Kitty recoiled. ‘B-but there must be some mistake. We were supposed to be getting married this morning. Has he left a forwarding address?’

‘Not with me, miss, I’m so sorry. He’s paid me up to date, and when the men have finished here I’m to lock up and hand the keys in to the landlord.’

‘The landlord? But I thought Richard owned this house.’

‘No, miss, Mr Watson only rented it.’

‘Mr Watson? Don’t you mean Mr Fitzherbert? His family have a mansion in the country, don’t they?’

The little maid sighed. ‘That’s what the master liked everyone to think, but in fact he came from the slums of the Whitechapel Road. It just suited him to build up an image so he could attract wealthy clients, see? I’m so sorry. It seems like you’ve been sucked in good and proper. But if it’s any consolation, you ain’t the first. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get on.’

Kitty stood for some seconds as she tried to digest what she had just been told then very gracefully she sank to the floor in a dead faint as all her dreams shrivelled and died.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Well-known London Photographer Exposed as Fraud proclaimed the headlines on the front page of the Daily Mirror the following week. Maggie saw a copy on the newspaper-stand and, for a second, her heart stood still with shock. Hurrying into the shop, she quickly bought a copy and once outside again, she read the article there and then.

Society photographer Richard Fitzherbert, who professed to be the son of a lord, has been exposed as a fraud. His real name is Harry Watson and he was born and raised in Whitechapel in the East End. Watson is being sought by the police for recently inveigling large sums of money from various wealthy women under the pretence of investing those funds to produce a huge profit. When no profit was forthcoming, several of his victims came forward to lodge a complaint with the police, but Watson has since disappeared. It has also come to light that he had run up heavy gambling debts and also owes money to many other traders and his landlord. He also evaded conscription and played no part in defending our great country in times of peril. The man is a scoundrel. A warrant for his arrest is in place but it is believed that he is with his lover, Miss Melissa Hawkins, and that they may have tried to escape abroad. The police are asking anyone who might know of his whereabouts to come forward to assist with their inquiries.

Maggie flinched. Kitty must never see this article as it might endanger the baby; she was in a bad enough state as it was. So after arriving back at Brunswick Villa, she left the newspaper in the kitchen for lighting the range. Unfortunately, a few days later, Kitty was getting the fire going – and there it was right in front of her. The poor girl was inconsolable as she realised what a fool she had been, and ever since that day she had sunk into a decline. Nothing Maggie did or suggested elicited any kind of response.