The Butchered Man Read online

  Despite himself, for a moment, he indulged the wild fancy of accepting her proposition. Sitting there, on the edge of the bed, in her black dress, her bodice still loosened from the examination, she struck him as very desirable. ‘Marry or burn,’ St Paul said. With a comfortable house and a pretty wife he would not find himself driven to whoring in dirty rooms down by the river. Lord Rothborough would be furious with him, of course, and it was worth considering for that alone.

  “You have no idea how many offers I have turned down, how many eligible men I tossed aside for Mr Rhodes, but I do not imagine one of those young men would raise another man’s child as his own. It would be a disgrace for them to take me, six hundred pounds or not. What would your parents, say, Mr Carswell, to such a pitiful creature as me?”

  She rubbed her belly. Felix understood her entirely. It was as if the child had already been delivered and lay screaming for dear life in the midwife’s arms, another poor little bastard, condemned to a life of ambiguity.

  “There are people who would take the child,” he said. “Good people who will love it as their own. That was the case with me. My parents adopted me,” he said.

  “I could never give up my child,” she said, with sudden fierceness. “Let the world spit in my face,” she said. “I will not give up my child!”

  “Perhaps I should fetch your mother.”

  She shook her head.

  “I shall go downstairs,” she said, and then, she added, “Would you hand me that shawl, sir?”

  ***

  “I do not understand you, Dick,” Giles heard Mrs Cley saying. He was standing by the breakfast room fire, glancing over the County Mercury. He had not been reading it but pondering instead if Miss Cley had staged the fainting fit to avoid being questioned further. “I should be there,” Mrs Cley went on. “Especially with such a young man...”

  The maid was clearing the table very slowly and it was quite clear she was listening to every word of this interesting conversation.

  “Hold your peace,” said Cley, “for goodness’ sake.”

  “No, I will not,” she said. “And I will not be spoken to like this, by my own son and daughter.”

  “Mother!” he said with vehemence and pushed the door open and marched into the room where he stopped short at the sight of Giles. The maid began to clatter teacups with some urgency. She was obviously afraid of him and ran out of the room as soon as she could.

  “Is your sister comfortable?” Giles said.

  “I suppose so –” he began.

  “Major Vernon,” Mrs Cley said, as she came in, “will you please persuade my son that I must go to her? He says that my daughter must see Mr Carswell alone but I know that cannot be right.”

  “Miss Cley will be quite safe with Mr Carswell,” said Giles. “Perhaps you should sit down, ma’am, and calm yourself? I know how distressing it is for your daughter to be taken ill, but I am sure it is nothing serious.”

  He took her arm and led her to an armchair and made a little gallant fuss of her, fetching her a cup of tea.

  All this time, Cley stood with his hands in his breeches pocket and a look of ill-concealed annoyance on his face.

  “I must get to work,” he said, consulting his watch.

  “I’d like to ask you a few more questions first, sir, if I might? Won’t you sit down too?”

  “I told you the other day all I know,” he said curtly, but he avoided looking straight at Giles as he said it.

  “Are you sure of that?” Giles said, placing a chair for him. “You may have forgotten something important. Perhaps you could tell me the last time you saw Mr Rhodes alive?”

  “I can’t remember,” he said, sitting down, and folding his arms across his chest.

  “Miss Cley told me that you went to speak to him when you heard about the engagement to Miss Pritchard. It’s perfectly understandable that you would. Any gentleman would have wanted an explanation in the circumstances.”

  There was a long silence.

  “I wanted more than an explanation!” burst out Cley, “But the bugger wasn’t there. His landlady said he had left.”

  “And this was when?”

  “About a week or so ago. It was a Thursday.”

  “What time of day?”

  “I went after work. I would have gone before, but I’m not a man of leisure, am I? I went before I went home and had my dinner.”

  “We have dinner at six,” chimed in Mrs Cley.

  “He’d turned on his tail and left. Scared of me, I suppose.”

  “You’d given him reason to be scared?” Giles said.

  “Well... he must have known what was due to him. No wonder he scarpered.”

  “You are sure you did not see him?” Giles said gently. “Not in the morning, perhaps? I would have found it hard to do a full day’s work with such a pressing matter hanging over my head. It was the day before that you discovered what he had done. You did not go that day and speak to him, I wonder? I should have done, I think, if she were my sister.”

  “Are you saying I don’t care for my sister’s honour?” said Cley jumping up from his seat.

  “Not at all,” said Giles, beginning to wonder if there was not more to this than anger at a broken engagement. He remembered what John Rhodes had said on the train about his cousin and decided to take a gamble. “I think you care very properly for it, and Rhodes had injured it greatly. There are few worse things a man can do than ruin a virtuous woman.”

  “Ruin?” said Mrs Cley. “What are you talking about?” Cley stared at him, his mouth half open. “Lucy’s not ruined,” Mrs Cley went on. “Is she –?” She broke off. “Dick, what is going on?”

  Cley walked slowly over to the fireplace and stood staring at the coals.

  “Why do you think she fainted, mother?” he said quietly. Mrs Cley looked as if she was going to faint herself. Cley turned to Giles and said, “I know what you are thinking, sir, and it’s not that. I didn’t want the scoundrel dead. I wanted him to do what was right and I told him so. I wanted him to stand by his promises, like a decent man, and not to weasel out of it. You can’t get the goods without paying for them. That’s what I told him.”

  “When was this?” said Giles.

  “It was on the Thursday morning,” Cley said. He went and sat down heavily. “You were right. I couldn’t sleep all that night. I knew something was wrong. Lucy wasn’t telling me the whole story. I knew there was something else. Lucy’s not like other girls. She’s so fine, so much better than all the girls I know. When I heard what that bugger had done I was sure that no-one would have thought the worst of her for it. In fact, I reckoned it would only make her look better, and there would be plenty of fellows glad that she was free again. But she was so broken, so miserable about it. It seemed all wrong. So I tried to have it out with her. Of course she wouldn’t tell me and that only made it worse. So the next morning, when she got up all early and went out, I followed her. She said she was going out to give stuff to some poor widow woman she’d taken up over in St Luke’s. She’d been going to her quite often, it seemed. Far too often to my mind.”

  “So where did she go?”

  “She went to St Luke’s all right, to one of those little streets up at the back of Rag Lane. I nearly lost her, it’s a regular warren in there, but then I saw her going up this rickety old staircase. I dashed after her and thankfully she didn’t see me.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “Well, it was a mean sort of room, but it was clear enough what it was for. There was a bed in it, and that was about it. And there she was, down on her knees, in floods of tears, her arms wrapped round his legs begging him to reconsider. It was vile. That he reduced her to that. My own sister. I’d have killed him there, yes, if I could have done, with my bare hands, just to satisfy myself. It would have been a great pleasure, I can tell you!”

  “Dick, what are you saying?” exclaimed Mrs Cley.

  “I didn’t do it, mother, I didn’t kill him. Th
at wasn’t want Lucy wanted. She loved him. She still wanted him as her husband, though the Lord knows why! Well, I know why, because he’d had her and that binds a woman to man, doesn’t it?”

  “You are sure you weren’t violent with him? You didn’t hit him at all?” Giles said.

  “I may have pushed him a bit roughly. I was trying to get Lucy to let him go. I couldn’t stand the sight of it, so I dragged her off him, that was mostly it. She gave me a fair few slaps. I’ve never seen her like that, like a wild animal. Mostly I was fighting with her and he just stood there, looking all superior, brushing his lapels. That was when I would have done it. I could have kicked him to death at that moment, but Lucy was so miserable, that tipped the balance for me. She needed me and that held me back. And he was such a dirty piece of scum I thought: he’s not worth hanging for, is he? Honest to God, that is what I thought.”

  Giles nodded. He was not entirely convinced by this but he wanted Cley to imagine he was satisfied with this explanation for now. He would have to talk to the girl at length.

  “So then what happened?”

  “I took her away. I took her away and got her back into Salt Lane and into the yard of The Black Bull. I hired a covered gig and drove her out to my Aunt’s place over at Nether Haddon.”

  “You didn’t go back to settle the score?” Giles said.

  “No. Ask the stableman at The Black Bull. He saw me driving out of there.”

  “I will,” said Giles, making rapid notes. “And this room in St Luke’s – can you take me there?”

  “Yes. Gladly,” he added. “Though what you’ll find there, I don’t know.”

  Giles glanced at him, wondering if that was genuine surprise or the confident knowledge that no evidence of anything incriminating might remain there. Rhodes might easily have been dispatched and removed from such a room in the quieter back streets of the town without anyone noticing.

  “Why did you not take your sister straight home?” he asked.

  “I wanted to get her out of there, to somewhere where she could forget him. We always loved to go to my aunt’s house as children. We were happy there.”

  Mrs Cley buried her face in her hands.

  “I cannot believe what I am hearing,” she muttered. “This cannot be true. It cannot.”

  Then, as if to add to the woman’s distress, the door opened and Miss Cley came in, wrapped in a large colourful shawl that contrasted ill with her pale cheeks and black silk. Carswell was behind her, looking a little rattled.

  “Lucy, it’s not true, is it?” Mrs Cley said, getting up and going to her, taking her daughter’s hands.

  “Dick, what have you said?” Miss Cley said. “What have you done? I told you to say nothing!”

  He looked away.

  “Mr Carswell, I must ask you what exactly is the matter with my daughter?” Mrs Cley said.

  “Your daughter is quite well, ma’am,” Carswell said.

  “I can see that! What I mean is: is she with child?”

  “Mother, it is none of your business,” said Miss Cley. “Do not ask Mr Carswell to betray what he has discovered in confidence.”

  “I am your mother, and it is my business if you have been up to what you should not have been!” And she slapped her daughter hard across the face. As Miss Cley was a great deal taller than her mother, and her imperious bearing and elegant manner was in stark contrast to her mother, this might have seemed absurd, but the force of Mrs Cley’s feeling was highly impressive. It certainly seemed to impress the usually implacable Miss Cley who took a step back and touched her injured cheek with her fingertips.

  “Mother...?” she said in breathless amazement.

  “Oh, you take me for an old fool, don’t you?” Mrs Cley said. “You think I don’t know anything.” And she delivered another stinging slap. “What I want to know is, what you were thinking of? What were you thinking of, going to a man like that and letting him have you? Your father... I only thank God he is not alive today to hear this.”

  “He would have understood perfectly what I was doing,” said Miss Cley, in a quiet voice that she was struggling to control. “It was good business. I wanted to secure the deal. It was the only way. He was swithering so I gave him something on credit. That is all.”

  “All!” exclaimed Mrs Cley. “It was everything. Everything!”

  “I know that, mother, do you think I don’t?” Miss Cley burst out. “But what else could I do? I could not bear to lose him. God help me now for being so weak!” She turned to Giles. “I told myself in the eyes of God we were married. Since we would be soon enough. But I have lost him, and I know why. This is my punishment. This is my torment for loving him too much. The Lord God has taken him from me for my sins.”

  “And what about Mr Rhodes’ sins?” Giles said. “What do you think of them? Do they not strike you as crying out for vengeance?”

  “My brother did not kill Mr Rhodes,” she said after a long silence. “Though I dare say he would have done if I had let him.”

  “I was not speaking of your brother, Miss Cley,” Giles said. “It was your feelings I was considering. What do you feel about Mr Rhodes and his conduct?”

  “I forgive him. I forgive him for everything. That is the nature of love, is it not? I let him have me because I loved him. I wanted him. And he is no good to me dead. No good at all. Do you think I would throw away all my happiness for revenge? Major Vernon, ask yourself this: what good is Stephen Rhodes to me dead? Especially now?”

  ***

  “It isn’t the most elegant scene for a seduction, is it?” said Vernon, looking about the sparsely furnished room. “Clearly Rhodes was confident that his personality cast a sufficient spell. He certainly seems to have succeeded with Miss Cley. He must have had quite a manner for a rational, respectable woman like that to succumb to his charm. I wonder who else he brought here.”

  “You think there were others?”

  “Oh yes, certainly there were,” said Giles. “His cousin said as much. And why bother taking a room? The landlord will fill us in on the details. You’ll have noticed he was not too pleased to see us. He has probably let this place at an exorbitant rate – a tax on his discretion I imagine.”

  He opened the curtained alcove that served as a press. An overcoat and a dressing gown hung on a hook.

  “All the details seen to,” Vernon said, pulling out the dressing gown and holding it up. It was made of green quilted silk. “What a very magnificent specimen. His own comfort carefully considered. I’d be amused by all this if it wasn’t so tragic.”

  “Sir, do you still need me here?” Felix said. The Major was looking through the drawers in the chest.

  “You’ll want to get back to your cases, I suppose.”

  “Yes, and there is something else rather urgent. The girl at Brinklow,” he said.

  “Oh, I see,” said Vernon. He went and sat down on the edge of the bed. “What about her now?”

  “Last night. I went out there again last night. You see, her condition has deteriorated – that was why I was not at my post. I had no wish to conceal it from you, but what with your being injured and then – I feel I must go there at once. I am asking your permission to go.”

  “It is not my permission that you need,” the Major said after a moment.

  “I know. I know it was wrong of me to go. But it would have been equally wrong not to go, especially given what I found there. She is very sick. She must not stay there any longer. I want to take her away. I was going to hire a carriage and take her away.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I had not got that far. Some lodgings somewhere, I suppose...” He trailed off, aware of the Major’s scrutiny. “But I did not think I could act without your permission.”

  “Why is it necessary that she must be removed? What is the medical case for it?”

  “Inadequate nursing, certainly. The room they have put her in – that is scarcely suitable.”

  “I nee
d a better reason than that,” said Vernon, “if I am to persuade Miss Hilliard.”

  “You will go and speak to her, sir?” said Felix.

  “Yes, if you give me good reason.”

  “It is not only for medical reasons,” Felix was forced to admit. “In fact, medicine at its most rational would argue against it. She will not recover wherever she is. That is a fact. But the sheer wretchedness of it! I cannot stand that she should be left in such a miserable condition to die! It is beyond cruel and it cannot be defended. It would be a stain on my conscience if I were to allow it continue. God knows, I have enough of those already, I know, but this... Sir, I beg you, please, cannot something more be done?”

  Vernon got up and crossed the room to him, laying his hand briefly on Felix’s shoulder.

  “Yes, yes, of course. I will go there at once,” he said. “And you can go and see to your cases at The Unicorn.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  The maid was just showing him in when Miss Hilliard came across the hall, presumably from one of the classrooms. She carried a pile of exercise books under her arm. She stopped at the sight of him and waved the maid away.

  “Major Vernon, I hardly expected –”

  “No, I am sure you did not.”

  “I should probably ask you to leave.”

  “That is within you right. But I must beg your leave to ask you some questions.”

  “I see,” she said.

  “May I?”

  She considered for a moment.

  “I have to prepare for my class,” she said. “We will talk in here.”

  He followed her into an empty classroom. It struck him as a pleasant place, clean and orderly, very unlike his own experience of such places. Here were the same gentle, domestic touches he had admired in her office: a vase of catkins on the teacher’s desk and there were paintings and samplers hanging on the walls. Through the window he could see and hear the girls and young women who were playing in the gardens, wrapped in sturdy brown cloaks against the cold. They looked fresh-faced and happy, and they were making plenty of noise. They did not strike him as repressed or neglected. It made him wonder if Carswell was talking nonsense.