The Children of Silence

by Linda Stratmann

  ‘I believe the man tried to get past you too, claiming that he was Mrs Antrobus’ cousin, but you were too clever for him.’

  ‘That’s right, well cousin or not, I wouldn’t let such a man into the house. He was up to no good, I’m sure of it.’ She bit into the scone and wiped a blob of cream from the tip of her nose with a practised gesture.

  ‘Did you think he was Mrs Antrobus’ cousin?’

  ‘He might have been. I know she did have a bad man in her family because I heard her talking to her sister about it. She’d read something in the newspapers that had upset her. I think he was in prison.’ There was a brief lull in the conversation as Lizzie’s scone disappeared in less time than Frances had thought possible. The girl scarcely paused for breath before busily attacking the tartlet. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m in the habit of listening at keyholes,’ she went on, her voice muffled by pastry. ‘That wasn’t at all how it was. I only went in because Miss Pearce wanted to have a birthday tea for her sister and cook had sent me to ask what was wanted. They had the newspaper open in front of them, and Mrs Antrobus was crying.’ Lizzie licked her lips and took a second tartlet. ‘Mmmm. Strawberries. That was her favourite.’

  ‘Not in February, surely?’ said Frances, recalling that this was the month in which Barfield had last been incarcerated. ‘A rare commodity at that time of year.’ She appropriated a slice of sponge cake and a scone before Lizzie could finish the plateful.

  ‘No, it was in the summer. Mrs Antrobus’ birthday is June or July, I think.’

  ‘Do you remember if this conversation occurred before or after the ragged man came to the house?’

  ‘It would have been afterwards, because I remember thinking at the time that it was him they must have been talking about.’

  ‘It wasn’t just before Mr Antrobus went missing?’ Frances wondered if the newspaper report might have stated that Barfield was to be released early, an understandable source of alarm, but on reflection realised that had that been the case Mrs Antrobus would have known he was free at the time her husband disappeared, which clearly she had not.

  ‘No, it was a long while before that. A year or more.’

  The summer of 1876, thought Frances, but that seemed unlikely as Barfield had already been in prison for several months then. The previous year, perhaps – maybe he had served a short sentence for a minor offence.

  ‘Do you remember Mr Antrobus wearing a signet ring, the one he inherited from his uncle?’

  ‘Oh yes, I remember that very well.’

  ‘I don’t suppose – and of course I will quite understand if you can’t recall – if you happened to notice if he was wearing it when he went to Bristol that last time?’

  Lizzie smiled, poured her third cup of tea and took the last piece of sponge cake. ‘That’s easy! He wasn’t wearing it.’

  ‘Really?’ exclaimed Frances in astonishment. ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘Because I helped him take it off. Poor man, it was so tight and his finger was all sore. He said he thought he would have to have it cut off – the ring, I mean, not the finger – and he didn’t want to do that because it was a memento of his uncle. So I said I knew a trick my grandma showed me, and if he had a nice bit of soap I might be able to help. And I did. He was ever so grateful.’

  ‘What did he do with the ring? Did he put it in his pocket, perhaps? Or hang it from his watch chain?’

  ‘No. He put it in the trinket box in his dressing room. He had all sorts of little studs and pins and things in there. He said when he came back from Bristol he would take it to a jeweller and get it made bigger.’

  ‘This was just before he went away that last time?’

  ‘The day before, I think.’

  ‘So by rights it should still be there.’ Unless, Frances thought, Mrs Antrobus had sold it and was unwilling to admit as much in case her brother-in-law discovered what she had done. It would take some delicacy on her part to tease out that piece of information, since Mrs Antrobus was undoubtedly afraid that her transgression would be met with an unkind response. It was, however, something the police ought to be told, and Frances wondered how she might best present the information to avoid unpleasant repercussions.

  ‘Did you look in the trinket box after he left for Bristol?’ she asked. It was just possible that Edwin Antrobus, not wishing to be parted from the cherished heirloom, had changed his mind and taken it with him just before he departed.

  Lizzie dabbed crumbs from her lips and studied the menu card. ‘Oh yes. I gave the ring a bit of a polish, which it needed. It came up lovely.’

  Frances decided to pay a call on Mrs Antrobus to see if by any chance there was some error in the matter of the ring. She was met at the door by Charlotte, who was undeniably pleased to see her.

  ‘Miss Doughty, we – that is, I – or perhaps it should be we – were thinking of making a call on you very soon.’

  ‘Oh? Has there been some good news?’ asked Frances as she removed her shoes.

  ‘Well,’ said Charlotte with a smile, ‘not about Edwin I am sorry to say, but do come into the parlour and we will talk. Harriett is having her nap now, so I will not disturb her.’

  ‘Before I do that, I hope you don’t mind but I need to look at something.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Could you conduct me to Mr Antrobus’ dressing room and allow me to examine the trinket box there?’

  Charlotte was surprised by this request but not discomfited, and she at once took Frances up to the little room. There, all the clothes and other items of gentleman’s apparel were carefully stored against the owner’s return, his hairbrushes, combs, soap and toilet water laid ready for his use.

  ‘It looks as though he has just stepped out and will return at any moment.’

  Charlotte gave a sad smile. ‘That is how Harriett has always insisted it be kept. She never loses hope.’

  There was only one small trinket box, and Frances opened it. It was empty. ‘Might I ask who comes in here?’

  ‘Only myself. I dust and clean, and keep it fresh.’

  ‘Not the servant?’

  ‘No, she does the heavy work of the house.’

  Frances showed Charlotte the open box. ‘I was expecting to find some studs and pins in here. Is that not where your brother-in-law kept them?’

  Charlotte stared into the box, puzzled. ‘I imagine he must have done, but let us look in case they are somewhere else.’

  A quick search through some drawers revealed nothing more. ‘Would your sister have sold any of these things?’ asked Frances. ‘The reason for my question is that I have just learned that Mr Antrobus removed his signet ring before he went to Bristol. It was last seen by the maid, Lizzie, in this box.’

  Charlotte was astonished at this news. ‘Oh no, she would never have dreamed of it. They were not hers to sell, but in any case, even if Edwin never returned she wanted his personal jewellery to go to her sons. I will ask her about it when she wakes.’

  Frances did briefly wonder if Lizzie might have taken the items before she was dismissed but reflected that had the maid stolen the ring then she would not have revealed that it had left the owner’s finger.

  They were in the upper hallway when Frances said, ‘You were here in this house when Mr Charles Henderson died, were you not?’

  Charlotte paused. ‘Yes, how did you know about that?’

  ‘From my study of the newspapers. I was told that Mr Antrobus was greatly affected by the incident.’

  ‘He was, as were we all.’

  ‘Tell me about that night.’

  ‘I don’t understand. How can it be important?’

  ‘Mr Luckhurst told me that even years later it weighed on Mr Antrobus’ mind. Maybe what happened to him is connected in some way.’

  Charlotte looked far away, seeing and not wanting to see. ‘It was a terrible time. And it all began so pleasantly, never a suggestion of the tragedy to come. We had dined and then retired to the drawing room. Mr
Henderson said he would show us his collection of snuffboxes and went to get the key, but he was gone a long time.’

  ‘And all the company was in the drawing room when you heard the shot?’

  ‘Not all. Aunt Lily had been exclaiming on how long it was taking him to find the key and said she knew where it was to be found; it was in a cupboard in the hallway, and so she went to fetch it. And mother was feeling very tired so Harriett took her into the parlour. There was a chaise longue where Mr Henderson liked to recline when his head ached and Harriett settled mother there and sat by her and bathed her temples with eau-de-cologne. I was in the drawing room with Edwin and the other two aunts and father.’

  ‘So at the time you heard the shot the only person who was not in the company of anyone else was Aunt Lily?’

  ‘Yes, but only because she was looking for the key.’

  ‘Can you show me the study?’

  ‘Of course. It is never locked nowadays.’

  The study was smaller than Frances had expected, and she thought that had the house been occupied by a family then it might have served as a nursery. It was furnished with a desk and chair, and there were bookcases, some of which were secured with glass doors. A few volumes stood on the open shelves, but there was no sign of any snuffboxes or pistols.

  ‘Lionel has taken all the items that might be of value to a collector and placed them in the bank,’ explained Charlotte. ‘He claimed it was to keep them safe, but we think it was to prevent us from selling them.’

  ‘You did not witness the scene of death, I take it?’

  ‘No, when we heard the shot Edwin told us to stay where we were and rushed out. Then when he came back – I shall never forget the terrible expression on his face – he said his uncle was dead, and he was sending for a doctor but there was nothing to be done. He told us all not to go upstairs. Then he went to fetch Aunt Lily and Harriett and mother and told them to join us. Aunt Lily had been in the hallway when she heard the shot, so she was nearer than anyone else and was in hysterics. She had been particularly fond of her nephew, and the shock turned her mind – she died not long afterwards.’

  ‘Do you think Mr Henderson’s death was an accident?’

  ‘I cannot permit myself to think it was anything else.’

  As they returned downstairs the servant creaked up to meet them.

  ‘Mr Martin has come, I’ve shown him into the front parlour.’

  Charlotte’s serious face broke into a happy smile. ‘Come, we will have tea.’

  As Frances entered the parlour she saw the table already laid and her uncle Cornelius rose to greet her. Not only was he attired in the first new suit he had purchased in many a year but his hair was several shades darker than at their last meeting.

  ‘My dear!’ he exclaimed, beaming with delight, ‘it is always a pleasure to see you but most especially so today of all days! Please join us and allow me to share our good news.’

  Frances took a seat, and Charlotte managed the teacups and plates.

  ‘You know of course that I have been a lonely man for many years, and after poor Phoebe passed away I never imagined that I would find contentment, let alone happiness, again. But how wrong I was! Miss Pearce – Charlotte I may call her now – has consented to be my wife.’

  Frances had anticipated this development but perhaps not quite so soon. She reflected, however, as she offered her sincere congratulations, that neither her uncle nor his intended bride were of an age where waiting was normally advised. ‘And it is our pleasure to invite you to a small gathering to celebrate our betrothal next Sunday afternoon.’

  ‘We will only have a very few guests, as you may imagine,’ said Charlotte, ‘but it will be the happiest occasion this house has known for some little time.’

  The servant arrived with the teakettle and Charlotte removed a cloth from a plate of bread and butter and unwrapped a plum cake that Frances felt sure was a gift from her uncle.

  ‘Have you decided on a date for the wedding?’

  Charlotte smiled. ‘Not yet, but we do not plan a long engagement. It will be a small affair, as I hope that Harriett will be able to attend as matron of honour.’

  ‘And I promise there will be no firework display afterwards,’ said Cornelius solemnly. ‘Really I think they should not be allowed if they can cause such unpleasantness as is Mrs Antrobus’ daily lot, or if not then people who go to such things should be told to bring cotton to stuff their ears.’

  ‘Where will you reside?’ asked Frances. ‘Does Mr Lionel Antrobus still intend to take the house for himself and his nephews?’

  ‘I mean to speak to him on the subject. I think he and his nephews will be very comfortable if they take the ground floor and basement portions, and I will rent the upper floor. An investment I made many years ago has most fortuitously recently matured and will produce an income, and I will retain my present home and rent it out. There will be accommodation enough here for Charlotte and myself, and Harriett will live with us of course. I know I need to learn how to be very quiet around the house, but I am sure I can do so.’ He glanced at Charlotte with an obvious expression of affection that was warmly returned.

  ‘Do you think Mr Antrobus will permit this?’ asked Frances. ‘I do hope so, but he can be very unreasonable and has said he does not wish Mrs Antrobus to live under the same roof as her sons.’

  ‘I think I can persuade him to agree. The house will be run as two quite separate establishments. He will be on hand to ensure that this is so and I will promise to respect his wishes. Once the boys are older they may make their own decisions, of course.’

  Charlotte gazed at her betrothed with happiness and confidence. ‘It will please Harriett so much to have them close and receive reports about their health and how their education is progressing. It is not, of course, satisfactory, but it is very much better than the present situation.’

  ‘And perhaps in the fullness of time, Mr Wylie might make your sister a happier lady,’ suggested Frances.

  ‘I had hoped so, but I fear that may never be. I have just learned that he will shortly be leaving London to return to Bristol.’

  ‘For a visit only, I would have thought?’

  ‘No, he sent a note to say that he intended to reside there. It was very sudden.’

  Frances was mystified. ‘But I thought he was quite settled in London.’

  ‘So we all thought, but something has happened to make him change his mind. Perhaps some family business that demands his presence.’

  The peaceful celebration continued, and toasts to the happy couple were drunk in copious amounts of tea. Once home, however, Frances found the business card Mr Wylie had given her on which he had written the address of his lodgings.

  ‘It might be nothing at all to concern me,’ she told Sarah, ‘but I need to know why he has so suddenly changed his mind, and if he is in a hurry then I ought not to delay.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Frances and Sarah went together to Mr Wylie’s apartments and found him busy packing his possessions.

  ‘Miss Doughty? Miss Smith? What can this mean? I am afraid I am in no position to entertain visitors as I am very shortly to depart, but if you have any news for me, please let me know it at once.’

  He darted about the room as he spoke, a bundle of neckties in one hand and kerchiefs in the other.

  ‘I have just come from the home of Mrs Antrobus,’ Frances began.

  ‘Ah,’ was all he could say.

  ‘I have received some very happy news. Miss Pearce has just become engaged to be married to my uncle, Cornelius Martin.’

  ‘Rich gentleman is he?’ said Wylie, bitterly. ‘Does he have a fortune to squander in the pursuit of ghosts and skeletons?’

  ‘I don’t believe so, but I understand your annoyance. You have expended considerable funds on Mrs Antrobus’ behalf and to no avail. I assume you will try to recover the cost of the court actions concerning the canal remains from the asylum company whose silence on the fa
te of Mr Dromgoole was so misleading.’

  ‘I have given it my consideration, but it would be a tediously long affair and I fear that any damages I receive will pass straight into my solicitor’s pockets. Then there was the second case, when – and I have to admit it – I did tell an untruth in what I thought was a good cause. And I am sure that when the next unnamed body is found it will start all over again. If I stay here any longer I will be a pauper or worse.’ He dropped the ties on a chair and held the kerchiefs to his forehead. ‘I have opened my purse for her, I have lied for her, what more she might ask me to do I cannot say.’

  ‘I know I spoke harshly to you at the inquest,’ Frances admitted, ‘but I do see now that what you did was from the kindness of your heart.’

  ‘Oh yes, she saw that I was an easy mark for her schemes,’ he snorted. ‘I am a single man, Miss Doughty, not because I cannot support a wife and family or because I have no wish to marry. I am single because I have devoted most of my life, from my early twenties, to caring for aged relatives. And I was glad to do it, make no mistake about that. When my dear mother finally passed away there was an empty place in my heart, and when I heard of Mrs Antrobus’ plight that place was filled up. But there is only so much a man can do. And I can assure you that no member of my family ever asked me to commit perjury.’ He threw up his hands in despair and frustration. ‘What can I have been thinking of?’

  ‘Surely that was your own idea, based on what you had learned?’

  ‘Oh no, Miss Doughty, what do you take me for? Do I look like a man who would even think of standing up in court to tell a lie? No, I did it because Mrs Antrobus asked me to. She told me about the injured leg and the wisdom tooth when I went to see her to tell her about the discovery.’

  ‘But that was before the bones had even been examined, and the statement Mrs Antrobus prepared for the court was vague enough that it could have applied to many men. It was your evidence that supplied the detail. If, as you say, she told you what to testify then how did she know about it?’