James Badger and the 'mad' heiress

A Victorian policeman turned private detective took advantage of a reclusive heiress, but got his just desserts when he was made bankrupt

This week's article looks at a particularly unscrupulous private detective, one who used his former job as a policeman to take advantage of a vulnerable elderly woman.

The case starts with a woman named Mary Ann Jones. She was born in 1807 in Dover, but spent most of her life in Battersea. From at least 1841, she was living with a barrister named Thomas Stirling, and claimed to be his housekeeper - but given that she frequently referred to herself as 'Mrs Stirling', she was more likely to have been his lover; certainly, one English Heritage document refers to her as Stirling’s ‘working-class mistress, Mary Jones’ (although it also dismisses Stirling himself as ‘a minor writer on economic and social policy’). When Thomas died in 1864, he left his estate to her, which included Grove House - the Battersea house where they had both lived. Mary Ann continued to live there after his death.

Mary Ann Jones lived in Battersea for decades; it’s where James Badger inveigled himself into her life

She then allegedly started a relationship with Mr Miller, the vicar of Battersea Old Church. The middle-aged couple became engaged, but on the morning of their wedding, in 1877, Miller dropped down dead.* The shock seems to have sent Mary Ann into a spiral of despair, leading to something of a mental breakdown. She became a recluse, living in the basement of Grove House and refusing to see anyone. Eventually, the police became aware of this vulnerable woman, and started to visit the house regularly in order to protect her.

Sadly, one of the policemen sent to protect her was James Badger. He realised that Mary Ann was a woman of means, and sought her friendship. In 1879, he resigned from the Metropolitan Police, after seven years' service, and moved himself into Grove House in order to become her formal protector. He ensured that her family - she had siblings and certainly at least one niece - did not see her, and even moved her away from Battersea without their knowledge.

Over the next few years, Badger moved around the south-east, accompanied by the eccentric Mary Ann Jones. They must have been quite a sight; Mary Ann, 40 years Badger's senior, wandering around with long, matted hair that was said to be nit-ridden, her toenails so overgrown that they started growing into other toes, making it painful for her to walk. She was emaciated, and dressed erratically, fastening her upside-down petticoats with rope, and wearing a towel as a scarf. Sometimes she wouldn't get out of bed for weeks, or even months.

While she was bed-bound, James Badger was happily spending her money, demanding cheques from her that she was unable to refuse. He set himself up in various businesses, including at least two spells as a pub landlord, and one as a poulterer. They lived in Kensington, elsewhere in Battersea, in Folkestone and Canterbury. Badger started buying and racing greyhounds, acting as a man of leisure.

Eventually, one of Mary Ann's brothers tracked them down, and after being refused several times, he managed to see his sister. He was shocked at her state. She was babbling: she was going to a ball given by the Duke of Northumberland; she thought the Crimean War was still ongoing; she needed to marry James Badger immediately, or else she would marry Lord Neville. Her brother immediately started proceedings to declare his sister a lunatic, and to get her money back from Badger.

As a result of this affair, Badger was declared bankrupt and sent to Holloway prison in August 1890; he would spend over a year there. In 1893, Mary Ann died, and although she left the bulk of her estate to Badger, he had already spent most of it -  she had had nearly £20,000 when she met him, but when she died, she left effects of under £20.

The probate entry for Mary Ann Jones, showing that probate was granted to the unscrupulous Badger (Probate Service/Ancestry)

Badger, ever resourceful, came out of prison and reinvented himself as a private detective. His debts continued to follow him around, however, and there are news articles about his bankruptcy and its after-effects covering at least five years. Even when he established himself as a private eye, he managed to get himself into more trouble.

He borrowed money from another man who he wanted to be a sleeping partner in his agency; he wanted to employ a number of clerks for his business, but made them pay a 'security' in order for him to give them a job. He was soon back in the police court, charged with taking money from his 'sleeping partner' having failed to tell them that he was an undischarged bankrupt.

By 1901, Badger was living in Lambeth, claiming to be a commission agent (a job which some private detectives used when asked) and with a lodger - a labourer - to help pay the bills. He then slid into oblivion in the workhouse, having caused financial problems for many people over the years, and being indirectly responsible for the ruin and death of the woman he was supposed to protect.

* It’s not quite clear if this story is apocryphal or not, as the vicar of St Mary’s - known as Battersea Old Church - throughout the 1870s was not a Mr Miller, but the Reverend Canon John Erskine Clarke. The only death I can find that is related is that of a Battersea vestryman, John Hext Ward, in December that year, but he was married with children... and not a vicar.