Chapter 4

1902

Montague Hillingdon’s punch snapped Agnes Riley’s head back and left her sprawled on the shabby bed. Climbing on top, he pinned her arms and grabbed her throat with both hands, throttling the light of life from her eyes and into the abyss; his heavy breath laboured with effort and anger. Hands shaking, it took several minutes before he managed to compose himself, straightening his clothing, and wiping the sweat from his face.

Ready to leave, he stared down at her semi-clothed body. It wasn’t what he’d planned when he’d surreptitiously arrived, yet he felt no remorse, no real panic – there was anger, of course, and the thought - ‘you blackmailing bitch.’

Strangely, his wife had commented only the other day she thought she’d seen his parents’ former maid in the street. She said the girl had appeared nervous and at one point had actually stood by their gates, occasionally glancing towards the house, as if she had a decision to make.

Now, after satisfying him, Agnes was making demands: money and free rent. In return? She’d keep the family’s secrets and she was specific as to what they were. It would be bad enough if she disclosed his association with her, and the things he made her do, but what she said about his father he knew to be true. He’d heard his parents occasionally arguing over the matter.

He realised now his wife hadn’t imagined anything and knew Agnes wasn’t bluffing, her eyes told him that. How close was he to unthinkable treachery and denouncement? He’d looked at her smirking face and fate inhabited him instantly.

He left the way he’d come in, casting a disinterested glance at little Edith Henthorn playing alone in the communal area behind the house.