by J C Briggs
No, thought Dickens, no one has done for Miranda what you have done for Eleanor Brim.
‘And when I first touched her, she flinched. She was rigid —’
Dickens glanced at Jones. Lavinia Gray, they both thought.
Elizabeth continued, ‘And I knew then that something had been done to her, something so dreadful that the touch of another human being, however gentle, appalled her.’
‘You found out?’ Jones asked.
‘I did and it connects to what you have just said.’
‘Miranda Deverall and Lavinia Gray are connected — the link is the doctor?’
‘I would say so — shall I tell you what I found out before you tell me about Lavinia Gray?’
‘Yes.’
Elizabeth told them how Miranda Deverall had found her way to the milliner’s house. Mrs Amelia Hodson was not unkind, merely indifferent. There was not much hat making — just Miranda and two other girls. Neither of them stayed long. There was one called Kitty, who was kind to Miranda but she left suddenly — and Mrs Hodson gave no explanation.
But the doctor came, and Mrs Hodson explained to Miranda that he was a kind man who treated poor girls, mostly the Irish girls who live in and about the cramped streets in the shadow of the workhouse. He couldn’t treat them at his surgery, so Mrs Hodson allowed him to use her house — she was sorry for the girls, too. But, Miranda had seen that they were not always poor girls. Some came in carriages, always heavily veiled, often accompanied by an older woman. Sometimes they stayed overnight; sometimes they left after an hour or so, and Miranda had seen how they had been helped to the carriage. Sometimes another woman came — a nurse, she thought. She came at night when, perhaps, one of the doctor’s patients was ill. Miranda had heard the screams and cries — she had been frightened then, hearing feet on the stairs below and the door slamming. And the doctor would come the next day. And then the undertaker would come. Mrs Hodson would tell her how the doctor, for all his skill, could not always save his patient — it was a great pity, but there it was.
Sometimes, in the night, she might hear a baby crying, Miranda thought. But there were no babies in the house. Once, however, she had seen a lady leave the house, carrying a bundle, holding it as a woman might hold a baby.
‘And Miranda didn’t ask Mrs Hodson about what was going on?’
‘No. I don’t think she spoke very much at all — silence is her habit. She was simply passive. She had been torn from her home, planted in this foreign soil, and there was nothing to enable her to grow. She was simply neglected. Then she was ill. She suffered from dreadful headaches — not surprisingly. She was depressed and terribly lonely. Mrs Hodson thought she looked thin and asked the doctor to see her. Doctor Plume, his name was. She remembered that. He was kind and said she should eat more. He advised Mrs Hodson about what she should have. The headaches ceased, but Mrs Hodson was still concerned about her. Miranda was told that the doctor needed to examine her —’ Elizabeth stopped. ‘You can guess the rest, I think.’
‘He seduced her, using the pretext of the medical examination.’ Jones sounded angry. He thought of Eleanor Brim, orphaned by her father’s death. What might have been if she had ended in an orphanage, or on the streets? He knew only too well.
‘He did — again and again. If you had heard that poor girl — it was horrible — and she hardly had the words to tell me. She was so innocent and so young, and he hurt her. I could hardly bear to listen.’ Elizabeth wiped her eyes. ‘There is worse — he told her she must have an operation. He must have known she was pregnant — Miranda did not. She understood nothing of what had happened to her. But there was pain and blood. I guessed what it must be. And he started again. He drugged her, I think, though she could not tell me precisely — only that the medicine made her drowsy —’
‘Chloroform, perhaps? It’s new, but he’d know about it in his fashionable practice. Know how much to use, to sedate her rather than —’
‘Rather than render her unconscious,’ put in Jones. ‘Laudanum, brandy, even — there was a case a few years ago in which the defendant was convicted because he had got his victim drunk. Good God, he’s supposed to be a doctor. To use his position like that on an innocent girl. Mrs Hodson must have known — she’s almost worse. Supposed to have been her guardian. I need to see her.’
‘I know, Sam,’ said Elizabeth, ‘to think of a woman so callous. You can understand why Miranda ran away.’
‘And the murder? Did she speak of that?’ Dickens asked.
‘She had nothing when she ran away. She lived on the streets — an Irish girl took her in, Kitty Quillian, who had worked at the milliner’s and who had been kind to her. I asked Miranda where she lived. I thought you might need to know, Sam. It was in an alley, off Paddington Street — Dab Lane. It was Kitty Quillian who told her to go to Doctor Plume’s house and ask for money — Miranda thought she would go back to Ireland. She thought that she could go back to Pallasmore — the village where she was born. That was it — just home. She’d no more idea than that. I think Kitty, Irish herself, had the idea the doctor might give her the money to get rid of her. I think Kitty Quillian probably knew all about the goings on at David Street where Mrs Hodson lives. Miranda went. Doctor Plume gave her the five pounds. Miranda left through the garden — that’s all. I couldn’t press her any more. She was exhausted. I could only promise that I would help, and that Mr Dickens, the gentleman who had sent me, would help, too. She wasn’t alone now.’
‘You don’t think she knows anything about the murder? Goss said she had blood on her hands,’ Jones pressed.
Elizabeth looked grave. ‘I don’t know, Sam. As for the blood, I think we can guess where that came from — when you think what had been happening to her before she ran away.’ Her eyes filled again. ‘It might have been a miscarriage — and she wouldn’t understand anything about it. Oh God, the poor child — it is vile what is done to young girls.’
There was nothing they could say. Jones thought that he and Dickens could be outraged at what was done, but, perhaps, only a woman could fully imagine the horror of it. Still, for better or worse, as men they could act, and act they would.
Elizabeth continued, ‘I didn’t think it right to ask about the actual murder. I was there as someone who would help. I’ll try again, but I don’t want to seem as if I suspect her — she has to trust me.’
‘Yes, I see that. What about Kitty Quillian? Did she go with her to the doctor’s house?’ Jones asked.
‘I assume so because someone must have seen her, recognised her, because the police found Miranda at Dab Lane.’
‘Was Kitty there when the police came?’
‘No, she’d gone out.’
‘She’ll have kept her head down, I’ll bet. Moved to different lodgings. She won’t want to talk to the police. Still, it’ll be worthwhile looking for her.’
‘Tell me about Lavinia Gray,’ Elizabeth said.
Jones told her what they had found out from Richard Farleigh and Mrs Pook. Given the suggestiveness of the poem, it seemed possible that Lavinia Gray had suffered similarly at the hands of Doctor Lancelot Plume.
‘Will you be able to take the case now?’ Dickens looked at Jones hopefully.
‘Well, I’ll have to see the Assistant Commissioner — I’ll tell him that I want to investigate Plume’s death on the grounds that I have information connecting him to Lavinia Gray whose body was found in my division, and that there are links between Lavinia Gray and Miranda Deverall. I’ll stress the complexity of it — say it makes no sense to keep the cases separate but — and this is an important but — I’ll tell him I’m satisfied that Lavinia Gray committed suicide. I don’t want to drag her name into the murder case. What I want to do is to show the Assistant Commissioner that I think there is doubt about Miranda and that I wish to explore other possibilities.’
‘But surely we should find out more about Lavinia’s death for the light it throws on Miranda’s case.’
‘I a
gree, but it must be done unofficially, which is why I think you and Elizabeth should go to Chalk Farm to see Susan Carter. Remember, we have no evidence to support our ideas about Lavinia Gray — only the fragment of a poem. And to suggest anything at the inquest about Lavinia Gray’s relationship with the doctor would only damage her reputation —’
Elizabeth interrupted. ‘I agree. She would be accused of hysteria — the morbid imaginings of a diseased mind, and that would be proved by her suicide. But, oh, Sam, a verdict of suicide —’
‘I know,’ said Dickens, ‘I thought about that when we passed Mr Gray’s house. I thought about her burial. Could it not be accidental death?’
‘I doubt it.’ Jones looked at their stricken faces. ‘The evidence of the doctor at the mortuary, Mrs Pook and Millie, Richard Farleigh’s evidence and the fact that she left the house alone on the eve of her wedding, all point to suicide. I don’t think we can alter that. But, I should think there will be a verdict of temporary insanity — not much consolation for her family.’
‘I imagine that Mrs Gray will be well satisfied,’ said Dickens bitterly.
‘Plume caused her death — he was a monster. It is so unjust — his will be a proper funeral, and hers, some midnight affair, as if she were the criminal.’
‘I know, Elizabeth, but there is nothing we can do. We can only try to help Miranda, and that’s not easy, either. For, despite our belief in her innocence, think about how what you have found out could be evidence against her — she had a motive to kill him.’
They were silent then, thinking about Jones’s words. It was true, thought Dickens, it would be easy for her story to be used against her.
‘Then we need to find the murderer of Lancelot Plume.’
‘And we can only do that by examining his life, and by looking again at the night of the murder — and there I hope Rogers will be able to tell us something. I’ve not had an opportunity to ask him about his meeting with Sergeant Billie Watts.’
‘I can ask about if you like — see if any of the doctors of my acquaintance can tell me about his reputation.’
‘Good idea.’
And that was all they could do for now. At least, thought Dickens, making his way home, there might be a chance to save Miranda — if the real murderer could be found. And, given what they knew about the doctor’s relationships with Miranda and Lavinia Gray, there must be others who might have a reason to kill him — the father, brother, husband, fiancé of a girl, perhaps, who had suffered and died because of Lancelot Plume?
Chapter 10: Superintendent Jones Takes the Case
‘No weapon?’ Jones was asking Rogers about his talk with Billie Watts.
‘No. They looked about the garden, in the back alley, in the room where they found Miranda Deverall, but there was nothing. Goss thought she would have chucked it away, and, he reasoned, someone could’ve picked it up — bit far-fetched, I thought.’
‘Did the doctor who did the post-mortem on Plume say anything about the weapon — what kind of knife?’
‘Single-bladed. Not very big — quite a narrow blade. Could be anythin’, sir.’
‘No knives missing from the house or from the surgery?’
‘Nothing from the house — kitchen, dining room, but the servants couldn’t say about the surgery. The doctor was found outside the French windows of his office. Billie said there was no way of knowin’ if he and the girl had been in the surgery — that’s a room off the office where Plume examined his patients. Nothin’ disturbed there, apparently. Anyway, Goss was convinced the girl had done it. Miranda Deverall came in with the doctor — the maid saw her, so she was there.’
‘What time was that?’
‘’Bout six, the maid said.’
‘Did Doctor Plume say anything about the girl?’
‘Just that she was someone who needed help — sent the maid away and took the girl into his office — said not to disturb him, and she didn’t — until the maid wondered if the girl had gone — about an hour after, so she knocked. No answer. She went back ter the kitchen and told the cook. They waited another half hour and sent the knife boy ter knock. No answer.’
‘No one else in the house?’
‘No, that’s the thing — Mrs Plume was away vistin’ relatives in the country.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, they all went and listened at the door — couldn’t hear a thing. Tried the door — it was locked — key in the keyhole — they tried to look through it, but couldn’t see. So, they troops round the back. The garden door’s open, and they finds the doctor dead on the terrace. French windows to his office open, and that’s it. They sends the boy for a constable, who fetches Billie and Goss.’
‘How did they light upon Miranda Deverall?’
‘The maid, who’s an Irish girl, saw another girl on the other side of the road — an Irish girl, she knew —’
‘Kitty Quillian.’
‘How d’you know that?’
‘Trick o’ the trade.’ Jones tapped his nose. He couldn’t help teasing Rogers who was gazing at him as if he had performed a conjuring trick.
‘Get away with you, sir. Someone told you.’
‘They did, it’s true, but tell me all.’
‘The maid told them where Kitty lodged. They found Miranda Deverall there — took her back ter the doctor’s. The maid recognised her, told the story, and that was it.’
‘What was said about the blood on her hands?’ Jones remembered what Elizabeth had surmised about the blood. He was interested to know what Goss thought.
‘Now, that’s a facer — she did have blood on her hands, and she wouldn’t tell them about it — in fact, she’s never said anythin’ at all. So, naturally, Goss takes it as evidence she stabbed him.’
‘And what did our friend, Billie Watts, think about it all?’
‘Well, the evidence is there — but, o’ course, they don’t know what the motive could be.’ I do, thought Jones, but he didn’t say so. He wanted to hear the thoughts of Billie Watts, a man who did not jump to conclusions. ‘She had five pounds on her and Goss assumed she’d took it, but there’s things that don’t add up.’
‘Such as?’
‘The doctor was found outside the French windows. He was stabbed in the back. Now, Billie thought, how come the girl was sort of inside the room behind him? Which she musta been if she did it. What was the doctor doin’ outside? Why would he leave the girl inside? An’ he’d been smokin’ a cigar — it looked, Billie said, like a man who’d just gone out ter smoke an’ get some air, p’raps. It just didn’t seem ter fit. What d’you think, sir?’
‘I think Billie Watts is right.’
‘Yet, there’s the blood, sir, what about that? Can we —’
‘We can, Rogers, we can do what we want. It’s our case now.’
‘’Ow’s that?’
Jones told him all that he had he and Dickens had discovered at the Gray house, and what Elizabeth had found out at Newgate, and about his visit to the Assistant Commissioner — and Superintendent Goss.
‘You went ter see Goss?’
‘I did — professional courtesy, Alf. Always better to do things openly — if you can, of course — no sense in my antagonising him or his men by going over his head.’
Rogers thought about that — and tucked the advice away in his mind. His Superintendent was a wise man, and you could learn a lot about how to go about things. And Rogers was a willing pupil.
Jones went on. ‘And Goss was quite willing to give up the case — easier that than to admit he was wrong. In any case, he said he had enough to do with the Thomas King murder.’
‘The one who killed his father and attacked the housekeeper?’
‘Yes, and he fled with a lot of valuable stuff so Goss needs to find him.’
‘Gave him a good excuse then?’
Jones’s eyes smiled. ‘You might say that — I didn’t, of course. However, it leaves us a lot to do — Mrs Jones has visited Miranda Deverall, b
ut don’t mention that to anyone. She thinks the blood is — well, natural causes, but I’ll get her to try to find out more, and from the wardswoman at Newgate if Miranda Deverall can’t or won’t tell her. Mrs Jones and Mr Dickens are going to Chalk Farm this afternoon to interview Miss Gray’s personal maid who left just after Miss Gray’s mysterious illness.’
‘You think she might have been expectin’?’
‘I do — no proof, mind, unless the maid knows. I’m not interested in using this evidence at the inquest on Miss Gray — it would only harm her reputation. Suicide because her sin weighed so heavily on her. It would be her sin, of course.’ Rogers nodded — he knew very well that the blame would be Miss Gray’s and not a fine, upstanding doctor’s. Jones went on, ‘Mrs Jones thought, from what Miranda Deverall told her, that she had been pregnant, too, and that Plume had operated on her.’
Rogers’s face flushed deeper red. ‘Wicked it is, an’ ’e a doctor. Makes yer lose any faith, sir. An’ I’ve just thought. Evie Finch, sir. I wonder.’
‘She didn’t see a doctor —’
‘No, sir, but Mollie said she kept sayin’ “no doctor”. Mollie thought Evie didn’t want a doctor, but p’raps there should have been one. I went ter the Simpson house ter find out about Evie — one o’ the maids said she was thick with Jemmy Pike, the coachman, but he’d gone home to his wife in the country — Mr Simpson got him a place at his brother’s. Evie left soon after — said she was needed at ’ome, but the maid wondered.’
‘So do I — I think you ought to get down to this country place and find out what Jemmy Pike can tell you about Evie Finch. We need to know if he found her a doctor and who the doctor was.’
‘Mollie mentioned a Mother Hubbard — Evie kept talkin’ about her — she thought it was the nursery rhyme, but Mrs Feak looked a bit thoughtful. We should ask her — she’ll know who’s performin’ them sort o’ operations.’
