by Kerry Tombs
She said nothing as the woman reached out for the dirty brown package.
‘A few things for the baby, no doubt as we suggested — just until we can purchase some new garments for Lily Ann, you understand. Now my dear, I do believe my train has arrived.’
‘Please no!’ she called out, quickly rising from the seat.
‘Now then my dear, it is best if you stay here. It won’t do the child any good if she wakes up now and sees you crying like that, it will only cause her more distress, and we don’t want that do we?’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘You just sit there for a few minutes. You know it is the right thing.’
‘Can I see her?’ she pleaded. ‘Can I come and see her sometimes?’
‘Of course you can, my dear. I believe you have my address. We reside at Number 22, Suffolk Square, Cheltenham. Do you know the town?’
‘I have never visited there.’
‘Suffolk Square is in the most fashionable part of Cheltenham, near Montpellier. Mr Huddlestone would not wish to associate himself with any less desirable quarter of the town, I can assure you. You would be most welcome to call upon us, shall we say in about six months?’
‘That seems so long time,’ she said through her tears.
‘I think it would be unsettling for the child if you were to come sooner. We must allow the infant to become familiar with her new life. As a mother I am sure you understand that. Now we must go, before the train departs without us. It would never do if we were late returning. Mr Huddlestone would be so worried.’
‘Please, may I look at my child one more—’ she pleaded, but before she could complete her request, the woman had stepped out onto the platform, closing the door quickly behind her.
‘No. No!’ Alice cried out, throwing herself down on the bench, and covering her face with her hands as her body shook uncontrollably.
Through her tears she became aware of a whistle being blown and then the sound of the train commencing its slow exit from the station. ‘Oh no!’ she exclaimed, rushing towards the door.
‘I’m afraid you’ve missed the 3.30, miss,’ said the large, red-faced railway porter entering the room and blocking her way. ‘Next train won’t be for another two hours. Are you all right, miss?’
‘The train. You have to stop the train,’ she said pushing past the man and running out onto the platform.
‘I can’t do that, miss. Once the train has begun its journey it is too late,’ replied the man following on behind. ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, you don’t look very well, miss. Why don’t you sit down for a minute, while I calls you a cab.’
But she did not hear his words, for as the smoke cleared from the station and the train disappeared from view down the track, the awful realization of what had just taken place suddenly swept over her and, covering her wet face with her trembling hands, she sank to her knees in despair.
CHAPTER ONE
LEDBURY, APRIL 1890
‘Samuel.’
‘Yes, my dear,’ replied the detective without looking up from his writing.
‘Are you particularly busy at the moment?’ asked Lucy.
‘Just completing my monthly report, that is all.’
‘And does your report contain anything of startling importance?’
‘If you call the arrest of yet another of the Leewood clan for attempting to break into the town office buildings, and the rounding up of those two vagrants in the market place last week, major crimes, then yes, I suppose my report must be of the greatest importance to the police authorities,’ grumbled Ravenscroft, throwing down his pen in annoyance.
‘I am so sorry—’ began Lucy.
‘No, it is I who must apologize. You find me in a bad humour this evening. You must excuse me. It is just that life has been so dull and uneventful of late. Since that business in Tewkesbury last year there has been nothing to interest me at all. Not a decent robbery for months! No attempted murders! No major disturbances! I do not know what the world is coming to. I might as well not be here,’ continued Ravenscroft in the same gloomy vein.
‘There was that rather vicious argument outside the Feathers last month,’ offered Lucy.
‘Just two Irish navies who were celebrating St. Patrick’s day. They soon sobered up after a night in the cells.’
‘And don’t forget that runaway horse which galloped all along the Homend, and who then threatened to turn over all the market stalls.’
‘Tom soon brought it under control.’
‘And then there was that one-eyed poacher who said he would burn down the church if the vicar ever—’
‘Yes, yes, I know,’ protested an irritated Ravenscroft.
‘Perhaps it is your presence here that has led to the reduction in crime in Ledbury? I am sure any suspicious person, intent on criminal activity in this town, upon learning of your presence here, would quickly take himself off to Hereford or Worcester, or some other such place, to commit his unlawful outrage there.’
‘Stop teasing me,’ laughed Ravenscroft getting up from the table and walking over to the empty chair set before the blazing fire.
‘Yes, I suppose life must be very dull after all your years in Whitechapel. Do you not sometimes wish you were back there again?’
‘Not for one second, my dear. I did my time in London; let others now try to bring law and order to that den of iniquity. Fortunately you saved me from all that. I am a bad fellow indeed to complain when I have such a wife and children to make me happy. I suppose I only have one regret in leaving there.’
‘Oh, and what might that be?’ asked Lucy placing her book on the small side-table near her chair.
‘I only wish I had been there when that Jack the Ripper character was about his work.’
‘Oh Samuel, you surely don’t think that you could have bought him to book, when everyone else failed?’
‘I would have had a jolly good try. Every criminal makes a mistake, that leads to his arrest, sooner or later. It is all just a matter of time,’ said Ravenscroft warming his hands before the fire.
‘Well, no one caught the “Ripper”.’
‘No, I suppose they did not. I often wonder what happened to the fellow? Perhaps he just went off somewhere else and died — fell into a lake and drowned, slipped off the edge of a cliff, or got run over by a train, or something like that. Perhaps he is just biding his time, waiting to commit some further atrocity. Who knows? Anyway I am tired of all that. That’s all in the past. What have you been reading my dear?’
‘The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson,’ replied Lucy.
‘Oh Stevenson. Didn’t he write Treasure Island? “Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum”; “pieces of eight” and all that?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘So what is so strange about this Jekyll and Hyde?’ asked Ravenscroft affecting a mild interest.
‘Well, they are both the same person.’
‘Both the same person?’
‘Yes. Doctor Jekyll is a kind, considerate man, a bit like you Samuel, but then he makes up this strange potion which he drinks and then he becomes this horrible man called Mr Hyde, who of course is nothing at all like you Samuel, even when you are in one of your bad moods.’
‘I don’t have bad moods,’ protested Ravenscroft. ‘I admit I get a little unsettled at times, usually when I am bored. Nothing a good crime waiting to be solved would not cure. Anyway no more of that. Tell me more about your book. I’m intrigued.’
‘Well there isn’t much more to say really, just that each time Dr Jekyll takes the potion he becomes more and more horrible and commits all kinds of terrible things.’
‘Interesting.’
‘I suppose the author is trying to say that we all have two sides to our character; one half of us is good, whilst the other is, well, bad.’
‘I can see what he is getting at. I have certainly known men, and women, who have appeared quite respectable on the outside, who nevertheles
s concealed the most appalling criminal intentions. The good often masks the evil. You must tell me what happens to your Doctor Jekyll when you have finished your book. I trust he gets bought to account for his bad deeds.’
‘Yes, perhaps he does,’ replied Lucy turning away and looking into the fire.
Ravenscroft picked up the newspaper which lay on the table next to his arm chair, and turned over the front page.
‘Samuel,’ said Lucy breaking the silence, after some minutes had elapsed.
‘I knew it,’ said Ravenscroft lowering his paper and peering over the top of his spectacles. ‘I knew you were just waiting to talk to me.’
‘Well yes, but you were busy at the time.’
‘You have my undivided attention now, my dear,’ smiled Ravenscroft folding the newspaper and placing it on a side-table.
‘Well, I have been thinking, quite seriously, of late, that perhaps we should all move elsewhere,’ said Lucy leaning forwards to face her husband.
‘Move elsewhere? I thought you liked Ledbury. We are all quite comfortable here, are we not?’
‘Well yes, I suppose so, but that is the problem. Richard is nearly seven years of age, and little Arthur is now four months old and will soon be in need of his own room. I fear we are all running out of space.’
‘Running out of space?’ frowned Ravenscroft.
‘It’s all right for you of course, you are out most of the day, you don’t notice these things, but when Susan is looking after Arthur in one room, and I am in here giving one of my students a piano lesson, poor Richard just has nowhere to play.’
‘Nowhere to play?’ interrupted Ravenscroft picking up his newspaper once more.
‘Oh Samuel do listen — and stop repeating everything I say,’ replied a frustrated Lucy.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ravenscroft trying to sound sympathetic. ‘I had not realized that things had become so difficult for you.’
‘This is quite a small cottage, Samuel. When I first came here there was just Richard and I. Susan only came during the day. Then you arrived. Then Arthur was born — and then Susan had to move in full time to look after him, and then she had to have her own room to sleep in.’
‘I see the problem. What do you suggest then, my dear?’ said Ravenscroft throwing another log on the fire.
‘Well perhaps we should look around for something a little larger, somewhere with an extra room, or two, and a garden would be quite nice, not a large garden, just a small lawn, where Richard and Arthur could play when the weather is fine.’
‘I see,’ nodded Ravenscroft.
‘I know your remuneration is not large, but now that we have a bit put by, I think we could afford something else which would be more in keeping with your position.’
‘And have you considered where we might move to? It may be difficult for us to leave Ledbury, unless another situation becomes available elsewhere. I know that both Worcester and Hereford are fully staffed at present. And then I don’t know of any suitable properties in Ledbury.’
‘There are plenty of properties available in Malvern,’ suggested Lucy.
‘Malvern?’
‘I notice that you spend quite a deal of your time there, and Ledbury is still quite near for you to travel to everyday if you need to,’ said Lucy becoming more animated as she rose from her chair and walked over to her husband. ‘In fact, yesterday when I was in Malvern I went into one or two agents, and acquired the particulars of some rather interesting houses that are available to rent.’
‘I see. You have been busy, my dear.’
‘There is a particularly pleasant house near the common at the Wells, which has a delightful drawing room with a large window that overlooks the garden, which I know the children would enjoy. It has such a fine view. It also has an extra two bedrooms, one of which would form a very nice nursery for Arthur.’
‘It would appear that you have already been to view the property.’
‘I knew that you would not mind, Samuel. You must really come and see it, as soon as you are free. I know that once you have seen—’
Lucy’s flow of words was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the front door.
‘Whoever can that be at this time of night,’ said Ravenscroft rising from his chair.
‘It’s Constable Crabb sir,’ interrupted the maid entering the room closely followed by the young fresh-faced constable.
‘Hello Tom, what brings you out here at such a late hour?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘I’m sorry to intrude sir, Mrs Ravenscroft. I hope I am not disturbing you?’
‘That’s quite all right, Tom. We were not doing anything of great importance. You look quite out of breath,’ said Ravenscroft.
Lucy let out a deep sigh as she regained her seat.
‘Urgent message from Sir Charles Chilton. You are to come at once,’ said Crabb brandishing a telegram in one hand.
‘And who is Sir Charles Chilton?’ asked Ravenscroft taking the telegram.
‘Lives in Droitwich I believe. Something big in salt,’ offered Crabb.
‘Salt!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft beginning to read the communication. ‘IMPERATIVE YOU COME AT ONCE. MOST SERIOUS MATTER. CHILTON. SIR CHARLES. HILL COURT. DODDERHILL. DROITWICH. Is that all?’
‘Just after that telegram was delivered another one arrived.’
‘Oh, who from Tom?’
‘Superintendent. Gives instructions that you are to go to Droitwich as soon as possible,’ said Crabb taking out another telegram from the top pocket of his tunic and passing it over to his superior.
‘I don’t know why someone from Worcester can’t go,’ said Lucy. ‘It is rather late in the evening to venture out.’
‘Or even from Droitwich. We have got a police station at Droitwich, haven’t we?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Don’t know sir, but I would have thought so,’ replied Crabb.
Ravenscroft opened the second telegram and read, ‘RAVENSCROFT. GO TO SEE SIR CHARLES CHILTON AT DROITWICH IMMEDIATELY. HAS ASKED FOR YOU PERSONALLY. MOST IMPORTANT THAT YOU COMPLY.
‘Well Tom, I suppose there is nothing else for it; we will have to go forth into the night air and take ourselves off to Droitwich.’
‘I believe there is a train leaving from Ledbury in fifteen minutes which will take us there sir,’ said Crabb.
‘Then we should make all haste up the Homend. I’m sorry my dear, I am afraid we will have to continue this discussion another time. Why on earth they have asked for me instead of using the local man is beyond me? Please don’t wait up for me. I don’t know when we will return.’
‘Go Samuel, go now, or you will miss your train. As you said, we can finish our conversation another time,’ said Lucy. ‘Now do take care.’
CHAPTER TWO
DROITWICH
‘Well, Tom, what do we know about this Sir Charles Chilton?’ asked Ravenscroft as the two men sat in the carriage of a train which had left the town of Ledbury some twenty minutes before. They were now drawing out of the station in Worcester. ‘You said he had something to do with salt.’
‘Yes sir. Droitwich is famous for its salt. They have been digging it up for centuries by all accounts. Quite a hive of activity. And all I know is that Sir Charles seems to own most of it,’ replied Crabb.
‘And how did you come by this information?’ asked Ravenscroft staring out of the window at the receding oil lamps on the station platform.
‘Local newspaper, sir. Some weeks ago, there was an article on the salt manufacture at Droitwich, and I thought I remembered that Sir Charles’s name was mentioned more than once or twice.’
‘I see. I must say that I am more than intrigued as to why we have been summoned, and at such a late hour as well. I would have thought they would have requested assistance from the local station. The telegram said it was a most serious matter. Well we shall see.’
A few minutes later the train pulled into Droitwich station and the two men alighted from their carriage.
‘Take us to Hill Court at Dodderhill, my man,’ instructed Ravenscroft addressing the driver of the lone cab that was waiting outside the dimly lit station.
‘You must be Ravenscroft then,’ remarked the cabman indicating that the two men should enter.
‘It seems we are expected, Crabb,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘How long will it take us to get there?’
‘Five to ten minutes sir,’ replied the cabman.
Ravenscroft and Crabb sat back in their seats, as the man cracked his whip and the horse broke into a brisk trot.
‘How did he know who we were?’ asked Crabb.
‘I suppose Sir Charles assumed that we would arrive by train, rather than making our own way by road at this time of night,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘Can’t quite see where we are going,’ said Crabb staring out of the window as they passed along the darkened streets of the town.
Presently the cab made its way up a steep hill before turning sharply to its left.
‘I think I can see the lights from the house,’ said Ravenscroft leaning out of the window as their conveyance made its way up a long driveway.
‘Looks as though it could be a residence of some importance,’ suggested Crabb.
The vehicle swung abruptly to the left before coming to a rest in front of a fine Georgian building. An elderly, grey-haired servant holding a lantern came forwards to meet them. ‘Good evening sir. Welcome to Hill Court. If you would care to enter, Sir Charles is waiting for you in the entrance hall,’ said the man opening the cab for the two policemen.
Ravenscroft made his way through the large open doorway observing, in passing, the ornate pillars and cornice which together framed the entrance.
‘Ah Ravenscroft, good of you to come,’ announced the squat middle-aged man, whom Ravenscroft found himself facing; this character sported a large, ginger handlebar moustache and mutton chop whiskers, and was smoking a massive cigar, dressed in evening attire.
‘I came as soon as I received your telegram, Sir Charles. This is Constable Crabb, my assistant,’ replied Ravenscroft.
