Page 18 of The Missing Maid
To her horror, Esme Longstaff’s green eyes swam with tears. ‘I suspected you would say that but I don’t know where else to turn. It’s my sister, Mildred. She’s – she’s been arrested.’
Harry felt a swell of sympathy. ‘Yes, I saw it in the newspaper and thought of you immediately. It must be terribly distressing.But tell me, where are your parents? Surely you didn’t travel to London alone?’
‘I did. My mother has taken to her bed and Father does not know what to do.’ Esme clutched at Harry’s arm. ‘Mildred didn’t do it – I know she didn’t.’ The tears that had been brimming in her eyes spilled over. ‘You have to help her. You and Mr Holmes.’
Harry gazed at her in dismay. The evidence against Mildred, coupled with her previous crime and Harry’s own encounter with her, made it hard to see what could be done. ‘Are you so very sure of her innocence?’ she asked gently. ‘This is the second accusation your sister has faced, perhaps even the third, if Mr Blunt is to be believed. Is it possible there might be a side to her personality you don’t know?’
‘No.’ Esme’s reply rang with confidence. ‘Even if what you say is true, I have reason to believe she was not acting under her own volition.’
Her refusal to accept that Mildred might be guilty was not a surprise but the second part of her statement was. Even so, Harry was reluctant to encourage Esme’s belief. ‘I must tell you that I met Mildred some weeks ago, before your letter arrived to advise me – that it to say Mr Holmes – of her new position.’ She met the girl’s gaze with frank honesty. ‘The encounter did not suggest she was unhappy with criminal activity.’
‘That cannot be!’ Esme cried, loudly enough to cause passing pedestrians to look their way. ‘You must be mistaken. My sister is not a thief. Please, let us go to Mr Holmes’ rooms and I will explain further.’
Acutely aware of the interest Esme’s distress was attracting, Harry weighed her options. Abandoning her in such a state was unthinkable, especially when she was unaccompanied, but she certainly could not invite the distraught young woman into the bank; that would raise a host of questions Harry preferred not to answer. Yet neither could they continue their conversation onthe street. Things were further complicated by the fact that her lunch break was over and she had been due back at her desk a full five minutes ago. But would anyone apart from the bank’s doormen notice if she returned late? She thought not.
‘What we both need is tea and there is none at 221b Baker Street,’ she said. ‘Happily, there’s a café just around the corner. If you will join me there now, I will listen to what you have to say.’
Esme pressed her lips together in a tight smile, her green eyes glistening. ‘Thank you.’
They spoke little on the short walk to the café. Harry selected a quiet table near the back. In her experience, café society was much about seeing and being seen – few customers wanted to sit where they would not be noticed. Esme sank wearily into the chair, reminding Harry of the emotional toll her sister’s arrest must be taking on her, and she ordered teacakes along with a large pot of tea. ‘It must have come as a great shock to hear of Mildred’s fresh troubles,’ she said, once the waitress had gone. ‘How did you find out?’
Esme sighed. ‘Through the newspaper. We hadn’t heard from her again, following the letter telling us of her new position, but assumed she must be settling in.’ She looked down at the table. ‘It was quite a blow to discover she had been arrested instead.’
Harry regarded her compassionately. ‘Have you been able to see her?’
‘I tried. I went to Vine Street Police Station yesterday but they told me she had already been taken to Holloway Prison.’ She gazed at Harry in horror. ‘Prison! I’ve heard such terrible things about the conditions for inmates. The thought of my sister suffering there is too much to bear.’
Her fears were understandable, Harry thought – the poor conditions in all prisons were no secret, although reformerswere doing their best to improve matters. It was possible family visits might be allowed at a later date but the Longstaffs might find that more distressing than their imaginations. ‘You said you believed Mildred was not acting freely. What makes you think that?’
The young woman reached into her bag and withdrew an envelope. ‘This,’ she said, pushing it across the table towards Harry. ‘It’s the letter she sent but I don’t believe she wrote it. Or at least, I don’t think she wrote it willingly.’
Intrigued in spite of herself, Harry opened the envelope and scanned the letter. There was no address at the top, merely the wordLondonand the date. It was simply written, apologising for her long silence but advising them not to worry as she had a new position as a general maid with a wealthy family. When Harry had finished reading, she looked up at Esme. ‘Is this not Mildred’s handwriting?’
The girl hesitated. ‘It is. As you can imagine, I have any number of examples to compare it to and I confess I am not able to deny it. But this letter is so very different to the others. The detail is sparse; she makes no effort to explain herself. Most importantly, she does not ask how we are.’
Once again, Harry recalled her own encounter with Mildred. ‘It is possible she has changed,’ she said quietly. ‘From what I understand, her departure from the Finchem house was very distressing.’
Esme shook her head. ‘Mildred is a sweet and loving girl. No amount of distress would prevent her from worrying how her disappearance affected us.’
Sweet and loving were not words Harry would have ascribed to Mildred but she kept that to herself. ‘Then why didn’t she write to you before?’ she asked.
‘Shame,’ Esme suggested. ‘Embarrassment? But perhaps you know more than you are saying, Miss Moss. Why do you think she didn’t write?’
Thankfully, the tea arrived at that moment, which bought Harry some thinking space. By the time the tea was poured and the teacakes buttered, she had an answer prepared. ‘I fear Mildred may have fallen in with a bad crowd,’ she said tactfully. ‘I wasn’t able to trace her once she left the Finchems – in fact, it was only by extreme luck that I located her at all – and then your letter arrived so I assumed she had turned over a new leaf. But I must admit that while I was saddened to see the news of her arrest, I was sadly not entirely surprised.’
Esme leaned forward, her expression intent. ‘But don’t you see? This matches my suspicions – that Mildred was somehow coerced into writing this letter. If she was keeping the company of criminals, might they not have put her up to stealing Lord Robertson’s valuables?’
‘Possibly,’ Harry conceded. ‘But the fact is there’s no evidence anyone else was involved. Some of the stolen jewellery was found in her bedclothes.’
‘Pffft,’ Esme puffed in disgust. ‘My sister is not stupid. If she had turned to crime, she would have found a better place to hide her ill-gotten gains. Twice in the same place? Ridiculous.’
There wasn’t much Harry could say to that – she had thought exactly the same thing and hearing Esme observe it somehow made it seem even more nonsensical. And there was also the timing of Mildred’s last letter, the date of which was just a day after Harry had met her in Tea Cutter Row. Was that significant? Had she managed to jog Mildred’s conscience somehow? But she still didn’t see how any of that pointed to the girl’s innocence – there were witnesses who placed her squarely in the centre of the crime, despite her claim that she had not been at the house that evening.
‘What does Mr Holmes think?’ Esme asked suddenly. ‘I appreciate we dispensed with his services but dare I dream he might have retained an interest in my sister? Her need is most dire and I am certain his legendary powers of deduction would save her.’
The earnestness of her expression brought home the weight of Harry’s subterfuge. What had initially seemed like a worthy undertaking had now escalated into something of the gravest importance and she was reminded all over again that she did not have the skills or intelligence of the great Sherlock Holmes. He would doubtless have proved Mildred’s innocence in an instant – revealed some insignificant detail only he had noticed that unravelled the case against her immediately – and a grateful Esme would be reunited with her sister. But this was not a work of fiction, Harry reminded herself unhappily. Esme might expect Holmes to work miracles but Mildred’s very real peril could not be resolved with a flourish of Arthur Conan Doyle’s pen. She swallowed an inward sigh. ‘I will consult with him,’ she said reluctantly, wishing she had ignored the foolish impulse to answer Esme’s letter. ‘Perhaps he will have some insight.’
Esme clasped her hands together. ‘Thank you. With all my heart, I thank you.’
