by Jan Bondeson
The York Hotel at No. 80 Waterloo Road, where the inquest was held. An 1826 watercolour reproduced by permission of the Trustees of the British Museum.
Indeed, Hubbard himself was the first witness. Looking calmer and more collected than previously, he said he had last seen Eliza alive at eight o’clock the evening before the murder; they had supped together before Eliza had gone off to the theatre to pick up her gentleman friend. He was well aware that ‘she led a gay life, in spite of my entreaties to the contrary’, and that she had done so for several years. Hubbard told the jury that he was a married man, although he had been separated from his wife for at least twelve years. He had been living with Eliza, who was actually his first cousin, for nearly ten years. She had drunk neither beer nor wine in the evening; indeed, he considered her as ‘a young woman of remarkably sober habits’. Hubbard had heard nothing untoward during the night, except that Eliza’s little spaniel dog had barked a few times. He described how he had found the body early on Saturday morning, adding that he had immediately suspected murder. Although extensively spattered with blood, the room had not been in disorder. The bed had looked as if two people had slept in it. Some drawers in Eliza’s cabinet had been opened and he suspected that a purse full of gold guineas had been stolen, although Eliza’s valuable gold watch and jewellery were still present. There were some knives in a kitchen drawer but none of them were bloodstained.
There were two razors in the murder house, one belonging to Hubbard himself and another he had given to Eliza to cut her corns with; both were still in the house. None of Hubbard’s tools were missing from his toolbox, including his axe. He had never possessed a sharp instrument formidable enough to cause such extensive injuries. Hubbard said that he had often remonstrated with Eliza for bringing men home with her, although not recently. He had never struck her during these altercations. When asked by the coroner, Hubbard had to admit that they both received a benefit from her prostitution. There was a murmur of disgust among those present. When asked if he suspected any person for the murder, Hubbard said that the only person he suspected was an individual who had been standing in the street when he ran out to give the alarm. When asked the reason, Hubbard rather feebly replied that he had thought this man had seemed very eager to give assistance, something that must be interpreted as sinister. The coroner did not appear to share this view, since he curtly dismissed Hubbard and called the next witness.
William Best introduced himself as a commercial traveller, residing in Greenwich. He described how Hubbard had woken him up at six o’clock on Saturday morning in a dreadful state of agitation, and how he had gone downstairs and inspected the body. The evening before, when the servant Mary Fisher had let Eliza in at about midnight, he had heard a man’s voice and concluded that she was bringing home a customer. Best had also heard the little dog barking once or twice. He agreed with Hubbard that the murder room had not been untidy. Although one of the drawers in the cabinet had been open, he had seen nothing missing. Hubbard had had some splashes of blood on his trousers, as if he had stepped in the pool of blood, but no bloodstains on the remainder of his clothing. He had heard Hubbard and Eliza quarrel more than once, but never violently; on the whole, they had seemed to be on quite good terms.
Young Mary Fisher next took the stand. She had been working as a servant to Hubbard and Eliza for two years. Hubbard and Eliza, she stated, had always got on very well together, and seldom quarrelled. The evening before the murder, Eliza had gone out in a cab after Hubbard had retired to his own room at about nine o’clock. At between midnight and one o’clock, she had heard a cab outside and correctly deduced that her mistress was returning home. When Mary opened the door, she could see that Eliza had brought a gentleman home with her. This individual seemed strangely reluctant to show his face, and swiftly walked into her bedroom. Shortly afterwards, Eliza herself came into the kitchen to get something to drink; she told Mary that she would not be needed any further this particular night. Mary then slept soundly all night, until she was woken up by the agitated Hubbard, and told that poor Eliza had been murdered. She could recall seeing the candlestick that she had put in Eliza’s bedroom before going to sleep now standing on the hallway carpet, near the front door. When questioned, Mary Fisher said that she had no reason to believe that her master (Hubbard) had anything to do with the murder. Instead, she rather suspected that it had been committed by the stranger Eliza had brought home with her.
When the inquest continued, Inspector Field himself took the stand, to give a summary of the state of affairs with regard to the Grimwood murder investigation. He had found no recent bloodstains in Hubbard’s room, apart from a few spots of blood on the undersheet of his bed. They did not seem to be recent. A newspaper reporter added that Hubbard ‘accounted for the stains in a way that we cannot describe’.4 Hubbard’s trousers had been splashed with fresh blood, but not extensively. Their appearance was quite consistent with his own story that he had walked through the large pool of blood on the floor in Eliza’s room. The inspector had also found a card with a bloodstain on each side of it; Hubbard had said that this was the membership card for a society of tradesmen that he belonged to, but he had been unable to explain the blood. Although the house had been carefully searched, no trace of the murder weapon had been found. Hubbard had been entirely distraught since the murder. His state of mind had been so desperate that the inspector had seen fit to have him watched by a constable to prevent him from doing himself any injury.
Inspector Field gave a brief summary of his activities the day before. It was now known that Eliza Grimwood had brought her customer, henceforth called the Foreigner, from the Strand Theatre. This individual had been seen by several reliable witnesses, who would hopefully be able to identify him when he was caught. The witness Mary Chambers was called to tell her story of Eliza and the Foreigner arriving at Wellington Terrace between twelve and one o’clock on Saturday morning. Then it was time for Mr Cooke the surgeon to give his findings after inspecting the body. In addition to the cut throat, there were several gashes on the back of the neck and injuries to the hands also, definitely indicating murder. He did not think a razor could have inflicted such terrible wounds, rather a heavier, very sharp knife or short sword. It was his opinion that Eliza had been dead for about four hours when he came to the house (this was between five and six in the morning). Hubbard’s trousers were produced and the doctor was asked whether the bloodstaining on them was fresh. He replied in the affirmative, but added that judging from the blood spatter in the room, no person could have committed the murder without having his clothes extensively stained with blood. These important deductions from Mr Cooke all seemed reasonable to Inspector Field. He must have wondered how on earth such a brutal murder could have been committed with four people sleeping just a few thin walls away, and how a murderer who must have been almost covered in blood could have made his getaway without being noticed by anyone.
As the inquest was to be adjourned for the day, Superintendent Grimsall asked the coroner whether Hubbard should be detained. Mr Carter replied that the police might take whatever course of action they wanted, but he would make no order for Hubbard’s arrest, since there was not enough evidence to warrant his detention.
Due to the number of witnesses still to come, the inquest was adjourned until Thursday, which left Inspector Field and his men two days to make some further inquiries. They wanted to begin with searching the murder house thoroughly, but when the inspector and Sergeant Price arrived there, they met with quite an emergency. Hubbard had greatly resented Eliza’s brothers taking up residence in his house without permission. When Constable Goff had gone out to get some beer, Hubbard had sneaked out of the house and gone away in a cab! This unexpected development is unlikely to have earned the constable any praise from his superiors, particularly since Inspector Field ‘had given him strict orders to watch Hubbard’.
But the canny inspector kept his calm. He hailed a cab and went round to various cab stands u
ntil he had found the cabman, who had taken Hubbard away. It turned out that the suspect had gone to a house in Mile End. The inspector and his men were relieved to find him still at the premises when they burst into the house, which belonged to Hubbard’s mother. Suspecting that Hubbard had hidden the murder weapon on the premises, the policemen searched the house and privy but found nothing worthwhile. The houses of Hubbard’s two brothers were treated in the same manner, but again with a negative result. The truculent Hubbard was taken back to the murder house, to be reunited with the equally cantankerous brothers Grimwood.
On Wednesday, Constable Goff searched the murder house as well as he could, while Sergeant Price guarded Hubbard. Although Hubbard had blamed his absconding on the rudeness of the Grimwood brothers, the inspector remained suspicious. Throughout the morning, he ‘made Enquiries in the neighbourhood of Waterloo Road of Hubbard’s mode of living’. It was no secret among the neighbours that Hubbard partially lived on the proceedings of Eliza’s prostitution. He himself worked as a bricklayer on various building sites, but his income was insufficient to finance his dissipated habits, which included a fair amount of drinking. After finding out where Hubbard had been working, the inspector went there to inspect his tools and to find out what his workmates thought of him.4
In the afternoon, Inspector Field visited some former clients of Eliza’s, who could tell him about her modus operandi. She belonged to the superior class of London prostitutes, charging at least half a guinea a night. She had mostly catered to established ‘customers’, many of whom she had known for years. Some of these customers were noblemen, barristers and wealthy tradesmen. Many of them had been genuinely fond of her and mourned her death. Eliza had really been a part-time prostitute, who for most of the time lived a quiet life at Wellington Terrace with Hubbard, her servant and her various friends. When her regular gentleman friends wanted her company, she was always ready to oblige, however. She often met them at the Strand Theatre. The wealthy customers took her to various hotels, or even to their own houses, but those who were more needy, or who had a wife waiting for them back home, preferred taking a cab across Waterloo Bridge to Wellington Terrace nearby. During her final evening alive, Eliza had seemed in good spirits, and perfectly sober; she had been looking forward to an excursion to the Epsom races with some of her friends.
Another of Inspector Field’s duties was to find out more about Eliza Grimwood’s background. The sullen, uncooperative Hubbard had little to tell: yes, Eliza was his first cousin; yes, he had left his wife to be with her; yes, he had known for a long time that she was prostituting herself, and had always resented it. Hubbard was a sturdy, muscular man, not unhandsome with his regular features and large bushy whiskers. Inspector Field must have wondered about his strange relationship with Eliza Grimwood. What kind of man would lie hidden in a tiny first-floor bedroom, listening to his mistress copulating with a man who had paid for her services?
London was buzzing with rumours about the Waterloo Road Horror, and there was great curiosity about the antecedents of the murder victim. The newspapers were full of confused suggestions about her life. One story told that Eliza Grimwood was the daughter of a respectable east country farmer named Rogers, and that she had turned to prostitution after being seduced by a customs officer. According to the one version, she had been seduced from home by an excise officer, whom she had deserted in favour of an actor at one of the minor theatres. Another newspaper rumour said that her family name was really Greenwood, and that her entire family had emigrated from England to Canada. According to a third version, she was the illegitimate daughter of a peer. An honest young man, who had wanted to ‘save’ this beautiful young girl from her life of shame and vice, had asked her to marry him, it was speculated, but the jealous Hubbard had intervened with deadly result. There were rumours that her sister had poisoned herself five years earlier under very distressing circumstances. Further spice was added by some enterprising journalist, who boldly claimed that in 1828 Eliza Grimwood had been on a visit to a friend’s house in Polstead, and that it was she who had discovered ‘the mangled corpse’ of another famous female murder victim, Maria Marten, in the Red Barn.5 This rumour ignores the fact that the murderer, Corder, had in fact buried the remains of his victim, which were dug up by Maria Marten’s father several months after the murder.
Eliza’s brother, the Brixton builder Thomas Grimwood, made things much clearer. He told Inspector Field that the Grimwoods had been respectable farmers in Stonham Aspal, Suffolk, for several generations. Samuel Grimwood, Eliza’s grandfather, was born in 1727 and had four sons and two daughters. Samuel, the eldest son, carried on running the family farm, but John Grimwood, the fourth son, born in 1768 and Eliza’s father, purchased another small farm in Stonham Aspal, where he settled down to a life of hard graft and honest toil in the manner of his forebears. In 1788, he married Frances Hubbard, and they had no fewer than nine children alive. Thomas, the eldest son, settled down as a builder. His brothers Francis and Charles also became respectable members of the lower middle classes. Eliza had probably been born in 1807, when Thomas was 18 years old.6 A remarkably beautiful child, she became the pet of the family.
When Eliza was quite young, her father decided to go into business as a bricklayer in Ipswich, possibly joining forces with one of his sons, who had enjoyed a good deal of success. It is not known whether his wife and younger children came with him, or if they remained at the farm. The death of Eliza’s father John Grimwood in 1813 meant that the younger children had to fend for themselves. Their widowed mother was unable to support them, and their elder brothers were unwilling to do so. At the age of 15, Eliza left school and went into service with a gentleman who occupied a large property near Stonham Aspal. She became the maid companion of a lame young daughter of this family, and seems to have carried out her duties satisfactorily. But it would not be long before the young lady’s elder brother seduced her. When Eliza became pregnant, her seducer took her to London to have an abortion. This worthless young man gave her some money and left her behind in the metropolis, either because poor Eliza felt ashamed of returning to Stonham Aspal after her disgrace, or because he himself thought it would be good to be rid of her.
But it did not take long for Eliza to discover that London life was far more exciting than her rather humdrum existence back in the village, and that her youthful good looks gave her considerable advantages in the metropolitan demi-monde. She became the mistress of a fashionable actor, and then of an army captain. According to an unreliable source, she later became the mistress of a well-known burglar, even going as far as joining him for some late-night break-ins, just for the fun of it.7 But after the Bow Street police once nearly caught the entire gang of burglars, Eliza decided to part company with her young hooligan friends.
After Eliza’s elopement, the Grimwood family had made every effort to persuade her to return home, but without success. Her poor old mother, still living back in Ipswich, missed her very much. Although the four brothers Thomas, Francis, Charles and Samuel had become respectable citizens, the family had had its fair share of sorrow. One of Eliza’s sisters had moved to London, where she had fallen into low company and finally ‘destroyed herself, under the most painful circumstances’ in the mid 1830s. Another sister had been a cripple since childhood, and the youngest brother, Richard, had become a drunken, miserable tramp.8
In 1828, Eliza met her first cousin, the bricklayer and labourer William Hubbard, who may once have been her childhood sweetheart. Hubbard was by then a married man, having wed Elizabeth Payne in Wiltshire the year before. Hubbard fell violently in love with Eliza, and lost no time before he evicted his wife from his house and installed Eliza in her place. Mrs Hubbard was most unwilling to go, but her caddish husband persuaded her using his fists. More than once, poor Mrs Hubbard came back to beg for money, but Hubbard and Eliza treated her with disdain. At the time of the murder, Hubbard had not seen his wife for at least six years.
Some time in the
mid 1830s, another of Eliza’s brothers – we do not know who – had come to London to take part in the proceedings before the House of Commons regarding the election at Ipswich. He stayed at Proctor’s Hotel in Westminster Bridge Road, and either through chance or stratagem heard mention of his sister Eliza and her mode of living. It must have come as something of a shock to him that his sister had become a well-known London prostitute.
