A Death for a Cause (6 page)

‘The suffragette!' exclaimed the doctor in accents of strong disapproval.

‘This lady here,' said Fitzroy, his voice so stern and crisp it sliced through the atmosphere like a knife.

‘I really don't know …' muttered the doctor, setting his bag down on the table. ‘All these women are hysterics. What seems to be the particular trouble with you, my dear?'

‘She is not your dear,' growled Fitzroy, ‘She is one of us. And if you will take the trouble of opening your eyes you will see she has suffered a severe blow to the head.'

The doctor's manner changed immediately. ‘You sent a lady into that scrum!' he said. ‘I cannot support such action.'

‘Send a memo,' sneered Fitzroy. ‘Now see to the lady.'

A little while later my head was bandaged, I had been made to swallow something most unpleasant, and told to avoid further exertion for the foreseeable future. Fitzroy, through much shouting, threats, and by essentially terrifying the guard and any other personnel who were foolish enough to come near us, had managed to procure me a chaise longue to lie upon, while the desk was converted into a dining table set and laid for two.

When the last poor underling had left the room, Fitzroy shut the door and locked it, dropping the key in his pocket. I regarded him from my prone position. ‘Should that worry me?' I asked.

‘I do not care for us to be interrupted. Now come to the table and dine, Euphemia. It will make you feel much better than you realise.' He poured me a glass of red wine. ‘Only one,' he said. ‘It will strengthen you.'

The dinner set before us consisted of grilled steak, roasted potatoes, petits pois, carrots and a thick dark gravy. A smaller table set to one side help a selection of puddings and custards. A cushion had been placed on my chair and a leaned back against it gratefully. ‘Hardly the forced feeding I had been led to expect,' I said dryly.

Fitzroy sliced through his steak, which bled onto his plate. He saw my expression. ‘Don't be concerned, yours is cooked for longer than mine. I am aware that even the most strong-hearted of women do not tend to like bloody meat.'

‘My companions?' I asked.

Fitzroy sighed. ‘The majority of them have been questioned – gently – and released. The ones most directly involved in the violence or who have questionable records have been detained.'

‘Richenda?'

‘I am trying to eat! I have had nothing since lunchtime!'

‘A terrible state of affairs, I agree – but Richenda?'

‘Released. Though it took some doing. From what I hear she waded into the fray laying about her like a woman possessed.'

I nodded. ‘She does have a temper.'

‘Even her darling husband couldn't have got her out if I hadn't …' he let the sentence trail off.

‘Is meant to suggest that I owe you a favour? Because if it is,' I added sternly, once more bringing my mother to mind, ‘I think after the incident at the pig farm you remain firmly in my debt.'

Fitzroy grinned and raised his glass to me. ‘I do indeed, but what I am going to ask you to do is not for me, but as a representative of the Crown.'

I groaned. ‘You mean for King and Country? Not again!'

¹⁷
A great asset in his spy craft.

Chapter Nine

Fitzroy bemoans his lack of entertainment

‘The thing is,' said Fitzroy as he spooned a strawberry blancmange onto my dessert plate, ‘that the suffragettes have started getting involved in violence and they are doing rather well. From the current informants I have managed to gather that they …'

‘You have them informing on one another?' I exploded. ‘So much for sisterhood indeed.'

‘The violence has been extreme, Euphemia. We are not talking about the smashing of a few windows any longer. Telephone exchanges have been destroyed. Railway carriages badly damaged. This is occurring at a time when the international situation is far from stable and I do not need to tell you how important communication and other infrastructures during are during what may soon become the darkest of times.'

I shivered at his words. ‘You believe that –' I began, but he interrupted me.

‘I am not here to speak with you of international affairs. Finish your dessert. I will tell what has brought me into the situation over coffee.'

‘They're going to bring us coffee?' I asked astonished. ‘We are hardly dining at the Ritz.'
¹⁸

‘They will if they know what is good for them,' snarled Fitzroy and fell on his own portion of spotted dick as if it had somehow offended him.

When plates had been removed, coffee poured and we were alone once more, Fitzroy grew serious. ‘I do most definitely need your help, but if you are not well enough to continue I must ask you to say so before I disclose further information.'

‘Will I be required to do anything energetic?' I asked for my head still throbbed.

‘You will be placed back among the detained women. At times you will be removed for questioning or force feeding – or so the others will think. In actuality you will be dining with me and discussing what you may have uncovered.'

‘So I am to be spy?' I said bridling.

‘An embryonic one,' said Fitzroy. ‘You barely have any training, but I do not think you will be in any danger.' He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. ‘Remind me, when you are feeling more yourself, to show you some basic self-defence moves. By all reports you were taken most easily. Though I give you full marks for pulling the man out of his saddle. I take it he was completely unbalanced at the time?'

‘That is largely accurate,' I admitted. ‘But I'm not sure I am comfortable being …' I met his clear, cold, grey gaze. I swallowed. ‘I mean…' His gaze challenged me to decry his lifelong profession. I gave way and said somewhat piteously, ‘Why?'

‘Because someone has died, Euphemia, and I am almost certain that one of the women in the cell with you will know who caused his death. More than that, though, I need to know if his death was intended.'

‘How did he die?'

‘A fire bomb was placed in a railway carriage. When the blaze was extinguished two bodies were recovered, one of a young suffragette and the other of a man of, shall we say, significance.'

‘And it happened at the same time as the march? You think the protest was a deliberate diversion?'

Fitzroy leaned back in his chair. ‘I do so enjoy conversing with you,' he remarked.

‘Who died?'

‘The young woman's name was Aggie Phelps, a known suffragette of the more militant persuasion. Twenty-nine years old, spinster, working as one of these new shop girls, who are given lodging in the store. Her colleagues describe her as intelligent, but of a somewhat sour disposition. She had a strong dislike of male authority and was currently on her last warning.'

I noticed Fitzroy did not refer to any notes. No, notes could be incriminating, I told myself, and I did my best to retain the information. Whatever the doctor had given me had eased the throbbing, but I still felt as if there was an iron band around my temples that was intent on squeezing my poor brain.

‘The man,' continued Fitzroy, either not noticing or not caring to notice my discomfort, ‘was Sir Aubrey Wilks, a senior civil servant. Unmarried, or perhaps “married to his job” is a better description. He had been known to frequent the higher class of brothel for his amusement, but not to avail himself of disporting with his own sex. He has no connection with the suffragette movement that I can discover. Though, of course, I have only been looking since this morning. He was not someone on Edward's watchlist.'

I swallowed hard, trying desperately not to think of how my mother would react to this conversation. Fitzroy has never amended his manner around me to suggest he thinks of me as a member of a weaker sex or a being with fragile sensibilities.
¹⁹
The mention of Edward, the man with bushy eyebrows, a discreet office, and a network of informants across Great Britain, also sent a shiver down my spine. He is less amiable than Fitzroy.

‘The girl Aggie was not known to be a …' I left the sentence hanging. I might be quite capable of following Fitzroy's train of thought,
²⁰
but there was no reason why I could not speak as a lady.

‘She was not of the appearance or breeding necessary to procure her a position among the establishments Sir Aubrey preferred.' He shrugged. ‘And even if on some whim he had had occasion to lower his standards, I can discover no scrap of evidence that she was ever a street-walker.'

‘But you think she might have planted or somehow set of this firebomb?'

Fitzroy inclined his head to one side, ‘My information suggests she may have been connected to a cell responsible for the destruction of a telephone exchange last month. She has certainly been arrested for window-smashing, and was only spared jail because a foolish man in a wig judged her to be of a respectable position and a woman of promise, who had been led astray by more devious women.'

‘You do not believe that so?'

‘I think she was quick and clever, dedicated to her cause and if she was caught in a fire bombing of her own making it was by accident and not design. I also happen to think that from smashing windows to firebombing is a big step, but to be frank my interest in this matter is Wilks. He was a man of some standing in the Civil Service, and more to the point some of his old school fellows are of even more standing, and want to know what happened to their old chum.'

‘Could Aggie's death be a suicide and Wilks's death a collateral effect?' I countered.

Fitzroy took a deep breath. ‘So far something of that nature has not yet occurred. It would indeed be a powerful statement.' He took another sip of his coffee. ‘You know, Euphemia, I am very glad you are on our side. You would make a formidable opponent.'

‘How do you know I do not support votes for women?' I returned hotly.

‘I suspect you do,' replied Fitzroy, ‘but you would never condone violence, especially where innocent life is endangered. And your upbringing would preclude you from supporting self-destruction altogether.' His face softened. ‘I do believe women will one day get the vote and that they deserve it, too, but now is not the time for that particular battle. We will face such peril on these isles that we will all be forced to stand together.'

‘You are suggesting that war will soon come to our shores.'

Fitzroy's eyes raised in surprise. ‘I very much hope such an occurrence will not come to
our
shores. It will however not be long before the Balkans erupt into war and that will be the start of it all.' He sighed heavily. ‘And here I am looking into the death of a civil servant.'

‘A far less exciting experience than being on the ground at the beginning of a war,' I remarked.

Fitzroy's eyes sparkled. ‘Exactly. Where is the adventure in this?'

‘I shall choose not to be insulted by that remark, but simply remind you that justice is a higher calling and one that you should not be shamed to embrace.'

‘This,' he gestured to the room around us, ‘is not living. This is the slow death march of time within the boundaries of petty politics that will never shape a better world. One day, Euphemia, I shall have to take you somewhere exciting.'

I shivered at the thought.

‘In the meantime,' continued Fitzroy, ‘could you be a good girl and discover what, if anything, the women in cell know about Wilks's death. In return I shall ensure that no mention of your part in the fracas is ever mentioned.' He rose and gave me a quick smile that did not quite reach his eyes. ‘Besides, I am sure you would be happy enough to do this without reward, seeing as you have such a high regard for justice.'

‘How am I …?' but Fitzroy was already unlocking the door and calling for the guard to return me to me cell. My hands were manacled behind my back. I gave Fitzroy a furious look. ‘For verisimilitude,' he said. ‘Not too rough,' he added to the guard as the man began to hustle me from the room.

‘Euphemia,' Fitzroy said as I was exiting the door, ‘if you do feel ill again, have one of your compatriots summon the guard. I will ensure there is medical aid on offer for you.'

‘A hairbrush would be more useful,' I countered, but he merely smiled his cold smile again and closed the door in my face.

‘Sorry about this,' said the guard as he took my upper arm in a vice-like grip, ‘but if they others don't believe it they may turn nasty on you.'

‘Ouch, does it have to be quite that sore.'

‘Believe me a few bruises to show the others will quieten any suspicions of where you have been. Though you'll need to try not to get too close to anyone for a while. There's wine on your breath. Sometimes Fitzroy is too flash for his own good.'

‘You're one of his men?'

‘Hush,' said the guard. ‘We're getting near the cells. No, I work for Mr Edward. You can call me Mark. Fitzroy's on secondment due to his recent injuries, but I heard you knew about all that.'

‘Hmm,' I nodded. When matters of state are involved I have learnt to keep my mouth shut. As if he had read my thoughts, the guard looked at me approvingly. ‘I'm the only one in here. If another guard is taking you out it's probably not somewhere you want to be going.'

I swallowed hard. Weak as I was, I imagined I would find it hard to resist a man bent on dragging me out of the cell, though the heavens knew I would do my damnedest. ‘And I really am sorry about this,' said Mark as we turned the corner and came up against the bars of a large cell. He kept his grip on my arm as he unlocked the cell. Then he pushed me in with such force that I landed on my hands and knees. He spat at me – though I am glad to say his spittle did not actually reach my person. ‘Stupid whore,' he said and clanged the door shut. He locked the door and ran his baton loudly along the bars as he walked away. The noise made my tender head ring.