‘It’s probably a receipt for the supply of the opium.’
But it was not a receipt at all. It was a handwritten letter, addressed to Mrs Thaddeus Porringer, and it was headed Governor’s Wing, H.M. Gaol, followed by the name of the village. The date was November 1877.
Dear Madam
I am in receipt of your letter of 10th inst. and would express my gratitude that you have accepted our request to attend at the prison on Wednesday, 16th, to accompany the prisoner in her last hours. As explained to you, our female wardresses would normally undertake the task as part of their regular duties. However, both are unable to do so, one being very unwell following an inflammation of the lung, and the other declaring herself so unwilling to attend this particular prisoner, she has given notice of her intention to leave.
In addition, the prison – by which I mean all inmates and staff – will shortly be transferred to the new gaol on the other side of the county. This, while it will provide better quarters and facilities, is already causing much disruption.
You will appreciate, I know, that this has been a most difficult and distressing situation for us all, particularly with this being a local case, and with so much unfortunate publicity in the newspapers.
The execution date is Wednesday 16th, and I suggest that you and Mr Porringer spend the previous night (Tuesday 15th) as my guests here in the governor’s apartments. I fear the prisoner will need much patience and understanding during those hours. She is already in a very distressed state, and has had to be restrained several times. I should therefore wish, very particularly, that she has a lady at her side during her last hours.
In regard to your suggestion that you keep your own record of the event, I would have no objection. We have our own official records, of course, and two doctors will be in attendance, who will make medical records. However, a further and objective account will not come amiss.
Very truly yours,
E. M. Glaister.
‘So,’ said Nell, ‘Maria was called in to attend a condemned female. To see her through execution – keep her calm prior to being hanged. But that isn’t likely to help us, is it?’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so.’
Nell was rereading the letter. ‘It conjures up a bizarre scenario, doesn’t it?’ she said. ‘I can’t somehow see Maria providing what Glaister calls “patience and understanding”. You’d think she’d be the last person they’d call in.’
‘No, I think it’s understandable,’ said Michael. ‘Porringer was the local chemist, remember. Not a doctor, but a man of some medical knowledge. He’d have had a modest standing in the community. Maria would have shared that, even if she does come over to us as a bossy do-gooder. I think if E. M. Glaister had to cast around for someone – a female – to take care of that condemned woman, Maria would have seemed a very good choice.’
‘I wonder, though, how she got from this shop to running Deadlight Hall,’ said Nell, thoughtfully.
‘No idea. Is there any more?’
‘Just this,’ said Nell. ‘Folded into the end papers.’
There were two small newspaper cuttings, creased and yellowing. The first said:
Suddenly at his home, Mr Thaddeus Porringer (60), dearly loved husband of Mrs Maria Porringer. Funeral service at St Bertelin’s Church on Monday next, at midday. Friends welcome at church and at Wotherbridge’s Tea Rooms afterwards.
‘Death notice,’ said Nell. ‘Poor old Thaddeus.’
‘Living with Maria probably blighted his life.’
‘Or,’ said Nell, ‘Maria deliberately blighted it for him. Let’s not lose sight of the arsenic she booked out to herself.’
‘You think she might have helped him on his way?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s a curious character, isn’t she? A mix of dutiful and disapproving. Archetype Victorian.’
The other cutting was more formal.