Harley Street

by Lynne Connolly

  The maid grimaced and went on, after clearing her throat nervously. “He wanted her to stop and she promised that she would. We got the positions here and things seemed to go well for a while. Mrs. Godolphin is a good employer and she was kind to us.” My aunt looked pleased and smiled indulgently, nodding in acknowledgement of the compliment. I took it to mean she was lax making sure her staff were where they should be. It must have been easy for Lucy to leave the house secretly when she wished.

  Since Richard showed no inclination to talk, Greene continued to speak. “But I shared Lucy’s room and I knew she was still doing it. When I talked to her about it, she said it was easy money and that she didn’t care what people did to her body.” I glanced at Richard but his face was impassive. I expected nothing else. Aunt Godolphin’s face had clouded, however; she’d heard enough now to realise what had been going on. “She showed me her money once and a book where she wrote all her appointments, in code.”

  “Not difficult to interpret,” said Richard dryly.

  She stared at him, startled. “I thought that Bow Street man had it.”

  “No, I have. Go on.”

  “Then I asked her to stop, said my brother would make an honest woman of her. She laughed and said she’d tried that and dishonest was best.” My aunt tutted but, at a glance from me, said nothing. But it was too late—the girl had stopped talking. She’d come to an important part of her narrative and we needed her to go on.

  “Please, dear Aunt, we’ll explain it to you by and by.” I smiled at her and she said something that sounded like “humph” and leaned back in her chair.

  Richard hadn’t taken his gaze from the girl. It was one of his greatest gifts, the ability to make other people talk. “You may as well continue. We know most of it.”

  She looked up in alarm but he showed her nothing in return. For all she knew, her brother could have talked to us. The purpose of this interview was to see if she could help us. I felt sorry for her but for Lucy’s sake and Richard’s, we needed to know the truth.

  She sighed and groped for her handkerchief. I drank more tea and passed my dish back to my aunt for more. She poured and Greene found the strength to continue. “I couldn’t stand it any more, the way she was stringing Harry along, promising to marry him while she was still doing—all that and so…so…I told him.” She was crying in earnest, mopping away the tears coursing down her face but nobody moved to help her. I hated to see the maid’s distress but we had to know.

  “What did he do?” asked Richard quietly.

  “He…he…killed her.” She gasped and she buried her face in her handkerchief, sobbing for real.

  Aunt Godolphin, that kindly woman, could stand no more. She stood, guided the maid to a seat and put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “There, there.”

  Richard sighed. “I’m sorry to distress you but we must know the truth. Is there a possibility that anyone else could have done it? Someone you don’t know about?”

  Greene regarded him over the top of her capacious handkerchief, sniffing, her voice full of her tears. “No. I saw him do it. But he wasn’t in his right mind, my lord, he didn’t know what he was doing.” She dropped the handkerchief on her lap and showed us her tear-streaked face. “She said some awful things, my lord, things I wouldn’t repeat and she laughed when he said he was disgusted with her. She brought some food up with her from the kitchen for a late supper and he took the knife and he—” She broke off again and buried her face in my aunt’s shoulder.

  Aunt Godolphin looked at Richard with sorrow. “Is that enough?”

  Richard stood and held out his hand to take hers and bow over it. I stood with him. “More than enough. Thank you for your time. We’ll tell her brother what his sister has said. With any luck, we should be able to keep her out of this but you should guard her well, Mrs. Godolphin. He will have to take his chances in Bow Street but there is a good chance he will be transported, not hanged.”

  He sounded dispassionate, as though none of this concerned him but he took my hand after the carriage door was slammed shut on us, gripping it tight.

  In the carriage on the way to Thompson’s, I asked him, “How are we going to keep her out of it, if she saw it?”

  Richard leaned against the squabs and closed his eyes. “If he confesses, there may be no need to ask her to witness.”

  “So you mean to give him up? You meant what you said to my aunt?”

  “We must.”

  “Would you have given Steven Drury up if he’d done it?”

  He opened his eyes, turned his head and regarded me steadily. “Yes. If I could be sure of justice, that he wouldn’t buy his way out of it. And if our name was kept out of it.” He smiled. “Until last year, I didn’t give a damn about the name I bore but now I’ve given it to you, it suddenly means a great deal.” He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.

  We arrived at the office and Barraclough took us upstairs. The curious stares of the inevitable occupants of the benches in the large hall below followed us. I hardly noticed them.

  He took us straight to the room where Greene was being kept but before he opened the door, Richard stopped him and turned to me. “This could be uncomfortable. Are you sure you want to see this?”

  “Would you rather I didn’t?” I didn’t want to cause him distress in any way.

  “It’s up to you. If you think you can bear it.”

  “I can bear it.” I put my hand on his. He nodded and turned to Barraclough, signalling for him to open the door.

  We went in. There was someone there with him, a brawny man, sitting quietly on a hard chair by the door. As we went in he rose, bowed and brought two similar chairs forward for us. Richard saw me seated and only then turned his attention to the maid’s brother.

  The man was under restraint, his wrists fastened before him with leather straps. For his sake I was glad of that, as I knew only too well the damage rope binding could do. His feet were free. He wore a relatively clean shirt and breeches and a simple woollen coat lay across the narrow the bed. At a nod from Richard, he sat on the fourth hard chair in the room. None of the chairs matched.

  “We’ve spoken to your sister.” Richard watched him carefully.

  Greene’s head jerked up. “What did she say?” He had forgotten the proper address, something that came almost as second nature to a well-trained servant.

  Richard regarded him in silence for a moment. “What did you expect her to say?”

  “I…I don’t know.” He wouldn’t meet Richard’s gaze.

  “She told us what she saw,” Richard said. Before the man could interrupt, he continued, “She saw you kill Lucy Forder. If you don’t want her to witness to this in court, you can confess to us and later to Mr. Smith of Bow Street but you will come to trial for this, come what may.”

  I watched Greene’s face carefully and saw him blench, then look at my husband with renewed hope. “I don’t want my sister involved in all this. If you promise to look after her, I’ll tell you.”

  “So long as I’m satisfied she had nothing to do with the murder, I promise she’ll be looked after,” Richard said readily. “If Mrs. Godolphin turns her off, I’ll secure her a good place elsewhere. She may change her name if she likes, I’ll see to it.”

  They surveyed each other in silence for a few minutes. Greene was trying to ascertain whether Richard meant it but eventually he nodded and glanced away. “I can’t do anything else,” he commented, half to himself. Then he looked up again, straight at Richard. “I killed her.”

  Richard nodded and waited for him to continue. We listened to Greene’s story. “I loved her. She said she wanted to get away from…from Mr. and Mrs. Drury and I said I would help her.” He put his bound hands to his forehead. “We got the job with Mrs. Godolphin, then Lucy went back and did whatever they wanted. I couldn’t bear it but I didn’t know for sure until my sister told me.” He stopped and silence fell on the room like a blanket. When he spoke again, it was as if life had be
en resumed. “Lucy told me and she suggested I do it, too. When I said no, she said the money was good enough for us to buy a place of our own in a year or two. I said no, how could she, but it was only when she laughed at me that I hit her.” He stopped again and for two pins I would have left but I knew Richard needed me. Both men had loved Lucy. One had betrayed her and the other had killed her.

  “I didn’t know there was a knife in my hand, I swear it.” He looked earnestly at Richard again. “I don’t even know where it came from but I hit her and she was too surprised to resist. She fell back but I could see it was too late, I could see that she was dead.”

  Greene buried his face in his hands, sobbing and I felt the pain for both of them. Bitterly I thought that although the Drurys hadn’t done the deed themselves, they had caused it; they had broken this man and made him kill. Not that they would care.

  But as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t put all the blame on them. It was obvious that what Steven had claimed was true—Lucy had done it by her own choice and if she had told them she was leaving, they could have found someone else and not used her at all. But she would have missed the money. What we still didn’t know was why she wanted the money. Was it for her own purposes, or was it to help her children?

  Greene lifted his head again and I wished he hadn’t. His pain was etched deep, the lines at the corners of his eyes glistening from his tears, enhanced by them. His eyes, reddened from so much grief, seemed to have sunk into his skull. “You can keep my sister out of all this?”

  “Tell them what you’ve just told us. And don’t mention the fact that your sister was there. In fact, don’t mention her at all unless you’re asked. I can’t see why they should ask you, so she should be safe from them. All we want is for the truth to come out.” Richard said the last part grimly, his face set in more serious lines.

  Greene nodded. “They’ll hang me.” There was no expression to his voice, as though he were already dead.

  Richard shook his head. “It’s more likely you’ll get transportation. The deed was done in passion, without forethought and they tend to save hangings for the most deserving these days. Have you a good character?”

  “Nothing before this,” Greene managed. The tears still poured down his face, a cataract of misery.

  Richard stood and looked down at the helpless man. “Tell them what happened and you’ll be sent abroad. I’ll promise you what influence I have will go toward that and in return, as a favour to me, will you try to leave the Drurys’ names out of it?”

  He looked at Richard, Lucy’s two lovers frozen in a tableau, the exquisite and the wretched, closer than any of the other men who had ever used her. I wondered if Lucy had ever told Greene about Richard, if Greene knew the significance of Richard’s involvement.

  “I thought you didn’t like them,” Greene said eventually.

  “I don’t but at the moment they have influential friends who will be anxious that their names aren’t mentioned in this context. It would do no good to try and cause a scandal here, because there won’t be any and it will make the Drury’s influential friends aware that I know more than they want me to. If you can manage to leave their names out, I promise to deal with them in due course. We have a history and I’d like to see it through myself.”

  They stared at each other again and eventually Greene nodded. “I won’t tell lies but I won’t mention it until I’m asked.” At last, he remembered his training. “My lord.”

  I watched the bargain made, fairer than any bargain Greene may have made in his life before. Richard leaned forward and offered Greene his hand and they solemnly shook on the bargain. The dull autumn day gave no shards of light to illuminate the diamonds on Richard’s hand and at his throat, everything was as muted and as pared down as a Vermeer interior. The only highlights were the white stock at his neck and the fine lace ruffles at his wrists. The other man’s linen was soiled from days of wear, its tones blending in with the faded white paintwork on the shutters and on the door and wall panels.

  I was content and when I saw Richard’s face, I thought that he was content, too. The tighter lines around his mouth and eyes had faded, I was relieved to see and although his mien was serious, it wasn’t as strained as it had been, perhaps because he had found something he could do to help. Greene wasn’t a murderer, he was a man who’d been caught in circumstances he hadn’t been able to control and he was prepared to face what was coming.

  We left the room and had some tea in the office with Alicia, who talked to us of sensible things far removed from Lucy.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  WHEN I WAS SURE THAT Richard felt less stressed, I left him with Alicia and went upstairs to see Susan. Alicia hadn’t mentioned her during our sojourn in her office but she knew where I was going.

  Susan didn’t have anyone on guard outside her room but it was locked, so I turned the key and carried it inside with me, closing the door without locking it. She was sitting on the bed, reading a book. When she closed it and looked up, I saw it was Clarissa.

  I smiled and was surprised to see her smile back. “Have you come to a decision?”

  “Yes. I’ve never had time to myself like this before and I’ve been able to think. I suppose I should thank you.” She was smooth, at ease with herself.

  “Think nothing of it.” I found myself a chair. “And I meant what I said. If you want to go back, I shan’t stop you.”

  She nodded. “You were right. If I go back to them, I’ll be their creature. They pay well but it’s uncertain work and I’ll have to do what they say. So I’ve decided. But you must promise not to tell him some of it.”

  “Who?”

  “My father.” I sat as if struck and she smiled. “It’s all right. I worked it out shortly after Julia made me try to seduce you both. I looked closely at him and realised we have certain features in common. My mother told me years ago, but I didn’t believe her. She was fond of telling stories. I don’t think my brother knows but then he’s never seen him.”

  “Do you know where your brother is?”

  She shook her head. “We lost touch years ago. I tried to find him recently, sent a letter to the last place I knew where he was, but I never received a reply.”

  “What do you want from us?”

  “I’m not blind. Neither am I stupid. I don’t want to make trouble, I don’t want to claim anything that will cause any problems but I would like some of what I’m entitled to.”

  I remained silent, waiting to see what she meant. The thick autumn sun streamed across the counterpane of her bed, touching her hair to gold. “It was only after Julia Drury set me on him that I realised my mother had told the truth. I’d always thought she was romancing. You know, the maid seduced by the master but she also said it was the parents who sent her away. He was upset, wasn’t he?”

  “He was,” I managed.

  “Then I looked at him and I looked at me and I realised that what my mother had told me was probably true. She was a bitter woman, your ladyship, and she would have made trouble if she could. She was never happy with the man I called Father and he was a good man, he loved her dearly.” She halted, clearly remembering happier times. Then she looked up at me again. “That’s what decided me against the Drurys. Do they know?” I nodded. “I thought so. Mrs. Drury was always kind to me but I didn’t think she had my interests at heart. And Mr. Drury only has one interest. She had to work hard to keep him away from me.”

  “I can imagine.” I remembered the tussles I’d had with Steven in the past.

  “The look on her face when she thought she’d hooked your husband.” She stopped and we both recalled that moment. I suddenly had a strong longing for some tea, although I’d shared a pot with Alicia less than half an hour ago. I mastered the desire.

  “So I decided not to go back there. I want more of a say over my own fate.”

  I nodded. If she hadn’t been his daughter, would Richard have been tempted? “Very wise. But I hope you realise that I can’t
have you too close.”

  She smiled and nodded, sagacious for sixteen. “I know. I don’t want to be a lady’s maid, at everybody’s beck and call, so I thought I would like to take up your other choice.” My heart sank. I’d hoped she’d choose the option she had just rejected. “I would like an establishment of my own, please and a maid and a footman and some fine clothes so that I can attract the best quality of gentleman. The rest I can manage on my own.”

  “And the other part of the bargain?”

  “That should be no problem. The other lady has been talking to me, telling me about this organisation, though she wouldn’t tell me what its name was. It’s obviously one of the larger registry offices, Thompson’s or Black’s, for instance but it would mean I could still call on you if I needed help. It’s nice to know you’re not completely alone in the world, isn’t it?”

  That last remark made me realise how alone Susan was, how far away from anyone who loved her. I hoped we could find her brother, one day. I wouldn’t tell her we were looking for him, I decided, not until we found something. She would be alone on the course she had chosen and she might need someone to talk to. “I’ll give you all the help I can,” I promised. “And I wish you all the luck in the world.”

  She smiled and got off the bed. She was much more attractive now and I wondered how much of her sulky look had been due to misery or fear. She was pretty and I was happy that she would do well in her chosen career, although I still wished she had chosen the respectable course. I found myself liking her but then I realised I was bound to. She was so like Richard in her attitudes, her delicacy and her natural elegance. “If you don’t mind staying here for a day or two, everything can be arranged,” I told her.

  She held out her hand and we shook on the bargain just as Richard had shaken Greene’s hand earlier.

  Still holding her hand, I said, “We found out who killed your mother. It was Greene.”