Her Saving Grace

by Catherine Winchester

  “Good morning.” Nate gave the girl his most reassuring smile. “We’d like to speak to Mrs Murray.”

  The girl stood there, rigid and unmoving.

  “Is she here?” he tried again.

  Finally there came a yell from inside the house. “Who is it?”

  The girl appeared even more frightened but still didn’t move. A few moments later, the front door was pulled wide and a middle-aged woman stood behind the girl. As she saw them, she too looked worried for a moment.

  “What the ‘ell do you want?” she barked.

  “Please, Ma’am, we need your services.” Nate did his best to look desperate.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” The woman defiantly crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I was given your name by Mick O’Grady, he said that you could help us. Please, you’re our only hope.”

  She looked them both up and down. Damaris kept her head bowed and did look rather forlorn, although he suspected that she was feeling the plight of the children, rather than being a good actress.

  Evidently Mrs Murray saw something in their demeanour that pleased her and gave a curt nod. “I don’t normally see people in my home but since you’re here, you’d better come in.”

  The house looked quite nice inside and while Mrs Murray was far from a well-to-do lady, her clothes were new and well kept.

  ‘If only the same could be said for the children,’ he thought.

  She led them into a kitchen with a large central table and gestured for them to sit, taking the chair opposite for herself. Damaris’ grip on his hand was tight, almost to the point of pain, but he daren’t let it go. He thought that she was trying desperately not to let her emotions show, although he didn’t know if it would be anger or despair that erupted. Nevertheless, if holding his hand helped, he wouldn’t deny her.

  “So, what seems to be the problem?” Mrs Murray asked. She had neither introduced herself nor asked for their names.

  “We’re in a spot of bother,” Nate began. “We… well… My friend’s husband is something of a tyrant and if he discovers what we’ve been up to, I dread to think what he might do. We would run away but his resources are vast and mine are not. He would find us and then the consequences don’t bear thinking about. Mick said you might be able to help us.”

  The woman actually looked sympathetic for a moment and he wondered at the Mrs in her title. Had her husband treated her as property? Where was he now?

  “I’ve got something you can try, a herbal mix, but it’ll cost you.”

  “I don’t care what it costs.”

  “A guinea.”

  Nate would bet good money that she didn’t charge that to her usual clientele, but he got his purse out and counted out the coins.

  She slipped the money into her pocket, then got up and went to a ceramic pot on a wooden dresser, which she brought back to the table, along with a spoon. She opened the lid and dipped the spoon into a treacle or tar-like substance, turning the spoon over and over until the thick liquid stopped dripping.

  “Here.” She passed the spoon over but Damaris recoiled, leaning into him.

  Nate comforted Damaris; he didn’t need to pretend as he did feel quite protective of her, and looked to Mrs Murray.

  “Can we take a dose away, perhaps in a cup? She’s quite distraught about this whole situation and I wouldn’t want to add to her burdens.”

  Mrs Murray raised an eyebrow, silently asking if he hadn’t already given her enough burdens.

  “You’ll need to pay for the cup.”

  “Of course,” he readily agreed.

  She got a small, chipped teacup and let the viscous substance seep from the spoon and into it. Since a lot seemed to remain on the spoon, she added a little more from the jar.

  “Take it all,” she advised, handing the cup over. “Hot water helps to loosen the remnants from the sides.”

  Nate handed over a few more coins and looked at the brown contents of the cup.

  “What’s in here?” he asked.

  “Saffron, ergot, pennyroyal, things like that.”

  “And it will work, won’t it?”

  Mrs Murray shrugged. “I can't give guarantees but if it don’t, come back and I’ll give you another dose. Sometimes it takes more than one.”

  “I understand,” Nate nodded. “Thank you.”

  Mrs Murray got to her feet, a clear indication that the meeting was over, then showed them to the front door. He thanked her and she closed the door without replying. Damaris leaned into him all the way to the carriage, which he helped her into, climbing in after her.

  Damaris had taken a seat and was pinching the bridge of her nose.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, as the carriage moved off.

  She nodded and after a moment, raised her head. “Can I see?” She held her hand out for the cup, which he handed to her. She held the cup towards the light from the carriage window and after looking, sniffed the contents.

  “She said it was pennyroyal, saffron and something else,” he reminded her. “Is there any way to check?”

  “If Dr Worthington wouldn’t mind me using his equipment, I should be able to discover what’s in here but to be honest, it smells like treacle, with some dried, crushed sage leaves added.”

  “And is that effective at…”

  “Not at all,” she shook her head. “I don’t know if I’m more upset at the idea of women being desperate enough to kill their babies, or them being lied to and tricked into buying a useless placebo.”

  “A placebo?” he asked, never having heard the term.

  “It’s defined as a medicine given more to placate, than to help the patient. They’re often given to people with imagined ailments or hysterical women.”

  The carriage stopped up at the local midwife’s house and a boy of perhaps fifteen came out to greet them.

  “Can we help you?” he asked. His clothes were a little old and worn but neatly darned and spotlessly clean.

  “We’re here to see Mrs Stephens,” Nate said.

  “She’s out with a patient but she should be back soon, she’s been gone most of the night. Come in,” he said, leading them back into the house and leaving them little choice but to follow.

  Once again they were led to a kitchen and here they found another boy of perhaps ten and two girls, both of whom looked to be about 12. The girls were chopping vegetables, while the boy was boiling something in a caldron over the fire.

  “This is Alf, Kelly and Joanna,” the oldest boy explained, and each child curtseyed or bowed to them as they were introduced. “And I’m George. My elder sister, Laura’s out helping Mam with the birth.”

  “When do you expect her back?” Nate asked.

  “Hard to say. Sometimes it’s an hour, others she can be gone two days, just sending Laura back for supplies and such. I can take a message for you if you’d like, or you can have a cuppa tea and wait for a while.”

  Nate wondered that he wasn’t at all phased by the presence of two wealthy people in his home.

  “Do strangers often turn up here?” he asked.

  “All the time.” George said with pride. “Mam’s very good at what she does, so we even have women from neighbouring villages come to her.”

  It was unusual to see a boy of his age not at work and Nate said as much.

  “I do work,” he smiled. “I do books for people, shopkeepers mainly. Mam taught me how so that I could do her books and keep a track of her stocks and such, but there wasn’t enough to keep me busy, so I offer my services to others who need help but can't afford someone full time. Me older sister’s being trained up to be a midwife herself, so will these when they’re older.” He pointed to the girls, who were sitting at the kitchen table.

  “We’re wasting time,” Damaris sounded impatient. “You wait here and I’ll go to the courthouse.”

  “I’ll go with you,” he said.

  “No need, I read faster anyway.”

  Nate
didn’t much like the idea of leaving her alone. With two recent murders, he feared that he and Damaris might be next but he supposed that ensconced in the court archives, she couldn’t come to much harm and she was right, she did read faster than he did.

  “The clerk won’t let you in without my say so, but I’ll come straight back once you’re settled.”

  “But I am Acting Constable, why wouldn’t he let me in?” She frowned.

  “Because he doesn’t know that yet, and I haven’t retrieved Smyth’s tipstaff from Dr Worthington.”

  “Very well.” She seemed upset that he was accompanying her but everything he’d said was true.

  ***

  Damaris almost breathed a sigh of relief as the clerk closed the door behind himself, leaving her alone in this great room of records. She had spent far too much time of late in the company of others, and she needed to be by herself for a time.

  The clerk had explained how the records were stored and since she was able to recall the date of each newspaper article detailing O’Grady’s cases, she found the records without too much trouble. They weren’t particularly detailed but did give her the basics of the court cases. O’Grady had never pleaded guilty and so there was a list of those called to the stand and a summary of their testimony. Within two hours, she had found and read each case and had the possible names of three of O’Grady’s associates, but she doubted that it would do her much good.

  One associate was referred to by a witness as being ‘Old John’, last name unknown. She could have visited the witness and asked him, except that having been written by an overfull quill tip, the ink had spread until his surname was little more than an ink blot.

  The next associate was referred to as having fled the vicinity and the final one had been convicted and transported to Australia.

  In almost every trial, the witnesses had recanted their earlier statements, possibly frightened into doing so, and there were no more recent trials, since Smyth hadn’t been inclined to arrest his friend.

  Damaris put the records away again then sank into the chair she had been using, her hands covering her face.

  Now that she had nothing to occupy her, the faces of the children from this morning kept coming back, haunting her. She didn’t have much experience of children but little Thomas had always been full of life, always having to be held back as his natural inclination seemed to be to run, jump or skip everywhere. To see those children this morning, so still and lifeless, with such fear in their eyes, pained her.

  But what could she do about it?

  It wasn’t illegal to give your child to another, nor was it illegal to discipline a child so no matter how abhorrent those things were, there was nothing she could do, not even with her title of Acting Constable.

  She supposed that she could buy the children from Mrs Murray but that would be rewarding her mistreatment of them and besides, then what would she do with them? She had the means but not the facilities to care for them. She supposed that she could fund an orphanage where they could live but setting that up could take weeks, even months. In the meantime, those children would continue to live a wretched existence and what’s more, even if she did buy their freedom, they would quickly be replaced with new charges.

  As soon as this case was solved, she would set up some kind of orphanage, she decided. After all, the more places that would take in unwanted children, and the less likely it was that desperate women would resort to answering the adverts in newspapers. That however, did not solve the problem of how to help these children.

  She knew that it was illogical to be upset by them spending a little more time with Mrs Murray; they had likely lived with her for years after all, so what did a few more weeks matter? But the fact was that the idea of them spending even one more night with that woman nauseated her.

  She got to her feet and quickly left the building, determined to save those children, one way or another.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nathaniel had returned to the midwife’s house and after waiting fifteen minutes, she turned up, looking haggard but happy. She was surprised to see him but knew exactly who he was.

  “My, haven’t you grown up well,” Mrs Stephens said as she came into the kitchen, a warm smile finding its way through her obvious lethargy.

  Her grey hair was swept back from her face into a tight bun and she looked to be about 50, although he had a feeling that her tired expression might be adding undue years to his estimate.

  “Have we met?” he asked.

  “Not since the night you were born,” the other woman explained. “I was the midwife your mother used. I like to keep up with my babies, keep an eye on them over the years and I must say, you’ve grown up into a fine young man; your father would be proud.”

  “I thought doctors attended my mother’s births?” Doctor Worthington, if he wasn’t very much mistaken.

  “The later ones, aye, she had some real problems your poor mam, but you were her first, and one of my first once I’d finished my training, and luckily, you were born healthy and happy and with a fine set of lungs on you.”

  Her manner was so easy and open that Nate found himself not wanting to lie to her, as he had to Mrs Murray. “Is there somewhere that we can speak in private, Mrs Stephens?”

  She showed him through to the study.

  “This sounds serious,” she said as she sat down.

  “It is, I’m afraid; I’m here in my capacity as Justice of the Peace.” He took a deep breath, unwilling to accuse this kindly woman of murder. “Please be assured that I don’t mean you any harm and what we discuss will remain between us.”

  “Go on,” she prompted.

  “I have been given to understand that you provide herbs to some women which induce miscarriage.”

  She gave him a long, hard look. “And if I did?”

  “Do you use pennyroyal?”

  “Only a fool would use that.” She contemplated him for a few more moments and seemingly liked what she saw. “I do help women in trouble,” she confessed, her voice low but not a whisper. “The Church might have a problem with it but I believe some children are better off bypassing life and going straight to Him, and I can't believe Him so callous that he would blame a child for the actions of its parents, or me.”

  Nathaniel found that he couldn’t argue with her, what kind of life would a child born to one of O’Grady’s women have, raised around sin and alcohol?

  “I have a tea mix that has to be drunk every day for seven to fourteen days, until its effective.”

  “But it doesn’t contain pennyroyal?”

  “Lord no. That stuff’s dangerous. I use it for women who have trouble regulating their monthlies, because that only takes a drop. The strength needed to get rid of a baby would be as dangerous to the mother as it would be to the unborn child.”

  “Has anyone asked you for pennyroyal recently?”

  “How recent?”

  “In the last two months?”

  “Three people, two were recent mothers whose cycle was a little off, the other a girl, just entering womanhood.”

  “Did you give any of them enough to do any harm?”

  “Oh no. I give them seven drops in a jar and they take one drop a day. They’ve to come back each month if they need more. Can I ask why the interest in pennyroyal?”

  “I believe that a man was murdered using it.”

  She grimaced. “That’d be a nasty way to go. Who was it?”

  “You haven’t heard?”

  “I’ve been over in Lambeth for a day and a half. Fourteen year old girl who wasn’t big enough to birth a baby. I don’t know why they let ‘em marry so young.” She shook her head sadly.

  “Is she all right?”

  “She came through it, but I can't say the same for the babe.” She suddenly looked far older than her years, and as if she hadn’t slept in weeks. He decided that perhaps it was better not to dwell on the loss.

  “The man poisoned was Mick O’Grady, do you know hi
m?”

  “Aye, unfortunately I do… or did. Can't say I’m surprised someone did him in, but the method does surprise me.”

  “You offered your services to him, is that correct?”

  “I’ve never taken a penny of that man’s money but his girls, them I helped from time to time, even born a few babes in that awful tavern of his over the years.”

  “Do you know of anyone who wanted him dead? Or who might have used pennyroyal to do it?”

  “I’d say that everyone who owed him a gambling debt wanted him dead. As to pennyroyal, it’s not hard to come by, the apothecary stocks it but as for knowing how to use it, well that would likely take someone who could read and write and so knew what it was for.”

  “Would your patients know what it was for?”

  “Other than regulating monthly cycles, I doubt it. I emphasise that they aren’t to take too much or it could be dangerous but I doubt they know why.”

  “And if I asked you to name the likeliest suspect for killing O’Grady?”

  “I’d tell you that I don’t know. I helped his girls out when they needed it but I stayed as far away from that man as I could.”

  He believed her.

  “Thank you, Mrs Stephens.”

  He said his goodbyes and then left.

  Knowing that Damaris would likely need time to go through the records, not to mention that she hadn’t seemed keen on his company, he headed out to Wallace Sondham’s house, since it was his land that Charles Howard had been discovered on.

  Sondham was new money and as such, not much liked by the aristocracy. Nathaniel preferred to judge people on their character rather than title, but he hadn’t had many dealings with the man to date.

  Sondham’s father had made a little money as a merchant sailor, which he had invested in a cotton mill and done very well for himself. His son had taken over twenty years ago now, when his father felt the desire to travel again, although this time in style and with his wife. The business had gone from strength to strength under Wallace’s guidance but he had sold up and invested in property, saying it was a far easier life to rent a mill to a business, than it was to run one. He also rented out houses in London and Lanford, although these were not very high end.