Lord Foxbridge Butts In

by Manners, Robert

  “If he doesn’t want you to know, I don’t think I should tell you,” he frowned thoughtfully, his morality rearing its Victorian head again.

  “I promise I won’t tell him I know,” I pleaded.

  “You’re not very good at keeping secrets, Foxy,” he pointed out.

  “I’m getting better at it,” in fact I was getting a little too good at it: it seemed my natural honesty was dying as fast as my natural curiosity grew, “If you don’t tell me, I’ll find out some other way. Even if I have to sleep with every Harrovian in England.”

  “You probably would, wouldn’t you?” he reached up and ruffled my hair like a little boy, making me laugh, “Alright, I’ll tell you: it’s because I was Raffles and he was My Bunny.”

  “Raffles? But they called you Twister.”

  “Only my closest friends knew me as Raffles. And only Bunny ever called me that as my name.”

  “Why Raffles?” I frowned.

  “Because I was Harrow’s foremost thief and prankster,” he said with a wonderful glow of pride. “I stole only from those the House had decided were blisters and excrescences, and perpetrated some of the most brilliant pranks ever played at a public school in the history of this green and pleasant isle. I was a young Raffles, and Bunny was my assistant, the only fag I could trust enough to help me in my work.”

  “That’s so sweet,” I thought it over, liking the story very much, “Though I always thought Raffles and Bunny were more than just friends. Did you and Bunny...?”

  “Affection only, you dirty-minded lecher. He was a little young for that sort of thing, and I was six years his senior.”

  “Piffle, I seduced a prefect in my first month at Eton.”

  “Well, you’re an exceptional case,” he smiled, nuzzling at my neck in a very distracting manner.

  “And I’m having a hard time squaring the Sergeant Paget of Scotland Yard I know with the Boy Raffles of Harrow.”

  “I think you’ll find that most policemen were scapegraces in youth. Nothing teaches you a respect for law and order than a youth spent circumventing it.”

  “I do promise to not tell anyone,” I kissed him to seal the promise, “Though I hope you won’t mind if I call you Raffles in private.”

  “You can call me anything you like in private, Mrs. Savarell.”

  “Beast!” I smacked him on the backside, which led to other, more interesting blows.

  The End

  Notes

  Hyacinth House’s location, 34 St James’s Street, is currently the Westminster Branch of Barclays Bank. I chose this spot for two reasons: first, because it’s halfway between White’s and Boodle’s, which along with Brooks’s are the oldest and most aristocratic clubs in London; second, because the Barclays building is about the same size as Hyacinth House (as I’ve planned it).

  I have not been able to determine what was actually there in 1927, as the maps I’ve found from the 20s don’t show buildings. The bomb maps I’ve found from the 40s indicate that there were a great many small commercial buildings, shops below and probably flats or rooms above. They were severely damaged by bombs during WWII and subsequently demolished; earlier maps from the 1870s show small buildings clustered around an oblong court in that spot, with a carriage entrance on St. James’s Street, which were apparently demolished when Jermyn Street was extended to connect with St. James’s Street. No mansion or club of the dimensions of Hyacinth House was ever there, at any rate. St. James’s Street was really a commercial street, there never were any great houses there, and all of the great clubs were purpose-built.

  Carfax Yard is purely fictional, as there were no houses on St. James’s for it to serve; Carfax Yard House, though, is based on the building that now backs onto 34 St. James’s Street: 21-24 Bury Street, where famed haberdashers Turnbull & Asser occupy the space I’ve assigned to Monsieur Alcide. As far as I can tell, it was more small buildings with yards, the same as St. James’s Street, before WWII.

  Our adventures in Soho were based on real places: all of the streets are as I described them (to the best of my ability, anyhow), though of course the actual businesses didn’t exist. Wardour Mews is really lined with tiny apartments, as well as a little pub in the middle; the Green Parrot on Dean Street is located (in my mind) on the site of the current Red Fort restaurant, chosen because it was about the right size and had once had an area (open space in front of the basement, below street level) in front, though it was subsequently filled in. Whether or not these locations looked as they do now back in 1927 is pure supposition, but old photographs from the area support the supposition.

  Buckland House in Knightsbridge is based on Rutland House, which was one of the stately villas that once stood along that thoroughfare. However, the Duke of Rutland did not retain his house on Knightsbridge, as the Duke of Buckland did; the spot is now occupied by two large apartment buildings on Knightsbridge flanking a street of townhouses called Rutland Gate.

  Lady Beatrice Todmore’s house is meant to be at 96 Park Lane, which is still standing, and is as far as I can tell still a private home. The Marquis’s row houses in Ilford also actually exist as described, though “Montrose Avenue” is fictional; the Hampton Hotel in Monmouth Street is based on what is now the Radisson Blu Edwardian, whose address is actually on Mercer Street. The Chicago Club in the Strand was pure invention, there was no such place.

  March Motors Ltd. is a disguise for the actual Car Mart Ltd., which once occupied 46-50 Park Lane...a building, oddly enough, currently occupied by another branch of Barclays Bank. Twister's address at 12B Craven Street doesn't exist, though 12 Craven Street does... it's a single quite attractive house with no secondary entrances (I inserted the B to suggest 221B Baker Street, just as I named Twister’s country seat ‘Holmesham Manor’).

  Everyplace else mentioned in the stories are real places, many of which are still standing, their businesses still operational.

  The lion’s share of the information on London locations was found at British History Online’s scanned editions of A Survey of London, forty-seven volumes detailing the architectural, social, and economic history of London’s boroughs and parishes, street by street. The volumes concerning the parishes of St. James and St. Margaret in Westminster, St. Anne’s Soho, and the former Grosvenor estate in Mayfair, contain so many gorgeous floor plans and architectural details, as well as the histories of the areas I’m writing about, that I don’t think I could have written this book without it.

  My other main source, of course, was Google, through which I found a great many secondary sources and images and maps online, including but by no means limited to The West End at War, a fascinating read, and Jazz Age Club, which is devoted to the nightlife of the 20s and has detailed descriptions of famous places in London; I have had a great deal of recourse to Wikipedia, as well.