The Forgotten Children

by Anita Davison

  ‘Oh, he won’t mind.’ Milly snapped a baby vest and folded it against her chest. ‘He likes seeing you.’

  Flora looked up sharply, her gaze on Milly’s turned back as the nurse placed the clothes in a drawer. Had Sally’s plight engendered such unexpected kindness? If so, she hoped it would last.

  Downstairs in the dining room, no aromas of breakfast were evident, other than the trail of steam that rose from the coffee cup on the table at Bunny’s side.

  ‘I told Stokes not to serve breakfast in case we had to go to the police station,’ Bunny explained when he saw her look. ‘There’s coffee, though.’

  ‘That’s enough for me, I’m too worried to eat.’ She approached the coffee pot set over a paraffin flame on its stand. ‘What did Maddox say? Are they going to search for Sally?’

  ‘Actually, he was remarkably helpful. He’s going to liaise with the River Police to organize a search of the SS Lancett before it sails tonight.’ Bunny pushed back his chair and began pacing the room, cup in hand.

  ‘That’s something, at least.’ Flora relaxed her shoulders as the tension of her difficult night flowed out of her. ‘Waiting is so frustrating. What did he say about the Salvation Army man and Sally?’

  ‘Ah.’ Bunny pinched the top of his nose above the bridge of his spectacles. ‘That was the less successful part of our conversation. He seemed to think Sally must have misunderstood the situation in the Lamb and Flag. I got the impression he’s an admirer of that organization and, in his opinion, they’re above reproach.’

  ‘Probably a Quaker,’ Flora murmured to herself as she set down the coffee pot with a thud. ‘You said yourself Sally isn’t stupid. If she was wrong and the man really was genuine, where is she?’

  ‘Which is exactly what I told Maddox. Finally, he conceded I had a point, and will make enquiries. However he also said there are a large number of missions in London and tracking down one man in uniform will not be easy. He has asked to be informed if Sally returns on her own.’

  ‘She would be here by now if that were possible.’ Flora sloshed milk clumsily into the coffee. ‘I’ll wager she’s on this ship, the—’

  ‘The SS Lancett.’

  ‘Why can’t I remember that name?’ She flapped her free hand in agitation and took the chair opposite him at the dining table.

  ‘Flora,’ Bunny’s tone dropped to one of conciliation. ‘I know you’re upset, but I might as well tell you what else Maddox said.’

  ‘Go on.’ She stirred her coffee slowly, her eyes fixed on his face, aware she wasn’t going to like what came next.

  ‘He agreed to pay a discreet visit to Mr Buchanan this morning. He’s not entirely convinced a man of his standing could be involved in anything… untoward.’

  ‘Discreet?’ She snorted at Bunny’s benign look. ‘Buchanan should count himself fortunate he isn’t being arrested. That man has some explaining to do.’

  ‘Maddox is being cautious, Flora. He cannot demand an interview or expect Buchanan’s co-operation without first referring to his superior officer.’

  ‘How long will that take?’ Frustrated, Flora’s voice rose. ‘Buchanan could be selling children? Has Maddox told his superior that?’

  ‘Calm down, Flora. There are still several hours before the SS Lancett is due to leave. We’re going to have to be patient and trust Maddox knows what he’s doing.’

  ‘I don’t suppose I have much choice.’ She took a gulp from her cup, wincing when it burned the roof of her mouth. ‘I feel I ought to call on Alice at her lodgings this morning. She’ll want to know about Sally.’

  ‘I’ll come with you. But before we do that,’ Bunny rose, took the cup and saucer gently from her hands and returned it to the table, ‘I’m going to take you out to breakfast. No, don’t argue. You need your strength to catch dangerous villains.’

  ‘That’s not funny,’ she snapped, though at the same time his concerned smile sent a ripple of warmth through her. He was only being Bunny. Worried, protective and loving all at the same time but without being patronizing. How many women enjoyed those qualities in a husband? At times she even suspected he admired her determination not to let killers and spies go unpunished, or he wouldn’t be so willing to jump in and help her. ‘All right,’ she agreed, though the thought of food still nauseated her.

  ‘To be honest, sitting round here waiting for news is making me restless,’ Bunny said as he guided her into the hall. ‘I didn’t like to mention it before so as not to upset you further, but I’m rather fond of Sally, and her extended absence is a worry.’ He unhooked her coat from the stand and held it out for her while waving in dismissal to Stokes, who had appeared like a ghost to perform his front door duty.

  ‘That doesn’t upset me. In fact I’m glad you feel that way.’

  ‘Has it occurred to you this ship might not be one of Mr Buchanan’s?’ Bunny asked, shrugging into his own overcoat. ‘Even if it is, have you considered that your Miss Finch might know more about this matter than she admits to?’

  ‘I don’t believe that for a moment.’ Flora concentrated on fastening the buttons of her coat, mainly to avoid having to look at him. ‘Alice tried to get the police involved, but they refused to do anything. Which is why she asked for my help.’

  ‘That’s the story she gave you. Have you thought that she might have had her own reasons for involving you?’

  ‘To what purpose?’ Flora put on her hat in front of the hall mirror, staring back at his reflection in the glass from beneath her hat brim. ‘No, you’re wrong. I know you are,’ she snapped, though the surge of anger receded quickly. Bunny was simply being cautious, not accusing.

  ‘Which is exactly why I feel you’re too involved. In a case such as this, everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise.’ He lowered his voice to a whisper as Stokes, unwilling to be robbed of another of his duties, rushed forward to open the front door. ‘No exceptions because one of them might be your mother.’

  Flora pouted, but had no answer to that. Bunny could be so equitable at times.

  Out on the front step, the crisp morning air stung her cheeks and the smell of burning leaves filled her nostrils, evoking afternoons of heavy skies and bonfires in the Gloucestershire countryside.

  ‘I do hope Sally’s all right, wherever she is.’ Flora pulled on her gloves. ‘I should never have involved her. She has no idea how serious this could become and takes unnecessary risks.’

  ‘Really? I wonder who she learned that from?’ Bunny cast her a sideways look. ‘Don’t blame yourself, Sally makes her own decisions. It also strikes me that that collection box bandied about last night was evidently a drop.’ At Flora’s puzzled frown, he explained, ‘A drop is a method of exchanging secret messages.’

  ‘You see what you’ve learned by being married to me?’ Flora tucked her arm through his, her shoulders hunched as she leaned into him.

  ‘Some of which I could have lived without,’ he murmured as they reached the corner of Belgrave Place where they were more likely to find a passing hansom. ‘Didn’t the barman at The Antigallican say he was unable to find out who Lizzy was talking to due to a disturbance in the bar?’

  Flora cast her mind back to her conversation with Sally. ‘He said the Salvation Army arrived and he had to deal with a disturbance so he didn’t see the woman who argued with Lizzie.’

  ‘Could it have been the same couple who met with Mr Buchanan last night?’

  ‘The barman didn’t say anything about the woman being part of the army. In fact, he said he didn’t even see her, only that he heard her and Lizzie arguing.’

  ‘Which doesn’t discount my theory.’ Bunny paused at the kerb, placed a thumb and finger between his lips and issued a piercing whistle. An idling hansom driver parked on the other side of the road touched the peak of his cap to show he understood. He flicked the thong of his whip, turned the cab around in the middle of the empty street and guided the horse to a halt beside them. ‘It might all be conjecture, but I have an idea a
bout this Salvation Army theory.’ Bunny handed her into the cramped interior of the cab that smelled of saddle wax and damp wood. He slid in beside her just as the driver closed the wooden flaps over their knees with a dull thump.

  ‘You’re being unusually mysterious. What sort of idea?’

  ‘All in good time.’ He opened the trap above their heads. ‘Claridge’s Hotel, if you please, driver.’

  Chapter 21

  ‘Are you sure this is the correct house?’ Bunny stared at the double black-painted doors with gleaming brass furniture of the Georgian mansion on Birdcage Walk. Reclining stone lions sat atop a pair of gateposts that flanked a wide carriage drive. ‘It doesn’t look much like a lodging house to me.’

  ‘Me either, but I’m sure this is the address Alice gave me. Of course it’s possible I wrote it down wrong.’ Flora bit her lower lip and cast a worried look back to the panoramic view of St James’ Park behind them. ‘Maybe we could leave before anyone knows we’re here?’

  ‘It’s too late now, I’ve pushed the bell.’ Bunny sniffed. ‘And it’s been a considerable time since I’ve played knock down ginger.’

  The left-hand door opened with a click, revealing a butler in a black coat and striped trousers who scrutinized them both. ‘May I help you, sir? madam? Though I should inform you that my master is not at home, but if you would care to state your business with Mr Buchanan, I shall—’

  ‘Mr Buchanan lives here? Mr Raymond Buchanan?’ Flora blurted before she could stop herself.

  ‘Indeed,’ the man drawled, his curious expression changing instantly to boredom. As if he had no time for unexpected callers.

  ‘Who is it, Fielding?’ A familiar voice interrupted from behind him.

  The butler continued to block the door, his head turned to address the unseen the figure. ‘Visitors, madam. They wish to see the master without prior arrangement.’ His tone implied it was a minor inconvenience he was capable of handling. He made to close the door.

  Alice appeared in the gap between the double doors, forcing the butler to step back. ‘It’s perfectly all right, Fielding, these are friends of mine. Please let them in.’

  Flora gaped and exchanged a shocked look with Bunny, whose eyes widened but neither spoke.

  ‘If you say so, madam.’ With obvious reluctance, the butler stood aside, allowing Flora and Bunny into a marble hall large enough to encompass the entire ground floor at Eaton Place. In front of them, a grand staircase split to either side at the top and veered off in opposite directions along a long gallery on the level above them. Gilt mirrors graced the walls, reflecting light from crystal chandeliers on a ceiling twelve feet high.

  Flora’s upbringing in the opulence of Cleeve Abbey had not made her immune to the tangible evidence of wealth at every turn. Not just the impulsive expense made amongst gaudy items offered in the London department stores, but the ancient and polished affluence of generations handed down with pride displayed on every wall and polished surface.

  ‘I’m delighted to see you both, and how unexpected.’ Alice pressed each of their hands in turn, giving Flora the impression she would have embraced them had their acquaintance been longer. Her slate blue dress brought out her eyes; her hair, similar to Flora’s own in thickness and texture but several shades lighter, was piled in soft curls atop her head accentuating her delicate neck.

  ‘You live here?’ Flora said once they were out of earshot of the butler. ‘That man said this was Mr Buchanan’s house?’

  ‘Come along inside and I’ll explain.’ Alice led them down a hall to where a glazed door opened onto an orangery that stretched across the back of the house. The ornate metal frame of leaf green with glass walls looked onto a walled garden, its pathways, statuary and mature trees redolent of a country estate.

  ‘This is certainly unexpected.’ Bunny’s eyes widened behind his spectacles. ‘What a magnificent house.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Alice gestured for them to make themselves comfortable in the arrangement of four wickerwork chairs with peacock backs. ‘St James’ Palace is next door. I believe that during the late fifteen hundreds, the first King James kept aviaries of exotic birds in this very spot, thus the name Birdcage Walk. I believe there were camels, crocodiles, and an elephant too, together with a flower garden.’ She took a chair opposite, the wide circular wickerwork providing a frame to her head. ‘Might I offer you both some refreshment?’

  ‘Ah, no thank you,’ Flora replied, including Bunny in her refusal. ‘We have just had breakfast.’ She almost regretted the fact. The idea of drinking coffee beneath an ancient vine that wound round the ornate wrought iron supports above their heads appealed.

  ‘I can see you are both shocked,’ Alice paused to allow her words to sink in, her hands folded in her lap. ‘I feel I owe you an explanation.’

  ‘You owe us nothing, Miss Finch.’ Bunny flicked up the back of his coat and sat. ‘It is we who should apologize, having no idea you and Mr Buchanan were… um—’ He broke off, flushed a deep red and coughed into a fist. ‘I mean to say we—’

  Flora concealed a smile behind a gloved hand at this change of roles, when in most cases it was her runaway tongue which caused them embarrassment. ‘Suffice it to say we are both intrigued,’ she said, hoping to save his blushes. Her conviction that Alice Finch was her mother took another dip. Lily Maguire had been a rector’s daughter and therefore unlikely to move in the circles the Buchanan’s occupied.

  ‘Naturally, though I wish you to know I am not Mr Buchanan’s mistress.’

  ‘Oh, but we didn’t think—’ Bunny said.

  ‘We would never assume—’ Flora added.

  ‘I wouldn’t blame you if you did.’ Alice cut them both off with another, rich, deep laugh. ‘Our domestic arrangements appear unconventional to most people. Not those who know us, of course, but to the world at large we are an odd pair. Our only redemption comes from Mr Buchanan’s well know devotion to his late wife makes him above reproach.’

  ‘Have you been acquainted long?’ Flora offered a weak smile. How could they imply Mr Buchanan might be involved in child trafficking after such an endorsement? The police were also notorious for believing vast wealth bestowed respectability.

  ‘I’ve known Raymond and his wife for many years.’ Alice leaned forward slightly as if conveying a confidence. ‘When Mary died five years ago, Raymond was lost. He couldn’t contemplate leaving the home where they had spent their married life and raised their children, but the house is too vast for him alone. At his request, I moved in, but it’s quite respectable. I occupy a separate suite of rooms on the top floor with my own front door. It’s an arrangement which suits us both.’

  ‘Is Mr Buchanan at home this morning by any chance?’ Bunny asked.

  ‘Actually, I’m not sure.’ Alice stared round as if puzzled he had not joined them. ‘I haven’t seen him since yesterday. We had planned to attend a lecture on bronchial diseases this evening, but when I came down for breakfast this morning he had already gone out. He left me a note saying he couldn’t attend the lecture after all, but there was no further explanation. It’s most unlike him.’

  ‘Has his behaviour been unusual in any way recently?’ Bunny asked. ‘Perhaps he is distracted, or has changed his regular habits?’

  ‘Now you mention it, I believe he has.’ Alice fiddled with the clasp of a delicate silver bracelet on her left wrist. ‘I thought it was because of Isobel Lomax’s disappearance. She hasn’t been found yet and it’s most worrying.’

  ‘How exactly has his behaviour changed?’ Bunny asked.

  ‘Forget the enigmatic questions, Bunny.’ Flora became restless with this careful dance he insisted upon. ‘Just tell Alice what we came to say.’

  Alice straightened in her chair and split a slow look between them. ‘I assume then that this is not simply a social call?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’ Bunny cleared his throat. ‘Mr Buchanan attended a concert at the Bechstein Hall last evening.’

  ‘To hear
Mr Schnabel play?’ Alice’s blue-green eyes sparkled with interest. ‘Yes, that’s correct. How did you know?’ She caught the hard edge of Bunny’s smile and paused. ‘I gather your mentioning it isn’t a coincidence?’

  ‘No.’ Bunny cleared his throat. ‘He missed part of the performance because he relocated to the Lamb and Flag where he was given a note about a certain ship.’

  ‘Which ship?’ The hand Alice brought to her throat trembled slightly.

  ‘The SS Lancett.’

  ‘I see.’ Alice swallowed. ‘I shan’t ask how this note fell into your possession.’ Her steady gaze contained no malice. ‘How can I help?’

  ‘The person who observed this exchange was my maid, and she has since gone missing,’ Flora said.

  ‘Should I ask what your maid was doing?’ Alice’s eyes darkened. ‘No of course not, she was spying on Mr Buchanan.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say spying, rather—’

  ‘Yes, that’s exactly what she was doing,’ Flora cut across him. ‘We asked her to do it, but she hasn’t been seen since last night. We’re becoming quite concerned as it’s not like her.’

  ‘I’m very sorry to hear that. But then if she is missing, how did you know she was following Mr Buchanan? And do you think he had something to do with it?’

  ‘Not with Sally’s disappearance,’ Bunny said. ‘Not directly. She followed the man Mr Buchanan went to meet and her companion reported she has yet to return.’

  Flora relaxed slightly, hoping that he too believed Alice was an innocent party in this affair. Either that, or he was waiting for her to fall into a trap of some sort yet to be revealed.

  ‘There’s something else, Alice,’ Flora said carefully. ‘You’ll remember that I told you Lizzie had an argument at The Antigallican, the night before she died, with someone who might have been with a Salvation Army man. Well Mr Buchanan talked to a Salvation Army officer in the Lamb and Flag last night.’