It was late when they returned, but not so late that Frances could not light a lamp and sit down to read.
Why Marry?
By
A Friend to Women
Do not think because I am a friend to women that I am thereby an enemy to men. There are many good, kind and worthy men, but there are also those who may appear to possess every manly virtue and yet time and circumstance will reveal them to harbour evil in their nature so terrible that it can hardly be named.
A young girl, still with the pallor of the schoolroom on her cheek, taught sufficient arithmetic only that she might understand a butcher’s account, and enough French to recite a little poetry, yet thoroughly educated in the art of decorative fans, and instilled with all the horrors that might befall her if she allows her shoulders to slump, is hardly qualified to judge the character of a suitor by outward appearance and manners. Her papa and mama have, with the best of intentions, selected him as worthy of their daughter’s respect and love, but they judge him only by his fortune, and whether he can provide the kind of establishment of which they hope she may be mistress. They, of course, do not have to live subservient to him, tend to his demands, and endure his faults. The disagreement of husband and wife is a great cause of unhappiness, but worse than this is neglect, cruelty and – painful as it is to relate – shameful and corrupt dissipation.
Do not, my young reader, dearer to me than a sister, be eager to rush into matrimony. Your relatives may tell you that it is the summit of every woman’s ambition, and it is true that a married woman may be a happy creature who expects all married women to be as happy as she, but if she is miserable then she wishes for nothing better than company in her misery. Before a woman agrees to marry she must first come to know and understand all the character of the man, but I fear that once she knows his character, she may decide not to marry.
You, who know nothing of the world and its wickedness, have been taught that it is the duty of Man to protect Woman, and that he has been placed in ascendancy over her by nature, custom and law, in order to carry out this duty. What woman would complain of this if all men were diligent and kind and selfless, but there are some who inhabit the world like monsters and consume and destroy all that is good and pure for their own pleasure. The authority placed in their undeserving hands will be abused, and lead to the ruin and despair of the innocent. What of the wife, so cruelly betrayed? How will she seem in society, except that she will conceal her suffering from the world and speak only to praise the husband who has broken her heart. His intemperance will be spoken of as an illness bravely borne, his uncontrolled appetites kept hidden behind a locked door suggesting only industry and application of the mind. How much better it would have been for his poor wife if she had never known him, how gladly now she would accept eternal spinsterhood rather than endure the torment of life with such a man as this.
Youth is full of optimism, and age may seem dry and bitter by comparison, but that is the fruit of knowledge. Gather your knowledge, let it ripen, use it well. Do not be led astray by fair words and fair faces until you know enough to judge what may lie beneath.
Frances laid the pamphlet aside, and for a time sat silently in thought. At last she retired to her bed, but sleep did not come to her until well into the night.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Frances had read the pamphlet several times but the next morning, before she had even had her breakfast, she re-read it. The message was abundantly clear, and she now understood what had so terrified Mrs Venn and why the headmistress had ordered the destruction of every copy rather than risk having any member of the board of governors see it.
Frances was, on reflection, feeling a little embarrassed by the rapidity with which she had left the meeting the previous night and, concerned that she might have appeared impolite, wrote a letter to Miss Gilbert and Miss John, apologising for her sudden departure, which she said had arisen from unforeseen circumstances, thanking them for their kind invitation and asking to be advised of any future gatherings. She added that she was thinking of writing a pamphlet herself on the subject of professions for women, and needed a reliable and economical printer who would be able to make a few dozen copies. She had heard of the Soho Printworks in Dean Street and wondered if they knew of anyone who had used that company and could recommend it.
Frances returned to the school to take her first chemistry lesson, giving herself an hour to make the necessary arrangements. Miss Bell was on hand and advised her that these classes were always held in the schoolroom, and Frances was surprised to learn that her predecessor had not felt it necessary to prepare the room in any way. A careful search of the stationery cupboard and the second floor storeroom revealed nothing that might assist her in imparting any useful information to the girls. She found it hard to understand how she was expected to teach chemistry when there was no laboratory, no equipment and, indeed, no chemicals. ‘Oh it is not as if we are expecting the girls to be chemists and handle all those smelly things,’ said Miss Bell brightly, when apprised of the problem.
‘What did the previous lady teach?’ asked Frances.
‘I really can’t say – does it matter?’ Miss Bell gave a girlish trill of laughter and scurried away.
The class, Frances discovered when her pupils had assembled, had been learning about the elements and where they were to be found and their uses to mankind. The information had been illuminated by a collection of grey pebbles in a box. When Frances opened the box to display the pebbles the girls regarded them with expressions of deep gloom. Frances closed the box and set it aside, deciding to draw on her years of work in her father’s chemist shop and teach something she knew.
Frances told the girls about simple home remedies for common ailments, and how to make soothing skin lotions and preparations for the hair. To her delight, the subject captured the interest of the class, and the girls had a multitude of questions to ask, especially concerning Frances’ professional experiences, and wanted to know how pills and mixtures and ointments were made. Somehow, the lesson developed into a conversation, and the subject turned to poisons. Frances found herself describing the properties of arsenic, strychnine, antimony, chloroform and sugar of lead, and the lethal doses and symptoms of poisoning of those substances. The girls listened eagerly and the sound of their excited chatter and keen questioning must have been clearly audible in the hallway for the door opened and Mrs Venn peered in with a worried expression, but, seeing the girls enthusiastically clamouring for information, she simply smiled, nodded and withdrew. Several of the girls wanted to know if pharmacy was a good thing for women to do and Frances spoke warmly of her idol, Isabella Skinner Clarke, the first woman to be a full member of the Pharmaceutical Society, and how she had pioneered the path that others might follow. There was even, she informed them, a London School of Medicine for Women, where they might learn to be doctors. Before Frances knew it the lesson was over and the class filed out with sighs of regret.
The next lesson was deportment, and the girls marched to the front classroom in straight-backed military fashion, with Miss Baverstock rapping out her denunciation of slumped shoulders. Frances learned that Mrs Venn was at work in her study, and with some concern at what she was about to do, went upstairs.
Her task was made all the harder because this was the first occasion on which the headmistress had appeared pleased to see her, and she had assumed that the visit was simply to report on the success of the chemistry lesson. ‘Mrs Venn,’ said Frances, with as little preamble as possible, ‘I have found a copy of the pamphlet.’
It was fortunate that Miss Baverstock did not view Mrs Venn’s posture at that moment. ‘I suppose we must discuss it,’ she said.
They faced each other in silence for a while, and there was no mistaking the pain of the headmistress or the regret of the younger woman for being the cause of that pain. Frances placed her copy of the pamphlet on the desk between them. Mrs Venn made no attempt to touch it, indeed she recoiled from its presence as if
it carried some vile infection. ‘The school described in the pamphlet is this one,’ said Frances at last.
‘I fear you are correct,’ said Mrs Venn.
‘The suffering wife is yourself and the erring husband is Professor Venn.’
‘Oh but so much of the error was mine,’ said Mrs Venn, with great emotion. ‘I thought I could influence him for good, but I was mistaken.’
‘What was the nature of his intemperance?’ asked Frances. ‘Wine, perhaps?’
Mrs Venn gave a dry laugh. ‘I wish it had been. I would have found it easier to blame him. No, it was morphine. You of course will understand the subtle dangers of that drug. He had been given it with good intentions after an operation, but he could never erase the craving from his body. It sapped the goodness from him – what little there had been. I will be frank with you. I married him for companionship, he married me for money. When he was drugged he was at least manageable, but at other times I am sorry to say he showed me violence. His study, where I let it be known that he was writing a great work of scholarship, was little more than a den of indulgence. There was no great work and there never could be. But he was so often charming, and to the world he seemed to be a fine example of scholarship and exemplary propriety, and thus he earned respect and admiration for the thing he only appeared to be. It amused me a little when Mr Fiske said he felt that the school needed the overall guidance of a man, which in truth was something it had never had.’
‘Who knew of the Professor’s weakness?’ asked Frances.
‘Miss Baverstock, of course,’ said Mrs Venn. ‘There have been many occasions when she was obliged to assist me and she has been an invaluable support in times of trial. Dr Montgomery, our physician. I regret that his advanced age made it easier for my husband to persuade him to supply the drug. He is long deceased. And —,’ she paused, ‘Matilda also knew. It was never my intention that she should, but she once found him in a desperate state and saw some of his bottles and syringes. It was impossible to conceal it and she did from time to time help me care for him.’
‘I had wondered,’ said Frances, ‘at Matilda being allowed more liberty than I would have expected. Your kindness in not dismissing her when you discovered her condition, her familiar manners and your tolerance of her sweetheart frequenting the premises. I take it that was the price of her silence. Did she demand money too?’
‘Sometimes, yes,’ the headmistress admitted reluctantly.
‘The money found in her room? Was that from you?’
‘No,’ said Mrs Venn, with an emphatic shake of the head. ‘I never at any time paid her such a sum. And if I had, why would she hide it from me?’
‘It is easy to see why Matilda concealed from you the fact that her child had died.’
‘Yes, sometimes she would tell me the child was ill and I would allow her an afternoon visit, and I admit I sometimes gave her money for medicine. I see now that my kindness was abused. You must think me a foolish, credulous woman.’
‘Far from it,’ said Frances. ‘You have more than the ordinary sympathy for young girls who have been led astray by the selfishness of men.’ There followed a long silence, as Mrs Venn fought and defeated the ghosts of past memories. Frances wondered what those memories might be, but let it pass.
‘But tell me, what of the girls who were pupils at the school at the time of your husband’s illness. Did any of them know about his condition?’
Mrs Venn touched a folded handkerchief to her palms. ‘I don’t believe so. I did my best to protect them. They were given to understand that his absences were due to his work, and they were carefully supervised at all times.’
‘The nurses at the sanatorium would have known.’
‘I asked the supervising physician to be discreet for the sake of the school, and I know he was. The nurses worked under his direction. My husband’s case was not the first of its kind there.’
Frances understood now. Not the first or indeed the only case. It was for the treatment of such cases as Professor Venn’s that the sanatorium existed, and discretion was its most valuable service.
‘What prompted you to have your husband removed there?’
Mrs Venn struggled to speak, but eventually, and it was almost a relief, she did so. ‘One night,’ she said, ‘I found him wandering in the house in a state of —’ her voice declined almost to a whisper, ‘semi-undress.’ Her bosom heaved convulsively and for a moment it was an effort to get her breath. ‘I was able to take him back to his room, but I knew then that it was not safe for him to remain on the premises. I was only glad that there were no girls boarding at the time.’
Frances fetched the water carafe and served them both. ‘Mrs Venn, this is a delicate matter, but the pamphlet made other allegations – it suggested the possibility of another kind of intemperance.’
Mrs Venn closed her eyes and tears escaped from below her lashes and streaked her pale cheeks. She pressed the handkerchief to her face. Frances went to pour more water but Mrs Venn, recovering, shook her head. ‘Thankfully there is no proof – no suggestion even – that any of my girls was subjected to an insult, or witnessed anything that might have caused her distress. The writer talks of a locked door, and is therefore giving in to conjecture only. It is very unpleasant to consider the kind of imagination that might conjure up such a thing. But the allegation alone will give great pain to any parent whose girls attended the school during my husband’s lifetime, and the mere fact that I endured his presence here when I knew his faults will call my judgement into question. The scandal could well ruin me.’ She dried her eyes. ‘Have you shown the pamphlet to the governors?’
‘No, I have only just located it, and have not yet told them I have done so,’ said Frances. ‘It may not be necessary to show it to them. You have said that the matter it contains is libellous, and I appreciate that it would cause unnecessary distress, and arouse suspicions where none is warranted. I have not, after all, been asked to do anything other than discover the person who placed the copies in the school, and their motives for doing so, and reassure the governors that it will not happen again. I may do all of those things without letting them read the item in question.’
‘Thank you,’ said Mrs Venn gratefully.
‘The document itself has provided few clues,’ said Frances. ‘I have found only that it was printed by a company called the Soho Printworks in Dean Street. Do you know anything of that company?’
Mrs Venn shook her head. ‘No, the name is not familiar to me, and I do not know of anyone connected with that part of London.’ She paused. ‘Unless …’
‘Yes?’ asked Frances.
‘No – there may have been something mentioned to me recently concerning Soho, but I can’t recall it now. My mind is very confused and preoccupied. It may mean nothing.’
There was a Westminster directory on Mrs Venn’s bookshelf, a recent edition, unlike the one in Frances’ father’s library, which was ten years old. He used to complain bitterly that it listed businesses that no longer existed, but refused to go to the expense of a new one. ‘With your permission,’ said Frances, reaching for the directory. Mrs Venn nodded. Frances soon found the Soho Printworks on Dean Street, but saw nothing else that caught her eye. She replaced the book. ‘You will be sure to let me know if you remember anything?’
‘Yes – yes of course.’
With that assurance Frances took her leave, and though she now knew a great deal more, felt that she was still no closer to identifying the author of the pamphlet.
Sarah had not yet returned from her errand, but Frances found four letters awaiting her that had been delivered to the chemist shop and brought to her door by Tom. All were from women requesting her services as a detective, and she wondered if they had been sent in response to her appearance at the Bayswater Women’s Suffrage Society meeting. A lady of quality suspected a previously trusted servant of stealing from her and wanted the matter investigated with the utmost secrecy and discretion. Another lady whose husband
was a jeweller, asked Frances to look into the affairs of a young man who was courting her daughter, and who, she believed was being less than truthful about his prospects. The wife of a travelling salesman, who was only ever at home on Saturday and Sunday, had found to her great distress that his supposed employers had never heard of him, and wanted to know where he spent his time from Monday to Friday, while the wife of a senior clerk who worked in a tea merchant’s office from Monday to Friday, was curious to discover where he spent his weekends.
Frances wrote to all these correspondents making appointments for them to call and reflected on the alarming and unexpected development that she now had not one mystery to investigate but five. She wondered what other detectives did in that situation. There was no one to whom she could go for advice and she was obliged to have recourse to her own common sense. At the very least she would need to purchase a bigger notebook, some new stationery, and folders in which to keep the papers in each case separate. Perhaps she should even get a small strong box and have some business cards printed. And she surely ought to take a regular newspaper. The Bayswater Chronicle, of course, The Times or the Morning Post, and the Illustrated Police News. Almost as soon as the plans were made she felt a chill of anxiety. She had spent the last few days, when not concentrating on the task in hand, concerned that her new enterprise would not be a success. That worry had now been replaced by a new one; that she might not be equal to the amount of work that was suddenly being demanded of her. At least, she reassured herself, she now could afford to stay in her new home for a little longer. Application and economy were surely all that was required, and she was no stranger to either.
The Daughters of Gentlemen: A Frances Doughty Mystery (The Frances Doughty Mysteries) Page 14
