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EXTRAORDINARY PROCEEDINGS BY A FEMALE
Last week, a young woman, who gave the name of Sarah Rosa Westwood, tolerably well dressed, was brought before the magistrates at Hastings, charged with stealing a letter containing half a £10 note and half a £5 note. It seemed that the letter had been forwarded to Mr. John Muras, a visitor residing at the East-ascent, St. Leonard’s, at which house the prisoner had also taken apartments, agreeing to pay 18s. a week for them. Her room was opposite that occupied by Mr. Muras, and her conduct being very mysterious, enquiries were made about her, when half-notes similar to those missing were found to have been shown by her to induce people to give her credit, and the result was that she was taken into custody, and was now charged with the offence. She was also charged with stealing a pocket handkerchief and a pair of scissors, the property of a Miss Edgar, upon whom she had called under pretence of having a child to put out to nurse, and was eventually committed for three months’ hard labour. Subsequent enquiries disclosed very extraordinary conduct of the prisoner previously, at Brighton. On her arrival at that place, as a stranger, her first step was to go to a register office in the town, and express her wish to engage a lady’s maid. Her maid, she said, had left her somewhat suddenly, and it was particularly awkward for her, as, from the accident she had sustained (one of her arms was bound in splinters), she was unable even to dress herself. She talked of her family, her connections, and hinted delicately, and with a well-feigned blush, at her forthcoming marriage with a clergyman, the Rev. W. E., incumbent of Ironbridge, near Wellington, Salop. A lady’s-maid was at length procured, approved, and ordered to go with her boxes to 41, Grand-parade. This is a lodging-house, and the lady had already been there and taken apartments. During the day she received a visit from Mr. Torre, one of the masters of the Grand Proprietary School, Brighton, to whom she represented herself as being related to Simon Watson Taylor, Esq., of 41, Grosvenor-square, London, and stated that she was godmother to his son; and as she considered the position of godmother to be one of a very responsible nature, she was desirous of placing this youth, who was about seven years of age, and heir to £30,000 a year, at a good school. Her manners and conversation entirely deceived Mr. Torre, who gave her an invitation to his house, of which she availed herself the same day. After that she was constantly calling, and being entertained at the house, but no lad was forthcoming.
This was turning the lodgings to pretty good account at once, but somehow the people of the house became suspicious, and one night they came to her at eleven o’clock, and stated that there had been a mistake about the letting of the rooms; that they had been already let; that, in fact, the parties had arrived, and were even then knocking at the door (there certainly was a knocking, and a loud one)—the lady, the lady’s maid, and the luggage must turn out. Of course the lady was highly incensed, but she had a fly called, the luggage put into it, and ordered it to drive to the Norfolk Hotel; but, as all the sitting-rooms were engaged, they were obliged to turn out again next morning in search of fresh quarters. At last they were obliged to rest content with an inn—the Kerrison Arms. Now there were peculiarities about the lady which had rather puzzled her maid. In the first place, she had no money, but plenty of cheques, which she never could get cashed. Then she had no luggage, because, not getting the cheques cashed, she could not “get the boxes from the terminus.” Moreover, she had not even such ordinary necessities of civilized life as comb and brush; but so plausible was her manner, that these matters were all explained away, and her maid was entirely deceived by her statements. The acquaintance with Mr. Torre, and his amiable lady, was evidently too good an opportunity not to be made the most of, so on Sunday Miss Westwood betook herself to Cambridge House, and was very anxious that Mr. Torre should introduce her to the incumbent of All Souls’—in order that she might take the Sacrament. This was not done; but she was asked to tea, and of course stayed, and went to chapel with the family in the evening. Next day she went to Mr. Carter, surgeon, and had her broken arm bandaged up with splinters; but when she went to pay for it, she had only a cheque, which Dr. Carter declined to cash; he also declined to oblige her with the loan of a sovereign.
On Monday evening our heroine announced to her maid that she was going to a party, and she therefore went through the ceremony of dressing, as well as a lady can “dress” without toilet requisites, dresses to change, or ornaments to put on. The latter seemed to strike her, and she suddenly expressed a wish that she had her watch, which she said was being repaired at Mrs. Glading’s, on the Cliff, where, she took occasion to say, Dr. Muir, who was her godfather, had ordered £100 worth of jewellery for her approaching marriage. The maid, who carried a watch, was on the point of offering to lend it; but fortunately did not. Miss Westwood then asked the loan of her brooch; but this she declined, as it was the dying-gift of a former mistress.
The next day passed without any special incident, except that she favoured several tradesmen with orders. At one shop she ordered £50 worth of millinery, and she also obtained a valuable velvet mantle. At another house where she had ordered goods she sent a dress to be altered and re-trimmed. This dress, it turned out, was borrowed of Mrs. Wyatt, Cliftonville, to whom she had got herself introduced, and then made use of that lady’s name as being an old friend. No money being forthcoming at the Kerrison, the suspicions of Mr. Dawson, the landlord, began to be excited, and eventually he also turned the lady and the maid out of his house, and detained the boxes of the latter for his bill—£1 19s. Happy forethought! however, Miss Westwood had already secured lodgings in the London-road, and at once drove there (the maid always paid for cabs), knocked the people up, and rested that night in peace. But the maid, inconsolable for the loss of her boxes, began to see through the matter, and next day disclosed to Mr. Neale, the landlord, the real state of affairs. Then the police were called; but the lady well knew that they could not interfere in mere cases of debt, and she went to the Town-hall with confidence. While there, the Rev. S. R. Drummond happened to enter the office, and he at once recognised her as the lady who had recently called on him relative to taking the Sacrament!
The end of all, so far as Brighton is concerned, was that a policeman was set upon the lady’s track, permanently, and he followed her as far as Patcham, where she turned round, and said, “You needn’t follow me any further, policeman. I shall not return to Brighton.” Nothing is known of the prisoner previous to her arrival at Brighton, but she has a cut across the throat, which she says was given by a desperate and jealous lover.
— South Eastern Gazette, Tuesday 06 December 1859 source
The same story, but much… broader.
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Not proof-read.
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THE HASTINGS LADY THIEF AT BRIGHTON
It was not without book that the Hastings police told the magistrates of that town last week, that the lady who was detected in stealing from various parties in that town had had some previous “experiences” at Brighton. The fact was, that our heroine had aimed at far higher game there than any that she attempted at Hastings. “Miss Westwood,” that was the lady’s name, moved in very good society at Brighton, indeed, so let us, like all novelists, first describe her. She is about four feet nine inches in height, thin, has her right arm bound in splinters, or in a sling, wears a black bonnet (silk and crape—trimming shabby) and thick, knitted, woollen veil, dropped half-way over the face, a large scarf shawl of a black and white mixture, a black skirt with loose drab and brown jacket. We may add that she is about 35 years of age, more or less; but admits having attained to “sweet 19.” Another important particular is that she has a cut across the throat, only seen, of course, when she removes her bonnet; which cut, she says, was given by a desperate and jealous lover. On her arrival at Brighton, her first step—and it was her best move—was to go to a popular register office in the town, and expressed her wish to engage a lady’s maid. Her maid, she said, had left her somewhat suddenly, and it was particularly awkward for her, as, from the accident she had sustained, she was unable even to dress herself. She did not explain how she came by the accident; but she did explain much that was quite as irrelevant; talked of her family, her connections, and hinted delicately, and with a well-feigned blush, at her forthcoming marriage with a clergyman, the Rev. W. E., incumbent of Ironbridge, near Wellington, Salop. It was raining hard at the time, and this gave her an opportunity of waiting and enlarging upon these matters; and, as the rain did not hold up, she thought she would like to refresh herself with a glass of beer—if it could be procured for her; unfortunately she had only a cheque in her pocket, and therefore was unable to pay for it herself!
However, a lady’s maid was procured, approved, and ordered to go with her boxes (mark that!) to 41, Grand-parade. This is a lodging-house, and the lady had already been there and taken apartments, stating that her maid would come that day (Saturday) and would be accompanied by the luggage! The arrival of the newly-engaged maid, with her own boxes, gave a colourable air of truthfulness to this statement. During the day an incident occurred which showed that the lady had made good use of her time, and of the éclat which residence in a respectable house gave her. She received a visit from Mr. Torre, of Cambridge-house, London-road, one of the Masters of the Brighton Proprietary School, Grand-parade; but we had better let Mr. Torre tell his own story as to how that came about. In a communication to us he says:—*At the request of Dr. Muir, I called on her, at No. 41, Grand-parade, she having on the previous evening called on Dr. Muir, relative, as she said, to placing a young gentleman, “her godson,” with him as a boarder. Dr. Muir having informed her that he could not accommodate any more, recommended me to her notice, and she requested him to ask me to call on her at 41, Grand-parade, where she was in apartments. I did so about half-past twelve o’clock the same day, when she represented herself to me as being related to Simon Watson Taylor, Esq., of 41, Grosvenor-square, London, and stated that she was godmother to his son; and as she considered the position of godmother to be one of a very responsible nature, she was desirous of placing this youth, who was about seven years of age, and heir to £30,000 a year, at a good school, and with some one who would take great care of him, more especially as his mother, Mrs. Watson Taylor, had herself superintended her son’s education up to this time; but owing to her husband, Simon Watson Taylor, having met with a very severe accident whilst out shooting, she was unable, as so much of her time was taken up with attending to her husband, to superintend her son’s studies any longer. Well, giving credence to this story, and being completely deceived with the manners of Miss Westwood, which were to all appearance those of a lady, and she having expressed a desire to see my wife, and saying she would call, I of course said I should be happy to see her. She said she would call at four o’clock. Instead, however, of calling at four o’clock, she called at three, and after that was constantly calling and being entertained at my house; for although at times suspecting something wrong, yet, to baffle all, her manners and conversation are of so peculiar and deceptive a character, as to entirely put aside all suspicion.
This was turning the new lodgings to pretty good effect at once; though there is no doubt that the lady thought she had managed so very cleverly as to make sure of this comfortable domicile. But alas, for human felicity! Somehow, by some mysterious means, the people of the house became suspicious, and that very night, at eleven o’clock, they came and stated that there had been a mistake about the letting of the rooms; that they had been already let; that, in fact, the parties had arrived, and were even then knocking at the door (there certainly was a knocking, and a loud one: how produced this deponent telleth not); and that in fine, the lady, the lady’s maid, and the luggage must turn out.
The lady was most indignant, most incensed—but she went. She had a fly called, the luggage put into it, and ordered it to drive to the Norfolk Hotel. There they stayed all night; but, as all the sitting-rooms were engaged, they were obliged to turn out again next morning in search of fresh quarters. These it was found difficult to obtain; and at last they were obliged to rest content with an inn—the Kerrison Arms. Now there were peculiarities about the lady which had rather puzzled her maid. In the first place, she had no money; but plenty of cheques, which she never could get cashed. Then she had no luggage, because not getting the cheques cashed, she could not get the boxes from the Terminus. Moreover, she had not even such ordinary necessities of civilized life as comb and brush; and finally, she had odd fancies, one being a great dislike to strange domestics, so that she entreated her maid to make herself at home with her, to use the familiarities of an old servant, and forasmuch as the fact of her having no luggage was—she admitted—not calculated to inspire confidence in her among strangers, to answer any enquiries by saying that she had been in her service several months. And so plausible was the manner of putting it, that the poor girl actually agreed to do this, and nearly got herself into serious trouble thereby, as will be seen hereafter.
The acquaintance with Mr. Torre, and his amiable lady, was evidently too good an opportunity not to be made the most of, so on Sunday Miss Westwood betook herself to Cambridge House, and was very anxious that Mr. Torre should introduce her to the incumbent of All Souls’—in order that she might take the sacrament! This was not done; but she was asked to tea, and of course stayed, and went to chapel with the family in the evening. Next day we hear of her breaking fresh ground. She went to Mr. Carter, surgeon, on the Grand-parade, and had her broken arm bandaged up with splinters; but when she went to pay for it, she had only a cheque, which Dr. Carter declined to cash; he also declined to oblige her with the loan of a sovereign. It was probably owing to this unkindness, or to a sense of wounded female dignity, that when she left the house Miss Westwood tore all the splints off her arm and left it as before!
On Monday evening our heroine announced to her maid that she was going to a party, and she therefore went through the ceremony of dressing, as well as a lady can dress without toilet-requisites, dresses to change, or ornaments to put on. The latter seemed to strike her, and she suddenly expressed a wish that she had her watch, which she said was being repaired at Mrs. Glading’s, on the Cliff, where she took occasion to say,
Muir, who was her godfather (!) had ordered £100 worth of jewellery for her approaching marriage! The maid, who carried a watch, was on the point of offering to lend it; but fortunately did not. Miss Westwood then asked the loan of her brooch; but this she declined, as it was the dying-gift of a former mistress. Tuesday passed without any special incident, except that the lady favoured several tradesmen with orders; and it was probably on this day that she ordered a baby’s cloak and hood of a tradesman, which she subsequently presented to Mrs. Torre, of course, as a “blind.” She also ordered £50 worth of millinery at another shop, and obtained a valuable velvet mantle of Miss Jordan, East-street, which was subsequently found stuffed in under the bed. As a specimen of her style of doing business, she ordered a dress of Mr. Robinson, King’s-road, and instead of paying for it came and ordered a valuable mantle. It was hinted that she was a stranger, and so forth, on which she produced two sovereigns—the first and last money we hear of—and paid it towards the bill, which was £2 10s. The mantle was then sent, but not left, and subsequently Mr. Robinson received from Miss Westwood a dress to be altered and re-trimmed. This dress, it turns out, was borrowed of Mrs. Wyatt, Cliftonville, to whom she had got herself introduced, and then made use of that lady’s name as being an old friend.
No money being forthcoming at the Kerrison, the suspicions of Mr. Dawson, the landlord, began to be excited, and, to cut a long story short, he turned the lady and the maid out of his house and detained the boxes of the latter for his bill—£1 19s. Now, what an excellent quality is forethought! Though it was night when they were turned out, Miss Westwood was not at a loss; she had already secured lodgings in the London-road, and at once drove there (the maid always paid for cabs), knocked the people up, and rested that night in peace. But this sort of thing could not last for ever; the maid, inconsolable for the loss of her boxes, began to see how the land lay, and the next day disclosed to Mr. Neale, the landlord, the real state of affairs. Then the climax came. The police were called; but the lady well knew that they could not interfere in mere cases of debt, and she went to the Town Hall with confidence, and behaved there with the proverbial coolness of the cucumber, taking the precaution, however, of tossing a bundle of papers into the Town Hall Fire. While there, the Rev. S. R. Drummond happened to enter the office, and he at once recognised her as the lady who had recently called on him relative to taking the Sacrament!
But the lady was not unreasonable; she undertook to pay Mr. Neale if he would go with her to a lodging she had taken in Montpellier-street, and the story goes that they started off accompanied by a policeman, and all went on well enough until they reached Montpellier-road; but as they passed Christ Church the congregation were going in for the weekly evening service, and Miss Westwood at once joined them, marched into the church, took a seat and sat there throughout the service, in which she joined with great fervour! At its close she desired the pew-opener to express to Mr. Vaughan the pleasure his sermon had afforded her. And all this time those who had followed her looked on overwhelmed with her impudence. We need hardly say that the money was not forthcoming.
The end of all, so far as Brighton is concerned, was that a policeman was set upon the lady’s track, permanently, and he followed her as far as Patcham, where she turned round, and said, “You needn’t follow me any further, policeman. I shall not return to Brighton.”
Where did she come from? That is the question everybody asks. The police have asked it also of their oracles, and the answers are doubtful. A lady, answering the description, is held in tender remembrance of the gaoler at Cheltenham; and there is a rumour of a similar kind from Aberyswith, Wales, whence a Rev. gentleman (Mr. Hughes), is said to have transmitted the fair unfortunate to a lady in Brighton, whose sympathies have been stirred in favour of that class. The expected arrears, it would appear, never came to hand, and it may be that this is the source whence the heroine of our Sussex watering places, has dropped upon us like a Woman of the Moon!
— Sussex Express, Tuesday 29 November 1859 source