Eliza Davis and Eliza Grimwood
Disclaimer: this article contains details which may be upsetting for some readers. Discretion is advised.
In this casefile, we're going to delve into two crimes which are thought to have been committed by the same culprit. Unfortunately, two young women - who each had a whole future ahead of them - would lose their lives to the murderer, who would disappear into the streets of London and would never face justice.
Eliza Davis
It was around 6am on the 9th May 1837 when barmaid Eliza Davis collected the keys to the front door of the King’s Arms pub in Frederick Street near Regents Park, London. This had been Eliza’s routine for the seven or eight years that she had worked for the establishment - the lack of regulations on the serving of alcohol in the 1800s meant that public houses could be open from the early hours of the morning, with patrons often waiting outside the door.
Eliza was born in 1815 in Wales but had moved to the capital of England upon the death of both of her parents during her early teenage years. Similarly to public house opening hours, few regulations existed around ages of employment or support for orphaned children, meaning that the only way for a parentless child to survive in the world was to find a job, leading to Eliza finding herself a role at the King’s Arms from the age of fifteen up until the morning in question, when she was twenty-one years old. She rented a room in the living quarters above the pub, with the landlord and some of the other employees also living above the establishment. This would have been a very common arrangement at the time, with additional space in such properties being put to full use and enabling the owners to make ends meet. It would have been exceptionally difficult for an orphaned young person like Eliza to have been able to afford a rental property of her own, especially on the wages of the time, and such arrangements enabled those in similar situations to have a roof over their heads.
Image 1: an artists depiction of the murder of Eliza Davies
Approximately twenty minutes after Eliza had opened the pub for the day, a passing mechanic decided to stop for an early morning pint of beer. He entered the bar and, finding it empty, leaned over the counter to check if anyone was perhaps crouched behind it, stocking shelves. To his horror, he found the floor to be smeared with blood and quickly shouted to raise the alarm.
In the living quarters above the bar, the pot-boy heard the commotion, threw on some clothes and started to run down the stairs. In the gloom of the unlit hallway, and in his hurry, he did not see the body of barmaid Eliza on the first-floor landing. He fell straight over the prone woman, hitting the floor beside her.
Although a series of inventors had been working on developing new forms of lighting, electric household lighting would not become commonplace for several decades, meaning that someone had to be sent to obtain an oil lamp to light the hallway. This, unfortunately, would illuminate the sight of a blood-covered Eliza with a gash to her throat which was so deep that it had severed her windpipe.
The police and local doctors were contacted immediately - I imagine that someone was sent to raise the alarm, as telephones would not be invented for several decades. Sergeant Moody and Sergeant Gladman arrived at the property and assisted in carrying Eliza’s body into one of the rooms on the first floor, with lighting from the windows allowing for a better look at the body. Dr Swaine and Dr Johnson subsequently arrived and declared Eliza to be deceased, although they did note that her body was still warm, indicating that her death had occurred very recently.
Police examination of the premises found a bloody kitchen knife in addition to the pool of blood behind the bar. The bar counter was also spattered, with a trail of the deep red liquid leading to the first floor landing where Eliza’s body had been discovered. The police began to suspect that Eliza had been attacked at the bar - possibly whilst her back was turned - and that she had survived long enough to reach the first-floor landing whilst desperately searching for help. Any chance of her death being a result of suicide was immediately ruled out.
A search of Eliza’s room found that she had a considerable amount of money in a storage trunk, hidden beneath her clothes, in addition to money she had stored in the bank. Burglary was therefore ruled out as a motive, but it did start rumours that Eliza had perhaps been topping up her barmaid’s wage by working as a prostitute – something that was unconfirmed throughout the investigation, and unfounded.
The pub landlord, Mr Wadley, gave the police a description of a patron who was in the habit of coming to the pub each day at opening time. Some of the reports published in the newspapers over subsequent days would argue whether this suspect was foreign, with a French accent, or a local resident, casting doubt as to who the police and the public should be looking for. Mr Wadley was unable to identify a suspect or anyone of a good likeness when presented with an identity line-up by police.
Image 2: an artists depiction of the murder of Eliza Davies, printed in an article relating to the death of Eliza Grimwood
On Friday 2nd June 1837, a large crowd gathered in front of the local police station following reports of a suspect being held in custody on suspicion of the murder of Eliza Davis. At the time, police stations did not always house prisoners overnight and they were therefore kept in holding cells in a separate building before being transferred to the police station the next morning – a fact that was well known by the local residents. All streets and side alleys around the police station were packed by 11am, with onlookers desperate to catch a glimpse of the suspected killer. Police were sent out into the streets to clear a path for the prisoner to be escorted through, with two different pathways being formed in an attempt to distract the crowd. Noblemen and gentlemen from the higher class of society were permitted to enter the police station to wait for a glimpse of the suspect.
The previous night, PC John Mitchell had been patrolling Commercial Road when he was approached by William Rhynd, a naval seaman who had recently returned to shore.
William Rhynd had asked PC Mitchell if he was aware of the recent slaying of Eliza Davis, to which the constable replied that he was. Rhynd informed the officer that he was guilty of committing the murder, and said that he had been unable to come to terms with his actions. PC Mitchell immediately took the man into custody, checking him into the station before moving him to the station house cells for overnight security.
However, less than an hour after being locked into a cell with two other men, William Rhynd lapsed into a violent fit which would persist for over two hours. The fit was so aggressive that five policemen had to be called in to restrain the prisoner so that he could be reviewed by a police surgeon. The examining doctor quickly became concerned that the seizure could prove to be fatal. However, William Rhynd regained consciousness and, when lucid, asked the officers present why he was in a police cell. He denied any memory of confessing to the murder of Eliza Davis – indeed, he reported having no knowledge of of her death.
He was questioned carefully at the police station the next day, having been walked past the crowds of people lining the surrounding streets. During the interview, he explained that - until recently - he had been away at sea working in the East India Company’s service. It was whilst on board that he experienced his first fit, resulting in him being removed from active duty and confined below deck for the remaining six months of the tour, with the boat due to dock on 25th April 1837.
Rhynd confirmed that he had been drinking a little the previous day, but had no idea what would cause him to make such a drastic confession. From the perspective of police, they did not feel that Rhynd resembled the description given of the suspect by the pub landlord, and they considered Rhynd to perhaps be physically and mentally weakened from his experiences over the past year - so much so that he had falsely confessed to Eliza's murder. He was released without charge.
Over the next few months, a man by the name of Charles Taylor - who had been a frequent patron of the skittle alley attached to the King’s Arms pub - was taken into custody. One of his drinking acquaintances had approached the police and reported that Taylor had told several of the regulars that he knew the identity of the killer. The drinking acquaintance reported being told by Taylor that he had attended the bar with the murderer at 6am on 9th May to play skittles for a pint. The murderer had told Taylor that he held a grudge against the barmaid over her reportedly serving him small shot measures, and had told Taylor that he would ‘do for her’. The murderer had gone up to the bar on the morning in question and had asked Eliza to pour a pint of ale, and then asked for a knife and a lemon. When she passed these over, he deliberately dropped the lemon on the floor behind the counter and waited for Eliza to stoop to pick it up before he grabbed her by the hair, pulled her head back and cut her throat.
When questioned by police, Taylor confirmed that he was a regular at the King’s Arms, mainly making use of the skittle alley. However, he reported that he had been at home on the day that the murder was committed. His story to the police was that he had still been in bed during the morning when his mother had arrived home from running errands and informed him that a murder had occurred in the area. Taylor told the police that he had dressed immediately and gone to the pub, where the lax security around the crime scene meant that he was able to enter the pub and see Eliza’s body. He told the police that this had been at 9:30am, and that a considerable crowd had gathered outside the pub by that time, as the news had already spread throughout the community.
Police confirmed the statement of Mr Sanderson, the acquaintance who had made the report to police. Mr Sanderson confirmed that Taylor’s current account differed greatly from the one he had told the pub regulars. Charles Taylor was felt to be giving false accounts to the police - possibly for attention - and was not charged in relation to the crime. This seems a little surprising - after all, the account which Taylor had given to his drinking acquaintances seemed to closely match a number of the facts which police had established during the investigation. How would he know this information without awareness of the crime itself? Or was this information so well known by the public that it was easy for stories to be concocted by uninvolved parties?
The description given to the police by the pub landlord did not bring any further leads, and the murder of Eliza Davis, the 21-year-old barmaid who was just working to make a living, dropped lower down the list of police priorities as time went on.
That was until just over a year later, when another brutal murder would bring the death of Eliza Davis back into focus and renew the hope that her killer might be caught.
Eliza Grimwood
Eliza Grimwood was born in 1811, and by 1838 at the age of 27 was living at number 12 Wellington Terrace, near Waterloo Road in London. She shared the property with her long-term partner, William Hubbard, commercial traveller William Best, friend Mary Glover, and Eliza’s housekeeper, Mary Fisher.
Eliza Grimwood was a well-known prostitute, but maintained her rank in the higher class of escorts in the 1800s. She had a reputation for being well-presented, and generally donned fine, elegant clothing. She generally worked in the area of the original Strand Theatre, a popular leisure venue for upper class businessmen and gentlemen of the time (not to be confused with the new Strand Theatre, which was built during the next century). This enabled her to mingle with members of society's upper class, with clients in this category likely paying very well for her time.
On the night of 27th May 1938, Eliza left her home in Wellington Terrace and headed, as usual, for the theatre to join the other higher class, beautiful escorts who searched for customers in the area. Eliza was quickly approached by a smartly dressed man who spoke excellent English with a notable French accent. After leaving the theatre during the late evening, the pair took a taxi across Waterloo Bridge to Eliza’s home. The cab driver would later be questioned by police, but had little to tell them other that Eliza and her acquaintance laughed and joked together, and, by appearances, seemed to be good friends.
When the pair arrived at Wellington Terrace just before midnight, Eliza knocked on the door and entry was granted by the house servant, Mary Fisher. Mary would later note to the police that Eliza’s companion turned his head away as he passed the housekeeper in the corridor, keeping to the lower light of the corridor, although she thought nothing of this at the time. Eliza told Mary that nothing else was needed from her, and she was able to retire to bed after locking the door whilst Eliza headed to her private room with her companion. She entertained her guests in a different room to the area where her long-term partner, William Hubbard, slept. From the time that she disappeared into her room, she would not be seen again until the next morning when Hubbard entered her quarters at 6am to find a horrific scene.
Image 3: an artists depiction of Eliza Grimwood's cab journey home.
Eliza was found with her throat cut and her abdomen mutilated, clearly beyond help and long since deceased in something that the papers would refer to as ‘the Waterloo Horror’. Police were called, with Inspector Charles Frederick Field quickly being able to trace the cab driver who had returned Eliza home the night before and obtaining a description of her companion, although this led to no immediate leads. The coroner gave his opinion that a weapon similar to a Spanish switchblade was used to commit the crime, but nothing matching this description was located in the property.
On examination of the room, a purse containing gold guineas was reported to be missing from the scene, but Eliza’s jewellery had been left untouched and eight shillings was readily visible – thought to be payment from the visitor the night before. This put police in doubt about the guest being the one to have killed Eliza – why leave payment if you had no intention of leaving the recipient of the money alive?
Likely due to her profession, the police were already familiar with Eliza, and quietly referred to her within their ranks as ‘the Countess’ due to her well-dressed and upright appearance. But the police were also well-acquainted with William Hubbard, who had a history of violence with his former wife, whom he had divorced some twelve years earlier. He was known to be a bully who lived solely off the income of his partner, and had a jealous nature, reportedly resenting Eliza’s customers - especially her regulars - many of whom were of the wealthy upper-class society. One of her frequent customers, William Osborne, had been planning to take Eliza to Epsom races in the coming weeks. When Hubbard had heard of this plan, he had strictly forbidden Eliza from attending, only for Eliza to reply that she had every intention of going with Osborne, regardless of Hubbard’s opinion.
As a part of the course of the investigation, and probably because of Hubbard’s reputation, police turned their attention to him and his movements that morning. His clothing was closely examined, with only a small amount of blood being found on his trousers which was thought to have transferred as he ran from Eliza’s room after finding her body. Each of the shirts he owned were checked (the scene being so gruesome that the police knew any perpetrator would have been covered in blood) but none was found. Despite this, Hubbard would find himself questioned in police custody after an anonymous letter was received by the police in the days following the murder. The letter reported to be from Eliza’s acquaintance that evening and stated that during the night, Hubbard had come into Eliza’s quarters and become enraged with her client, resulting in the guest being physically thrown from the property. Although Hubbard was thoroughly questioned in custody, no charge would be made against him and he was released soon after. It isn’t clear whether this letter was confirmed as being genuine, or if it was found to be a hoax.
Once the crime scene was fully reviewed and cleared by police, Eliza’s brothers set about advertising an auction for her belongings by putting up posters in the local area. The posters garnered an enormous amount of attention, and a rush of customers attended the property – mainly to observe the blood which still coated the floor and furniture. Multiple bids were placed for heavily blood-soaked items such as Eliza’s chair, sofa and bed – a reflection of the open fascination that the British public had with murder at the time. Information was much more difficult to access in the 1800s than it is today, leading to crime scenes and police stations attracting streams of people trying to catch a glimpse of something scandalous.
Eliza’s furniture sold for £64 and her jewellery for £80, making a total sale price of £144 which equates to £13,158.31 in todays money. To put this into context, a nice house in a sought-after area of a city in the 1800s could cost around £300. The fascination with the crime and the flock of onlookers to the property likely contributed to Eliza’s family receiving a hefty sum for the deceased woman’s property.
Fascination with the death of Eliza Grimwood wasn’t limited to the local area of London, either. Inspector Field would reportedly discuss the crime in great depth with his close friend, Charles Dickens, who used the murder to inspire the death of Nancy in his much-loved book, Oliver Twist.
Little progress would be made in finding Eliza’s murderer. Her case would be linked to that of Eliza Davis when, in 1840, Swiss valet Francois Benjamin Courvoisier, who was awaiting execution in Newgate for the murder of his employer, Lord William Russell, told his uncle that he wanted to confess to the murders of the two women. His uncle implored Courvoisier not to tell the police, although his reasons for this were unclear, as his nephew was already sentenced to death - it was too late, by that stage, to think about protecting his nephews reputation. In addition to the murder of his employer, Courvoisier was also linked to the death of a clockmaker named Robert Westwood in 1839, but he was not convicted of this crime at the time of his execution.
Courvoisier matches some of the descriptions provided to the police in both Eliza Davis and Eliza Grimwood’s cases, with his height and build being similar to the culprit, and his French-Swiss accent may easily have given cause for the witnesses to report that the culprit in both cases was French. However, he heeded his uncles advice and did not make his confession to the police. He was executed for the only murder he had been charged with on 6th July 1840, meaning that any confession he wanted to make died with him - if he was responsible for the murders of the two women, there would be no chance of the police obtain further details or a conviction.
Both cases remained quiet until 1845, when a soldier named George Hill came forward to confess to the murder of Eliza Grimwood. However, police quickly ascertained that this was a ploy to escape his military service and he was ruled out as a suspect.
After 1845, both murders were filed on the cold case shelf to be confined to history. In the aftermath of Eliza Grimwood’s death, her partner William Hubbard never returned to the property he had shared with her. Number 12 Wellington Terrace remained empty until 1843, despite the landlord reducing rent by a large margin to appeal to prospective tenants. In 1844, the address of the property was changed from 12 Wellington Terrace to 27 Waterloo road, where it would be occupied over the years by a variety of respectable tradesmen. Today, nothing remains of the line of terraced houses which used to be called Wellington Terrace.
Similarly, the deaths of both women disappeared into history and remain cold cases which are unlikely, after all this time, to ever find a conclusion.
References for text:
Eliza Davis (1815-1837) - Find a Grave Memorial
Eliza Grimwood (1811-1838) - Find a Grave Memorial
Unsolved Murder of Eliza Davis
Thames Police. | Morning Herald (London) | Friday 02 June 1837 | British Newspaper Archive
South London Memories: Tales of haunting by the victim of grizzly murder – South London News
Credit for images:
Image 1: artists depiction of Eliza Davies' murder Horrid Murder of the Bar-Maid of the King's Arms wine-vaults, Brooke-street, Frederick-street Hampstead Road | London Museum
Image 2: qrtists depiction of Eliza Davies' murder The unsolved murder of a high-class prostitute that inspired a Charles Dickens character may have been cracked - Mirror Online
Image 3: artists depiction of Eliza Grimwood's cab journey home South London Memories: Tales of haunting by the victim of grizzly murder – South London News (drawing from ‘Famous Crimes Past and Present’)
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