Chapter 10
Throughout the journey to Torquay, Arabella’s thoughts returned again and again to Benedict Hartley, despite every effort she made to focus her mind on the case. Charlotte hinted that he’d been betrothed. Was he still?
Bella had had no idea there was a title in his family.
Naturally, such a connection would make him even more desirable to aspiring mamas.
She looked out towards the sea, absently noting the distant waves crashing against the shore.
The day was cold, threatening rain, spring seemingly a distant dream.
Shivering, she looked down at her lap, wondering if Benedict would be at Mrs Thomas’s residence.
It was unlikely she’d have the opportunity to brief him concerning the advances they’d made overnight, but equally he’d be unable to apprise her of the latest on Margaret Finch’s unfortunate demise – unless they managed to snatch a little time alone in the carriage.
The thought of being alone with him in such close proximity prompted a sudden tingling sensation deep inside. And she realised that however scandalous them being alone together was, she wanted it very much...
Damnation, when had that happened?
Somewhere between falling into his arms and leaving him alone with Margaret Finch’s body. She told herself it was all the heightened emotions prompted by the case. Yes, she found Benedict Hartley attractive, but just because he caught her as she stumbled didn’t mean he felt the same about her.
But what about the sudden shock when they’d shaken hands? They’d both felt it, and no matter how she tried to dress it up, it had certainly never happened to her before.
But he could be betrothed. She clenched her hands together in her lap, telling herself not to be such a damned widgeon.
It didn’t matter whether Ben Hartley was engaged to be leg-shackled or not.
This case was far too important to allow matters of the heart to get in the way.
Too many lives depended on them. Determinedly, she stared back out of the window, noting with surprise that they were already halfway along Torquay’s seafront.
The carriage would reach Braddons Hill Road in ten minutes or so.
Billy Wiggins had been sitting on the garden wall for nigh on half an hour.
He’d been dispatched by Mrs Williams to pick some apples for an Eve’s pudding, and he knew he couldn’t dawdle much longer.
He’d been at a loose end since Mr Henry and Miss Charlotte had gone out in the carriage the day before.
He didn’t know exactly where they were going, but he knew it was important, and something to do with the piece of paper he’d found in Muriel Pemberton’s pocket.
And he couldn’t deny that as the evening wore on, he’d become more and more anxious.
Then, Miss Bea, Miss Bernie, Miss Daisy and Miss Flo had returned from their dinner at his lordship’s but without Miss Bella.
Miss Daisy had told him they’d all gone to investigate an incident somewhere in Torquay.
Billy wasn’t entirely sure what an incident actually was, and by the time Albert had finally returned with the carriage but no occupants, he was beside himself.
He just knew it was something to do with him following Muriel Pemberton.
He half wished he’d kept his nose out of it.
But then, if he was ever going to be a famous detective like Mr Holmes, it wouldn’t do to sit around burying his head in the sand.
Sighing, he found himself thinking about the bloke Muriel Pemberton had been having tea with.
He’d looked familiar, but Billy was blowed if he could remember where he’d seen him before.
Somehow, the boy didn’t think it had been in Paignton.
But then, Billy’s visits to Torquay were far and few between.
His ma had worked for a while at Cumpers Hotel along the seafront.
He’d walk all the way to meet her sometimes, though it took him an hour or more.
That was before he started working at Cliff House.
Frowning, he took an apple from the bucket and, after rubbing it on his vest, bit into it.
She wasn’t at Cumpers very long. He seemed to remember some trouble with the manager.
His ma told him she’d been lucky to escape with nothing but a thrashing.
The manager. Billy took another bite of his apple as he sorted through his memories, finally pouncing on one a few weeks before his ma left. Black hair, skin that put him in mind of someone at death’s door.
Just like the cull he’d seen talking to Muriel Pemberton outside the Gerston.
‘There’ll be no supper for you tonight if you’re not back here in five minutes, Billy Wiggins...’
Blister it. Billy jumped off the wall and grabbed a few more windfalls before picking up his bucket and running back towards the kitchen.
As soon as he’d finished his duties, he was going to pay a visit to his ma.
She’d be at the shop, but she’d likely spare him five minutes as long as it wasn’t too busy.
Arabella tried to remain nonchalant as she spied Benedict waiting at the top of Braddons Hill Road.
It didn’t mean he was waiting for her – and even if he was, it was simply professional courtesy.
Unfortunately, telling herself that made no difference whatsoever.
By the time she climbed out of the carriage, her cheeks were roughly the same colour as the brick-red cushions she’d been sitting on.
‘Miss Shackleford,’ he said. ‘What a delightful surprise.’
‘Likewise, Chief Inspector. I was not aware you were visiting with Mrs Thomas today. I was hoping to pay my respects to the dear lady and ask if there is anything I can do to help her in such a time of trial.’
Bella was aware that the conversation was being followed closely by what looked to be a housekeeper standing in the open front doorway no more than fifteen feet away.
‘I do hope I’m not in your way. I can assure you, Sir, I won’t stay for long.
‘I’m entirely certain Mrs Thomas will be most grateful for your concern. Perhaps we can go in together.’ He bent his head. ‘After you, Miss Shackleford. ‘
By the time they reached the dour-looking housekeeper, Arabella had largely got her errant heart under control. Strangely enough, simply seeing Benedict Hartley again had steadied her. She was reminded how much she actually liked him as a person…
Fifteen minutes later they were drinking tea in Mrs Thomas’s drawing room while the matron described the horror of what had happened – though Bella couldn’t help privately thinking she was doing it a bit brown.
She was wondering how to bring up the subject of Eliza, when the Chief Inspector inadvertently provided an opening.
‘Were all your staff working on the evening of the soiree, Mrs Thomas?’ Benedict managed to ask the question in a suitably sympathetic voice.
The matron nodded tearfully. ‘Allowing them time off when I need them most would be the height of foolishness, as I’m sure you will agree, Chief Inspector.’
‘Indubitably,’ he murmured.
‘I did not think Eliza was working that evening.’ Arabella tried to make her statement sound casual, but the sharp look the widow returned was anything but. And in that moment, Bella realised that the next words out of Dorothy Thomas’s mouth would be a lie.
‘I’m afraid I’m not sure who you’re referring to,’ was the cautious response. ‘I do not have anyone by the name of Eliza working for me.’
Ignoring Benedict’s quizzical look, Arabella gave an apologetic smile.
‘Forgive me, I have undoubtedly mixed you up with somebody else.’ She gathered up her reticule and put on her gloves.
‘And now, I’ve taken up enough of your time, Mrs Thomas.
I will leave you in the capable hands of Chief Inspector Hartley.
Again, I am so sorry that you have been subjected to such a dreadful ordeal.
However, I am beyond certain that the Chief Inspector will eventually track down and apprehend the culprit.
’ Turning to Benedict, she gave him a brief curtsy.
‘I look forward to speaking with you again, Chief Inspector.’
Eyebrows raised, Ben got to his feet and bent his head. This was the first time he’d heard the name Eliza, and he too had noticed Dorothy Thomas’s reaction. What had prompted it, he had no idea – but he looked forward to finding out.
As Arabella was shown to the door, she thought about trying to engage the housekeeper in conversation, but one look at the woman’s grim-faced expression made her change her mind. It was enough to know that the atmosphere in the house was not a happy one.
Moments later, after directing Albert to take her to number Thirteen, Belgrave Road, Bella was seated in the carriage.
She was almost certain that each of the widows would give the same story when asked – that they had never heard of Eliza, Jane, Maisie and Fanny.
The question was, did they truly know what had happened to the girls, or were they too frightened to ask?
When Arabella finally knocked at the door of Mrs Pettigrew’s residence ten minutes later, she was informed that the lady of the house was not at home.
As the door was shut, she started back down the path, but stopped after a few steps.
It wasn’t really Mrs Pettigrew she’d come to see, and there was a strong possibility that the maid, Sally, would be in the house.
Biting her lip, she turned back and after a small hesitation, followed the path round the side of the house, emerging into a small courtyard garden, where, as fortune had it, Sally was sitting on a bench in a sheltered corner with a mending basket.
On seeing Arabella, she jumped to her feet, executing a quick curtsy.
Then, bending down, she picked up her basket with the apparent intention of returning inside the house.
Bella held out her hand. ‘Please do not leave on my account,’ she said, taking care to keep her voice soft. ‘If you’d permit me, I would very much like to speak with you.’
After glancing quickly back towards the house to see if anyone was watching, Bella added a warm smile and approached the maid who remained on her feet, clearly poised for flight
‘Please, won’t you sit with me for a moment?’ Arabella sat down on the bench and patted the space next to her. After a second, the maid relented and sat back down, though she held tight to the basket, presumably to ensure a quick retreat should it become necessary.
A small, mouse-haired girl of perhaps seventeen, Sally stared silently down towards the ground.
‘I shan’t keep you long,’ Arabella began pleasantly. ‘I wanted to ask about another girl working here – a scullery maid. Her name is Fanny.’
Her companion visibly stiffened but didn’t look up. ‘I notice that she wasn’t working on the night of the soiree,’ Bella went on. Then waited.
She could see the maid’s knuckles tighten on the basket in her lap, and she realised that Sally was frightened – truly frightened.
‘Are you friends with Fanny?’ she asked gently. There was a pause, then the maid shook her head quickly. ‘I ain’t…, she ain’t… I don’t know ‘er.’
Bella frowned. ‘But she does work here, doesn’t she, Sally?’ A pause, then another quick shake. Seconds later, the maid jumped up.
‘I ‘ave to go,’ she breathed, ‘I…’ she stopped, bit her lip, gave a quick bob and turned towards the house, clearly intending to run. Then, unexpectedly, after just two steps, she stopped and turned. ‘She ain’t ‘ere no more. I tol’ Mrs Finch that weeks ago.’ The words were a hurried hiss, and seconds later, she was gone.
To Billy’s relief, Mr Henry and Miss Charlotte returned to Cliff House just before lunch, though his relief was short-lived as he caught sight of his employer’s face. Hovering outside the office door, he listened unashamedly to the explanation given to the four younger Shacklefords.
Billy didn’t believe it for a minute. A man didn’t end up with a face like a squashed tomato from just walking into a wall – he’d have to have sprouted wings and flown into the bloody thing.
Frowning, Billy put his ear closer to the door.
Just wait until Mrs Williams caught sight of Mr Henry – he’d be for the high jump then, and no mistake.
Seconds later, the door was thrown open. Fortunately, Billy had just enough time to slip into the drawing room.
‘Billy Wiggins, I know you can hear me…’ The boy cringed at the strident tones of Miss Charlotte but didn’t move.
‘Get a penny from Mrs Williams and go into town to fetch Mr Shackleford some laudanum from Langley’s chemist. As you’ve no doubt observed, he’s had a bang on the head.
’ Then, without waiting for an answer, she turned back into the office and slammed the door behind her.
Although Billy was burning to know what had really happened, he realised this was a perfect opportunity to call in to see his ma. Langley’s chemist was just up from Elliot’s Grocery where she worked, and he didn’t think it would take him long to have a quick chat.
Unfortunately, however, the plan didn’t quite proceed as smoothly as it had in his head, and not five minutes after he’d entered the shop, his ma was marching him out by his ear.
‘Right then, Billy Wiggins, you can shut yer sauce box and listen. I’m tellin’ you now, you stay away from that bloody mudsill. E’s a badun an’ I mean really, really bad. That man ‘as the ear o’ the devil.’
Billy had never seen his ma so angry. They were standing right outside the shop, but she made no effort to keep her voice down.
In fact, she weren’t acting like his ma at all.
And then he realised what it was. She was scared.
In fact, he’d never seen her so scared. All he’d asked her was the bloke’s name.
‘It ain’t me, it’s Mr ‘Enry wot needs it, Ma.’
‘Why?’ She stopped her rant and took him by the shoulders, bending down to his level. ‘Why does ‘e need the name, Bill?’
Billy took a deep breath. ‘It’s summat to do wi’ them kids, Ma. Mr ‘Enry and Miss Charlotte ‘ave bin lookin’ fer ‘em since the orphanage burned down.’
He watched fearfully as his mother slowly straightened, her expression finally losing its haunted expression. ‘You can tell Mr ‘Enry, if they’re goin’ ter see ‘im ‘ang, I’ll ‘elp ‘em kick open the bloody trap door. The bastard’s name is John Thorpe.’