The Dead Duke, His Secret Wife and the Missing Corpse (23 page)

A peculiar feature of Dr Pepper’s evidence was that, although a police photographer had been present at the time of the exhumation, no photographs of the grave or its contents were produced in court, or published afterwards in any newspaper. Had photographs of the coffin and remains been taken? If so, what did they show, and what had happened to them? Why had they been suppressed?

The final witness was George William Thackrah, a partner in the firm of Messrs Druce & Co. He had joined the firm in 1860, and had seen T. C. Druce almost daily until his death in 1864. He had been present at the exhumation and had seen the body in the coffin when the shroud was removed. He recognized the face distinctly as that of the late Thomas Charles Druce.

‘You recognized him beyond a shadow of a doubt?’ the magistrate asked keenly.

‘Oh yes, beyond a shadow of doubt,’ came the reply. ‘There is no doubt whatever about it.’

There was silence in the courtroom as Llewellyn Atherley-Jones rose to his feet.

‘Sir,’ the advocate began, clearing his throat with a hint of nervousness, but nevertheless looking Mr Plowden steadily in the eye, ‘I wish to give very shortly the views of the prosecution with regard to this case. You were good enough, when the question of the exhumation was first mentioned, to ask me – in a certain contingency – what view the prosecution would take of the case. I then answered that in my judgment, it would be practically impossible for the prosecution to proceed. Deliberation and anxious consideration since the happening of the event have confirmed the view that I then entertained.’

Pausing for an instant, he glanced towards the seated figure of Horace Avory, counsel for the defence. ‘Sir,’ he continued, ‘I therefore have no hesitation in saying, speaking for myself and for those instructing me – that I now withdraw the prosecution.’

From the press gallery came murmurings, and a stifled exclamation. One of the fashionable ladies seated next to the judge fainted. Herbert Druce suddenly lost his stoop, and sat bolt upright. And, for the first time, the face of the 6th Duke of Portland lit up with a smile. For Atherley-Jones, the admission of the prosecution’s defeat seemed a blessed release, and he appeared finally to relax. Horace Avory remained stonily silent and inscrutable. Did he know more about the secret lives of his clients than he chose to show? He was soon to receive a strange letter that would have shocked even those closest to the case. But for the moment his face, as always, revealed nothing.

There was a pause, as everyone waited for Mr Plowden to look up from his notes and speak. When the magistrate finally did so, his voice was grave. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, adjusting his spectacles with a light cough, ‘this inquiry may have taken some time, but I do not think any impartial person will say that the time has been wasted. The bubble which has floated so long and so mischievously out of reach has been effectually pricked at last. No one can now doubt that Thomas Charles Druce existed in fact; that he died in his own home in the midst of his family; and that he was buried in due course in the family vault in the cemetery in Highgate. His existence stands out as clear, as distinct, as undeniable as that of any human being that ever lived.’ Directing a stern gaze towards the assembled journalists, Plowden continued: ‘How the myth ever arose that confused Thomas Charles Druce and the 5th Duke of Portland as the same personality it would be idle to speculate. Sufficient to say that this case is an illustration of the love of the marvellous which is so deeply ingrained in human nature, and is likely to be remembered in legal annals as affording one more striking proof of the unfathomable depths of human credulity. The case is dismissed.’ Turning then to Herbert Druce, he said in a much gentler tone: ‘I have only one final word to say. Mr Herbert Druce leaves this court with his character for truthfulness absolutely and conclusively vindicated. Mr Druce, you are now discharged.’

Thus ended – ostensibly – one of the greatest legal sagas of the early twentieth century. Ten long years had passed since Anna Maria Druce first appeared before Chancellor Tristram with her application to open the Druce vault. During those ten years, a dozen judges had presided over fourteen court hearings; hundreds of legal personnel, from barristers to clerks, had spun arguments and taken down testi-mony; armies of investigators had combed through archives up and down the land; witnesses from three continents had been examined, cross-examined, and re-examined. Family secrets had been unearthed, shameful conduct exposed, and the lies that lurked beneath the respectable façade of Victorian society had been ruthlessly exposed before the public. Most of all, the Druce case had provided the world with one of its first global media sensations – a long-running saga that held the public in thrall, played out from Asia to the Antipodes, featured in every newspaper from the
New York Times
to the
Wanganui Chronicle
.

But the wider story was far from fully played out. For although one mystery about the life of the 5th Duke of Portland had been laid to rest, the case had raised many other questions, including the enigma of the shadowy ‘lady fraternity’ at Welbeck. Had the bachelor duke had something to hide after all? Not an alternative identity as T. C. Druce, admittedly, but some other dark secret? Who in the Cavendish-Bentinck family had been helping the Druce cause, and why? Most important of all was the question of who was behind the conspiracy at the heart of the Druce claim. Could the tracks of the perpetrators of this enormous falsehood – as it was now revealed to have been – be followed, before they were covered over?

Truth is the daughter of time.

Attributed to
S
IR
F
RANCIS
B
ACON
,
English philosopher and statesman

The scene immediately after the opening of the Druce vault
(the
Penny Illustrated Paper
, 4 January 1908)

Many people read about detectives, and they see things upon the stage about detectives, and they think it is a very good sort of life; but when they come to try it they find it is earning your livelihood, like lifting bricks and everything else, and they get tired of it.

S
UPERINTENDENT
J
AMES
T
HOMSON, 1877

With its revelation of a dead body corresponding to the physical description of T. C. Druce, the opening of the Druce vault on Monday, 30 December 1907 was a fatal blow to the Druce claim, which had been founded on the contention that T. C. Druce’s coffin was filled with lead. However, the claimants’ case could be said to have started to disintegrate two weeks earlier, on Friday, 13 December, when Llewellyn Atherley-Jones disowned his star prosecution witness, Robert Caldwell. At the moment when Atherley-Jones effectively conceded that a key witness had probably lied on oath, there was a great commotion in court. A jubilant cheer rang out from the ranks of the defendants. Even the 6th Duke of Portland, who had attended virtually the whole of the trial, lost his anxious expression briefly. This was also the moment – as we have seen – when Edwin Freshfield was observed to confer with, and then exit the court
the company of, a solid-looking man in a blue serge suit. Inspector Dew – for the moustachioed man was no other than he – was determined that the perjurer Caldwell, along with the other witnesses who had lied on oath, should be brought to justice. He and Freshfield were therefore soon rattling in a four-wheeled cab through the backstreets of London at a cracking pace. Their mission was to obtain an audience with the chief magistrate, Sir Albert de Rutzen, at Bow Street Police Court. For it was from Sir Albert that they had the best hope of obtaining an immediate warrant for Caldwell’s arrest, on the charge of suspected perjury. Unfortunately, however, on arrival at Bow Street, it was discovered that Sir Albert had already left court for the weekend. There was therefore no option other than to make haste to the chief magistrate’s private residence at 18 Cranley Gardens, South Kensington. As the last rays of the setting sun struggled to pierce the night fog that was already seeping into the alleyways of the city, the pair finally managed to accost the chief magistrate on the steps of his home. After a hasty conference between the three men, it was decided that the warrant for Caldwell’s arrest should be issued promptly the following morning.

Walter Dew therefore presented himself at Bow Street Court at the first light of dawn the next day, 14 December, and obtained the warrant from the chief clerk, Mr Newton. He then proceeded by four-wheeled cab to 15 Albert Road, Regent’s Park – the home of Elizabeth Crickmer’s nephew John, with whom Caldwell had been staying. A stiff-faced woman opened the door. Mr Caldwell, she informed him, had left the house at 8 a.m. on the morning of 12 December, taking a cabin trunk with him. He had informed her that he
going to Waterloo Station, en route to Southampton, and that he was leaving for America that day. The woman said she believed Caldwell’s ticket had been purchased from Thomas Cook by someone from the ‘Druce Office’, and that Caldwell had very little money himself.

Walter Dew must have been bitterly disappointed at the news that the canny old bird had flown, a full two days before his pursuers had even sounded the alarm. However, with stoic professionalism, he pursued the line of inquiry with Cook’s. He found out from the travel agency that a second-class passenger ticket had been purchased for Caldwell, who had left Waterloo at 10 a.m. on the morning of Thursday, 12 December. He was, apparently, bound for the American liner SS
Kaiserin Auguste Victoria
, which sailed that day for New York from Southampton. Caldwell was seen at the station by a representative of the Hamburg American Line Company, and his Cook’s ticket exchanged for a ticket of that company. The agent was positive that the man he saw was the Robert Caldwell for whom Inspector Dew was searching – not least because, when Cook’s telephoned the Hamburg American Line Company and asked, ‘Is this the Caldwell in the Druce case?’ the reply received was an affirmative.

The SS
Kaiserin Auguste Victoria
was due to dock in New York the following Friday, 20 December. A coded message was accordingly sent to police in New York, to seize the passenger immediately upon disembarkation, with a description of the wanted man: age seventy-one, height five feet seven inches, pale complexion, very grey hair, with a moustache and receding hairline. All steamers that had docked at Cherbourg en route to New York after 12 December were to be
ched closely. If necessary, a lawyer named Selden Bacon – whom the duke’s solicitors had employed to shadow Caldwell – could be called on to identify him. A briefing was sent by Freshfields to Lord Desart, director of public prosecutions, in order for his office to prepare papers seeking Caldwell’s extradition, on landing, from the American authorities.

There was nothing further to be done, for the moment, other than wait for the prey to walk into the trap. In any event, Dew’s attention was quickly diverted by another troubling event. The 6th Duke’s butler, Ballard, had recently observed a shady-looking character hanging around his master’s London residence. The man – about fifty years old, rather stout, with a full grey beard and gold-rimmed glasses – had, on several occasions, knocked at the front door, and asked to see his Grace. Dew went to interview the grave, reserved old servant. ‘I didn’t recognize the fellow,’ Ballard told him. ‘But he said he was in direct contact with people his Grace might like to know about. He claimed it was quite in his Grace’s interest that he wished to see him, and concerned no one else.’ Walter Dew sighed. Another headache to tax his already overloaded brain. And yet, Ballard’s description of the man called to mind someone else who had been linked to the Druce case… Something to do with Anna Maria Druce… But for the moment, he couldn’t for the devil recall what it was. Ah well. He would have to go through the files again.

*

As Walter Dew pored over his files on the Druce case, attempting in vain to find a clue to the identity of the 6th Duke’s mysterious stalker, the duke’s land agent, Thomas
ner Turner, faced a problem of his own. A chubby and ebullient figure, Turner had served the Cavendish-Bentincks all his life, and was devoted to William, the 6th Duke. His father, F. J. Turner, had been land agent to both the 5th and 6th Dukes, and William had given him a touching credit for his forty-eight years of service at the 1906 Welbeck Tenants’ Show: