A Death for a Cause Read online

  And then it dawned on me, as bright and clear as when the sun breaks through the clouds, that the only way Fitzroy would have allowed me to stay in a cell with a murderess would be if he already had someone on the inside. Someone, who like me, was attempting to stir things up and get a response from the killer. A woman who also realised our time here was limited. I might appreciate Hans’s attempts to get me out, but I did not want the potential shadow of a crime hanging over me for the rest of my life. If no murderess was caught then people would always wonder.

  Angela had to be Fitzroy’s plant! I decided to give her a little moral support.

  ‘Ohhh,’ I said softly, ‘does anyone else feel the temperature dropping? I have the most dire sense of foreboding.’ Mary Hill opened one eye and gave me a quizzical look. I added a shiver in for extra conviction. I lowered my voice. ‘I’m serious. Something is happened.’ Mary gave a little shrug and closed her eyes. In the background Angela continued her low moans. ‘M-m-m-Maisie,’ she was now calling. A real shiver did go down my spine as I recalled finding the poor girl’s dead body, lying cold and twisted on the cell floor. It had been dawn and at the time I had not been able to see her clearly, but now my imagination was filling in the missing details, her eyes pale as cornflowers staring sightlessly, the pinched aspect of her pretty face that told of so many missed meals, but above all I remembered how she had looked little more than a child. Richenda’s adopted daughter came from lowly stock, if her life had taken a different turn, she could so easily have ended up like Aggie, poor, over worked and scared. In my mind’s eye little Amy aged and became Maisie. I had felt despair and pity when Maisie died, but now I felt fury.

  And then for no reason at all I heard myself say, ‘I never take sugar with China tea.’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  A noose is offered

  ‘So do you know who did it?’ Fitzroy’s voice snapped like a whip.

  Fitzroy had summoned me only moments after the séance ended, which was just as well as my comment had not gone down well with my cellmates.

  A moment after the words had left my mouth Martha Lake had broken the circle and stood up. ‘If no one is going to take this seriously. I do not see why I should stay sitting on this filthy floor,’ she had said. With the circle broken, Angela had thrown herself to the floor and writhed a bit. I had been impressed by the performance; Eunice even more so.

  ‘Look what you have done!’ she’d exclaimed at me, rather than Martha who had actually broken the circle. ‘She told you how dangerous it was for someone to interrupt her when she was in a trance.’

  ‘I don’t recall –’ I began.

  ‘Totally thoughtless,’ echoed the usually passive Jasmine, then looking at Mary. ‘What do you think we should do for the poor woman?’

  ‘You’re not going to tell me you believe any of this nonsense, are you?’ said Martha, who was now seated on the bench.

  ‘I think, as we do not know exactly what is happening,’ said Mary calmly, ‘that we leave Miss Blackwood alone unless she looks to me in danger of harming herself.’

  ‘But she may be beset by spirits!’ said Eunice, who appeared to have embraced the situation most fully.

  ‘Nah,’ said Abigail. ‘It’s all an act, isn’t it? Bet she was hoping one of us would ‘fess up.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ asked Mary. ‘An interesting plan if not a successful one.’

  ‘But why should she do such a thing?’ whispered Jasmine.

  ‘’Cause like the rest of us she wants out of this bleedin’ place,’ said Abigail.

  At this moment Mark, followed by another two policemen bearing the evening bowls of slop, had arrived to escort me to see Fitzroy once more. The first thing I noticed on entering Fitzroy’s office was that there was no sign of food. My stomach growled loudly.

  ‘So do you know who did it?’

  I opened my mouth to respond, but Fitzroy held up his hand. ‘Be careful what you say,’ he added. ‘Time has run out and whoever you name I shall more than likely put a noose around their neck. This business needs to be ended.’

  I closed my mouth.

  Fitzroy’s face darkened. ‘Come on, Euphemia, don’t go squeamish on me now. You always knew where this was leading.’

  ‘I am uncomfortable about the idea that someone might meet their end on my word,’ I said. ‘Doesn’t there need to be evidence?’

  ‘That can be sorted,’ said Fitzroy dismissively.

  I tried to feel surprise, but failed. I was all too familiar with Fitzroy’s methods. ‘I spotted your person – your woman,’ I said stalling for time.

  ‘I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t. Now, stop stalling and tell me who you believe did this?’

  ‘Wilks or Maisie?’

  ‘Are they different?’ Fitzroy’s voice carried a note of surprise rarely heard from the spy.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said honestly. ‘For all I know they could have all conspired together.’

  Fitzroy sighed. ‘Kill the lot and let God sort them out?’ He saw my shocked face. ‘It’s a quote, Euphemia. Not what I am intending to do.’

  ‘Why the sudden urgency?’

  ‘Your admirer, Muller. He got you the best lawyer in London. There is no way I can keep you under lock and key without charging you, so I am forced to let you all go on bail. Though whether the others have the material wealth to post bail I have no idea.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ I said contritely, ‘but I could hardly tell him what was really going on, could I?’

  Fitzroy rubbed his hand over his face. ‘No, I suppose not, but this has left me in a bad position. I am needed abroad. The Balkans have broken out. I fear Wilks’s death will need to go unanswered.’

  A silence hung between us.

  ‘I could continue to look into this,’ I said eventually.

  ‘I could not possibly ask you to do this. Even if poor little Maisie was killed on your watch.’

  ‘I have already agreed,’ I said.

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘I have discovered where Aggie lived. Not at the store but in a boarding house and that she received an unexpected letter on the morning of the march that made her change her plans.’

  ‘Who on earth told you that?’

  ‘Richenda. She did a little detective work on her own before her husband removed her from town.’

  ‘Richenda, what a surprise,’ said the spy. ‘I take it you still did not tell her about me?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I said wearily. ‘It was her idea to investigate. She comments she had observed me doing this previously and that it looked rather jolly.’

  ‘Well, she has certainly done better than you. Perhaps I should have left her in the cell.’

  ‘I did try to provoke a fight,’ I said. ‘Abigail almost stabbed me.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ said Fitzroy shortly. ‘What did Bertram unearth? I assume you had him on the trail as well?’

  ‘That I have yet to learn, but Hans did tell me the name of Wilks’s closest friends.’

  ‘Did he indeed? And why did he do that?’

  I ignored his comment and related the names. ‘I’ve heard of Blake, of course,’ said the spy, ‘but nothing that would suggest he might be involved. I will pass the other names on to Edward, but I do not hope out much hope. Such men, even if involved, will ensure they have got good alibis. Still, we can put a watch on them for future activity. We live in interesting times.’ He gave a swift smile and then said sharply, ‘Why do you think Hans did this for you?’

  ‘He said he had become aware that I had certain connections.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I responded. ‘I thought it would be dangerous for both of us – Hans and I – for me to do so.’

  ‘Hans is proving to be somewhat dangerous himself,’ muttered Fitzroy. He paced away from me. ‘The stockings,’ he said suddenly. ‘We were a pair short. One of the pairs was also of distinctly superior quality. Several were torn and stretch
ed, but this may have been caused during the protest.’

  ‘March,’ I corrected.

  Fitzroy waved my comment aside. ‘I do not like to leave untidy ends. I am half minded to choose one of your companions at random if you will not give me a name.’

  ‘That would be crossing a line, even for you,’ I responded sharply.

  Fitzroy turned and walked up to me. Right up to me. He came so close it felt uncomfortable, but I would no more have stepped back than I would have turned my back on a tiger. ‘You have no idea of what lines I am prepared to cross,’ he said coldly, ‘when the necessity arises.’

  ‘Let me try and find the solution,’ I said, aware I was now practically begging to do a task only a few minutes earlier I would have done a great deal to avoid.

  ‘I shall have to leave in three days, no longer. I will release you and your cellmates on bail. I will ensure all of them are free, and you shall have your time to choose one. Or I shall pick one for you.’

  ‘I need more information,’ I said quickly. ‘Addresses and the like.’

  Fitzroy indicated a file on his desk. ‘You can take that. You will be going straight to the bail hearing and not back to the cell.’

  ‘You had it ready for me!’

  ‘Of course,’ said the spy, and called for me to be taken before the judge.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  My modesty is once again endangered

  The luxury of bathing is much underrated. I lay deep in a hot bath in the hotel where Richenda and I had been staying. As I had hoped, Hans had kept the suite on. Though when I turned up in a hackney cab in my dishevelled state it was rather touch and go as to whether they would let be back into the hotel at all. Fortunately, I had summoned the image of my mother at her haughtiest to mind and treated the reception staff with such contempt they doubtless thought I was a duchess travelling incognito. Or perhaps even minor royalty, I mused, dipping my head under the water and moving my head from side to side so my long locks flowed like a mermaid.38

  I sat up smoothing my hair, heavy with water, from my face. I could almost imagine those nights in the cell had been nothing but a bad dream. Then I heard the door of the suite open.

  My heart, usually a most reliable organ, jumped into my mouth. It is only the maid, I told myself, but I was already looking around for whatever in a hotel bathroom might be used as a weapon.39 My fingers reached for the bath plug. My modesty warred with my desire not to be drowned in my own bathwater. I heard footsteps outside the door.

  ‘Euphemia?’ called a familiar voice.

  ‘Oh, good heavens, Bertram. I am bathing!’

  Then came the strangled sound of a gentleman in an unconscionable position. It was as if Bertram had swallowed his tongue and his neck tie all at once. After this came a gargling noise and that distinctive cough the well-educated male gives to show that he has realised he has committed a fatal breach of etiquette and is about to pretend it has not happened. ‘I will await you in the coffee room downstairs,’ he said in uneven tones. Then I heard the sound of footsteps fleeing.

  Every maidenly bone in my body should have been shocked, but I could not help it. Laughter bubbled inside me and within moments I was laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face. After the horrors of the cell, to be back in a position where one had to consider niceties once more struck me as both delightful and ridiculous.40

  Eventually when I felt I was edging close to hysteria, I did something my mother would have approved of and stuck my head under the cold water tap. The sudden sensation of coolness sobered me. I dried myself and dressed, but then came a real problem – one gentlemen do not have to consider. My long hair was still very wet and would take some time in front of the fire to dry. There was no way I could venture downstairs with wet hair. Even I would not go that far! I rang for a maid to light the fire and also to convey a message for Bertram to attend me. I described him as my brother, a ruse we had used to effect before, and ordered that coffee be brought up for us both. I also added a small brandy to the order for Bertram. From the sound of him earlier, he would need it if he were to face it.

  Bertram was, after all, a man and would have been unable to resist imagining me in the bath. He would doubtless be acutely aware that when he saw me again the image he had been imagining was still present, though now under clothing. I suppose it is a measure of those I have associated with of late that I even entertained such thoughts.

  Bertram and the coffee arrived together. The maid placed the tray on a little table and gave a little bob before retreating. Bertram opened his mouth to speak, but nothing happened. I passed him the brandy. He downed it in one and gave a little splutter. ‘Ah, thank you, Euphemia.’

  ‘I have told the staff we are brother and sister,’ I said. ‘I hope you have not done anything to counter this idea. This is, after all, a suite and the two bedrooms are separated by our private saloon.’

  ‘Good God! I can’t stay here!’

  ‘Indeed,’ I countered passing him a cup and saucer, ‘then I assume I will have to find Wilks and Maisie’s killer alone. I had rather hoped you were going to help me. Fitzroy gave me this.’ I passed him the list of names and addresses the spy had given me. ‘Only one is missing. A Martha Lake. I assume she is at this moment being followed and we will receive the information in due course.’

  Bertram, now forced to hold his cup and saucer and the document, admitted defeat and sat down. ‘Have we been officially, unofficially, asked to do this?’ he asked in a defeated voice.

  I avoided the question. ‘Surely you wish to see justice done?’

  I passed him another page that I had written on the hotel stationery. ‘These are the names that Hans managed to find of men who are associated with Wilks. Below that is the boarding house where the dead suffragette in the railway carriage was resident. Richenda managed to discover that she received a letter on the morning of the attack that changed all her plans.’

  ‘Never tell me the Mullers are working for Fitzroy!’ exclaimed Bertram.

  I shook my head and poured myself a coffee. ‘No, they were doing their best to aid me.’ I gave him a level look.

  Bertram flushed slightly. ‘Of course I won’t let you down,’ said Bertram. ‘I realise the killer must be caught for your name to be cleared.’

  ‘Which is why we need to go to the Gilded Lily. Have you heard of such a place, Bertram?’

  The question was redundant. I could see from the puce colour that had suffused his face he knew exactly what the Gilded Lily was. ‘Bertram,’ I said in a reproving tone.

  ‘Clubs. Men talk in clubs,’ replied Bertram in a strangled voice. Then he resorted to bluster. ‘What the devil does Fitzroy mean telling you about such places.’

  ‘This whole affair started with the firebombing and as no one seems to have witnessed anything, we must begin with the victims. Wilks was a known frequenter of this place.’

  ‘But damn it, Euphemia, such places don’t go about giving information out. They are used for their discretion.’

  ‘Which is why while you are unsuccessfully talking to the owners of the establishment, I will be talking to the girls.’

  38 Ahabit I had begun to enjoy since joining the Muller estate. My mother had frowned heavily on indulgent bathing. She felt it weakened one’s moral fortitude.

  39 The answer, in case you were wondering, is not very much. Unless you are particularly lethal with a sponge.

  40 My mother would never consider being caught in the bath a nicety of social etiquette, but in my defence she has never had to urinate in a bucket.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The Gilded Lily

  The Gilded Lily was an unassuming terraced townhouse. Bertram was still virtually straining at the leash. I had got him here by the simple expedient of telling him that if necessary I would go alone. I did not share with him that Fitzroy, fearing exactly this, had not divulged the address.

  ‘Damn it, Euphemia! I’m not going in there!’ said Bertram af
ter he had paid off our cab at a discreet distance from the club. ‘I should never have let you talk me into this.’

  ‘Well, then I shall have to go in alone.’

  ‘You are hardly one of their normal clients,’ said Bertram with a sharpness that was uncharacteristic.

  ‘I shall pose as a girl looking for work.’

  At the point, Bertram caught me by the arm, and held it uncomfortably tightly. ‘You cannot, you absolutely cannot do that,’ he said.

  I looked him direct in the eyes. ‘Why not? When you first met me you thought I was exactly what the girls inside are.’41

  Bertram flushed so darkly I would have feared for his heart if his grip on my arm was not so bruising. ‘Your association with Fitzroy is damaging you.’

  ‘How dare you! I do not associate with Fitzroy,’ I exclaimed hotly. ‘You are hurting my arm.’

  Bertram let go at once. He looked more shaken than I had ever seen him in all our adventures together. ‘This is not right, Euphemia. Neither of us should have to enter this place.’

  ‘I think I will find that being threatened execution by foreign spies is far worse.’

  ‘It is not the same thing at all,’ said Bertram. ‘Here, your virtue may be in jeopardy.’

  ‘I assure you I am quite capable of looking after myself. I will be in no danger,’ I countered in what I hoped was a more reasonable tone. Though, I admit, if Fitzroy had shown me the manoeuvres he had promised, with which he claimed I would be more able to protect myself, I would have felt more self-assured. Still, to date I had found my quick wits42 and loud scream had stood me in good stead.

  ‘Euphemia, you have no idea what such a place is like.’

  ‘It can’t be worse than the farm I grew up on!’

  The look on Bertram’s face should have been immortalised in oil. Really, men, gentlemen in particular, seem to need to believe that ladies should know nothing about reproduction, which when you consider we do the actual producing is quite ridiculous!