Murder Most Foul!

This is for Val and Sara who expressed an interest yesterday.

I did an entry on Prittlewell yesterday and this follows on. This is Prittlewell how it would have looked at the time with the bridge spanning the brook.  It is long gone now having become a very busy junction and the brook itself has disappeared under development.  Here is the story:-

On Monday 5th June 1894, the body of a young woman was found in the Prittle brook by a Mr. Rush who was returning home after conducting some business and happened to take the footpath that ran along the brook. He spotted a glove obviously belonging to a woman and stopped to pick it up. That was when he noticed spots of congealed blood and looking around him saw the body lying in the stream a few feet below. The woman had been thrown from the footpath so violently that her head had made an impression in the mud.

Mr. Rush ran as quickly as he could to summon the police who visited the scene of the crime and had the body removed to the nearby Spread Eagle inn. The girl had been shot through the temple. She was also heavily pregnant.

It did not take long to establish her identity. She was Florence Dennis, aged 23, known to be a normally happy and lively girl. She worked in London and lived with her parents there but had come to Southend (The south end of Prittlewell) to stay with her married sister Mrs. Louisa Ayriss whose husband was the manager of the Express Dairy Company.

Mrs. Ayriss had other visitors at the time so she had arranged for Florence to sleep overnight with a neighbour. Florence did not arrive at the neighbours’ home, nor did she appear the next morning so on the Monday evening, Louisa went to the police station to ask for police help in finding her sister, only to be told that Florence had already been found murdered.

Louisa was able to tell the police the name of the man who had fathered Florence’s unborn child. It also transpired that she herself had an affair with him before he met Florence and that she also had a child by him.

Two years previously, she had introduced Florence to James Canham Read. Read was 37 and known as Jim. He was employed at the Royal Albert Dock at North Woolwich on the Thames. He had worked there for over 20 years, was well paid and trusted. However, on the Monday afternoon, some hours before the body of Florence was found, he had left work taking with him around £160 of his employers’ cash. He lived in Stepney, London and was a married man with eight children!!

James was described as handsome, charming and a ladies’ man. It seemed that he had completely disappeared so the police put out a wanted poster:-

                               

Florence was buried on the 30th June.  Her mother was so distraught that she kept screaming "Florrie, Florrie" until she fell back in a deep faint.  The coffin carried a single wreath and the coffin plate was inscribed "Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to Thy Cross I cling."

It took the police around two weeks to track him down. Read was posing as a Mr. Benson and was living in Rose Cottage, Mitcham Surrey. He was not living alone. He shared this home with a young woman calling herself Mrs. Benson and their six month old baby!

She was, in fact, Beatrice Kempson from Cambridge. Read had seduced her and persuaded her to move in with him. He told her that his name was Edgar Benson, that he lived in Poplar, London and was a commercial traveller which explained his constant absences. Poor Miss Kempson.

The address in Poplar he gave Beatrice was actually the place of work of his brother Harry Read. When the police knocked at Rose Cottage, the Inspector asked him if he was James Canham Read. The answer was no. However, the policeman went on “I am an inspector of police. I shall arrest you as being James Canham Read, for the murder of Florence Dennis.” When Read was searched the police found a large sum of money in gold and also the cutting from a national newspaper concerning the inquest on Florence Dennis. In his pocket there were keys which fitted the safes at the Albert Docks. Witnesses had come forward who had stated they had seen a man of Read’s description in and around Prittlewell at the time of the murder and one had actually seen him strolling with Florence. Clothes were found in the same style and colour as the witnesses described. In the trousers there was a special revolver pocket.

The police were subsequently to establish that James Read had borrowed a revolver from his brother Harry Read and that he had coerced Harry into sending a telegram to Florence arranging a meeting. Although the gun was never found the police knew that it would take a No.7 Eley cartridge. The type of bullet it fired was the same as that which killed Florence Dennis.

Read must have been frantic, his philandering ways had caught him up, his life was crippling him. He was dashing between a wife and eight children, a mistress with another child and now Florence, carrying yet another of his offspring, was pushing him to marriage, unaware of the other women in his life or the fact that he had another child by her own sister. Had he taken the money to buy Florence off only to find that she wanted her good name and only marriage would suffice?  If so, then why take a revolver.  No, it would seem that he had murder in mind at that fateful meeting.

James went for trial but the evidence was damning. With him being seen in the area, the borrowed revolver, the telegram from his brother Harry, the telegrams sent to him by Florence, there was only one outcome. Read however remained sure of himself and was very cocky in court. When the judge donned the black cap, Read only fiddled with his moustache. When he left the courthouse to enter the prison van he waved and smiled at the crowds who were yelling “murderer”.

On the 30th November 1894 Jim was visited by his wife, his brother Harry and an unmarried sister. Jim was full of jokes and kept telling Harry “I’m sure I shan’t hang - you see.” There was to be no reprieve. On Tuesday 4th December 1894, Read was executed at Chelmsford prison for the wilful murder of Florence Dennis.

There was a further tragic postscript to this story. A few days after James was executed his loving and very loyal brother, Harry, completely broken by the events of the previous six months, drowned himself in the Thames.

Rose Cottage

Where James Read lived with Beatrice Kempson has long been noted for paranormal activity. There is supposed to be a malevolent spirit that has terrorised occupants.  This spirit was said to race up and down the stairs making a dreadful din. Other have reported stamping sounds.  The ghost of a woman has been seen walking from one room to another. People have sensed a presence when there is nobody else around. When the council decided to number the buildings in the area, Rose Cottage was given the number 13 and this seems to have angered the strange forces even more. Poltergeist activity began with cupboards and drawers being thrown around.  When the number 13 was removed, this activity stopped.  When workmen were called in they removed the floor and discovered an ancient well.  The well was filled in and the all was quiet for a time.

In 1977 the building was substantially rebuilt although the character was maintained.  After the work was carried out the strong smell of Lavendar was regularly noticed and when it became an office, files and stationery would go missing for days if not months on end and then suddenly turn up again in the most obvious places.  Crashing noises have been heard.  The key has refused to turn in the lock as though something or someone is pushing against it from the other side. Glasses of water have moved of their own accord.

Legends state that a murder was committed in the cottage or the adjoining cottage and the body was thrown down the well.  However, the police never found the gun which killed Florence Dennis and it was later strongly believed that he disposed of the gun down this very well.

Could it be the ghost of Florence trying desperately to find James or to try and lead someone to the weapon which killed her?  Rose Cottage has been haunted for a long time, that is beyond a doubt.  By whom or by what, we shall probably never know.

* Although I know this story very well I have referred to various books in my possession to check dates etc.