by Kerry Tombs
‘Old John never said why he had been forced to leave?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘No. I know that Sir Charles said that if ever John came back onto his property, we were to inform the local police, and have him arrested.’
‘That would appear to be quite harsh treatment?’
‘We thought so at the time, but of course we dared not speak up for John, in case the master took exception, and we lost our positions as well.’
‘Quite, I understand.’
‘That is all I can tell you, Inspector. I am sorry that I could not have been more helpful,’ said the cook.
‘On the contrary you have been most informative, Mrs Greenway. Most informative indeed. I thank you for your time,’ said Ravenscroft raising his hat as he began to walk back through the garden door.
CHAPTER TEN
LEDBURY AND WORCESTER
Lucy closed the lid of the piano, unable to concentrate on the music before her, her thoughts constantly returned to the whereabouts of the missing children; she was saddened by her powerlessness to do anything to resolve the situation.
The door opened and the maid entered the room.
‘Please ma’am, there’s a rather strange looking man who insists on seeing you.’
‘Did he give you his name?’
‘Says his name is Shorter.’
‘Clement Shorter at your service again, my dear Mrs Ravenscroft,’ said the newspaperman brushing past the maid and striding up to Lucy and shaking her hand vigorously. ‘So pleased to make your acquaintance again, my good lady.’
‘My dear Mr Shorter, how pleasant to see you again,’ replied Lucy somewhat taken aback by the new arrival’s dramatic entrance. ‘Do take a seat. Perhaps you would care to take some refreshment?’
‘No time for refreshments, or even a seat ma’am. I have it here!’ exclaimed Shorter brandishing a piece of paper, which he had just removed from his coat pocket.
‘You have found the address?’
‘Indeed, my dear Mrs Ravenscroft. That which was lost has been found. The errant lamb has returned to the fold!’
‘Oh well done,’ said an enthusiastic Lucy.
‘After your visit, I felt compelled to launch an expedition to find the rogue paper, and after an hour or two of searching through the jungle of accumulated articles and discarded ephemera, there it was, inside my copy of The Post Office Directory. Page 372 to be precise. Why it should have secreted itself there must alas remain a mystery,’ said the excitable newspaperman, the words tumbling out one after another in quick succession.
‘And what address does our record show?’ asked Lucy anxiously interrupting the flow of words.
‘It appears that our Mrs Huddlestone resides not all that distance from where we are at present. Worcester to be precise. 16A Inkerman Street. Shades of the Crimea, I detect. There is not a moment to lose, my dear lady. I believe the next train for that place leaves in just twenty minutes.’
‘Then we shall certainly go and seek out this Mrs Huddlestone, but perhaps I am detaining you from your work?’
‘This is my work, my dear lady! I have a duty to my readers to seek out the truth, to right the great wrongs of our society, to overturn all stones, to break through the braken and jungle, to explore those unknown darkened areas of the world! And if I can be of assistance to you in this great matter, albeit in a sideways capacity, then I will pleased to do so. I see that all this has the making of a good story.’
‘Then I would be delighted if you would accompany me, Mr Shorter. Shall we go?’
* * *
Later that morning, Lucy and Shorter made their way down the narrow streets of the district in the town of Worcester known to its inhabitants as the Arboretum. To Lucy it seemed as though the smoke from the various chimneys and the nearby factories, which hung over the rows of insignificant terraced dwellings, served only to heighten the oppressive gloom and eerie silence of the area.
‘Ah, here we are. This appears to be Inkerman Street,’ announced Shorter pausing at the corner of one of the narrow roads. ‘Now, my good lady, are you sure that you wish to undertake this visit alone? Who knows what lies hidden behind such closed doors; what secrets are waiting to be revealed from the other side of half-drawn ancient curtains?’
‘I must confess that I am somewhat apprehensive, Mr Shorter, but if we are to avoid suspicion, it is better that I go by myself. If this Mrs Huddlestone does reside at this address, then it is to be hoped that the two infant children may still be in her care,’ replied Lucy.
‘Then I wish you well, Mrs Ravenscroft. In order that I am not seen by the inhabitants of the house, I will take the liberty of waiting round the corner. Be sure to call upon me, my dear good lady, if the situation so demands it.’
‘Thank you Mr Shorter, you are most kind. I am sure I will not be long.’
As Lucy walked down the narrow road, she noticed that her hands had begun to shake with trepidation at what she might find behind the closed door of number 16A Inkerman Street. Would she be able to find the missing infants of Alice Corbett and the deceased chambermaid from Droitwich, within the confines of the house — and if the children were there, how would she be able to secure their release? Would she also be able to discover the whereabouts of Mildred Chilton and to reunite her with her parents? What kind of woman would the unknown Amelia Huddlestone turn out to be — and would she accept the story she had formulated in her mind, or reject it out of hand?
She hesitated before bringing her gloved hand down on the wooden door. Receiving no reply, she considered the possibility that her visit might prove in vain — perhaps the Huddlestones had departed some time ago, leaving the house empty? But then she thought she detected a brief movement of a curtain in the upstairs window, and felt reassured to repeat her action once more.
Presently she heard the sound of footsteps in the distance, and after what seemed to Lucy to be an eternity, the door slowly opened a few inches.
‘Good morning. I am looking for Mrs Huddlestone,’ said Lucy rather hesitantly after clearing her throat.
‘Who wants her?’ asked the speaker opening the door another inch or two.
‘My name is Ravenscroft. I have come about the advertisement.’
‘What advertisement?’ asked the grey haired woman adopting a defensive manner.
‘In the Droitwich Guardian. The advertisement stated that you were looking for a child to bring up as your own.’
‘How did you know of my address?’ asked the woman eying Lucy.
‘I know that I should have replied to your advertisement at the time, but the editor said that all the responses had been sent on to this address, and as my plight is somewhat urgent, I thought you would not mind if I applied to you in person,’ said Lucy, conscious that she was stumbling over her words as the hard faced woman stared intently into her eyes.
‘You best come in then,’ said the woman, softening her tone, and indicating that Lucy should enter the building. ‘You will have to excuse us, we were not expecting visitors.’
‘I am sorry for the intrusion, but you are the only person I can turn to,’ said Lucy following the woman into the front room of the house.
‘In trouble are we?’
Lucy taken aback by the sudden abrasive tone of the question, uttered, ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Sit down there, my dear,’ said her hostess indicating one of the chairs grouped round the table. ‘Granny, will you take that child away.’
Lucy noticed an old woman, sitting at one of the chairs, and a thin delicate looking boy cowering in the corner of the room.
‘Is this your boy?’ asked Lucy.
The child, whom Lucy judged to be no more than seven years of age, gave the older woman a frightened look as she stood up and grasped his arm rudely, before the two of them left the room together.
‘Give him some food, Granny,’ shouted the woman. ‘The lad’s not mine. He is staying with us for a few days whilst his mother is away.’
/> ‘I see. Do you have any children of your own?’ asked Lucy.
‘Full of questions ain’t we? I thought you had read the advertisement?’ replied the woman curtly.
‘Yes of course, how remiss of me. I am sorry for your loss.’
‘The good Lord took her away. Not for us to question the decisions of the Almighty. There was little we could do,’ said the woman without emotion. ‘Now what can I do for you, my dear?’
‘I don’t quite know how to begin,’ said Lucy removing a handkerchief from her pocket and bringing it up to her nose.
‘Take your time my dear,’ said her hostess adopting a more sympathetic tone.
‘I am engaged as a governess to a gentleman of some importance in the county.’
‘Thought as much. You looked too grand to be a chambermaid. Bit too free with his ways was he?’
‘It was the gentleman’s nephew,’ replied Lucy dabbing the corner of one eye.
‘Usually the way. Men can be so thoughtless. You are not the first to fall for such a man, nor will you be the last. Go on.’
‘He promised me so much. I was foolish to believe that he would ever care for me. The child was born a month ago. The master said he was prepared to overlook my indiscretion, but on no account would he take on the child. I didn’t know what to do. If I am dismissed from my position, we will both be penniless and I will never be able to find future employment. I don’t want to give up my baby, but I can see no other way. Then one of the maids in the house remembered your advertisement in the newspaper. Am I to late? Have you found a child already?’
‘There, there, now my dear, don’t distress yourself so. The good Lord has sent you to me in your hour of need,’ replied the woman placing a comforting hand on Lucy’s arm. ‘We will see what can be done.’
‘Oh, thank goodness.’
‘You have a little boy or girl?’
‘A girl.’
‘Does she have a name?’
‘Maria.’
‘A pleasant enough name. My child was Clarissa Ann. Such a pretty name, but the good Lord took her away to a far more holy place. I know she is well provided for in the afterlife, but the sadness leaves a lonely chill behind.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘But now you have come to bring light into our family. Mr Huddlestone will be so delighted when I tell him our good news. He works as a railway goods agent on the Midland Railway you know. Such a demanding occupation. You would not object to our calling your child, Clarissa Ann. It would so remind Mr Huddlestone of our own dear daughter.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ replied Lucy looking down sadly at her hands and the twisted handkerchief in her lap.
‘Of course, we would want some form of remuneration for our taking on the child. Mr Huddlestone would insist on that. Just to help with our expenses.’
‘Yes, I understand.’
‘Fifteen guineas.’
‘Fifteen guineas!’ exclaimed Lucy.
‘If you think that is too much, then perhaps you had better leave,’ said the woman, abruptly rising and moving her chair back from the table.
‘No, no,’ said Lucy quickly. ‘I did not mean to cause offence. Please help me. I have no one else to turn to. I have the money.’
‘Good, and if you have any items of clothing belonging to the child—’
‘Yes.’
‘There would have to be one more condition. Once you have handed over your baby, it would be better if you were not to see her for at least six months or more. We find it is better for the child. It would be very upsetting for her if you kept visiting, I am sure you understand that, my dear,’ smiled Mrs Huddlestone.
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Good, then that is all settled. When would you like to bring the child?’ asked Mrs Huddlestone in a business-like manner, indicating that the meeting was drawing to its conclusion.
‘Would tomorrow morning be acceptable? My employer is anxious to avoid any scandal,’ replied Lucy standing up.
‘I understand.’
Lucy looked across to the corner of the room, where a red shawl lay crumpled on the floor. Had not Alice Corbett mentioned that she had given away her daughter in a red shawl?
The woman caught her stare. ‘Something wrong, my dear?’
‘The shawl, red,’ she muttered. ‘It is just that red is not my favourite colour. It has so many bad memories for me.’
‘You should not let such things disturb you, my dear,’ said Amelia Huddlestone giving her a stern look.
‘What was that noise?’ cried out Lucy.
‘What noise my dear?’
‘I thought I heard a child crying. Somewhere upstairs,’ said Lucy anxiously.
‘I think you are mistaken, my dear. I have no other children here besides the boy you saw when you came in,’ replied Mrs Huddlestone quickly showing Lucy out of the room.
‘I’m sure I heard a child,’ persisted Lucy.
‘Next door. They are a noisy family. Nothing for you to worry about. Shall we say ten tomorrow morning?’
‘Yes. Ten. That would be most acceptable.’
‘Then good day to you. What did you say your name was?’
‘Ravenscroft, Mrs — sorry, Miss Ravenscroft.’
The woman gave Lucy a curious glance before opening the door and ushering her out into the street.
* * *
‘Well my dear Mrs Ravenscroft, what did you discover?’ asked Shorter eagerly as he and Lucy made their way back towards the railway station in Foregate Street.
‘I told her our story, that I had been foolish in my attentions, and that I now wanted to be free of my child.’
‘Excellent!’ said an excited Shorter.
‘I think she believed me, although I cannot be absolutely sure. I thought she was very much on her guard. Such a hard, grained face and cold eyes; it was difficult to understand what she might possibly have been thinking. She wanted fifteen guineas to take the child.’
‘A princely sum indeed.’
‘I said I would return at ten tomorrow morning, with the child.’
‘Quick thinking indeed — but you don’t have a child of that age, I presume?’
‘I have a son who is a few months old. I told her I had a girl. I will speak with my husband tonight. He will know how best to proceed. I am sure he will want to keep the appointment for me.’
‘Capital, my dear lady. Capital.’
‘There was another boy in the house, a frightened, pitiful child, with large wistful eyes, about seven years of age, and an older woman who seemed to be looking after him. Oh, how I felt for that child; I wanted to reach out there and then, and take him away with me. Then when I was leaving, I was sure I heard a small child crying upstairs. Oh, Mr Shorter I am sure she has the babies hidden upstairs! Perhaps that is where young Mildred Chilton is too, imprisoned against her will. I must return to Ledbury, without delay and inform my husband as soon as he comes home. We must save the children,’ said an agitated Lucy.
‘Indeed we must my dear lady, but although I feel bound to help you at this very moment, I do not have the proper authority to enter the woman’s house, despite any misgivings we might have,’ said a sympathetic Shorter.
‘I understand that we are powerless to act at present.’
‘I am afraid I must wish you good day for the present, Mrs Ravenscroft. Deadlines to be met. Paper to be published. Clarence will be waiting for his supper. Always fish on a Friday. He gets particularly annoyed if he is kept waiting. Are you well, Mrs Ravenscroft? You look particularly drawn if you do not mind my saying.’
‘Oh Mr Shorter, there was something else in that house that I found particularly unsettling.’
‘What was that, my dear lady?’
‘A terrible smell — a damp, decaying kind of smell, that seemed to linger in the room . . .’
* * *
Shortly before ten the following morning, Ravenscroft and Crabb made their way along Inkerman Street. The smoke from the near
by factories seemed to hang like a black cloud over the city, keeping the sun well hidden, and adding to the veil of damp gloom that drifted slowly across the Arboretum. A shabbily dressed man passed them on the other side of the street, seeking to restrain his large dog which growled in the detectives’ direction.
‘Let us see if we are able to keep Lucy’s appointment. We will need to search the house thoroughly. If she has the children we will take her into custody. It may be difficult to prove a case against her — after all, the mothers parted with money for this Mrs Huddlestone to look after their unwanted children, but there is clear deception involved in this case, I am sure. The poor parlour maid in Droitwich is deceased, but we can hope to reunite Miss Corbett with her child. And who knows, we may find Mildred Chilton inside as well. Ah, here we are, Tom. Knock on the door, will you,’ instructed Ravenscroft standing back and looking up at the upstairs window.
‘No answer sir,’ said Crabb after a few moments had elapsed.
‘Knock again. If we don’t get an answer this time, we will have to force open the door.’
‘That won’t do you any good. They’ve all left!’
Startled by the voice, Ravenscroft turned round to see an elderly woman, wearing an apron and shawl over a brown dress, standing in the street. ‘I am sorry madam, but I don’t quite understand.’
‘Left they did. Late last night. All of them, gone,’ sniffed the voice.
‘And you are?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Who wants to know?’
‘Police,’ replied Crabb drawing himself up to his full height.
‘Mrs Bannister. I lives next door but one, at number 14.’
‘Mrs Bannister, you say that they all left last night. What time was that, to be precise?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘About six. An hour or so after that posh looking lady turned up,’ said the woman sniffing again.
‘That must have been Lucy,’ said Ravenscroft addressing Crabb. ‘Tell me who exactly lived in the house, and how long had they been here?’
‘Been here for about a year. There was the woman—’
‘Mrs Huddlestone?’ interjected Crabb.
