The Dead Duke, His Secret Wife and the Missing Corpse by Piu Marie Eatwell Read Free Book Online Page A

in fact, was said about Thomas Charles Druce, but virtually nothing was known about him. His response to questions on the subject of his antecedents was always the same: that he had neither father nor mother, and that he was ‘sprung from the clouds’. A relative was later to say of him that ‘Mr Druce never divulged anything with regard to his parentage or friends and kept the subject a profound secret’. In all matters he was incredibly reticent, refusing to deal with all but his regular business acquaintances. He changed house frequently: every two years or so, the family was forced to relocate, criss-crossing London in a series of moves which appeared to defy any logical pattern. It seemed, indeed, as though T. C. Druce were on the run from something… Or someone.
    Thomas Charles Druce’s last home – to which he moved in 1861 – was a majestic mansion called Holcombe House, situated in Mill Hill, Hendon. Mill Hill at that time was still in the country, but it had, from the eighteenth century, become a favoured abode for the rich and fashionable seeking a spacious retreat within easy reach of London. An imposing, three-storeyed mansion of grey stone enclosed by a high wall with iron gates, Holcombe House had been built in 1775 for a former Lord Mayor of London. The house was surrounded by beautiful lawns, gravelled paths and flowerbeds, and boasted five hothouses and a conservatory. The interior of the house was equally impressive. The hall had a sweeping balustrade and marble floor. The dining room was furnished in crimson velvet, with walls to match, and had a thick Turkish carpet on the floor. Next to the well-appointed kitchen were a sculleryand butler’s pantry. The bedrooms of Mr and Mrs Druce were located on the second floor. On the third floor, where the children slept, were a night nursery, a day nursery, bathroom, pantry and five bedrooms. In the grounds of the mansion were stables and coachmen’s quarters, and the outdoor staff included three gardeners, two coachmen, a groom, a cowherd and a lampman. There was no butler in the house, on account of Mrs Druce being ‘very nervous’. There was a governess for the children, a nurse, a parlourmaid, housemaid, schoolroom maid, kitchen maid and cook. This was, without doubt, the residence of a man of means.
    It was in his bedroom on the second floor of Holcombe House that Thomas Charles Druce supposedly drew his last breath. It was December 1864, and he was – according to the official story – seventy-one years old. The wishes he had expressed for his funeral were simple. There was to be no fuss or show, and the funeral expenses were not to exceed £20. In the event, the ceremony was actually rather grand: twelve men and two four-horse coaches, heavily feathered and plumed, were hired for the occasion. The workers at Mr Druce’s Baker Street offices were bitter about the whole business, for the lavishness of the event contrasted so greatly with the meanness he had shown to them. ‘Not even so much as a pair of gloves to commemorate the event,’ grumbled Mr Redgell, a former shop worker, to a journalist from the Daily Express many years later. But Druce’s employees were more frightened than resentful. For there was persistent talk that the old man’s ghost still paced the warren of underground passageways beneath the shop in Baker Street. In fact, rumour had it that old Mrs Pledger, the shop forewoman, had gone outof her mind in fright from seeing the figure of her erstwhile master loom up among the packing boxes, just as he used to do in life. She died soon after the event, and her last words were said to have been: ‘I see him now, the dead man!’ Yes, there was a great deal of queerness surrounding Thomas Druce. The old man had carried many secrets to his grave in 1864. That is, if he had gone to his grave in that year…
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    As Thomas Charles Druce sat behind the scarlet curtains of his Baker Street office, another reclusive individual paced,