The Daughters of Gentlemen: A Frances Doughty Mystery (The Frances Doughty Mysteries)

by Stratmann, Linda

  Frances sat at the table and faced Davey. ‘I am looking into the matter of some pamphlets that were distributed at the school,’ she said. ‘Do you know if Matilda had anything to do with that?’

  Davey looked mystified. ‘I don’t know anything about any pamphlets,’ he said.

  ‘What are you saying?’ exclaimed Jem. ‘That she did something wrong?’

  ‘No, not at all, but it did cause some – consternation.’

  ‘And why do they send you here, asking us questions?’ Jem demanded. ‘Mother was very upset after you called before, and we don’t want you coming back!’

  ‘I have been engaged to make enquiries by the school governors,’ Frances explained.

  ‘I told you so!’ declared Davey. ‘This is the detective lady who was in all the papers! If she is clever enough to find out murderers she’ll soon have Tilly safe home!’ The innocent hope in his voice both touched Frances’ heart and made her afraid. How she wished that she had a world of experience that could have prepared her for this, and a whole army of assistant detectives.

  ‘When did you last see Matilda?’ she asked Davey.

  ‘It was on Tuesday,’ he replied readily. ‘I know I’m not supposed to, but she said it would be allright, so I went to the back door and she gave me a cup of tea. I was only there a few minutes. There was no harm in it.’

  ‘And how did she seem to you? Was she happy, or perhaps worried about something?’

  ‘Oh no, she was very happy. We talked about —,’ he blushed a little, ‘about how it wasn’t long before we were wed.’

  ‘It’s a costly business, starting a new home,’ said Frances. ‘Was Matilda concerned about the expense?’

  ‘No; well I have my work and I’m going to start up my own carpentry shop, and Tilly has something put by …’ His voice trailed to silence and he looked down. Frances could see that he was holding something back, though whether it had anything to do with Matilda’s disappearance or the pamphlets it was impossible to say. He gulped suddenly. ‘Oh I do hope she is safe! I know she is a good and faithful girl and would never run off with another man!’

  ‘Have you sent her a note in the last few days or has she sent you one?’

  Davey shook his head. Frances thought that questions regarding the twenty sovereigns might be better left for another time, when Matilda’s mother and brother were not there. She turned to Jem, who regarded her with a surly look, his dark eyes fierce under heavy brows. ‘I am sure that if you had seen her or could offer any clue as to where she is, you would tell me,’ she said.

  ‘I would,’ he said firmly.

  ‘Have the police been told she is missing?’

  Mrs Springett and Jem exchanged worried glances. ‘No,’ whispered the mother. ‘It would be best not – how would they know where to look? We will find her.’

  ‘I think,’ said Frances, rising to her feet, ‘that if Matilda is not heard from today, you should go to the police.’

  Mrs Springett seemed to shrink inwards, as if her body had been eaten away from within by anxiety, but Davey looked up and nodded. ‘I’ll go,’ he said. ‘Even if she is in some sort of trouble, she’s still my girl and I’ll stand by her.’

  ‘We might have to at that,’ said Jem, gruffly.

  ‘I hope it won’t come to that,’ said Mrs Springett, laying her hand on her son’s arm and pressing it for comfort. ‘Besides, what can the police do, who don’t know her? It’s best for her family to look out for her.’ She took a deep breath, pulled her shoulders back, and made herself once more the Springett matriarch. ‘Now then, Jem, Davey, you’d better both get something to eat to keep your strength up, and then you can go out looking again.’

  Frances prepared to leave, wishing she had the authority not only to search the house but take each member of the family individually and shake them hard to dislodge their secrets. As she went to the door there was a tapping of the knocker and Mrs Springett, her son and Davey all leaped in sudden excitement. ‘Oh, please let it be her!’ gasped Mrs Springett, making a dash for the door to wrench it open. Frances saw Davey’s face brighten with hope and Jem’s angry scowl suddenly smoothed.

  There was disappointment outside, however. A woman clad in a plain stuff dress with her sleeves rolled to her elbows, her arms reddened from hot water, stood at the door.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, Eliza,’ said Mrs Springett, forgetting manners in her emotion and turning her back to hide her face.

  ‘Has anything been heard?’ asked Davey.

  Eliza came in, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘It’s only —,’ she said, and stopped.

  Mrs Springett whirled to confront her neighbour. ‘Have you seen her?’

  ‘No, no I’ve not and I don’t want to come here worrying you about nothing, but you’ll hear about it soon enough from someone else, and I thought —,’ she passed a thick forearm across her forehead. ‘There’s a woman’s body been found. In the Serpentine.’

  Mrs Springett gave a little scream and Davey exclaimed, ‘Oh don’t say that!’

  Jem put his arm about his mother. ‘Come on, then, Mrs Brooks, best give it all,’ he said.

  Eliza seemed to be regretting her intrusion. ‘It’s some poor creature who’s drowned herself and they don’t know who she is. I mean, there’s all sorts of women throw themselves into the Serpentine, but I know Tilda and she never had any reason to do anything like that so I’m sure it can’t be her.’

  Davey shook his head. ‘No, it won’t be my Tilly. She’d never do anything like that.’

  ‘Right – well, I’d best go then,’ said Mrs Brooks with some embarrassment, and backed away.

  Mrs Springett began to cry and Jem hugged her tightly. ‘Now then, Mother, no need for that. I’ll go straight there and have a look just so we know for sure it’s not our Tilda. I’ll find a carrier’s cart to take me and I’ll be there and back in no time. Davey, you can go out looking for her, and Mother you wait in, in case she comes back. Mrs Brooks!’ he called after the retreating figure of the neighbour, who stopped reluctantly. ‘Come on in and sit with Mother while we go out. Do I go to the Receiving House? Is that where they have the body?’

  The neighbour nodded and crept back indoors, while Jem hurried out followed by Davey. ‘Well,’ said Mrs Brooks after a pause, ‘I’d better make some tea.’ Mrs Springett sank into a chair, her hands clasped over her mouth.

  Frances helped Mrs Brooks with the tea and took the opportunity to question her. ‘When was the body found?’ she asked softly. She hoped her question would not disturb Mrs Springett, but a glance told her that that lady was locked deep in her own nightmare.

  Mrs Brooks was so flustered that she didn’t think to ask who the stranger was. ‘Nigh on an hour ago, and if it hadn’t been found then it would have lain in the dark till morning. It was under one of the arches of the bridge. One of the boatmen pulled it out, and took it up to the Receiving House, but there was nothing they could do.’ She leaned closer. ‘I know that it was a woman,’ she whispered, ‘a young woman. Perhaps she was up on the bridge and threw herself over into the water.’

  They drank tea in a silence that was broken only by Mrs Springett’s whimpers. Deaths in the Serpentine, Frances knew, were not uncommon, though more usually in the warmer months when the waters were in regular use by bathers and boats and there were accidents. Sometimes it was no accident, but a deliberate act of terrible desperation. Mrs Brooks tried to coax Mrs Springett into taking some tea, and Frances took advantage of the distraction to slip upstairs and look about, but saw no sign that Matilda had been there recently. She returned to the parlour after a quick glance into the front room, which was, as she had surmised, for Sunday and holiday best, and explained her absence by admitting with some embarrassment that she had been looking for the WC. ‘It’s out back,’ said Mrs Brooks, as if it could scarcely be anywhere else, and Frances went through the scullery to the garden, where there was a small outhouse and a shed with a washing boiler. She pried for as long as
she could without it exciting comment, but everything was as it should be.

  An hour passed before Jem returned. When he flung the door open and Frances saw the shocked and stricken expression on his face, she left the house at once.

  As Frances hurried down Salem Gardens with the anguished cries of Mrs Springett echoing down the street, she could not help but think that she might bear some responsibility for the tragedy. Had it not been her rigorously pursued enquiries, her determination to find out the truth that had impelled Matilda to run away? She imagined the girl afraid, not knowing where to turn for help, lost in the dark, and stumbling to her doom. Or was there a still greater horror awaiting the bereaved family? Could guilt and despair have led the housemaid to take her own life? From the little she had seen of Matilda, Frances had to agree with Davey; such an action was not in the girl’s character. It was not as if Matilda, soon to be a bride, had to worry about losing her place. Davey seemed like a good man, and Mrs Springett a caring mother. Frances was suddenly accosted with an unpleasant and unworthy wave of self-pity. Her own mother, as she had only recently discovered in a revelation that had changed all she had ever believed about that parent, had cared nothing for her.

  Frances stopped walking for a moment and had a firm word with herself. She had done without a mother’s care since she was three years old and nothing she had learned could undo that or make her any less the person she was now. Skirting around the stables of Queen’s Mews she was soon in Chepstow Place, where she rang the bell at the school door. Two or three minutes passed and she was about to ring again when the door was opened by a flustered looking maid of about sixteen. Frances had no difficulty in gaining admission and impressing upon the girl the urgency of her need to see Mrs Venn at once.

  The expression on Mrs Venn’s face as she was conducted into the study suggested uncomfortably to Frances that she was looking neither calm nor controlled. ‘I apologise for this intrusion, but I am the bearer of bad news,’ she began.

  Mrs Venn waved Frances to a seat, poured water into a glass from a carafe and handed it to her. Frances sank gratefully into the chair clutching the glass, and took several sips. ‘I have just come from seeing Mrs Springett and while I was there she was informed that Matilda is dead. The poor girl was found in the Serpentine. Her brother has identified the body.’

  Mrs Venn was shocked, rather than grieved. ‘That is very terrible news,’ she said. ‘I assume – I hope – that it was an accident.’

  ‘That remains to be seen,’ said Frances. ‘I expect there will be an inquest. But questions will undoubtedly be asked.’ She felt steadier, and put the glass down. ‘Thus far, I have been required to keep confidential the incidents that have taken place in the school, and since it seems that no actual crime has been committed, merely an indiscretion, I was agreeable to that, but now that a death has occurred, and the death of someone who was suspected of being the culprit, it will be necessary to reveal the truth.’

  Mrs Venn shook her head. ‘I cannot agree to that,’ she said. ‘Exposing the school to gossip and scandal will not bring the poor girl back to life, and our suspicions will only fuel rumours that she took a desperate course of action. Are her family not in pain enough that they must suffer this additional distress?’

  Frances sensed that the plight of Matilda’s family was not of great moment to Mrs Venn, who had mentioned them only to strengthen her argument. ‘Nevertheless, the truth may come out whether you wish it to or not,’ she said. ‘I have already found in my enquiries that the rumour has spread well beyond these walls.’ There was no mistaking the expression of keen suffering that passed briefly across the headmistress’s features before she was able to compose herself. ‘I will need to arrange a meeting with the governors to find if they wish me to continue my enquiries,’ added Frances, ‘but I will advise them that I should do so, since it is my belief that Matilda was only the agent of another. Her death may not put an end to incidents of this nature.’ She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. ‘And now, Mrs Venn, before I proceed any further, I would like you to tell me the real reason you destroyed the pamphlets.’

  The headmistress’s expression suggested astonishment that such a question could even be asked. ‘Pardon me,’ she said with great dignity, ‘but I believe I told you so at our very first meeting.’

  Frances paused, looking for the right words with which to indicate that she thought that Mrs Venn had been telling untruths. It was only an impression, and she had neither proof nor power to force an admission. At that moment there was a ring at the doorbell, followed almost immediately by a loud, insistent knocking.

  ‘Whoever can that be?’ said Mrs Venn, rising quickly from her chair. Soon afterwards heavy footsteps were heard almost running up the stairs and the door of the study burst open to admit a figure all too familiar to Frances. The new housemaid hovered behind him, her hands waving like the flippers of a performing seal, stammering, ‘Mrs Venn – I’m sorry – but it’s the police!’

  ‘That will do, Hannah, please leave us,’ said Mrs Venn curtly. Hannah, who was obviously finding her new position a source of anxiety, disappeared with a little squeal of fright.

  ‘Inspector Sharrock, Paddington police,’ said the new arrival, taking a large handkerchief from his pocket, applying it to his nose, which looked even coarser and redder than Frances remembered it, and making a noise like several trombones. He stopped in mid blast when he saw Frances and gazed at her suspiciously. ‘Miss Doughty,’ he said, between sniffling nose-wipes, ‘I hardly expected to see you here.’

  ‘Miss Doughty is employed by the school,’ said Mrs Venn, hastily.

  ‘Ah,’ said the Inspector with a nod of understanding, and Frances saw that the headmistress’s clever comment had suggested to him that she was there in a teaching capacity. She decided not to enlighten him.

  ‘Inspector, I assume that you are here about my housemaid, Matilda Springett. We have only this very moment received the sad news,’ said Mrs Venn. Given the suddenness and nature of the intrusion she had offered him neither a seat nor refreshment, but he seemed not to expect them.

  Sharrock narrowed his eyes and looked at Frances. ‘I see – well I have a few questions to ask and then I’ll be on my way.’ He took a notebook and pencil from his pocket. ‘Can you tell me when you last saw Miss Springett?’

  There was a sudden cry from far below, piercing enough to travel up the stairs and through the closed door of the study. ‘That would be my constable giving the news to the cook,’ said Sharrock. Frances wondered if the constable in question was Wilfred Brown, whose company she found far more pleasant than that of the Inspector. Constable Brown was a good-natured young man who had shown her great kindness during the tribulations of the last few weeks, and she wished, not for the first time, that she had met him a few years ago, when he was single.

  ‘I last saw her on Thursday,’ said Mrs Venn.

  ‘Two days ago,’ said Sharrock. ‘And you, Miss Doughty?’

  Frances pushed away the foolish daydream. ‘The same.’

  He peered at them both over his notebook. ‘When on Thursday?’

  ‘In the evening,’ said Mrs Venn. ‘It was about eight o’clock. She was not required later on, and I assumed that she had completed her duties and gone to bed. On Friday morning I realised that she was not on the premises and saw that her bed had not been slept in.’

  The pencil scratched busily. ‘And how long has Miss Springett been employed here?’

  ‘A little over ten years. From the opening of the school.’

  He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Then you must have found her reliable and a good worker to have employed her for so long.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘So much so, that when she went missing overnight for no good reason, you took action at once, and engaged a new maid to take her place,’ said Sharrock.

  ‘I —,’ Mrs Venn remained calm but a slight flush appeared on either cheek. ‘I had no reason to believe that anything a
miss had occurred.’

  ‘Why? Had she disappeared before?’ Sharrock demanded. ‘But no, she can’t have done, can she, because you have just told me she was reliable. Maidservants who go off on their own without so much as a by your leave will soon find themselves without employment, so I understand.’

  ‘Matilda has a sweetheart – they are due to be married soon —,’ Mrs Venn sighed, ‘were due, I should say. I thought that the excitement had turned her head and she was with him.’

  ‘And this sweetheart would be —?’

  ‘Davey Harris. He lodges with Matilda’s mother in Salem Gardens.’

  ‘Inspector,’ said Frances. ‘It is not true to suggest that Mrs Venn took no action to find Matilda. She sent me to Salem Gardens to see if she was there.’

  ‘Ah, doing a little light detective work were we Miss Doughty?’ asked Sharrock with more than a touch of mockery. ‘How very unlike you. And what did you find when you went there?’

  ‘I spoke to Mrs Springett, who informed me that she and her son had not seen Matilda since church on Sunday and Mr Harris not since Tuesday. They had all assumed that she was here. I returned there today to see if there was any news and found that Mr Harris and Matilda’s family had been out making enquiries and looking for her.’

  ‘Really? You must all have been very concerned for her safety,’ said Sharrock. Frances saw the trap and refused to be drawn.

  ‘I do not believe that anything could have been achieved by informing you when she had only been gone for a day,’ said Mrs Venn defensively.

  Sharrock strode rapidly to the desk and faced the headmistress. ‘We might not have started our own enquiries at that stage, but I could have given her description to my constables and asked them to keep their eyes open. As it was, neither you nor her family reported her absence to the police. I can’t help wondering if she ran off because she was in some sort of trouble – trouble that both you and the Springetts would rather we didn’t know about. Trouble that might have led to her death.’

  ‘How did she die?’ asked Frances, trying to avoid an awkward silence.