?”

  “Perfectly. Abigail was ill before he attended her, but it is he who is making all these accusations. It is he that says that a miscarriage was induced, it was he who tells us Abigail was doped. Why, he might have done that himself.”

  “But why?” Giles said. “I cannot see a single reason for Carswell acting against you in this way. He has no grudge against you. You did not know him formerly.”

  “No, I did not. But you must look objectively at the facts, sir. Here he is, a raw young medic, seeking to make his reputation in a new city, who makes a grave mistake and tries to conceal it by accusing me of neglect. He performed some dreadful procedure on her. Fulwood saw the whole thing. An unnecessary miserable assault upon a sick girl, very rash and ill-advised, and as a result she grew worse. I forbade him to come back because I wished to protect her from his unscrupulous experimentation. But he came back, because he could not give it up. He is young and arrogant, and must meddle, but then he finds he can do nothing for her. He has done her great damage and she is dying. So he seeks to shift the blame by accusing me of this unspeakable act. And all the time he keeps coming back and giving her some horrid thing to make her weaker and weaker. He was here last night. Does that not strike you as very suspicious? I dare say he has not told you that!” She got up and walked over to Giles. “Men in general are ruthless predators. Mr Carswell is no exception. And he has bad blood after all. Does not the whole town knows exactly what he is? I heard it whispered all over your sister’s drawing room.”

  “The misfortune of his birth is not necessarily –”

  “No, of course not. But he is Lord Rothborough’s son! He is such a ruthless man. That is well-known. And proud. Carswell is reckoned to be in his pattern, and given his inferior situation in life, and the natural resentment that a man like that will have against the world I would imagine that –”

  “You have obviously thought a great deal about this,” Giles said.

  “Well, of course. Have I not wanted to discover what is going on? It strikes me as too great a coincidence. Really, Major – when you have told me I must not be sentimental, I must ask you to do the same. Of course, when you have picked him for the post, it will not reflect well on you if he is proved to be a scoundrel.”

  “Carswell is nothing to me,” he said. “Sentiment does not come into it. I would send him to the gallows if necessary, but I do not think it will be. I admire the logic of your argument but I am not convinced. He is too foolish and reckless to be able to sustain such a plan. Now I must see Mrs Fulwood – alone.”

  ***

  “Won’t you sit down, Mrs Fulwood?”

  “I’d rather stand, sir.”

  “As you wish. What is your full name and date of birth?”

  “Agnes Fulwood. January 15th, 1800.”

  “We are exact contemporaries, Mrs Fulwood,” Giles remarked. “Are you sure you will not sit? This will take some time, and I am sure you are on your feet all
day.”

  “Very well, sir, if you wish it.”

  She sat down neatly on the chair on the opposite side of the table, but not with the air of someone at their ease.

  “Your place of birth?”

  “Hauxby, Lincolnshire.”

  And you are a widow?”

  “Spinster, sir.”

  “The ‘Mrs’ is out of courtesy?”

  “It was Miss Marian’s idea. When we came here.”

  “How long have you worked for Miss Hilliard?”

  “Since I was fourteen. Mrs Hilliard took me on as a maid, when Miss Marian was no more than a child. It was my first place.”

  “You’ve never been in service with anyone else?”

  “No, sir, never. I was very lucky to go straight into a such a good place.”

  “And you never looked to change your situation?”

  “No, sir. Why would I? No-one has ever been as kind to me as Miss Marian and her late mother. Even when she was a child, she was good to me, like no-one else ever was.”

  Giles pictured Marian, a charming, intelligent little girl, befriending this girl of fourteen, no doubt hired to do the rough work.

  “So you are fond of your mistress?”

  “Of course, sir.” She seemed surprised at the question, as if in her mind all servants were fond of their masters.

  “So you would do anything for her?”

  “Oh yes, sir.”

  “Even though it might be something you thought wrong?”

  “Miss Marian would never ask me to do a wrong thing, sir.”

  “No, of course not,” said Giles. “And you would do everything you could to help her?”

  “It’s as I said – no-one was ever kind to me before, sir.”

  “Then you must help her now.”

  “I will try to, sir.”

  “So tell me about Abigail Prior.”

  “What about her, sir?”

  “Well, is she a good girl?”

  “No, sir.”

  “What did she do?”

  “What all the girls did here – sold herself.”

  “Who put her here?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Where did she come from?”

  “I don’t know. Miss Marian could tell you.”

  “You never asked her?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And she came here when?”

  “I’m not sure. I can’t remember. Miss Marian will be able to tell you.”

  “You must be able to tell me roughly.”

  “I really don’t know, sir.”

  “Try and remember, will you, please?”

  “Three or four months ago, I suppose,” she said at last.

  “And she was with child when she came here, I understand?”

  “Yes, yes, she was.”

  “But she did not tell you of her condition when she was admitted?” Mrs Fulwood nodded. “But you discovered she was pregnant?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How?”

  “She was sick and she never asked for any rags.”

  “And what is the normal procedure if a girl is discovered to be with child here?”

  “She is sent away to the workhouse to have her child. Her Ladyship...”

  “The Countess of Railby, do you mean – your patroness?”

  “Yes, she is very strict about that.”

  “So presumably when you discovered she was pregnant, you told Miss Hilliard at once?”

  She looked down at her fingers.

  “No, sir.”

  “You did not? Why not?”

  “I did not want her to be troubled with it,” she said.

  “But you knew you could not conceal such a fact indefinitely?” said Giles.

  “No, sir, I was going to tell her in time. But I thought... sometimes you see, these things go away of their own accord. So I waited.”

  “You mean you thought she might lose the child naturally.”

  “It happens often enough,” she said.

  “Just like that,” said Giles. “Does it really?”

  “What do you mean sir?”

  “It would be very convenient, I suppose, to lose a child in such circumstances.”

  “It happens,” she said.

  “You have come across this before? Have there been other cases?”

  “I don’t know,” she said after a moment.

  “So you have never come across this before? None of the girls here have had a miscarriage?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that, sir,” she said.

  “So you have come across such cases?”

  “Perhaps once or twice.”

  “And these girls would have been sent away otherwise?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “But they did not, and they stayed here?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you tended to them, did you? As you nursed Abigail.”

  “I may have done.”

  “Did you or did you not, Mrs Fulwood?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “And are they still here?”

  “No, sir, they went into service.”

  “How many girls are we talking about?”

  “Three,” she said after a long pause.

  “You must tell me their names, Mrs Fulwood.”

  “I am not sure I remember them,” she said and glanced over at him.

  “That’s inconvenient,” he said. “Perhaps you will remember them later for me?”

  “I will try, sir.”

  “You had better,” he said. “Now let us go back to Abigail. You suspected she was with child but you did not tell Miss Hilliard, yes? Can you tell me exactly what happened, when she was first taken ill? Can you remember how you discovered she was apparently losing the child?”

  “She had the pains and she started bleeding.”

  “And you knew at once what that meant?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I took her away from her work and put her to bed to rest until it was over.”

  “That’s the usual thing in such cases, is it? Having dealt with this before you knew what to do?”

  “I suppose so, sir.”

  “You must have been relieved to discover she was miscarrying.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  “Well, it meant you would not have to trouble your mistress with it. Very convenient. You do not like to upset Miss Marian. You are a good and loyal servant, I appreciate that, Mrs Fulwood.”

  “What do you mean, sir?”

  “I mean I understand. When you found out about Abigail’s condition, you knew she would have to be sent away, and Miss Hilliard is such a kind woman, she cannot bear to send these girls away.”

  “No, sir, she cannot. She likes to finish what she has started.”

  “Exactly. So you thought you would help her by keeping the girl there. As you have helped before?”

  “I don’t know what you mean sir.”

  “Come now, Mrs Fulwood, you do. After all, it is very convenient that four girls who were pregnant should all miscarry. Not one of them coming to full term. And there are ways of doing this, I understand. Various herbs. Perhaps you gave Abigail a little something to help the process along? That’s all I am suggesting. So that Miss Marian shouldn’t be troubled by it.” The woman twisted her fingers in her lap and did not look at him. “Is that what happened, Mrs Fulwood?”

  “Please, sir, I cannot...”

  “Is that what happened? Just a little something to help nature along? To help Miss Marian in her work? So she should not be disappointed?”

  He saw her bite her lip, and he got to his feet and walked round to her side.

  “I am a police officer, Mrs Fulwood,” he said, gently. “Please consider carefully the consequences of lying to me. If you have done wrong it will be found out, willy-nilly, and a frank confession of guilt is always preferred by judge and jury.”


  There was a long silence, and then she raised her eyes to Giles.

  “It was nothing to do with Miss Marian,” she said. “She had nothing to do with it. You mustn’t blame her, sir, you mustn’t! You will not, will you?”

  “Then tell me exactly what happened. Exactly what you did. Exactly what it is that Miss Marian has nothing to do with. What happened when you first discovered Abigail was with child? What did you do?”

  “I gave her the herbs that Mrs Lepaige gave me.”

  “Mrs Lepaige?”

  “Yes. She gave me the necessary. She said it was a kindness and a proper Christian thing to do. That it was more important that Miss Marian was allowed to continue to reform the girls and that there was no hope for them if they went to the workhouse. It was a kindness, that’s what she said.”

  “So she supplied you with the herbs?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you used them on these previous occasions?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “Do you have any of them still?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I would like to have them, if you please.”

  She got up slowly and taking a key from the bunch on her belt, she unlocked the large, green cupboard behind her. She reached up to the top shelf and took down a little japanned caddy, the sort that held no more than a quarter weight of tea. She put it down on the table.

  “And Mrs Lepaige gave you this?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You are certain of that? You didn’t acquire these from any other source?”

  “No, sir. I wouldn’t have known what to get. She told me this was all that I needed.”

  He flipped open the tin. It contained an ounce or so of a mixture of dried leaves, with a pungent scent.

  “And how are these given?”

  “I made a tea. That was what Mrs Lepaige told me to do. A nice sweet cup of tea. Of course the girl drank it all down. I put lots of sugar in it.”

  “And then?”

  “It brings on the pains. Starts the courses again. They’re heavy for a bit but then the girl gets better and goes back to her work. It’s not a sin, sir, it’s practical. I was trying to help them.”

  “I’m sure you were.”

  “But Miss Marian didn’t know anything about it,” Mrs Fulwood said.

  “She never discussed these matters with Mrs Lepaige?”

  “No, sir.”