‘But saying it is so won’t make it so,’ he said. ‘We still couldn’t marry.’
‘No, but you could try to track her down in your own time and, if you can’t, well, we can cross that bridge when we come to it. Either way, no one can object to our keeping company if we are both supposedly unmarried.’
He was sceptical but Ethel was insistent. She leaned across and took him by the hand.
‘Do you love me, Hawley?’ she asked.
‘You know I do.’
‘Then trust me on this. I’m sure this is the right thing to do. You will earn sympathy as the grieving widower, and in time we will be able to show ourselves in public together. Society won’t care because we won’t be part of it. We will simply live our own lives, you and I. Without condemnation from anyone.’
They discussed it for some time before Ethel was finally able to persuade him, and that evening they visited the Gare du Nord, where they composed a telegram to be sent to Mrs Louise Smythson in London.
Tragic news STOP, it said. Cora died in America STOP Buried with sick relative STOP Have taken time to myself in Paris to recover STOP A loss to us all STOP Hawley Crippen (Dr).
‘Perfect,’ Ethel said, paying the few francs from her own purse that it cost to send.
‘I hope so.’
‘Trust me, Hawley. I know what’s for the best. Those friends of hers can’t stand her anyway. They’ll pretend to feel devastated by their loss, then they’ll forget about her, and us, and move on with their lives.’
Unfortunately for Ethel, Louise Smythson was a woman possessed of a particularly suspicious mind. She was shocked to receive the telegram, even though she had no intention of further contact with Cora following her disgraceful behaviour, a couple of months earlier. Immediately, however, she discussed the matter with her friend Mrs Margaret Nash, who informed her about her chance meeting with Hawley and Ethel at the interval of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and the incident with the jewellery. Being the kind of woman who thinks badly of everyone until she is proven otherwise, she decided she did not believe Hawley’s telegram for a moment, and her vivid imagination told her that some harm had come to her one-time friend.
Instantly, she set aside her enmity and decided that (for the time being) they were still fast friends and she planned a visit to Scotland Yard the next day, where she first met Walter Dew and announced her concerns to the disbelieving inspector.
In the meantime, Hawley and Ethel ended their Paris sojourn and returned to London, unaware of the conspiracy theories which were being formulated in their absence.
28 May
She didn’t have much, but what she had she brought with her to 39 Hilldrop Crescent. This included two suitcases, her collection of souvenir teapots, and a tightly secured hat box which, she informed Hawley, contained her most private possession and was not for his eyes.
Hawley had waited several weeks, before agreeing to her suggestion that she give up the rooms in the house where she had grown up and move in with him. He was concerned about what the neighbours would say and what the effect would be on Munyon’s Homoeopathic Medicines if a scandal broke out.
‘But she’s in America, Hawley,’ Ethel protested. ‘With her new lover. I’m sorry to put it in such blunt terms, but there we are. She said so herself in the letter: “Do not try to contact me and we will never meet each other again.” You have to take her at her word. And if she can do that, well, why can’t you?’
‘The old Queen may have been dead these ten years,’ he said, ‘but we still live in a society with Victorian values. There would be a scandal.’
‘Hawley, I spend practically every night here as it is. It’s not as if much would change. All I would be doing would be bringing my things to your home so I don’t have to go to mine every few days to collect clean clothes.’
He sighed, but he knew that she had a point. Ever since he had received Cora’s letter and had told Ethel its contents, he felt at far greater ease about their new relationship, but nevertheless it still worried him. Despite the fact that it was no secret that his marriage had been an unhappy one, he had insisted on informing her friends that she had gone to America to tend a sick relative before announcing her death; only that way, he believed, could he maintain some dignity. He had allowed her many infidelities during their marriage, but for her to leave him for another was more than he could stand.
‘We can be happy now, darling,’ Ethel said, coaxing him towards her point of view. ‘Without her. Soon you can divorce her and we could marry.’
‘I want that more than anything,’ he said. ‘You know that. And if you truly want to move in here and you find you have the misfortune to be trapped with an ageing curmudgeon, then who am I to stop you?’
Delighted, she moved in the next day.
For several weeks they enjoyed a harmonious time together. They maintained their positions at Munyon’s, but then Ethel started leaving work several hours before Hawley in order to return home to prepare a meal. She liked the idea of playing the dutiful housewife and revelled in her new role.
He had given up his practice as a dentist a few months earlier when his patients had finally dried up, but while Cora was still living at Hilldrop Crescent he had been loath to return home to her in the early evening. Instead, he had sought out the comforts of public houses and would drink for several hours before coming back to Cora’s abuse and screaming matches.
Not any more. Now he left Munyon’s at six o’clock on the dot and practically ran down the streets to return home. Everything about the house seemed to have changed. Ethel opened the windows in the evening to let the air in. She kept lights blazing everywhere at all hours, even in the rooms they were not using. While working in the kitchen, she listened to music on the small gramophone he had bought her and she sang along to the records in a sweet voice (much sweeter than Cora’s, who liked to think of herself as a professional singer). The centrepiece on the living-room table always contained a bunch of flowers whose fragrance hit him the moment he walked through the door. For the first time, he believed he had found true happiness.
The first sign of discord, however, came when the landlord, Mr Micklefield, called around one evening to collect the rent. Typically, he entered the house after only the quietest of knocks, surprising Hawley and Ethel, who were engaged in washing the dinner dishes and kissing at the same time.
‘Dr Crippen!’ he cried out in an exaggerated tone. ‘Well, I never did!’
‘Mr Micklefield,’ Hawley said, turning around in surprise and cursing his luck. He had remembered earlier in the week that the rent would be due in a few days’ time and had decided to send Ethel out on an errand at the appropriate time. However, it had completely escaped his memory in the meantime, and he was now confronted by a very angry landlord who was looking at Ethel with barely disguised indignation.
‘Might I ask what is going on here?’ the man asked in mock outrage, his voice becoming a little more posh as he spoke, as if this made him all the more offended. ‘This woman is not Mrs Crippen.’
‘Mrs Crippen is away at present,’ Hawley said, glancing nervously at Ethel, who had gone quite pale.
‘Is she, indeed? And while she’s away, this is how you carry on, is it? For shame, Doctor. I thought better of you, I really did.’
‘And might I ask who you are?’ Ethel asked, recovering herself and stepping towards him, wondering how a complete stranger came to be suddenly standing in their living room, condemning them.
‘You certainly might, miss,’ he replied. ‘My name is Joseph Micklefield, the owner of this ’ere house. And as I recall it, I rent these premises to Dr and Mrs Crippen, no one else.’
‘Mrs Crippen is in America,’ said Hawley.
‘So you say.’
‘Mr Micklefield, I must apologize,’ he continued. ‘The truth is that my wife has gone to California to tend a sick relative and I don’t believe she will be back for some time.’
‘And that justifies this, does it??
?? the other man asked. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor, but I can’t condone this kind of thing going on in my own house. I have a string of houses in this street, as you know, sir, and if word of this got out, well, I can’t say for sure that I’d have a single tenant left at the end of it. They’d think I approve of these shenanigans.’
‘Oh, come now,’ Ethel said, irritated by his puritanism. ‘As if anyone would care.’
‘I care, thank you very much,’ he said loudly, not enjoying the tone she was taking with him.
‘As do I,’ said Hawley, hoping to appease him. ‘Miss LeNeve is simply a friend of mine, who very kindly—’
‘She seems like a very good friend, if you ask me,’ said Mr Micklefield. ‘And it wasn’t an act of friendship I caught you engaged in when I came in here.’
‘If you would just let me explain—’
‘There is no need for explanations, sir,’ the landlord said, raising his hand to silence him. ‘I have a list of names as long as my arm of people who want to rent my houses. I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I’ll have to give you your notice.’
‘Surely not,’ said Ethel, blanching at the idea. After all, what if the new tenants wanted to use the cellar? It was true that Hawley had not set foot down there in years, but there was no guarantee that their successors would feel the same way. They might want to use it as storage space. They would certainly be upset to find a dismembered corpse under the flags.
‘I am a Christian man,’ he replied, ‘and my brother-in-law happens to be the Bishop of Wakefield. If news of this got to him, well, I wouldn’t like to say what would happen.’
‘Mr Micklefield, my wife and I have lived here for years. We’ve never given you any problems. Surely you can see your way clear to overlooking this little indiscretion.’
‘No, sir, I’m sorry. If you check your lease, you’ll see that I have the right to give you notice at any time. And so I’m doing it. Two months is the amount of time you have to find somewhere new, which gives you until, let me see . . .’ He made some rapid calculations in his head. ‘The end of July. And even at that I’m being very generous as this is only May. That’s time enough for you to find somewhere else to live. You and your fancy piece.’
‘I am no man’s fancy piece,’ Ethel said through gritted teeth. ‘Hawley and I are in love. We intend to marry.’
‘That’s your concern, and you can explain it to Mrs Crippen when she returns home. It’s that poor woman I feel sorry for. Acting as a nurse to a sick relative and you take advantage of it when her back’s turned, and get up to all sorts. It’s a disgrace is what it is.’
‘Please, Mr Micklefield,’ Hawley pleaded. ‘We’re really very—’
‘I don’t want to hear it,’ he said, heading for the door. ‘The end of July, and not a day later. And you can thank your lucky stars I’m not getting in touch with Mrs Crippen myself. Good day to you, sir.’
And with that he stormed out, leaving the two lovers staring at each other sadly. ‘Well that was a bit of a to-do and no mistake,’ said Hawley, considering it a little hypocritical of the landlord to take such a high moral stand when he had made several advances to Cora himself in the past.
‘Why did you say she was in America?’ Ethel asked, appalled. ‘We’re after telling her friends that she’s dead.’
‘I know, I know,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I forgot. I can’t keep up with the lies, you see. I become confused. Still, maybe it’s for the best. After all, if we are to start afresh, why do it in this house?’
‘Because I like this house,’ said Ethel, a sick feeling beginning in the pit of her stomach as she considered the trouble which could very well lie ahead.
‘And so do I, for the most part. But it also contains many unpleasant memories for me. And the truth is, Ethel, that, no matter how hard you try, it will always be more Cora’s home than yours. No, I realize that was not a pleasant scene for you and I apologize for it, but we will be better off in a new home. Trust me about this. At last we will be able to put the memory of Cora Crippen behind us for ever.’
She nodded, but she was scarcely listening to him as her mind was fully focused on the problem in the cellar. She heard him say something else and she snapped out of her reverie. ‘What’s that?’ she asked. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said, there was one good thing about all this,’ he repeated, smiling at her. ‘He forgot to collect the rent.’
8 July
‘This,’ he muttered to himself as he turned around and made for home, ‘is all far from over.’ Hawley Crippen made his way back from his lunch with Inspector Walter Dew, worried about the future. Initially he had been surprised when the inspector had arrived on his doorstep to enquire after Cora’s whereabouts. Although Dew had not admitted it, it was obvious to Hawley that it had been Mrs Louise Smythson who had been to see him with her ridiculous theories. Who knew what she might have suggested? However, Hawley thought he had found a kindred spirit in Inspector Dew, who was not looking for anything other than a reasonable explanation, which was why Hawley had eventually confided the truth to him: that Cora had not visited America to attend a sick relative, but had in fact left him for another man. It was humiliating, but it was what had happened. Fortunately, the inspector had appeared to overlook the original white lie and accepted his explanation and his reason for having lied.
For some reason unknown to him, however, he had told the inspector that he knew the name of the man with whom Cora had eloped. Dew had made it clear that he needed this in order to close the file on the case, which left Hawley in something of a dilemma as he neither had the man’s name nor had he kept Cora’s letter in which she had told him about her plans. He wondered what to do for the best and consulted Ethel on the matter that evening.
‘From Scotland Yard?’ she asked, swallowing nervously. ‘And what did he want?’
‘It seems that Louise Smythson told him that she did not believe the story of Cora dying in America. I think it had something to do with Margaret Nash seeing us at the theatre and the fact that you were wearing Cora’s jewellery at the time.’
‘That was a mistake,’ Ethel admitted. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Well, what’s done is done. Either way, the two women must have consulted each other and thought there was more to this story than met the eye because one of them—Louise, I suspect—went to Scotland Yard and reported it.’
Ethel thought about it and regretted the fact that she had not been present at the interview herself. ‘And how did he seem?’ she asked. ‘Did he believe you?’
‘Up to a point. But then he needed details of who the relative was, and where he lived. It all became too complicated, so I was forced to tell him the truth in the end.’
‘You did what?’ she asked, appalled.
‘It’s all right. He understood perfectly. I told him that my wife had left me for another man and that I had been too embarrassed to tell our friends. And so I concocted this ridiculous story about a sick relative. It was just a white lie, to save face, but I did express regret.’
‘And what did he think of that?’ she asked. ‘Surely that must have raised his suspicions even further.’
‘On the contrary, I think it provided some sort of connection between us. Before I knew what was happening, he was taking me out to lunch. We had a most entertaining conversation, as things turned out. He struck me as quite a lonely man. I think he took rather a shine to me.’
‘Oh, Hawley, you’re so naïve. He’s probably trying to trap you into making some sort of confession.’
‘Confession?’ he asked, raising one eyebrow. ‘But a confession of what? I haven’t done anything wrong. Neither of us have.’
‘Well, you’re the one who’s always worried about what people will think of us. Living in sin as we do.’
‘Yes, but that’s not a criminal matter. It’s hardly something Scotland Yard would involve themselves in. The inspector simply wanted to be reassured that there was nothing suspicio
us about Cora’s departure. I really do think it was for the best that I was honest with him. Once you start lying, you can never escape it.’
Ethel wasn’t convinced. She didn’t like the way things were developing. First, there was the fact that they had to vacate 39 Hilldrop Crescent within the next month, something that was keeping her awake at nights when she considered the gruesome evidence which might be discovered in the cellar. And now there was a Scotland Yard inspector involved. This could only lead to trouble.
‘Don’t look so worried, my dear,’ he said, surprised to be the one offering solace for once. ‘We haven’t done anything wrong, and I don’t believe Inspector Dew thinks we have. In fact, I think we might have struck up something of a friendship.’
‘Oh really, Hawley,’ she said, exasperated. ‘You can’t be serious. You’ve only just met him.’
‘I know, but one can tell a kindred spirit when one meets one.’
‘And this is what you think he is?’
‘Perhaps. Anyway, you might have a chance to meet him yourself. He’s coming back in a few days.’
‘What for?’
‘He wants the name and address of the fellow Cora ran off with.’
Ethel blinked and looked at him as if he was mad. ‘But Hawley,’ she said in a steady voice as if she was dealing with a child, ‘correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t actually have that.’
‘Yes, I know, but—’
‘Did you tell him you had it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, why did you do that, for heaven’s sake?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, his voice rising as he grew more and more confused. ‘It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. He was so casual about needing it that I just said it wouldn’t be a problem and he could call around and collect it.’