FAMILY TREE
LIST OF CHARACTERS
AT ROAD HILL HOUSE
Samuel Kent, sub-inspector of factories, aged 59 in June 1860
Mary Kent, née Pratt, Samuel's second wife, 40
Mary Ann Kent, daughter of Samuel Kent's first marriage, 29
Elizabeth Kent, daughter of Samuel Kent's first marriage, 28
Constance Kent, daughter of Samuel Kent's first marriage, 16
William Kent, son of Samuel Kent's first marriage, 14
Mary Amelia Kent, daughter of Samuel Kent's second
marriage, 5
Saville Kent, son of Samuel Kent's second marriage, 3
Eveline Kent, daughter of Samuel Kent's second marriage, 1
Elizabeth Gough, nursemaid, 22
Sarah Cox, housemaid, 22
Sarah Kerslake, cook, 23
LIVE-OUT SERVANTS
James Holcombe, gardener, groom and coachman, 49
John Alloway, odd-job boy, 18
Daniel Oliver, assistant gardener, 49
Emily Doel, assistant nursemaid, 14
Mary Holcombe, charwoman
Anna Silcox, retired monthly nurse, 76
OTHER VILLAGERS
The Reverend Edward Peacock, perpetual curate of Christ
Church, 39
Hester Holley, washerwoman, 55
Martha Holley, daughter of Hester, 17
William Nutt, shoemaker, 36
Thomas Benger, farmer, 46
Stephen Millet, butcher, 55
Joe Moon, tilemaker, 39
James Fricker, plumber and glazier, 40
James Morgan, baker and parish constable, 56
THE POLICE
Superintendent John Foley, 64, of Trowbridge
Police Constable William Dallimore, 40, of Trowbridge
Eliza Dallimore, police 'searcher', 47, of Trowbridge
Police Constable Alfred Urch, 33, of Road
Police Constable Henry Heritage, of Southwick
Police Sergeant James Watts, of Frome
Captain Meredith, the Chief Constable of Wiltshire, 63, of
Devizes
Superintendent Francis Wolfe, 48, of Devizes
THE DETECTIVES
Detective-Inspector Jonathan Whicher, 45
Detective-Sergeant Frederick Adolphus Williamson, 29
Detective-Sergeant Richard Tanner, 29
Ignatius Pollaky, private inquiry agent, 31
IN NEIGHBOURING TOWNS
George Sylvester, surgeon and county coroner, 71, of
Trowbridge
Joshua Parsons, surgeon, 45, of Beckington
Joseph Stapleton, surgeon, 45, of Trowbridge
Benjamin Mallam, physician, of Frome
Rowland Rodway, solicitor, 46, of Trowbridge
William Dunn, solicitor, 30, of Frome
Henry Gaisford Gibbs Ludlow, landowner, magistrate for
Wiltshire and Deputy Lieutenant for Somersetshire, 50, of
Westbury
William Stancomb, wool manufacturer, magistrate for
Wiltshire and Deputy Lieutenant for Wiltshire, 48, of
Trowbridge
John Stancomb, wool manufacturer and magistrate for
Wiltshire, 45, of Trowbridge
Peter Edlin, barrister, 40, of Bristol
Emma Moody, wool-worker's daughter, 15, of Warminster
Louisa Hatherill, farmer's daughter, 15, of Oldbury-on-the
Hill, Gloucestershire
William Slack, solicitor, of Bath
Thomas Saunders, magistrate and former barrister, of
Bradford-upon-Avon
A NOTE ON MONEY
In 1860, £1 had the purchasing power of £65 ($130) in today's money. A shilling (s) was worth a twentieth of £1 and had the purchasing power of about £3.25 ($6.50) today. A penny (d) was worth a twelfth of a shilling and had the purchasing power of about twenty-five modern pence (fifty cents). This measure – based on the retail price index – is useful for calculating the relative cost of everyday items, such as fares, food, drink.
When assessing salaries, a more meaningful calculation is that an income of £100 in 1860 is the equivalent of about £60,000 ($120,000) today.
Estimates based on the calculations of the American economics professors Lawrence H. Officer and Samuel H. Williamson, explained on their website measuringworth.com.
PROLOGUE
Paddington Railway Station,
15 July 1860
On Sunday, 15 July 1860, Detective-Inspector Jonathan Whicher of Scotland Yard paid two shillings for a hansom cab to take him from Millbank, just west of Westminster, to Paddington station, the London terminus of the Great Western Railway. There he bought two rail tickets: one to Chippenham, Wiltshire, ninety-four miles away, for 7s.10d., another from Chippenham to Trowbridge, about twenty miles on, for 1s.6d. The day was warm: for the first time that summer, the temperature in London had nudged into the seventies.
Paddington station was a shining vault of iron and glass, built by Isambard Kingdom Brunel six years earlier, its interior hot with smoke and sun. Jack Whicher knew the place well – the thieves of London thrived on the surging, anonymous crowds in the new railway stations, the swift comings and goings, the thrilling muddle of types and classes. This was the essence of the city that the detectives had been created to police. William Frith's The Railway Station, a panoramic painting of Paddington in 1860, shows a thief apprehended by two whiskered plain-clothes officers in black suits and top hats, quiet men able to steady the turmoil of the metropolis.
At this terminus in 1856 Whicher arrested the flashily dressed George Williams for stealing a purse containing £5 from the pocket of Lady Glamis – the detective told the magistrates' court that he had 'known the prisoner for years past as a member, and a first-rate one, of the swell mob'. At the same station in 1858 he apprehended a stout, blotchy woman of about forty in the second-class compartment of a Great Western train, with the words: 'Your name, I think, is Moutot.' Louisa Moutot was a notorious fraudster. She had used an alias – Constance Brown – to hire a brougham carriage, a page and a furnished house in Hyde Park. She then arranged for an assistant of the jewellers Messrs Hunt and Roskell to call round with bracelets and necklaces for the inspection of a Lady Campbell. Moutot asked to take the jewels upstairs to her mistress, who she claimed was sick in bed. The jeweller handed over a diamond bracelet, worth £325, with which Moutot left the room. After waiting for fifteen minutes he tried the door, to find he had been locked in.
When Whicher captured Moutot at Paddington station ten days later, he noticed that she was busying her arms beneath her cloak. He seized her wrists and turned up the stolen bracelet. Also on her person were a man's wig, a set of false whiskers and a false moustache. She was an up-to-the-minute urban criminal, a mistress of the twisty deceits that Whicher excelled in untangling.
Jack Whicher was one of the original eight Scotland Yard officers. In the eighteen years since the detective force had been formed, these men had become figures of mystery and glamour, the surreptitious, all-seeing little gods of London. Charles Dickens held them up as models of modernity. They were as magical and scientific as the other marvels of the 1840s and 1850s – the camera, the electric telegraph and the railway train. Like the telegraph and the train, a detective seemed able to jump time and place; like the camera, he seemed able to freeze them – Dickens reported that 'in a glance' a detective 'immediately takes an inventory of the furniture' in a room and makes 'an accurate sketch' of its inhabitants. A detective's investigations, wrote the novelist, were 'games of chess, played with live pieces' and 'chronicled nowhere'.