Cater Street Hangman Read online

  At ten o’clock she closed the doors as it was now dark. Sitting with the darkness intruding she felt a little vulnerable, remembering that there was nothing between the garden and the street except the rose wall. She had been reading a book her father would not have approved of, but a perfect opportunity since both he and Dominic were also out.

  It was half past ten, and quite dark outside, when Mrs. Dunphy knocked on the withdrawing room door.

  Charlotte looked up.

  “Yes?”

  Mrs. Dunphy came in, her hair a little untidy, her apron screwed up in her fingers.

  Charlotte stared at her in surprise.

  “What is it, Mrs. Dunphy?”

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t ought to bother you, Miss Charlotte, but I don’t rightly know what to do about it!”

  “About what, Mrs. Dunphy? Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”

  “Oh no, Miss Charlotte. It’s Lily.” Mrs. Dunphy looked wretched. “She’s gone out with that Jack Brody again, and she isn’t back. It’s gone half past ten, Miss Charlotte, and she’ll have to be up at six in the morning.”

  “Well don’t you worry about it,” Charlotte said a little sharply. She loathed trying to sort out domestic wrangles. “If she feels terrible tomorrow, perhaps she’ll learn not to stay out too late in future.”

  Mrs. Dunphy caught her breath in exasperation.

  “You don’t understand, Miss Charlotte! It’s half past ten and she hasn’t come home yet! I never did like that Jack Brody. Mr. Maddock has said a number of times he was no good, and Lily ought to tell him to be on his way.”

  Charlotte had noticed that Maddock had a very ready regard for Lily, which would predispose him to disapprove of Jack Brody, or anyone else with whom she stepped out.

  “I wouldn’t take Maddock’s view very seriously, Mrs. Dunphy. He’s probably harmless enough.”

  “Miss Charlotte, it’s nearer eleven than ten, and it’s dark outside and Lily’s out there somewhere with a man that’s no good! Mr. Maddock’s been out to look for her. He’s out there now, but I think you should do something.”

  Charlotte realized for the first time exactly what Mrs. Dunphy was afraid of.

  “Oh, don’t be foolish, Mrs. Dunphy!” she burst out, not because it was foolish, but because she was afraid now too. “She’ll be back presently, and you can send her in here to me. I’ll make it plain to her that if she does this again we shall dismiss her. You’d better tell Maddock when he comes back, and then go to bed yourself. Maddock will wait up.”

  “Yes, Miss Charlotte. Do you—do you think she’ll be all right?”

  “Not if she ever does this again. Now go back to the kitchen and don’t worry about it.”

  “Yes, thank you, Miss,” and Mrs. Dunphy went out, still twisting her apron in one hand.

  It was half an hour later, after eleven, when Maddock came in.

  Charlotte put down her book. She was just about to go to bed herself. There was no point in waiting up for the others. Although they were later than she had expected. Church hall affairs usually finished by ten. Perhaps there was a lot of clearing up to do, and then they would have to find a carriage home. Papa was at his club, and she could not remember where Dominic had said he was going.

  “What is it, Maddock?”

  “It’s after eleven, Miss Charlotte, and Lily still isn’t home. With your permission, I think we should contact the police.”

  “The police! Whatever for? We can’t get the police out because our servant girl is out with an undesirable man! We’ll be the laughingstock of the neighbourhood. Papa would never forgive us. Even if she is . . . ” she looked for the word “ . . . loose enough to stay out all night.”

  Maddock’s face tightened.

  “Neither of our girls is immoral, Miss Charlotte. There is something wrong.”

  “All right then, if not immoral, foolish, thoughtless.” Charlotte was beginning to be really frightened herself now. She wished Papa were here, or Dominic. They would know what to do. Was Lily really in danger, should she call the police? The very thought of speaking to the police was frightening, demeaning. Respectable people did not have to call the police. If she did, would Papa be furious? Her mind raced with possibilities, of rumours of disgrace, of Papa’s face red with anger, of Lily lying in the road somewhere.

  “All right, perhaps you’d better call them,” she said very quietly.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll go myself, and lock the door behind me. And don’t worry, Miss Charlotte. You’ll be perfectly safe here with Mrs. Dunphy and Dora. Just don’t let anyone in.”

  “Yes, Maddock. Thank you.”

  She sat down to wait. Suddenly the room seemed chill and she huddled further into the cushions on the sofa. Had she done the right thing? Wasn’t it a little hysterical to send Maddock out for the police just because Lily was no better than she should be? Papa would be furious. It would be talked about. Mama would be thoroughly embarrassed. It reflected on the morality of the whole household.

  She stood up to call Maddock back, then realized it was too late. She had only just sat back on the sofa, shivering, when the front door opened and closed. She froze.

  Then Sarah’s voice came clearly. “I’ve never been so tired in all my life! Does Mrs. Prebble normally do all that herself?”

  “No, of course not,” Caroline said wearily. “It’s just that with her being ill she didn’t contact the people who normally help.”

  The door to the withdrawing room opened.

  “Why, Charlotte, what on earth are you doing sitting there like a child huddled in the half-dark? Are you ill?” Caroline came forward quickly.

  Charlotte was so glad to see her she felt the tears prickle in her eyes. It was ridiculous. She swallowed hard.

  “Mama, Lily hasn’t come back. Maddock’s gone to tell the police!”

  Caroline stared.

  “Police!” Emily said incredulously, and then her disbelief changed to anger. “What on earth are you thinking of, Charlotte? You must be mad!”

  Sarah came up behind her.

  “What will the neighbours say? We can’t have the police here just because a servant girl has run off with someone!” She looked around as if she expected to see him materialize. “Where’s Dominic?”

  “He’s out, of course!” Charlotte snapped. “Do you think if he were here he’d have gone to bed?”

  “You should never have left Charlotte alone,” Emily said, anger sharpening her tone.

  “Well, possibly Mama didn’t know Lily was going to pick tonight to get lost!” Charlotte could hear her voice cracking. In her mind she saw Lily lying in the street. “She might be dead or something, and all you are thinking of is making silly remarks!”

  Before anyone could take it any further the door opened and closed again and Edward came in through the open doorway of the withdrawing room.

  “What’s the matter?” he said immediately. “Caroline?”

  “Charlotte sent for the police because Lily has run away,” Sarah said furiously. “I expect we’ll be the talk of the street tomorrow!”

  Edward stood aghast, staring at Charlotte.

  “Charlotte?” he demanded.

  “Yes, Papa.” She could not look at him.

  “What on earth possessed you to do such a foolish thing, child?”

  “She was afraid something . . . ” Caroline began.

  “Be silent, Caroline,” he said sharply. “Charlotte? I’m waiting!”

  Charlotte felt her tears disappear in rebellion. She looked at him, as angry as he was now.

  “If the whole street is going to talk about us,” she replied distinctly, “I would prefer it were because we were worried unnecessarily than because we didn’t care enough to see if she was all right when she was lying somewhere hurt!”

  “Charlotte, go to your room!”

  Wordlessly, head high, she went out and up the stairs. Her bedroom was cold and dark, but she could only think of the colder and darker streets outsi
de.

  She woke in the morning tired and heavy-headed. She remembered last night. Papa was almost certainly still angry, and poor Lily would reap the worst of it, possibly even a dismissal. Maddock was probably in for an unpleasant patch, too. She must remember not to make it worse for him by letting Papa know it was he who had suggested the police.

  And of course if Lily were dismissed it would upset the whole household until a replacement was found. Mrs. Dunphy would be thoroughly aggrieved. Dora would be run silly. And Mama would discover all over again how hard it was to come by a respectable girl, never mind to train her.

  It was still early but there was no point in lying in bed. Anyway, better to get it over with than to lie fearing and building it into ever larger proportions.

  She had ventured as far as the downstairs hall when she saw Dora.

  “Oh, Miss Charlotte!”

  “What’s the matter, Dora? You look terrible. Are you ill?”

  “Not properly speaking, I’m not. But isn’t it terrible, Miss?”

  Charlotte’s heart sank. Surely Papa had not turned Lily out into the street in the middle of the night?

  “What is, Dora? I went to bed before Lily came back.”

  “Oh, Miss Charlotte,” Dora swallowed, her eyes round. “She never did come back. She must be lying murdered in the street somewhere, and we all in our beds like we didn’t care!”

  “She doesn’t have to be anything of the sort!” Charlotte snapped, trying to convince herself. “She’s probably lying in bed, too, in some miserable room with Jack what’s-his-name.”

  “Oh no, Miss, it’s wicked of you to say—” She blushed violently. “I’m sorry, Miss Charlotte, but you didn’t ought to say that. Lily was a good girl. She’d have never done that, and without giving notice even!”

  Charlotte changed the subject.

  “Did the police come, do you know? I mean, Maddock went for them.”

  “Yes, Miss, a constable came, but he seemed to be of a mind that Lily was no better than she should be, and had simply run off. But then I always reckon police is no better than they should be either. All the low sorts of people they mix with, I dare say. Stands to reason, don’t it?”

  “I don’t know, Dora. I’ve never known any police.”

  Breakfast was a formal and very grim affair. Even Dominic looked unusually glum. He and Papa departed for the day, and Emily and Mama went to the dressmaker’s for fittings. Sarah was in her room writing letters. Funny what an enormous correspondence she had. Charlotte could never find above two or three people to write to in a month.

  It was half past eleven and Charlotte was painting surprisingly successfully, for the gray mood she was in, when Maddock knocked and opened the door.

  “What is it, Maddock?” Charlotte did not look up from her palette. She was mixing a muted sepia for leaves in the distance, and wished to get it exactly right. She enjoyed painting, and this morning it was particularly soothing.

  “A person, Miss Charlotte, to see Mrs. Ellison, but since she is not in, he insisted on seeing someone.”

  She abandoned the sepia.

  “What do you mean, ‘a person,’ Maddock? What kind of a person?”

  “A person from the police, Miss Charlotte.”

  Fear rippled through Charlotte. It was real at last! Or were they come to complain about having been bothered over a domestic matter?

  “Then you’d better show him in.”

  “Do you wish me to remain, Miss, in case he becomes a nuisance? You can never tell with police persons. They are used to a different class of neighbourhood altogether.”

  Charlotte would very much have liked his moral support.

  “No, thank you, Maddock. But stay in the hall so I can call for you, please.”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  A moment later the door opened again.

  “Inspector Pitt, ma’am.”

  The man who came in was tall and looked large because he was untidy; his hair was unruly, and his jacket napped. His face was plain, a little Semitic, although his eyes were light and his hair no darker than brown. He appeared intelligent. His voice when he spoke was unusually beautiful, quite incongruous against his somewhat scruffy appearance. He looked Charlotte up and down keenly, irritating her already.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you when you are alone, Miss Ellison, but we cannot afford to waste time. Perhaps you would like to sit down?”

  Instinctively she refused.

  “No, thank you,” she said stiffly. “What is it you want?”

  “I’m sorry, I have bad news. We have found your maid, Lily Mitchell.”

  Charlotte tried to stand quite still, upright, although her knees were weak. She could feel the blood drain from her face.

  “Where?” her voice was a squeak. This wretched man was staring at her. She did not normally dislike people on sight—no, perhaps that was not quite true—but this man certainly inspired it. “Well?” she said, keeping her voice level.

  “In Cater Street. Perhaps you had better sit down?”

  “I’m perfectly all right, thank you.” She tried to freeze him with a glance, but he seemed oblivious to it. Quite firmly he took her arm and guided her backwards into one of the hardbacked chairs.

  “Would you like me to call one of your maids?” he offered.

  That incensed her. She was not so feeble she could not conduct herself decently, even in the face of shocking news.

  “What is it you wish to do that cannot wait?” she said with great control.

  He wandered slowly round the room. Really, the man had no manners at all. Still, what could you expect of the police? He probably could not help it.

  “Your butler reported last night that she had gone out walking with a man called Jack Brody, a clerk of some sort. What time did you require her to come home?”

  “Half past ten, I think. I’m not sure. No, maybe ten o’clock. Maddock could tell you.”

  “With your permission, I shall ask him.” It sounded more like a statement than a request. “How long was she in your employ?”

  It all sounded so final, so much in the past.

  “Four years, about. She was only nineteen.” She heard her voice drop suddenly, and a sharp memory of Emily came back to her, Emily as a baby, Emily learning to walk. It was ridiculous. Emily had nothing in common with Lily, except that they were both nineteen.

  The wretched policeman was staring at her.

  “You must have known her fairly well?”

  “I suppose so.” She realized just how little she did know. Lily was a face around the house, something she was used to. She did not know anything about the girl behind the face at all, what she cared about, or was afraid of.

  “Had she ever stayed out before?”

  “What?” She had temporarily forgotten him.

  He repeated the question.

  “No. Never. Mister—?” She had forgotten his name, too.

  “Pitt, Inspector Pitt,” he filled in for her.

  “Inspector Pitt, was she—was she strangled, like the others?”

  “Garroted, Miss Ellison, with a strong wire. Yes, exactly like the others.”

  “And—and was she also—mutilated?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh.” She felt weakness overwhelm her, and horror, and pity.

  He was watching her. Apparently he saw nothing but her silence.

  “With your permission, I’ll go and speak to the other servants. They probably knew her better than you did.” There was something in his tone of voice that implied she did not care. It made her angry—and guilty.

  “We don’t pry into our servants’ lives, Mr. Pitt! But in case you think we are not concerned, it was I who sent Maddock for the police last night.” She coloured with anger as soon as she had said it. Why on earth was she trying to justify herself to this man? “Unfortunately you were not able to find her then!” she added sharply.

  He accepted the rebuke silently, and a moment later he
was gone.

  Charlotte stood staring at the easel. The painting which had seemed delicate and evocative a quarter of an hour ago was now only so many gray-brown smudges on paper. Her mind was full of blurred images, dark streets, footsteps, fighting for breath, and above all fear, and the dreadful, intimate attack.

  She was still staring at the easel when her mother came in. Emily’s voice floated from the hall.

  “I’m sure it will look perfectly dreadful if she leaves it as loose as that. I shall appear to be quite fat! It’s so unfashionable.”

  Caroline had stopped, staring at Charlotte.

  “Charlotte, my dear, what is it?”

  Charlotte found her eyes filling with tears. In an agony of relief she ran into her mother’s arms and almost crushed her, holding her so tightly.

  “Lily. Mama, she’s been strangled, like the others. They found her in Cater Street. There’s a terrible policeman here now, this moment! He’s talking to Maddock and the servants.”

  Caroline touched her hair gently. It was an infinitely soothing gesture.

  “Oh dear,” she said softly. “I was so afraid of that. I never really imagined Lily had run off; I suppose I just wanted to think so because it was so much preferable to this. Your Papa will be so angry at having the police here. Does Sarah know?”

  “No. She’s upstairs.”

  Caroline pushed her away gently.

  “Then we had better collect ourselves and prepare to face a good deal of unpleasantness. I shall have to write to Lily’s parents. It is only right that they should hear from a member of the family, someone that knew Lily. And we were responsible for her. Now go upstairs and wash your face. And you had better tell Sarah. Where did you say this policeman was?”

  Inspector Pitt returned in the evening, when Edward and Dominic were home, and insisted on speaking to them all again. He was very persistent and authoritative.

  “I’ve never heard of such nonsense!” Edward said furiously when Maddock came to announce him. “The fellow’s impertinence is beyond words. I shall have to speak to his superior. I will not have women involved in this sordid affair. I shall speak to him alone. Caroline, girls, please withdraw until I send Maddock for you.”