The Murder of Patience Brooke (28 page)

‘Scrap,’ he whispered, ‘what is it?’

‘Thort I ’eard somethin’ – out there – a noise, dunno – could a bin a cat.’ He turned his anxious eyes to Sam’s. ‘Didn’t go out – thort it best ter wait. Gorn now, though.’

Sam crouched beside the boy and listened, too. There was only silence. He rose and unlocked the door, peering out into the garden swathed in the deep mist. He stepped out on to the damp paving stones outside the door and went quietly across the grass. The back gate was shut. He stood listening to his own heartbeat in the silence. He could hear the faint clip-clop of a horse’s hooves. A late cab, he thought, perhaps returning to Oxford Street having dropped off its passenger. He went back into the house.

‘Nothing,’ he whispered to Scrap. ‘No one about. Probably a cat. Get some sleep now.’

Scrap curled up with Poll on his makeshift bed. Sam went into the parlour where the fire burned low. He would stay on the couch tonight, ready if any news came. He put more coal on the fire, and sat thinking about Edmund Crewe. He thought about the look in his eyes when he thought he had deceived them – a look of secret satisfaction, a look Sam had seen before in another man – Stephen Wilton, Edith’s husband, Stephen Wilton whom he had disliked. When Edith had died giving birth to her dead child, Sam had listened to his expressions of grief. He had seen him make that same gesture as Crewe’s, the covering of the face, the lowering of the head, and he had caught just for a moment that glitter of something false. They had not seen Stephen again. With the money he had gained by Edith’s death, Elizabeth’s money that she had settled on their daughter, he had moved to Manchester, and, they heard, he had married again. And they had nothing – only the emptiness in Elizabeth’s eyes for a long time afterwards. Crewe’s look had told him – the man had cared nothing for Patience. He had wanted her dead. But a look was not evidence. Lizzie Dagg had to tell them what she knew, and they had to find Louisa Mapp and Jenny Ding. Let them not be dead.

He stared into the fire. Then the door opened and Elizabeth came in. She saw his stricken face as he turned to her. She came to sit beside him on the couch.

‘You were thinking of Edith.’

‘How could you tell?’

‘Sam, I watch you as you have watched me, each thinking we could hide from the other, thinking to spare each other. I have seen the concentrated anguish in your eyes, and I have known that it was not of a case that you were thinking though, God knows, I see you suffer for the victims of the crimes you uncover. No, I know when you are thinking of our dead girl so tell me.’

‘I saw Patience Brooke’s husband tonight and he thought we were deceived by his expression of regret, but I saw the gleam of triumph in his eyes and so did Charles. I had seen that momentary glitter of satisfaction in someone else’s eyes –’

‘Stephen Wilton. I know he did not love Edith – he was fond of her, perhaps. He did not want the child, he wanted something more, more money, a greater social position, and when they both died, he was sorry in his way, but I saw that he was glad, too, to be rid of the responsibility. Oh, Sam, I saw it all, too, but I could not speak of it – what good would it have done? It was bad enough that she was dead, and her child, without my having to say aloud that he did not value her.’

‘No, he did not, and I cannot forgive him for that. I am haunted by the thought that she knew it, that she was unhappy. I wish we had stopped her. Tonight Charles and I met a father and daughter who did not speak of their true feelings – the father was afraid to hurt his daughter, though he hated the man he thought she loved. She might have married this man and it would have been too late.’

‘I do not think Edith was unhappy. Remember, she had the child to look forward to. Stephen was not cruel to her – he was kind enough in his way. It was not what we wanted for her, but how could we have stopped it? She loved him and she was happy. She might have become unhappy, but she was not then. I would have known. If only I could have given you another then we would have –’

Elizabeth wept then for the other children she could not have had. Sam took her in his arms.

‘You gave me yourself, my Elizabeth, and I have loved you above everything.’

‘And I you.’ They sat on quietly as the fire died down.

After a while Elizabeth spoke again. ‘And we have these others to care for now – Posy, of course, and Eleanor and Tom – and Scrap, too. When they go home, I shall continue to visit them and we can keep watch over them. Mr Brim is a sick man, Sam. I think those children may need us soon.’

In the dark, early morning Sam drank his coffee in the kitchen with Scrap.

‘Take care, Scrap, when you go down to the shop. Keep a watch at the door. If you see a tall, handsome man, young with fair hair – a toff – you’ll know he’s wrong if you see him, a man who shouldn’t be at the stationery shop, then lock up. Go in the back, take Mrs Jones and the children with you and don’t leave until you are sure he’s gone. Then go out the back way and come for me.’

‘Yer think ’e might be arter us?’

‘I doubt he’ll come, Scrap, but I just want you to be careful.’

‘Doncher worry, Mr Jones, I’ll look arter ’em. I’ll do jest as yer say. Yer can trust me.’

‘I know. Take a cab to the shop.’

Sam had already warned Elizabeth to be careful, and he would put a policeman on patrol in Crown Street. There was, he thought, no real danger, but he wanted Scrap to be on the alert. He knew, too, that Scrap’s intelligence would pick out Crewe – Scrap would know he was a wrong ’un.

He walked down to Bow Street. It was just becoming light and the densest fog had lifted, leaving ragged remnants of mist which gave the streets a kind of weary greyness as if they had not slept well. Sam had slept well even on his sofa after Elizabeth had gone to bed. Their conversation about Edith had dissolved the hard lump of grief that had seemed so solidly a part of him after Edith’s death. He had believed Elizabeth when she had said that Edith had been happy. Elizabeth was not a woman who would try to console him with a lie. She was too honest for that and Edith had been too innocent to know what Stephen Wilton had, in any case, so carefully concealed from her.

He heard the clocks strike the hour. Unconsciously, he quickened his pace. Time, he thought. We’re running out of time. The inquest on Blackledge would have to take place early next week. He could not ask for more time on that, and there would be the inquest on the little nameless girl whose death had already been reported to the coroner. And there was no concrete evidence at all to prove that Crewe had murdered Blackledge or Patience. They needed to find Louisa Mapp and Jenny who could give evidence of abduction, and only then could they bring Crewe in.

But at Bow Street there was no news of Crewe. He had not returned to the Albany or he had not been seen to do so. There was no news of Louisa Mapp or Jenny. Dickens came in, looking weary. He told Sam of his experience in the fog, of his hearing the song and the empty carriage in the street, and his fears for his daughters.

‘I still do not know if I imagined it all,’ he said. ‘Reflecting on it now, it seems too dreamlike to be true. It might just have been the fog. You vanished completely and so did everything else yet – even that carriage might have been a ghost thing, the horse enveloped in mist. When I looked back it had vanished as completely as you had.’

‘It’s odd though. When I got home, I found Scrap crouched at the kitchen door and the dog with its ears cocked. Scrap said he had heard something. I went out, but there was no one. I did hear a carriage – I thought it might be a late cab – unlikely in that fog, now I think about it.’

‘So it might have been him?’

‘It might. Did you tell your servants to be careful? I told Elizabeth and Scrap to be vigilant.’

‘I did – I told Georgina that I had heard that thieves were about, and I told the servants to be careful.’

‘So, where is he now? That’s what I want to know. He could have gone home. Will you go to the Home and question Lizzie Dagg? I want a description of the man she met. We have to have some evidence. Then we will question him again – if he is there. I have a horrible feeling that he is going to escape us, that we will never be able to prove anything against him.’

‘And, worse, that he will kill again and we cannot stop him.’

‘The men are out looking for Louisa and Jenny. Now the fog’s clearing, we might find something.’

An urgent knock at the door interrupted them. Rogers was there, grinning. ‘They’re ’ere, sir. Louisa Mapp and the little girl.’ He ushered them in.

Louisa and Jenny as Scrap had reported them, ragged and dishevelled, but very much alive. Without her velvet dress and black feathered hat and with her black hair knotted and tangled, Louisa was transformed into the girl who had come from that squalid room in Lavender Lane. Yet, there was still a spark in the dark blue eyes. Seeing Dickens, Jenny burst into tears.

‘Miss Mapp, tell us,’ said Sam motioning them to sit.

‘Teddy found me. I left Mrs Cutler’s arter you told me abaht Alfie. I woz scared ’e might come fer me. I went ter Liddy Flowerday’s – she’s – well yer know –’ She looked at Jenny. ‘She ’as a room off Eagle Street. Told ’er someone woz arter me, but ’e found ’er at the Turk’s ’Ead – give ’er as much gin as she wanted an’ she told ’im where I woz. ’E come an’ took me to ’is lodgins an’ there woz Jenny.’

‘He had lodgings? Where?’ Sam asked.

‘Off Eagle Street – Chapel Yard. Old ’ouse – landlord’s a crook an’ all. Jonas Finger, ’e’s called. ’E’d say nothin’ if a girl woz took there. Teddy told me to stay wiv Jenny an’ ’e’d come back. Give me money – thort ’e could buy me an’ I’d let ’im do wot ’e wanted wiv ’er. ’E went off an’ locked us in. Sed Finger’d look arter us. Well, I knew wot that meant so I ’ad ter get us out. Waited a bit. Shouted for Finger. Sed I’d be good to ’im if ’e give us some food – yer know wot I mean. I sez ter Jenny to pretend to be asleep an’ be quiet. Well ’e come up an’ sed ’e’d bring us somethin’ so I sez wot abaht a drink? ’E came up wiv some bread an’ gin. I makes sure Finger ’ad plenty o’ gin an’ I ’ad a bit. I sits on ’is knee, let ’im – yer know – ’e’s drunk as a fish – drops on ter the floor wiv me on top pretendin’ to like him an’ ’e falls asleep. I waits an’ then we scarper.’

‘Where?’

‘I takes ’er ter Liddy’s – I ’ave ter get us some different clothes. Liddy’s there, but too drunk ter care so I ’elps us ter some old rags. I ’id our clothes in the yard and we went off up by Eagle Street. I got a friend up there, Maggie. She took us in an’ we laid low. Didn’t dare move. An’ this morning when ’e ’adn’t found us, I decided to risk it an’ ’ere we are.’

‘We’ll keep you safe. Don’t worry. We’ll be going to Finger directly and we’ll bring him in, and he will tell us all about Teddy. He saw you both?’

‘Yer, ’e saw us when we went in. Teddy sez we woz friends of ’is – Finger laughed – ’e knew wot woz goin’ on – Teddy must a took girls there before.’

‘With Jonas Finger’s evidence, yours and Jenny’s, we’ll have enough to arrest him.’ Sam looked at Jenny’s white, tear-streaked face. He had to find out what had happened to her. He looked at Dickens, indicating that he should ask her.

‘Jenny, my dear, can you tell us what happened to you? You are safe now and soon you will be back with Mrs Morson to look after you.’

Jenny wept and they waited.

Louisa understood what they wanted to know. ‘I don’t think ’e touched ’er, Mr Jones. I asked ’er that an’ she sed ’e ’adn’t. She knew wot I meant.’

‘Jenny, try to tell us. We need to know so that we can find him and stop him doing this again.’

‘Lizzie and me, we met ’im in the village when we woz shoppin’. ’E talked ter Lizzie, sed ’e thort she woz pretty. Lizzie liked ’im an’ then ’e sed ’e’d give me a present cos ’e could tell I woz a good girl.’

She wept again, and they waited.

Jenny wiped her eyes. ‘’E sed ’e’d come an’ find us. An’ that ’e wanted to give Lizzie a present as well. I knew we shouldn’t ’ave spoke to ’im but ’e woz nice an’ ’andsome an’ Lizzie sed no one would know an’ why shouldn’t we ’ave a present. An’ she sed that would show Isabella Gordon wot’s wot. Isabella’s always teasin’ ’er, yer see, Mr Dickens.’

Dickens thought about the broken mug they had seen, and the dead girl with her bruises, and what Teddy Crewe might have done to Jenny Ding if Louisa had not been as resourceful and brave as she was.

‘And he came to the Home?’

‘They woz all busy in the kitchen. I ’eard the knock at the door an’ it woz ’im. I sed did ’e want Lizzie, but ’e sed ’e’d got my present like ’e’d promised. It woz in ’is carriage an’ I could get it if I wanted. I went out an’ he sed I could ’ave a ride in the carriage so I did an’ ’e sed ’e’d take me to London for a treat an’ bring me back. So I got in an –’ She cried again. ‘’E took me to them rooms an’ I woz scared cos ’e said I couldn’t go back till next day. ’E sed ’e’d bring a friend an’ ’e locked me in an’ then Louisa came.’

Dickens turned to Louisa. ‘Miss Mapp, you need to get away. I would like you to go with Jenny to the Home in Shepherd’s Bush. You will both be safe there until we need you to give evidence.’

‘’Ome?’

‘I cannot explain it all now, but the matron, Mrs Morson, will take care of you both. There are other girls there. You must not say what has been happening – they will accept that you are just a new girl who wants a new start, and that is all that is needed now. Jenny, I will write to Mrs Morson. The girls will simply be told that you ran away because you wanted to see your sister. No one need know what really happened.’ He turned to Sam. ‘I will write to Mrs Morson now.’

‘Yes. Rogers, you take them and then come back. Take a fly – it is quicker than a cab or a bus. Will you arrange that now?’

Rogers went out, and Dickens wrote a note to Mrs Morson, telling her that things were moving quickly, that the girls should be told that Jenny had gone to see her sister, that Louisa was a new girl, and that he would come as soon as he could. He knew that she would understand it all. Rogers took the two girls away. He would come back within the hour.