Herbert and Maud Freeman

We have all known couples who should never have been together. A marriage doomed from the onset or two people who should never be seen in the same room together. This is such a story. It culminates in the extraordinary events of September 4th 1911 at Hanch north of Lichfield and near the present-day golf club but had been causing much more than ripples in southern Staffordshire before then.

Herbert Freeman, aged 46, was charged with attempting to kill his wife Maud, aged 33,. They had been living at Craddock's Yard, Wilcox's Entry, Tamworth Street, Lichfield and married on August 8th 1911. To show just how big a mistake this marriage was we need look no further than the wedding reception at the Windsor Castle Inn, Lichfield. The 'happy couple' had fought and fought so bitterly and loudly the landlord had been forced to send for the police who, having failed to quieten them, arrested and charged the couple to appear before the magistrates next day.

Next month things had not improved. They were out on Cannock Chase and called at the Roe Buck Inn, Wolseley Bridge. Here they met none other than Alfred Black, a dreyman from the Lichfield Brewery Ltd, who managed to be convinced how it would be a very good idea to give them a lift back to Lichfield on the back of his float. All seemd to be proceeding surprisingly well until they reached Handsacre when Maud reached out and felt inside Herbert's pocket. He claimed she was trying to rob him, although she claimed it had been a joke. Words were exchanged and then he pulled out a long-bladed knife, threatening to kill both his wife and the driver. Alfred was understandably alarmed but offered to take them to the nearby nursing home at Lichfield when she said she was hurt. They never got further than Hanch Hall, where both passengers alighted and Albert drove away.

Later the police and a doctor travelled to Hanch Hall. Here they found the Freemans lying in a pool of blood. Both had had their throats cut, he quiet dead but she unconscious. She was taken to Rugeley District Hospital where she regained consciousness and babbled incoherently for a while. Maud Shipley, as she had previously been known, was previously married to a workman for the local council until he met with an accident at Lichfield Isloation Hospital in 1910 and died at Birmingham Accident Hospital from the resulting injuries.

Herbert's daughter Alice said at the inquest her mother had died in December 1903. Her father had had no regular employment for the last twelve months but she thought him a good father who had fed and clothed his children well. Since the fight on their wedding night she had witnessed many quarrels. On the day in question the couple had taken the train from Lichfield Trent Valley to Hagley, he seeking employment in the track widening while she looking for a home at Hagley as they had been given notice to quit Wilcox's Entry. The inquest was adjourned at this point while further witnesses were summoned.

Reconvening on October 3rd, the court heard from dreyman Alfred Black. He spoke of how Herbert had knocked his wife to the floor of the float before throwing her from it. Maud had appeared hurt but Herbert said he would take of her and he left them. Soon after a car driver stopped when he saw two people fighting near Hanch Hall. Picking up the story he spoke of how he raised the alarm when he discovered the woman on the ground, he thinking her dead, with the man still alive and he went to Hanch Hall to call for help. When the police and doctor arrived they found Maud with two deep cuts to her neck and Herbert with one deep cut severing the windpipe and he clearly dead. Another witness, an employee at the hall, described how he saw the man strike the woman twice with an umbrella, words were exchanged and both were pushing the other in an aggressive manner.

When the police officer gave evidence he identified the knife found at the scene as that know to poachers as a rabbit-legger or a buck sticker. The doctor estimated the man had been dead for around 90 minutes, the woman found to have two deep cuts about three inches in length to the side of her neck. She also sported a black eye, finger-shaped bruises to her arms, and other bruising about her arms and legs. Examining the man he found fingernail scratches to his arms and face, a four-inch wound to the throat and deep enough to expose the back of the palate, his jugular was severed and eath would have occurred in a matter of seconds. Earlier signs of alcohol abuse was found at the post mortem along with an old injury which meant he was missing a finger and thumb from one hand.

Having recovered sufficiently to give evidence, Maud Freeman took to the witness stand. She told of how, on the afternoon of their marriage, he had tried to strangle her. Later he had pinned her to the sofa with a knife at her throat, not releasing her until someone tapped on the window pane. Sober he was a good man but with drink in him a changed person. On August 27th he had forced her upstairs and threatened to kill her, even sleeping with the open knife in his hand should she attempt to move. When drunk he was a jealous and violent individual, but when sober constantly complained of pain in his arms and head.

She confirmed how that last afternoon had seen them fight as others had described. Maud added how he had grabbed her around the neck with his left arm, he was too strong for her and she could not get away. Twice he pushed the knife to her throat before laying her down and kissing her forehead whereupon she passed out. When she came around she saw him lying three feet away from her on his right side and unaware of the knife on the ground beyond him. He was clutching his throat.

The jury retired and returned to deliver their verdict. They were in no doubt the location of the knife on the far side of Herbert's body from Maud, showed beyond reasonable doubt that he had committed suicide after attempting to murder his wife.

Haunted Worcestershire

With the interest shown in the excerpts from my other ghostly books I decided to pull this story from my Haunted Worcestershire. This was a particular favourite of mine and, even if you are unconvinced, it still makes for a good tale.

Hagley Hall is one of the loveliest stately homes in the land. Set in a varied and rolling landscape, new wonders are revealed at every turn. A delightful mix of flowerbeds, winding paths, woodland and water provided artists with inspirational views. Within the house itself more delights are found in every room. Architecture and decoration are among the finest in the land, the thousands of visitors each and every year are adequate testimony to the work done by the inhabitants since the Lyttelton's built the first house and laid out the original gardens.

The Lyttelton's have been around Worcestershire since the twelfth century and possibly longer. However our story starts on 30th January 1744 and the birth of Thomas, destined to be the second Lord Lyttelton. He was only in his third year when his mother died, his childhood overseen by a succession of tutors and distant family members. Reaching his adulthood he was a source of great displeasure to his father. He lived a wild life, given over to questionable conduct which, while not illegal, was not that befitting a man of his birth. However it was common among the young men of his age and he was by no means the worst of his generation. On the death of his father in 1773 the title passed to him, although his erratic behaviour in his early life led to him being more commonly referred to as 'The Bad Lyttelton' or even 'The Wicked Lyttelton'.

On his return from office in Ireland he was already suffering ill health, fits, headaches, and chronic indigestion which was more likely heart disease. His life was made bearable through medicines and regular bed rest, particularly following an attack. It was on one such occasion in 1779 that he retired early to bed on the night of November 24th. A servant brought him the medicine and left him when ordered to do so. Thomas was not alone for long when he was disturbed by the fluttering of wings within the room. He listened and heard footsteps approaching his bed whereupon he sat up and was stunned to see the loveliest woman he had ever seen alongside his bed. Clad all in white she had a small bird perched on her hand and she spoke to him. He was speechless as he heard her tell he was to prepare himself for death. When he enquired how long he had she replied by midnight on the third day.

Next morning his discomfort was evident and, over breakfast, he told his guests of the events of the previous night. He dismissed it as a dream, saying of how he had forgotten to release a robin trapped in the greenhouse a few days before which was clearly still playing on his mind. Any chance of convincing everyone else the matter was but a trivial one was made impossible by his evident stress and low spirits. Reports of two quite superb speeches in the House of Lords later that day suggested his mood was much improved. The second and third days also saw him in fine spirits, both in mind and body. Yet by the time they were seated for dinner the gloom was again descending.

His friends and colleagues, concerned that the woman in white's prophecy may lead to tragedy, contrived to get every clock and watch in the place put forward by thirty minutes. Thus when Lord Lyttelton retired at half past eleven, feeling drawn and exhausted, it was only eleven o'clock. As the appointed hour approached Lyttelton repeatedly checked watches to ensure they were still working. Eventually both watches read fifteen minutes after midnight and, confident that he was now safe, summoned his valet to bring him his medicine. From the next room the servant heard the unmistakeable sounds of laboured breathing, he returned to find the life ebbing from his master. Summoning help Lyttelton's cousins, including Lord Fortescue, ran to the bedside. They arrived just in time to see the death of Thomas Lyttelton at the moment the clocks all said half past twelve, in reality midnight - exactly as foretold by the ghost in white.

Meanwhile at that very same moment of his death Lyttelton appeared at the side of the bed of a Mr Andrews, one of his closest friends. Andrews thought it some sort of prank and rang for a servant to prepare a room immediately. By the time the servant arrived Andrews was alone. He dressed and organised a thorough search. However the only news of Thomas Lyttelton came in the form of a messenger, telling of the passing of the peer at the age of thirty-five.

It has been suggested that the woman in white was Lyttelton's mother. Yet although he could not have had any recollection of her as she died when he was very young, he would certainly have seen her portrait hanging around his home. Since that time there has not been any similar reports of hauntings at Hagley, so her identity remains a mystery.

I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.