‘Say no more sir. I’ll see what I can find in the kitchens. I believe there was a nice leg of mutton left over from last night’s supper. I’ll bring it to yer room sir.’
‘Good man Stebbins. Here’s a brand new sixpence for you.’
‘Thank yer sir,’ grinned the youth, accepting the coin, before whistling his way down to the kitchens.
Ravenscroft made his way back to his room and lay down on his bed until a knock at the door indicated that Stebbins had returned with his food.
After lunch Ravenscroft made his way down to the Priory churchyard. The grounds were empty of people, and he reclaimed the seat by the grave where he had spoken with the veiled lady. As he looked up at the exterior of the Malvern and Worcestershire Bank, his thoughts turned again to Whitechapel and he saw once more the black cloak running ahead of him down the narrow alleyway. Shortly he would be returning to that world. Such a lot had happened since his arrival in Malvern, and when he had first set foot in the town he could not have dreamt that such a tranquil and refined place would have involved him in the hunt for the murderer of three of its most prominent inhabitants. And it had all been caused by the foundation of the bank thirty years previous, and the desire of one person to stop at nothing until he or she had achieved complete control of the tontine.
The two worlds of Malvern and Whitechapel seemed so far apart that they appeared at first to have little in common, but the more he considered the matter the more he became aware of the similarities between the two places. It was money which lay beneath the surface. In Whitechapel it had been the lack of money which had caused many of its inhabitants to turn to crime, to steal, to sell their bodies, and even occasionally to kill, in order to acquire a few coins so that they might live, whereas in Malvern the money lay hidden beneath the surface, ruling the town through its prosperous business men, and where dark deeds were done in closed rooms and near lonely hill tops in the quest for its acquisition.
‘I find you alone with your thoughts Mr. Ravenscroft.’
She had slipped so quietly into the seat beside him, so much so, that he had not previously been aware of her presence in the church yard. He was surprised to discover that her face was not covered by her usual veil.
‘I should leave,’ he said, without thinking. ‘You wish to be alone with your husband and son.’
‘I knew that you would be here,’ she replied placing her hand on his arm and indicating that he should stay. ‘I believe that you will shortly be leaving the town Mr. Ravenscroft.’
‘That is correct, my dear lady.’
‘So you have caught your murderer?’
‘I hope to be making an arrest shortly.’
They sat in silence for some moments, looking out across the church yard.
‘It is so calm here, so peaceful. It will be almost a shame to leave it,’ she said presently.
‘You are leaving the town?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘There comes a time when one must move on. There is unfinished business that must be resolved,’ she said looking sadly at the gravestone.
‘Business that concerns your late husband and son?’ asked Ravenscroft, before correcting himself, ‘I’m sorry, I should not intrude on your personal family affairs.’
‘Your veil of politeness seeks only to mask your inquisitive nature Mr. Ravenscroft,’ she replied, allowing herself a brief smile.
‘I suppose that is what comes of always being a policeman.’
‘And as such you must always be looking out for that which is corrupt in people?’
‘Not at all, there are many good people out there. I also believe that there is some goodness in all of us,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘I do not think so, inspector. There are some evil people who seek to condemn others to a hell which was not of their own making,’ she replied, a touch of bitterness creeping into her voice.
‘You have suffered such torments because of the deaths of your husband and son?’ inquired Ravenscroft.
‘I see your curiosity will not be satisfied. Very well then Mr. Ravenscroft, you shall hear my story. I married my husband, here in Malvern, some six years ago. At first we were gloriously happy and content with one another, and I believed that life could be no better than that. Then my husband started to visit London for two or three days each month, always on business he said. At first I was content to accept the necessity of his absences from home, but after a year I came to resent the time we were apart from one another. Then I began to notice small changes in his behaviour. He became irritable and bad tempered; he developed a bad cough and would often pay visits to our doctors. I knew that something was amiss and encouraged him to tell me the cause of his ill humour and his sickness, but always he resisted. We drew apart and I began to fear for my marriage. My husband continued to visit London each month, and I noticed he was often ill upon his return. Then I found myself with child and hoped that the birth of our son would bring us closer together, that we could somehow repair the damage of our broken marriage, but in this I was mistaken. Even when my darling Mark was born three years ago, my husband made no attempt to take an interest in him. It was as though he was hiding some terrible secret, which he could not impart to me. In the year that followed my husband became seriously ill. I felt powerless to arrest his decline. I knew shortly that he would die. Then one night, two weeks before he died, he confessed everything. On his visits to London he had frequented the dens and alleyways of Whitechapel, where he had satisfied his manly urges with the women who plied their trade there. So strong had their allure been that he had returned there time and time again. It had become like a drug to him. The women had entrapped him. Then he had caught some dreadful disease from one of them. At first he had sought to hide it from me, and this had explained his difficult moods and his increasing coldness towards me. He had tried to break free from his temptation, Mr. Ravenscroft, but he had found that he could not. He had hoped that by having a child he might be redeemed, but of course he was not. Shortly after he had told me all this, my husband died, leaving my son and I alone in this world. At first I accepted his death and blamed his folly and his lust for his own downfall — but then I learnt a harsher truth. My husband had already contracted the fatal illness before the conception of our child!’
She paused to turn away, leaving Ravenscroft feeling disturbed and uneasy, not knowing whether to issue words of comfort or condemnation.
‘Shortly after the death of my husband, my child fell grievously ill and I knew then that he had inherited the illness that my husband had contracted in London. During the next few months I watched my boy, my darling sweet boy, die slowly and in agony — and I could do nothing to save him, nothing to relieve his pain and suffering. To watch a son slowly slip away from you, like that, is a terrible thing. So now you know my story Mr. Ravenscroft — and there they lie, side by side, my weak foolish husband who had fallen under the spell of those terrible evil women and who had been unable to resist them, and my poor innocent child who died as a result of that evil.’
Ravenscroft had become aware of the increasing bitterness in her voice, and felt helpless in her presence, saying only, ‘I am sorry’ and knowing that it would not be enough. Suddenly she turned on him, a new anger replacing the agony in her voice.
‘Sorry! That is all you can say, after all those whores have done to my family. I tell you Mister Ravenscroft that I will not rest until I have tracked them all down, every one of those evil women, and made them pay for the pain and suffering they have inflicted on my son!’
‘My dear Mrs. Kelly, I must urge restraint. I appreciate the way you feel now, but you cannot take the law into your own hands. I know that you have suffered this terrible loss, but whatever you do now will not bring your son back to life.’