The Ledbury Lamplighters (24 page)

Striding up to the door, he briefly looked around him before banging his fist on the woodwork. Receiving no reply, he gently
pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

Directly facing him he saw the figure of his wife, tightly bound to one of the chairs, her eyes staring in his direction as she struggled to free her bonds.

‘Lucy!’ he cried out as he rushed forward.

Suddenly he felt a sharp thud on the back of his head. Darkness seemed to close in around him as he fell to the floor, and an intense pain shot through his body.

‘So, Ravenscroft, you came – as I knew you would. See here I have your pretty young wife,’ said a distant voice that he recognized from his past.

Ravenscroft fought to clear the darkness from his head.

‘Don’t disturb yourself, Ravenscroft. Your wife is well. I have taken good care of her,’ continued the mocking voice.

As the mist gradually lifted from his eyes, he looked across the room to where his wife was attempting to speak from behind the gag that tightly bound her face. Standing beside her, he could just make out the outline of a figure.

‘Do not try to get up, Ravenscroft. I see that you have come alone. That is wise. I trust you have no weapon upon your person?’

‘None,’ he managed to utter, in a cracked voice that seemed not like his own.

‘Good. However, I know your policeman’s mind, Ravenscroft. You will now be thinking of a way to distract me so that you can make your move. That would be most foolish, I can assure you. One slight move from yourself and I will see that your wife pays the price.’

Ravenscroft could now see that his adversary had moved closer to Lucy, and that he was holding a pistol to the side of her head.

‘Don’t worry, Lucy,’ he cried out, forcing the words forth through the pain.

‘How very noble and gallant, my dear Ravenscroft. Always the gentleman, of course. I admire your choice of bride – such a charming personality. Not exactly a beauty in the fresh bloom of youth but an attractive face nevertheless and such pleasant locks,’ laughed Cranston, running the fingers of his free hand over Lucy’s hair as she struggled to turn her face away.

‘If you harm my wife in any way, I swear I will not rest until I have hunted you down and killed you,’ said Ravenscroft, struggling
to find the words as he attempted to brush the swirling mist from his eyes.

‘Bravo! Fine words, my good fellow,’ said Cranston, clapping his hands together. ‘But may I remind you that you are in no position to make such empty threats. It is I, Ravenscroft, who now holds all the cards, who has the pistol at your wife’s head.’

Ravenscroft could see the fear in Lucy’s eyes as she groaned and attempted to free herself from the bound chair.

‘Nevertheless, Cranston, I swear—’ he began.

‘Oh, be quiet!’ snapped Cranston. ‘I am tired of you, Ravenscroft; tired of all your attempted meddling in my affairs. For nearly two years our paths have crossed – in Worcester, Whitechapel and Dinard.’

‘Dinard?’

‘You remember the day you and your wife left the Hotel Gandolphi at the conclusion of your stay? A cab drew up at the front entrance, and an elderly bearded man alighted with his pretty young companion. I saw how you looked across at me, trying to remember where we had previously encountered one another – but as usual you were incapable of making the connection,’ boasted Cranston.

Ravenscroft turned away, a sickening feeling of utter despair running through his body.

‘You had previously sought to cross me in that dingy moth-eaten lodging house in Worcester, but that was not the first time we had met. Remember the darkened alleyway in Whitechapel? The young girl not yet cold, and how you looked up when you heard me move in the darkness. You could have apprehended me then, Ravenscroft, but you were too slow and stupid! If you had only succeeded in catching me then, you would have spared me from all the dark deeds that were to follow. You could have earned your place in history!’ sneered Cranston.

Ravenscroft leaned his head back on the wall and let out a deep sigh of despair, as he saw and heard again the black cloak flowing along the darkened, crowded alleyways of Whitechapel.

‘You always were a miserable failure, Ravenscroft. You have had so many opportunities and never realized how close you came,’ said his adversary, continuing to mock him. ‘And now the game is nearly over. The package! Give me the package.’

Ravenscroft reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the
envelope. Cranston rushed forward and snatched it from his grasp.

‘Now let my wife go. I will remain here with you, but please let her go. She has done you no harm,’ pleaded Ravenscroft.

‘In good time,’ replied Cranston, tearing open the envelope and tipping out the contents on to the floor. ‘Ah, what have we here? A diary of some kind, written by some illustrious person, I have no doubt. My masters will pay well for this.’

‘Now that you have the diary, let my wife go. Honour your side of the bargain,’ pleaded Ravenscroft, speaking through the almost deafening pain in his head.

‘Don’t speak to me of honour, Ravenscroft. You silly, stupid man, did you really think I could afford to let you and your precious wife leave here alive?’ replied Cranston in a voice full of anger. ‘You know far too much. If I were to let you go now, I know that you would not rest until you had tracked me down. Do you really think I am that stupid?’

‘My wife knows nothing. For God’s sake, man, I implore you to let her go. You can do what you like with me. You must see that she is the innocent party in all this!’ cried out Ravenscroft, attempting unsuccessfully to raise himself up from the floor.

‘Innocence is an expendable commodity! No, Ravenscroft. I have decided that you both must die. My work is nearly completed. I cannot afford to leave any loose ends.’

‘Please. I will do anything – but let my wife go free!’ implored Ravenscroft, looking across at his wife with tears in his eyes, and realizing that there was nothing he could possibly do to save the woman he loved.

‘I am so sorry, Ravenscroft. I know that you hate and despise me. You think I have no compassion, no feeling at all, but in that you are mistaken. I will shoot you first, Ravenscroft, so that you will be spared the sight of witnessing the slow death of your wife,’ said Cranston, raising his pistol and pointing it in his direction.

‘Let my wife—’ began Ravenscroft.

‘Prepare to die, Ravenscroft!’ snapped Cranston, taking aim. ‘How you have disappointed me. Your pleading is below contempt! I would have thought better of you, if you had been a worthier opponent!’

Ravenscroft allowed himself one final desperate look at Lucy before closing his eyes.

The shot rang out across the room.

Ravenscroft opened his eyes, and saw Cranston clutching his chest as he fell to the floor.

In the doorway, through the mist of his vision, he saw the distant outline of a figure holding a smoking pistol in his hand – and knew then that his life had been spared.

The figure said nothing as he walked over to Cranston and discharged another shot from a second pistol into the groaning body.

Ravenscroft wiped his hand across his eyes, struggling to see who his saviour was, but the figure seemed oblivious to their plight and bent down and retrieved the contents of the envelope from the floor.

‘Help us, for God’s sake!’ cried out Ravenscroft.

The figure walked over to the fireplace. He removed the pages from the diary and threw them on to the blazing fire.

‘Who are you?’ asked Ravenscroft, unable to see the other’s features.

The man remained silent as he stared into the flames. Only when the charred remains fell back on themselves did he walk over to Lucy and begin to untie the ropes and gag that bound her.

Lucy rushed forward, and knelt down at her injured husband’s side.

‘Samuel!’ she cried, holding his head in her hands and kissing his lips. ‘Oh, my dear Samuel!’

‘Lucy! I thought I had lost you,’ he replied.

‘That blaggard won’t trouble yer any more,’ said the stranger, reaching out a helping hand towards Ravenscroft.

‘Thank you. You saved our lives,’ said the detective, struggling to his feet.

‘Say nothing about it, old man. The scoundrel got all he deserved.’

Ravenscroft reached out and shook the hand of their saviour.

Major Onslow gave a brief smile in reply.

The bright winter’s sun of the late afternoon shone down on the churchyard as the group of mourners gathered round the Montacute family vault.

‘It is rather sad to think that the coachman came back to his home town, only to be struck down in such a terrible way,’ said Lucy, linking her husband’s arm as they stood at the entrance, watching the events unfold.

‘Well, at least he is reunited with his family. Killed within a few days of each other, by different hands, the two brothers will now lie side by side. Their differences had kept them apart for so many years, but now they will be reunited once more,’ replied Ravenscroft.

‘Good to see Catherwood here,’ said Crabb.

‘Yes, I have hopes that something good may come from all of this. Catherwood seems to have taken his natural son under his wing, so perhaps young Rupert may be guided in the right direction at last,’ remarked Ravenscroft.

‘To think that all three members of the family met their end in such a terrible fashion,’ said Lucy, giving a shiver.

‘You’re cold, my dear, we should not stay long,’ said a concerned Ravenscroft, laying his hand on his wife’s arm.

‘One thing that still puzzles me, sir—’ began Crabb.

‘Go on, Tom.’

‘How was the major able to follow you on to the hills without being seen either by Cranston or yourself?’

‘That I don’t know, but don’t forget that Onslow was used to stalking and hunting big game in India. He could have followed me up on to the hills, or he may have been there already. Either way, I’m certainly thankful that he turned up when he did. Another minute and it would have all been over. It was a damn close thing,’ replied Ravenscroft.

‘You never did tell me what was in that book that the major threw on the fire?’ said Lucy.

‘No, I believe I did not, but rest assured that one of these days I may be at liberty to tell you everything,’ teased Ravenscroft.

‘It’s no good, Mrs Ravenscroft, he won’t say,’ said Crabb.

‘Afternoon to you all,’ said a familiar voice from behind them.

‘Good afternoon to you, Mr Sanderson, sir’ said Ravenscroft, turning round and recognizing the stonemason he had encountered in the churchyard a few days previously. ‘It looks as though your services will be in demand once again.’

‘’Tis never a dull week in Ledbury. There’s always someone who is on the way out. Who would have thought that another of them Montacutes would have turned up like that, after all them years.’ The old lamplighter removed his cap and wiped his brow.

‘Who indeed,’ replied Ravenscroft.

‘What I wants to know, sir, is what I’m supposed to put on that fellow’s stone over there,’ said Sanderson, pointing to the other side of the graveyard.

‘I’m afraid I can’t help you in that respect. We knew him as Cranston when he was in Worcester, but since then our enquiries have found that the real Cranston passed away in Stoke-on-Trent some four or five years ago. The Feathers said he gave the name of Father Bannerman when he was staying there. Then again, I believe that Major Onslow referred to him as Major Monk,’ replied Ravenscroft.

‘Well, sir, that’s all rather confusing, like,’ said the workman, scratching the top of his head. ‘That’s all very well. Am I to put Cranston, Monk or that Bannerman on his stone?’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ravenscroft, giving a shrug of his shoulders as he looked across at Crabb for guidance.

‘You’re no help, then! You might as well put that fellow Jack the Ripper’s name on it for all I cares! They never did catch him, did they?’

‘No, they did not,’ said Ravenscroft, smiling.

‘Jack the Ripper, that would be something, sir – the murderer of Whitechapel buried in an unmarked grave here in Ledbury!’ joked Crabb.

‘You know, Crabb. You could just be—’ began Ravenscroft.

‘Oh, come on, you two, enough of this nonsense!’ laughed Lucy, steering her husband away from the churchyard.

‘Nonsense? You’re probably right, my dear. You usually are.’

Six months later an investigation concerning missing postal orders revealed that a number of post office boys had been supplementing their wages by working in a male brothel at 18 Cleveland Street in London. After the premises had been raided, a number of allegations were made against leading members of society. Lord Arthur Somerset, bachelor equerry to the Prince of Wales, discreetly retired to Dieppe. Strenuous and successful attempts were made to keep secret the name of one of the house’s most illustrious clients – Prince Albert Victor.

Two years later, Albert Victor was made Duke of Clarence and Avondale. In December 1891 he became engaged to Princess Mary of Teck. He died a month later, reputedly of pneumonia resulting from influenza contracted in an epidemic. His younger brother, George, married Mary of Teck, and succeeded to the throne as George V in 1910. His granddaughter reigns as Elizabeth II.

Despite many theories advanced by learned scholars over the years, no one has satisfactorily been able to establish either the true identity – or the final resting place – of the man known as Jack the Ripper.

An unmarked grave is still to be found in Ledbury churchyard.

The Malvern Murders

The Worcester Whisperers