Herefordshire Murders E-Book

Nicola Sly

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

Herefordshire Murders brings together twenty-eight murderous tales, some which were little known outside the county and others which made national headlines. Herefordshire was home to one of Britain's most infamous murderers, Major Herbert Rowse Armstrong, who, in 1921, poisoned his wife and attempted to poison a fellow solicitor in Hay-on-Wye. However, the county has also experienced many lesser known murders. They include the case of two-year-old Walter Frederick Steers, brutally killed in Little Hereford in 1891; eighty-seven-year-old Phillip Ballard, who died at the hands of two would-be burglars in Tupsley in 1887; Jane Haywood, murdered by her husband near Leominster in 1903; and the shooting of two sisters at Burghill Court, near Hereford, by their butler in 1926. Nicola Sly's carefully researched and enthralling text will appeal to everyone interested in the shady side of Herefordshire's history.

Leseprobe

Herefordshire

MURDERS

NICOLA SLY

Map of Herefordshire.

First published 2010

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

This ebook edition first published in 2012

All rights reserved

© Nicola Sly, 2010, 2012

The right of Nicola Sly, to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

EPUB ISBN 978 0 7524 8395 5

MOBI ISBN 978 0 7524 8394 8

Original typesetting by The History Press

CONTENTS

Author’s Note & Acknowledgements

1. ‘The fate of this unfortunate girl naturally excited much compassion’

Clodock, 1790

2. ‘He repeated the blow several times until I was senseless’

Tupsley, 1829

3. ‘You have robbed me – for gracious sake, don’t murder me’

Hereford, 1831

4. ‘Lucy, Lucy – why do you not speak to me?’

Westhope, 1842

5. ‘You have brought me into a fine scrape’

Much Marcle, 1842

6. ‘... a succession of diabolical outrages that are a disgrace to any country or people’

Eaton Bishop, 1843

7. ‘Thomas has a spell and I must get it removed, cost what it might’

Brilley, 1848

8. ‘We don’t want any row here tonight’

Hereford, 1855

9. ‘It was the cruellest sight that anybody ever saw’

Ledbury, 1859

10. ‘I shall say nothing’

Ullingswick, 1862

11. ‘A man is a villain who takes an axe to a woman’

Hennor, near Leominster, 1864

12. ‘... trouble, perplexity and no small expense’

Dinmore Wood, 1878

13. ‘This is not my road home’

Hereford, 1880

14. ‘I do not like the look of that man’

Weobley, 1885

15. ‘I wonder if the old man will get over it’

Tupsley, 1887

16. ‘He is as much at least of a fool as a knave’

Little Hereford, 1891

17. ‘I am afraid I’ve lost her’

Pokehouse Quarry, near Leominster, 1903

18. ‘You must have had an awful night here’

Eye, 1912

19. ‘Excuse my fingers’

Hay-on-Wye, Herefordshire, 1921

20. ‘Take that horrid man away!’

Pembridge, 1922

21. ‘What made me do it?’

Pontshill, Weston under Penyard, 1924

22. ‘I fired at him to wound and not to kill’

Sellack, near Ross-on-Wye, 1925

23. ‘I asked you not to do such wicked things’

Burghill Court, near Hereford, 1926

24. ‘Shan’t I have to go to prison?’

Lea, near Ross-on-Wye, 1932

25. ‘I know nothing at all about it’

Shobdon, 1935

26. ‘Would it be right to say you loved him dearly?’

Ledbury, 1947

27. ‘There is always the chance that something will happen’

Clehonger, 1952

28. ‘An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth and a life for a life’

Leintwardine, 1968

Bibliography & References

AUTHOR’S NOTE & ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Herefordshire is set in the West Midlands of England, bordering Wales to the west. Famed for its charming ‘black and white’ towns and villages, with their half-timbered buildings, the county is founded on agriculture, especially sheep farming, and the cultivation of apples, pears and hops. Yet historically, beneath the general air of rural tranquility, Herefordshire has a darker side as, like any other county, some of its inhabitants were not averse to taking a human life, whether for love, hate, jealousy, financial gain or simply to rid themself of a person who they perceived as a nuisance.

In 1843, criminal insanity was defined as:

At the time of the committing of the act, the party accused was labouring under such a defect of reason, from a disease of the mind, as not to know the nature and quality of the act he was doing; or, if he did know it, that he did not know what he was doing was wrong.

This definition would certainly apply to some of the cases included in this collection, such as the murder committed in Brilley in 1848 by Thomas Whitford, who was under the impression at the time that he was battling with the ‘great Goddess Diana in the depths of a bottomless pit’, or the case of Richard Wreford-Brown, who returned from the First World War a physically and mentally broken man and went on to murder his father-in-law in 1925, while wracked by terrible delusions.

Other featured murders have perhaps more understandable motives, such as the murders of Phillip Ballard in Tupsley in 1887 and Harriet Baker in Ledbury in 1859, both of whom were killed during the course of a robbery. Some murders have a sexual motive, such as that of Ann Dickson in 1885, while others, like the brutal 1935 killing of Edith Nicholls in Shobdon, seem to have absolutely no motive at all. Nicholls’ murder remains unsolved, as are others in this collection, among them the 1952 murder of Clehonger shopkeeper, Maria Hill and the killing of Jane Jay in 1878.

The cases were drawn from the archives of local and national newspapers which, along with any books consulted, are listed in the bibliography. Every effort has been made to clear copyright, however my apologies to anyone I may have missed; I can assure you it was not deliberate but an oversight on my part.

As usual, there are a number of people to be thanked for their assistance in compiling this book. I am extremely grateful to the Hereford Times for granting permission to use some of their archive pictures as illustrations. The staff at the Hereford Library were very helpful and my brother-in-law and sister-in-law, John and Sue, generously provided accommodation in their home on my research trips to the county.

As always, I must say a special thank you to my husband, Richard, without whose contributions this would be a much poorer volume. Having proof read every word of every chapter, his comments and suggestions proved invaluable. He also acted as chauffeur on my research trips and took several of the photographs.

Last but not least, my grateful thanks go to my editor at The History Press, Matilda Richards, for her continued help and encouragement.

Nicola Sly, 2010

1

‘THE FATE OF THIS UNFORTUNATE GIRL NATURALLY EXCITED MUCH COMPASSION’

Clodock, 1790

Twenty-seven-year-old William Jones (aka William Watkins) was a married man with two young children when he first met temptation in the form of an eighteen-year-old prostitute from Monmouth named Suzannah Rugg. Finding himself totally incapable of resisting the nubile teenager’s charms, Jones promptly deserted his wife and family and set up home with Suzannah. However, their new-found domestic bliss didn’t last long and within weeks he was back living with his wife, Ann, at their home in Clodock.

Their marriage apparently happier than it had ever been, William now treated his wife with unprecedented kindness, even going as far as to prepare meals for her. Yet the errant husband had an ulterior motive and, on 27 March 1790, Ann Jones died in agony, having recently eaten a bowl of broth served to her by William.

With no evident cause of death, surgeons strongly suspected that Ann had been poisoned and performed a post-mortem. William was apparently present throughout the examination, helping to carve open his wife’s body without turning a hair and showing neither concern nor surprise when a large quantity of arsenic was found in her stomach.

His nonchalant attitude aroused suspicion and when an inquest jury subsequently arrived at the verdict that Ann Jones had ‘died by poison’, her husband was arrested on a coroner’s warrant and charged with administering the poison that killed his wife. Before long, he was joined in Hereford Gaol by Suzannah Rugg, who was initially charged with the theft of a watch and 6s from a man named Thomas Prosser and then subsequently charged with wilful murder in complicity with her lover, William Jones.

The arsenic found in Ann Jones’ stomach was a unique mixture of both the white and the yellow forms of the poison. In the days before the sale of poisons was regulated, arsenic was freely available for over-the-counter purchase and was normally used for killing rats and other vermin. In this case, the combination of white and yellow arsenic was peculiar to one local apothecary, who had accidentally mixed two different consignments of the deadly poison.

Committed for trial at the Hereford Assizes of August 1790, both Jones and Rugg initially appeared confident of acquittal, evidently believing that the evidence against them was purely circumstantial. However, their confidence faded when they were positively identified by the apothecary as the only purchasers of the mixed batch of arsenic.

Both William Jones and Suzannah Rugg were found guilty of the wilful murder of Ann Jones and sentenced to death. Both accepted their fate and made a full confession to the murder, with William Jones taking the opportunity to stress that rumours that he had used the poison to kill any other person were blatantly untrue. The murder of Ann Jones had been premeditated between them – William and Suzannah had intended to marry and had therefore planned to remove the only obstacle that stood in the way of their future happiness. Thus William had initiated a reunion with his wife for the sole purpose of killing her, so that he might legitimately marry the new love of his life.

The now penitent couple were executed at a site opposite the old gaol in Hereford’s St Owen Street just two days after the conclusion of their trial. All of the prisoners confined in the gaol at the time were marched outside to witness the execution. Once the two prisoners had met their deaths, a queue of people formed at the scaffold, all anxious to feel the touch of the prisoners’ hands on various parts of their bodies, since the touch of a dying criminal’s hand was believed at the time to cure warts, boils and cysts and a multitude of other medical conditions.

William Jones was said to have been a dissolute character throughout his life. Before his execution he took steps to ensure that his two children, who would soon be orphaned, were well provided for by signing over property to them and thus guaranteeing them an income of around £40 each year. After his death, his body was removed from the scaffold and hung in chains on the village green at Clodock, close to the place where he had committed his crime, in order to serve as a grim warning to anyone thinking of following in his footsteps.

Suzannah Rugg, who was said to be an exceptionally beautiful young woman, faced her death with a maturity beyond her years, making an impassioned plea from the gallows to the assembled spectators, urging them to be careful of forming unsuitable connections in early life. Her body was handed to surgeons for dissection. According to the Hereford Journal:

The fate of this unfortunate girl naturally excited much compassion:- her wretched mode of life, supposed not to have been adopted or pursued by her own inclination; the influence which Jones may naturally be supposed to have had on her conduct; – her sex – her personal beauty – the unthinkingness of youth – and the frailty of us all – could not fail of being highly interesting in her favour; and though justice might make the sacrifice necessary, humanity may be permitted to shed a tear for the victim!

2

‘HE REPEATED THE BLOW SEVERAL TIMES UNTIL I WAS SENSELESS’

Tupsley, 1829

Having once served in the Royal Navy, Francis Wellington of Lugwardine was eligible for a pension from Greenwich Hospital. He was an ‘out pensioner’, which meant that he didn’t actually reside at the hospital but remained living at home with his family and, once every quarter, visited the excise office at Hereford to collect his allowance.

On 3 November 1829, he arrived in Hereford to claim his pension. In anticipation of his quarterly payment, he first called at The Elephant and Castle public house and, from there, went to the excise office where he collected the sum of £5 9s before going back to the pub.

After spending most of the afternoon drinking, by the time Francis Wellington left the pub, various witnesses described him as being ‘fresh’ and ‘forward in beer’. Indeed, he was so drunk that the landlord implored him to stay the night at the pub. Wellington insisted that he was perfectly capable of getting home safely but it quickly became apparent that his confidence was misplaced.

Wellington left the pub at ten o’clock at night and it took him until five o’clock the next morning to walk the four miles between Hereford and his home. He arrived drenched in blood, which had soaked the front of the white smock frock he was wearing and clotted on his face and hands and in his hair. He was missing his hat, gloves, knife and walking stick, not to mention his entire pension.

Wellington’s wife, Jane, went upstairs to prepare a bed, leaving the couple’s servant, Mrs Baddam, to wash her husband’s wounds. However, once the dried blood was removed, Wellington’s wounds began to bleed afresh and, having put him to bed with Mrs Baddam’s assistance, Jane sent for her husband’s doctor.

Francis Wellington suffered from consumption and, even before being injured, was a sickly and exceedingly frail man, whose lungs had deteriorated to such an extent that he persistently coughed up blood and struggled to breathe. When surgeon James Eyre arrived at the Wellingtons’ cottage, he found Francis to be ‘only partially sensible’. He was apparently in great pain and was running a fever. Eyre examined Wellington and found him to have four wounds on his head, each about three-quarters of an inch long. There was one wound on the right-hand side of his forehead, another on the left-hand side of his head and two more behind his left ear and the surgeon believed that they had all been inflicted by some kind of blunt instrument. He tried to dress the injuries but Wellington struggled and fought so much that Eyre could do very little in the way of treatment.

Eyre called at the cottage again the following morning, finding Wellington still insensible. The surgeon continued to visit regularly over the next few days and his patient’s condition gradually improved to the point where he was able to recall the events that led to his injuries, accusing three men of attacking and robbing him as he walked through Tupsley on his way home.

In spite of the return of his memory, Wellington was still a very sick man and Mr Eyre held out little hope for his recovery. Accordingly, on 7 November, Dr Symonds MD – a doctor and local magistrate – was called to his bedside to take his deposition.

Wellington had already named his assailants and stated that one of them was lame and walked with a crutch. The description fitted James Williams, who had been drinking in The Elephant and Castle on the night of the murder, along with two companions, Robert Floyd and John Roberts. The police had been busy scouring the area in search of the culprits and, by 7 November, they had apprehended Floyd, who was brought to Wellington’s cottage to hear the deposition. Wellington told the magistrate:

I received five sovereigns, two half-crowns and four shillings in silver on 3 November at the excise office in Hereford. Going home in Tupsley, I was stopped at about ten o’clock by a lame man with a crutch and another in a blue frock. I defended myself as well as I could till Floyd jumped over the hedge, took my stick from me and knocked me down with a severe blow on the head. He repeated the blow several times until I was senseless. I was robbed of five sovereigns and some silver.

By 10 November, the police had tracked down James Williams and he too was brought to Wellington’s bedside in the presence of Dr Symonds. ‘Francis [sic] Williams was drinking with me and Floyd in the Elephant and Castle and is the man who first struck me with the crutch,’ Wellington now deposed.

The process was repeated on 16 November with the third suspect, John Roberts, in attendance. ‘On 3 November I was stopped on the road and violently beaten by two persons in company with Roberts now before me,’ stated Wellington.

Wellington’s condition continued to deteriorate and he constantly complained of terrible pains in his head, insisting that his bedroom be kept dark at all times since the light hurt his eyes. He also complained of pains in his bowels with accompanying diarrhoea. Eyre called in more doctors for a second opinion and, on 22 December, Wellington was visited at home by Mr John Griffiths and his uncle, also called John Griffiths, both practising as surgeons in Hereford.

Mr Griffiths senior shaved Wellington’s head, applying leeches and blistering him, but Wellington showed no signs of improvement. Griffiths visited Wellington several more times and tried a number of different treatments but his patient continued to complain of severe headaches and it was eventually decided to admit him to Hereford Infirmary where he could be under the surgeon’s constant care. Thus, on 21 January 1830, Francis Wellington became an in-patient at the hospital and, on admission, was said to be in a much weakened and exhausted state. Nevertheless, he lived until 3 March.

A post-mortem examination was held two days later, attended by all three of the doctors who had been involved in Wellington’s care. The surgeons found the scars of the four wounds on Wellington’s head, along with a fifth wound that he had received many years earlier while serving in the Navy. Although there were no skull fractures, there was evidence of previous inflammation and ulceration of the dura mater – the outermost covering of the brain.

Hereford Infirmary. (Author’s collection)

Yet it was the opinion of all three of the doctors that the actual cause of Francis Wellington’s death had been lung disease. The dead man’s left lung had been completely ravaged by consumption, while the right was covered with suppurating tubercles and was ‘full of matter’. John Griffiths junior stated, ‘I never saw lungs in a higher state of disease,’ and all three doctors expressed surprise that the deceased had managed to live as long as he did, given the appalling degeneration of his lungs and resulting damage to his heart. Not one of the doctors felt able to say with certainty how far Wellington’s head injuries had contributed to his demise but Eyre pointed out that, before the night of 3 November, Wellington had never complained of headaches. John Griffiths junior felt that the effect of Wellington’s head injuries on his general constitution were such that they would ‘... tend to wear out life’, while his uncle stated,

The appearances on the brain, I think, arose from the injuries of 3 November and I believe they accelerated death on 3 March by a course of constant irritation, weakening and wearing out the powers of the constitution sooner than they would otherwise have done.

The three men accused of attacking and robbing him now found themselves charged in connection with his death and were brought to trial at the Hereford Assizes on 31 March 1830, before Mr Baron Bolland. Thirty-five-year-old Robert Floyd was charged with wilful murder, while James Williams, aged nineteen, and seventeen-year-old John Roberts, were charged with aiding and abetting him.

Having outlined the events of 3 November 1829, counsel for the prosecution, Mr Serjeant Russell, told the members of the jury that they had three questions to answer; had Wellington been beaten and robbed as he had stated, did the violent treatment he received cause or even hasten his death and, if the jury answered yes to the first two questions, were the defendants the persons who inflicted those injuries? Russell advised the jury that, in a previous case, Lord Hale had laid down a ruling that ‘...if a man be sick of a disease that might end him in half a year and another strikes him a blow which hastens his death by the irritation and provocation of that disease then the offence is murder.’

The prosecution counsel told the court that all three of the defendants had been present at The Elephant and Castle pub on the evening of 3 November and that Floyd, who was a Chelsea out-pensioner, had even been present at the excise office when Wellington received his pension. During the course of the evening’s drinking, Wellington had pulled a coin from his pocket to pay for his beer. In the dimly lit bar, he had mistakenly proffered a sovereign rather than the intended shilling. Later in the evening, he dropped several coins on the floor, which James Williams picked up and returned to him, advising him to put his money safely in his pocket. Instead, Wellington placed the coins on the table, in full view of all of the other drinkers at the pub.

The court next heard from the medical witnesses, who all stated that Wellington’s death was ultimately due to consumption. However, all had noticed some yellow patches on Wellington’s brain at the post-mortem examination, beneath which the brain appeared softened and spongy, along with some inflammation at the front of the brain beneath the site of the wound on his forehead. None of the doctors were able to state conclusively that the injuries to his head and brain had killed him but all conceded that the wounds would have caused him more stress, pain and discomfort, which his disease-ravaged body just could not tolerate. All of the doctors were of the opinion that the head wounds had thus accelerated Wellington’s death although he was so ill that, even had he not been injured, his life expectancy would have been very short. Mr Griffiths senior went as far as to say that, disregarding Wellington’s existing lung disease, the damage to his brain following the attack on him was sufficiently severe to eventually cause his death.

Once the medical witnesses had testified, the judge consulted with the jury, asking if, having heard the medical evidence, they felt the case should proceed. He reminded them that none of the surgeons could positively state that the damage to Wellington’s brain had been caused by the attack on him and that the observed changes to the brain could have resulted from his advanced lung disease or from the damage it had caused to his heart.

After a short consultation, the jury decided that it was pointless to continue trying the defendants for murder or for aiding and abetting a murder, since they could not be absolutely sure that a murder had even been committed. The judge dismissed the case and immediately began a second trial in which all three of the defendants were charged with assault and highway robbery.

As a result of testimony from James Jones, the clerk to the collector of excise at Hereford, it was established that Wellington had received his pension on 3 November, as had the defendant Robert Floyd.

The landlord of The Elephant and Castle told the court that Wellington and the three defendants had all been drinking in his establishment on the afternoon of the murder. Floyd had left first at about half-past nine in the evening, followed about half an hour later by Francis Wellington, who was drunk at the time although still capable of walking, albeit with a slight stagger. Within minutes of Wellington’s departure, Roberts had gone outside for about five minutes, returning and saying to Williams ‘He is gone’. At that, both Williams and Roberts drained their drinks and quickly left the pub.

The landlord’s evidence was corroborated by his son and by some of the other customers who had been drinking in the pub that night. Without exception, all of the witnesses stated that Wellington had been wearing a clean, white smock. His stick, gloves, handkerchief, knife and hat had been returned to his widow after his death, having been found on the side of the road by a Mr Field and handed to Jonathon Baddam, the husband of the Wellingtons’ servant, who immediately realised to whom they belonged. Field and Baddam told the court that there had been a great deal of blood on the ground nearby. Unfortunately, the handkerchief and stick had been heavily bloodstained and Jane Wellington had subsequently burned them.

The court next heard details of Wellington’s various depositions, followed by the evidence of the arrests of the suspects by Mr Howell, the City Constable of Hereford, after which the prosecution closed.

The counsel for Floyd’s defence, Mr Curwood, then took the floor and introduced witnesses who stated that his client had been nowhere near the scene of the murder. Mary Huggins insisted that Floyd had spent the night with her at the home of Elizabeth Wilcox, also known as Elizabeth England. Mary remembered that it had been pension day and that, when Floyd first arrived, she had clearly seen the church clock, which stood at a quarter to nine. Elizabeth Wilcox and another woman, Elizabeth Pearce, backed up her evidence as did many other witnesses.

There was a large, gaping crack in the wall of Elizabeth Wilcox’s home that was approximately 3ft wide and 4ft high. Several people insisted that they had either seen or heard Robert Floyd through the hole in the wall on the night of the murder.

Mr Baron Bolland then summarised the evidence for the jury, placing particular emphasis on the alleged drunkenness of the victim on leaving The Elephant and Castle. Francis Wellington was a frail, sick man and the amount of alcohol he had consumed would have affected even a man in perfect health. The jury must ask themselves whether Wellington was capable of identifying the three men who had attacked him on a dark night. It must be recalled that he had struggled to tell the difference between a sovereign and a shilling earlier on the night of his death but that he had been able to see sufficiently well to rectify his mistake. While the victim’s depositions were an important part of the evidence, the three prisoners who had witnessed them had not asked Wellington any questions at the time and it was not absolutely certain that they had been advised that they were allowed to do so. With the charge of murder against them dismissed, the prisoners stood accused of assault and, under normal circumstances, their victim would be in court to tell his story and submit to cross-examination.

The inaccuracy of one point had already been established, since Wellington had deposed that he was set upon at about ten o’clock in the evening. Witnesses had stated that he was still in the pub at that time, a distance of a mile and a half from where he was attacked. The judge also pointed out some inconsistencies in the statements made by those who had testified to Robert Floyd’s presence in Mrs Wilcox’s home at the time of the murder, which were contradictory to the statements of the witnesses in the pub. Those who placed Floyd with Mary Huggins swore that he was there from 8.45 p.m., while the landlord and customers in the pub had all stated that he had not left until 9.30 p.m. There had been some suggestion in court that one witness, John Taylor, had spoken to Mr Howell to try and find out the exact time of the attack, with the express purpose of providing an alibi for Floyd, something which Taylor strongly denied.

‘I, for my own part, approach the evidence with fear and trembling,’ concluded the judge, calling on the jury to apply their judgement only to the evidence they had heard in court that day, expunging from their minds all previous information and every former impression they may have held about the case.

The jury needed only a few minutes of deliberation to pronounce all three defendants ‘Guilty’ of the charges against them. The judge deferred sentencing to the following day, when he meted out the death penalty to all three of the accused.

As John Roberts was only seventeen years old and had apparently taken no active part in the attack on Francis Wellington, his death sentence was later commuted to one of transportation for life. Meanwhile, as the date set for the execution of Floyd and Williams approached, there were grave doubts about Robert Floyd’s involvement and he was given a stay of execution until 15 May while further investigations were made. Williams seemed truly repentant and acknowledged the justice of his sentence but, regardless of their own punishment, both he and Roberts swore that Floyd had taken no part in the attack.

Thus it was only James Williams who mounted the scaffold at Hereford Gaol on 17 April 1830, where he was executed for the crime of highway robbery. Although the eventual outcome was the same, it was widely argued at the time that, having deprived a man of his last remaining time on earth, according to Lord Hale’s ruling, his actions on the night of 3 November amounted to nothing less than murder.

3

‘YOU HAVE ROBBED ME — FOR GRACIOUS SAKE, DON’T MURDER ME’

Hereford, 1831

Whenever the Assizes came to town there was money to be made and thirty-six-year-old Mrs Susan Connop was always keen to make money. Susan kept a brothel in Worcester but on 22 March 1831, two days before the Lent Assizes were due to commence at Hereford, she and some of her best girls took up residence there at the home of Joseph Pugh in Quaker Lane.

Sixty-year-old Walter Carwardine had more legitimate business at the Assizes, in the form of a lawsuit with one of his brothers. However, once the case had been heard, Carwardine’s thoughts quickly turned from business to pleasure.

The farmer from Kinnersley was known to be a heavy drinker, with an equal fondness for food, so his first priority was a visit to the local hostelries. He dined at the Horse & Groom public house in Eign Street, leaving there at around eight o’clock in the evening and moving to the Red Streak, a pub he had already visited that morning. At the Horse & Groom, he was seen by his brother, William, who noted that he ‘...appeared to have taken too much liquor.’

With his appetites for food and drink satisfied, Carwardine turned his attention to his appetite for women. He was ‘picked up’ by Susan Reignart, one of Susan Connop’s girls, who took him back to Joseph Pugh’s house, where he sat on an armchair drinking gin, with Reignart on his knee.

The Horse & Groom, Eign Street, Hereford, 2009. (© R. Sly)

Soon afterwards, another prostitute, Sarah Coleby, decided that she wanted to take care of Mr Carwardine, so she and Reignart exchanged clients, with Susan taking butcher John Webb upstairs to one of the bedrooms. When she eventually came downstairs again, it was to see Sarah secretively showing something to Mrs Connop, who winked and indicated to her that she should put it in her pocket. Susan Connop then asked Susan Reignart if she thought Carwardine had any money. ‘I’ll have his money or his life,’ she vowed. ‘If I can’t manage in any other way, I’ll have him put in a bag.’

Carwardine gave Mrs Connop a shilling to fetch yet more gin but before she could return, he announced his intention of going to look for somewhere to sleep. Sarah Coleby offered to go with him and she and the farmer left the house together. When Susan Connop came back, she asked where Carwardine had gone and, when Susan Reignart couldn’t tell her, she asked her if she thought that Sarah had robbed him. Mrs Connop then went out to look for Sarah, returning to the house with her a few minutes later. Almost as soon as they had come back, William Williams and John Mathews burst into the house, slamming the door shut behind them.

Seconds later, there was a loud knocking on the door, accompanied by Carwardine’s voice shouting, ‘Open the door, for I am robbed’. Mrs Connop sent Williams to answer the door, telling him to make Carwardine say that he hadn’t been robbed on her premises, which he did. Joseph Pugh also went to try and get the farmer to leave his doorstep, saying, ‘Damn your eyes, if you don’t be off, I’ll send you.’ Meanwhile, Sarah Coleby had snatched up her bonnet and shawl and fled out of the back door, while Williams and Mathews went outside to speak to Carwardine.

Susan Reignart went to bed alone at around midnight and was rudely awakened about an hour later by a series of fearsome crashes and bangs from downstairs. Curious, she got out of bed and crept along the landing to see what was going on.

Mrs Connop shouted up the stairs, ‘Susan, do not get up yet.’ ‘Very well,’ replied Susan, although she remained on the landing, listening intently to the commotion from below. Suddenly, she heard a crash so loud that it actually shook the staircase, followed by the sound of the front door and the outside gate slamming and Mrs Connop’s voice saying, ‘We have done it.’

Walter Carwardine never arrived home to Kinnersley and two or three days later his hat was found at Monk’s Hole, on the banks of the River Wye. William Carwardine had already been to Hereford to search for his missing brother, finding no trace of him. Now William received an unsolicited visit from a man who introduced himself as Mr Pearce, saying that he owned three barges and was prepared to search the river for Walter Carwardine’s body. He assured William that the search would not be too expensive.

William told Pearce that he had already checked the river and not found his brother and that he believed that Walter would make his way home eventually. Pearce however was insistent, telling William that he knew exactly where the body was because a hat had been found. Still William refused to take Pearce up on his offer. Soon afterwards, the news reached William that his brother’s body had been found in the river by a boatman, about two miles outside Hereford. Pearce then approached him again and told William that it had been he who had found his brother’s hat, asking him for some form of reward for doing so.

Having no knowledge of his brother’s movements after leaving the Horse & Groom and being aware that Walter had then been very drunk, William assumed that his brother had accidentally stumbled into the river on his way home and drowned. However, a post-mortem examination of Walter’s body seemed to indicate otherwise, as several wounds were found on his head. Doctors were unable to state with any certainty that any of these injuries would ultimately have proved fatal, but were of the opinion that Carwardine had been thrown into the water when he was either dead or unconscious. His body exhibited none of the characteristic marks of a person who had died from drowning and, since his head wounds were both bruised and swollen, it was thought that they had been inflicted while he was alive. The doctors were unable to pinpoint the precise cause of Walter Carwardine’s death, although they unanimously opined that it was due to suffocation rather than drowning.

An investigation began into the suspicious death of Walter Carwardine and before long Susan Connop found herself with yet more business at the Hereford Assizes. This time, there was no money to be made, since she was arrested at Worcester and charged with Carwardine’s wilful murder, with Joseph Pugh also charged as an accessory after the fact.

Their trial opened before Mr Justice Patteson on 6 August. Mr Curwood, for the prosecution, told the court that the victim had not been seen alive since the night of 24 March 1831. Curwood first called Carwardine’s sister, Mary, who stated that when her brother left home to go to the Assizes, he was carrying a £5 note issued by the Kington bank. Mary admitted that Walter was ‘...rather addicted to drinking’.

John Webb, who had been availing himself of the services offered by Mrs Connop’s girls on the night in question, told the court that Carwardine had been at Joseph Pugh’s house and that he had twice called for gin to be sent for. Webb left the house at between eleven o’clock and midnight, at which time Carwardine was alive and well, if very drunk.

Mr Curwood next called Mary Bachelor, who lived directly opposite Pugh’s house. Mrs Bachelor had particular reason to remember the night of 24/25 March, since she had passed it watching the corpse of her child. She stated that, at about a quarter to one on the morning of 25 March, she heard a noise coming from Pugh’s house and had opened her window to see what was happening. A stout man had been at Pugh’s door shouting that he had been robbed. Mary then saw Susan Connop come to the door and strike the man on the back of his neck with either a short stick or a poker, at which he had begged, ‘Have mercy on me! You have robbed me – for gracious sake, don’t murder me.’

The man attempted to run away but Susan Connop followed him, all the while beating him about the head. There were two other men present and they too began to belabour the man with their fists, while Susan ran back to the house and shouted for everybody to leave. Emanuel Horwell, who lived about 20 yards from Pugh’s house, was also disturbed by the fracas and corroborated Mary Bachelor’s evidence.