The Mysterious Death of Charles Bravo by Tim Vicary. Part 6.
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Chapter 7. Jane Cox’s story
Soon after her marriage, Florence became pregnant. She was happy about this, and Charles was pleased too. ‘The baby will be a boy,’ he said. ‘We’ll call him Charles Bravo the Second!’
But Florence often felt ill. And she and Charles argued all the time – about money, the servants, the horses, everything. But the worst arguments were about Dr Gully. One day, Charles opened a letter, and started shouting angrily. ‘Look at this,’ he said to Florence. ‘It’s from Dr Gully, isn’t it? This is what he thinks of me!’
Florence read the letter and showed it to me. It was a horrible letter.
‘I know why you married Florence,’ the letter said. ‘You don’t love her. You just wanted her money, that’s all.’
‘That’s awful, Charles,’ Florence said. ‘But I don’t understand. There is no name on this letter. Who wrote it?’
‘You know very well who wrote it!’ Charles shouted. ‘Dr Gully, of course! That’s his handwriting, I’m sure it is! You’ve been talking to him about me, haven’t you? You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?’
‘No, Charles, I’m not!’ Florence said. ‘I haven’t spoken to Dr Gully once since we were married. Anyway, look at this letter, this is terrible handwriting. Dr Gully writes much better than this.’
Charles Bravo smiled – a cold, angry smile. ‘Really? Well, let’s see. He’s written lots of letters to you, hasn’t he, Florence? And you’ve kept them, because you’re in love with him. Go and find them, Florence, bring them here. Then we’ll see if this handwriting is the same.’
Florence’s face went quite red. ‘I haven’t got them, Charles,’ she said. ‘I sent them all back to him, before we got married. And he gave me back all my letters, too – the ones I wrote to him.’
‘Oh, really? Well, where are those letters? Bring them here, let me see them.’
‘I can’t.’ Florence started to cry. ‘I can’t show you anyway, because I burnt them all on the fire. And I think Dr Gully burnt all my letters too. You see, I don’t love him any more, Charles. That’s over, it’s finished. I’m never going to see Dr Gully again.’
She stopped crying and put her hand on his arm. ‘That’s what you should do with this letter, too. It’s a horrible letter, Charles. Just burn it, forget all about it. Just as I have forgotten Dr Gully.’
‘Have you really, Florence? Are you sure?’
‘Yes, Charles, I’m sure.’ She put her arms around him, and leaned her head against his chest. ‘You’re my husband now, Charles. I’m going to have your baby. So we must be kind to each other, and not argue about silly things like this.’
Very gently, she took the letter from his hand, and threw it into the fire.
Florence didn’t meet Dr Gully, but I did. I met him on the train one day, on 25th March, on the way to London. I told him about my mother in Jamaica, and asked him for some medicine for her. A few days later, he wrote to me at The Priory.
I opened the letter, but Charles didn’t like that. ‘Let me see that, Mrs Cox,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘I’m the man of this house, I should read all the letters first, you know. Who is it from?’
It’s from Dr Gully,’ I said. ‘It’s about my mother, that’s all. She’s ill in Jamaica. He writes about some medicine for her.’
He took my letter and read it. There was a list of medicines inside. Then he gave it back to me. ‘Well, don’t write back to him,’ Charles Bravo said. ‘I don’t want anyone in this house to write to that man.’
Two weeks later, on 6th April, I found Florence crying in her bedroom.
What’s wrong?’ I asked. ‘Have you and Charles been arguing again?’
No, it’s not that,’ she said. ‘It’s worse. Call a doctor. I think I’ve lost the baby.’
Florence was right; she had lost her baby. She was ill, and spent two weeks in bed. I slept in her bedroom with her. Charles didn’t like that. He didn’t understand how difficult such things are for women. When she stayed in bed crying, that made him angry and impatient. He thought she should get up the next day. He seemed to think that a woman losing her baby was nothing important.
But I was worried, and so I was pleased when I met Dr Gully again on the train. I told him about Florence’s illness, and he promised to send some medicine for her. But he didn’t want to make Charles angry, so he didn’t send it to The Priory. He left it at my house, in Lancaster Road, and I took it to Florence from there.
A few days later, Charles called me into his study.
‘Mrs Cox,’ he said. ‘I have been thinking. There are too many people in this house.’
‘Too many people?’ I said. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean,’ he said, ‘that I don’t need you in this house any more.’
‘But, sir … I am not here to help you. I work for Mrs Bravo.’
Mrs Bravo is my wife. I make the decisions in this house, and I don’t want you here any more. Every time I try to talk to my wife, you are there with her. You even sleep in her bedroom. That isn’t right!’
‘But she’s ill, sir! She’s just lost her baby. She needs me – she wants me there.’
‘Well, I don’t want you there. When Florence is better, I want you to leave. Do you understand? I don’t need your help any more.’
This was a terrible thing for me. I needed my job to pay for my sons’ school. And Florence was my friend. I was worried about her. If I leave, I thought, he can hit Florence every day, and no one will know.
As I walked out of the room, I thought: I hate that man, Charles Bravo. I wish he were dead.
When I told Florence, she cried. ‘Jane, please don’t leave me,’ she said. ‘I need you here to keep me safe. Promise me you won’t go!’
‘I don’t want to leave,’ I said. ‘But what can we do? He’s your husband – he can do what he likes.’
‘I’ll talk to him,’ she said. She was a brave lady, Florence. She tried to make her own decisions; she didn’t want to obey her husband all the time. But Charles was a dangerous, violent man.
‘What if he hits you again?’ I asked. ‘He may hurt you badly.’ I wanted to save her, but I didn’t know how.
She sat up in bed. ‘I won’t let him, Jane,’ she said. ‘You and I – we must work together. We must stop that man, before he destroys both of our lives. This is my house, not his. He must listen to me, and learn to do what I want.’
‘But he doesn’t listen to women,’ I said. ‘He thinks we’re like children, or servants. How can you change that?’
‘I’ll find a way, Jane,’ she said quietly. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find a way.’