In the Lion's Den

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  ‘Oh! So soon?’

  ‘Yes, but I hope to see you before I leave.’

  ‘So do I, my sweet girl.’ He looked into her face, and with a faint smile he asked, ‘How long will you be gone?’

  ‘Oh not long at all, I shall take my aunt there, get her settled, and then return to London.’

  ‘You can’t travel back alone, that’s not safe. It’s quite a journey.’

  ‘Oh yes, I know. My aunt has already discussed that. If she wishes to stay on with Aunt Olga, my father will come and get me. He’ll agree to that, I can assure you.’

  James nodded, took out his pocket watch. ‘I’m afraid it’s getting late. I have to leave to meet my Uncle George.’

  Irina laughed. ‘So he’s back from Scotland.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’m having supper with him and his friend Inspector Crawford. Nice chap.’

  ‘When are you going to Hull?’

  ‘Tomorrow, I’m afraid. So I won’t be able to see you until next week.’

  Irina nodded, leaned into him and put an arm around his shoulders. ‘I do care about you, James. I’m so sorry all this has suddenly happened.’

  He held her to him, kissed her cheek. ‘It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. But life does get in the way sometimes, doesn’t it?’

  James and Uncle George took a hansom cab down to the East End, heading for Chinatown in Limehouse. As they sat together on the same seat, George said, ‘I love it down in Limehouse; it’s a wonderful part of London. Nowhere like it in the world.’

  ‘You know, I’ve never been to the East End. I’m looking forward to seeing it.’

  ‘I wish I’d thought to bring you here, especially now you’ve grown up.’

  ‘That sounds odd, Uncle George. Why didn’t you bring me? You took me to other places sometimes, you and Uncle Harry. And why now when I’m grown up?’

  ‘It’s an odd place, a mixture of things, some good, some bad. But tonight, after dinner, we’ll go for a stroll. Crawford knows it inside out. He used to be a copper on the beat down here, and everyone knows him. We’re safe when he’s around.’

  ‘Is it dangerous in Limehouse?’ James asked, his curiosity aroused.

  ‘“Iffy” is the way I’d put it. But the good things about it far outweigh the bad.’

  After that comment, George glanced out of the window and was silent for the rest of the journey.

  James, knowing his uncle and the habit he had for falling silent for long periods, remained quiet in his corner of the seat, thinking about Irina. He couldn’t help feeling disappointed that she was disappearing abroad so soon into their new friendship.

  Eventually they had gone through Whitechapel and into Limehouse, where the hansom suddenly came to a stop. The two men jumped out, and George paid the driver, giving him a generous tip.

  Surprised, the driver touched his flat cap, exclaimed, ‘Thanks, guv, ’ave a helluva night. A flingawindin!’

  James laughed as he and his uncle walked towards the restaurant. ‘I’ve never heard that expression.’

  George laughed with his nephew. ‘Neither have I. Maybe it’s local slang.’

  ‘Or the driver’s invention. I don’t think we can call it Cockney, can we?’ James asked.

  ‘I don’t believe so.’

  ‘Oh, look, isn’t that the restaurant?’ James exclaimed, pointing to Wu Liang Palace straight ahead.

  ‘It is,’ his uncle replied.

  The two men increased their pace and, within seconds, they were entering the Chinese restaurant, where they spotted Crawford immediately. He stood up, came to meet them, a huge smile on his face.

  After greetings were exchanged, the inspector led them down to the back. It was a colourful place, decorated with Chinese lanterns, a great number of small candles and paintings of Chinese women on the walls.

  ‘This is my usual table,’ Crawford said. ‘Welcome to Chinatown.’

  After ordering the special drinks of the house, which Crawford explained were basically a mixture of rice wines, he leaned towards James who was sitting opposite him. ‘I have some interesting news for you. I think we’ve something to celebrate. Inasmuch as I’ve managed to solve a mystery at last.’

  ‘Is this about me?’ James asked. ‘About the attack in Soho?’

  ‘In a sense, but it’s also about the attack on you some three years ago. On Chalk Farm Road.’

  On hearing this James shrank back slightly, and his face turned pale. ‘When Denny died,’ he murmured, his voice low.

  Before the inspector could answer, George interrupted. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve discovered who did it at long last?’

  ‘I have.’ Crawford paused when the Chinese waiter arrived at their table, served the small glasses of rice wines, bowed and departed as Crawford was thanking him. Lifting his glass, he said, ‘Cheers,’ and they all clinked their glasses and sipped their wine.

  The inspector continued, ‘I will explain everything before we order the food. If that’s all right?’

  ‘Tell us what you’ve found out!’ George exclaimed. ‘I can’t wait to hear this.’

  ‘I’ll try to make it short and sweet.’ He addressed James. ‘When you and Keller were attacked in Soho recently, I became quite vexed, remembering the other attack, which I realized had become a cold case. So I dug into it, and soon realized that Milly Culpepper was the only link I had. So I set out to find her. I thought the best bet was to go and ask her mother where she was. I did. And there I found her. Miss Milly Culpepper, at her mother’s house.’

  Speaking in a quiet voice, and telling the rest of the story carefully and precisely, Crawford filled in James and his Uncle George.

  Neither of them spoke until the inspector told them why the attack had occurred and who the perpetrator was.

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ James cried. ‘Paiseley had us beaten up because his father went to jail for savaging his mother? His mother, who died because of her abusive husband. And he hired bruisers to punish us!’

  ‘Can he be tried for murder?’ George asked swiftly on the heels of his nephew. ‘Dennis Holden died of his injuries.’

  ‘I hope so. I pulled Sergeant Mick Owen into the case when I reopened it recently and I met with him several times. He got a warrant and Patrick Paiseley was arrested last night.’

  There was a silence at the table for a few minutes. It was James who broke it when he said, ‘I will never forget Sergeant Owen’s kindness. He and Constable Roy waited at the hospital all night until I came out of my concussion. We were all impressed by that, weren’t we, Uncle George?’

  ‘We were, and touched by the way they cared.’ George took a sip of wine. ‘But why didn’t they solve it at the time?’

  ‘I asked Owen the same thing. They grilled Milly quite a few times. But she kept saying none of the customers had asked about Denny or James. And they kept referring to customers. I asked her instead if anybody had asked about the boys, and she remembered about her friend Sadie. Also, I believe at the time of the attack she was more than likely terrified, and extremely upset.’

  The inspector paused, took a swig of the rice wine, and finished, ‘According to Sergeant Owen, she was very, very nervous, hysterical, and on the edge of collapse back then. They didn’t want to be accused of police brutality or anything like that.’

  George nodded. ‘Especially because she was a young girl. I understand that, why they backed off …’ He stopped, shook his head sadly, then let out a long sigh. ‘And she hadn’t witnessed the attack. She was only working at the bar.’

  James’s face was serious. ‘Milly went out with Denny a few times. She was always kind to us. Poor Denny.’ He rubbed his hand over his face. ‘At least you solved it, Inspector, and thank you for the work you’ve done now. So I suppose I was in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person. Is that how you would explain the attack on me?’

  ‘Sadly, it is, in the absence of anything else,’ Crawford replied. ‘And thank God you survived.’
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  ‘And so the attack in Soho is not connected?’ George asked.

  ‘No, it’s not.’ Crawford shook his head. ‘Not unless someone is out to get you. And you don’t seem to have any enemies. I think it was a couple of petty thieves spotting two likely rich boys, with money in their pockets, watches and rings. The good thing is that they are now in jail. Thanks to you and Keller.’

  James said nothing. He couldn’t deny the attack had shaken him. London had always been his home but suddenly it seemed a stranger, more dangerous place.

  ‘It’s good to know that James isn’t a target,’ his uncle remarked. ‘And I thank you, too, Crawford. From the bottom of my heart.’

  TWENTY-TWO

  Alexis Malvern sat at Sebastian’s desk in the bedroom, writing in his diary.

  She thought of it as continuing their story, and it gave her pleasure. It helped to ease her anxiety as well. If she wanted to, she could turn back to the entries he had made, run her fingers over his handwriting.

  Outside her window, the gardens were in full bloom and she planned to walk in them later; for now she was enjoying the warmth of the late-summer sun falling through the windowpanes onto her skin as she wrote.

  Although she was lost in concentration, the sudden rattle of wheels on the cobblestone courtyard brought her head up with a start. She was not expecting anyone on this July morning. Who on earth could it be?

  Running downstairs and through the small entrance foyer, she opened the front door and went outside.

  Much to her surprise, it was Claudia. And her heart sank. Pushing a bright smile onto her face, Alexis walked towards the carriage.

  ‘Good morning, Claudia. I didn’t expect to see you today. I thought you would be at Courtland.’

  ‘Good morning,’ Claudia said in a clipped tone of voice. ‘I cancelled my visit for today. Because of you.’

  They were now walking to the house, and the carriage had gone around to the back, where the trough of water was. The horses always needed to drink after the trip from London.

  Having digested the words which seemed to blame her for Claudia’s delayed visit to Courtland, Alexis asked, ‘What do you mean when you say “because of me”?’

  Claudia stopped, stared hard at her. ‘You didn’t come to Lavinia’s birthday tea yesterday, even though you accepted the invitation. We waited and waited, and then I got worried, and so did Jane, that you might be ill or perhaps had an accident of some kind. You ruined the birthday party.’

  Alexis flushed bright red as she led Claudia into the library, everyone’s favourite room at Goldenhurst in Kent.

  ‘I was going to come, but I began to feel overwhelmed with panic and anxiety. That happens sometimes when I have to go out, leave the house.’

  ‘Why didn’t you send a message with one of your drivers? Or send a telegram?’ Claudia asked, sounding irritated.

  Alexis shook her head. ‘I didn’t think of it.’ She sat down and motioned to Claudia to do the same, her face taut, her eyes clouded with tears. ‘I didn’t really think you would notice.’

  ‘You didn’t think of it!’ Claudia repeated, looking flabbergasted. ‘Are you actually ill, Alexis? Do you need to go to see Doctor Freud in Vienna again? Are you mentally deranged?’

  ‘No, of course I’m not!’ Alexis exclaimed. ‘I’m just not quite myself at the moment.’

  ‘I’d call that the understatement of the year. You hide down here, doing nothing, mooning for my father. He is dead. Accept that! Come back to London, start living! He would want that.’

  ‘It’s too hard,’ was the only comment Alexis made. She leaned back in the chair, gazing at Claudia, her face without expression.

  Claudia stared back at her, nonplussed, wondering how to jerk Alexis out of her stupor, how to push her into returning to London. To start anew, she thought. She was annoyed with her, but also felt sorry for her in many ways.

  Taking a deep breath, Claudia continued, ‘You must pull yourself together and get back to work. When I first met you, every woman I know admired you for your independence, going to work, competing in business. Young women like me thought of you as a great example, a role model.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ Alexis mumbled.

  Claudia said, ‘It’s a man’s world. It always has been, and it always will be. Nothing is going to change. They run everything: institutions, banks, every big business. Control is their middle name, and women are second-class citizens. Only recently have a couple of laws changed so that a woman can keep her own inheritance. It used to go to her husband when she married. But you gave so many women hope, fired up their aspirations. You say you didn’t realize this, but it is true. Come back. Do it again. Give some ambitious women hope.’

  Alexis shrugged. ‘I suppose I’d forgotten that part of my life. I’m not feeling well enough. And none of you needs me.’

  ‘Please endeavour to revive yourself, Alexis. Women just have to take a stance. We cannot allow ourselves to be so dominated by men. Even the Queen is surrounded by male advisors – the prime minister, other ministers in Parliament. Things need to change on every level. Everywhere, in fact.’

  ‘Does Queen Victoria listen to all their prattle?’ Alexis wondered aloud.

  Claudia shook her head. ‘I don’t know. But she did listen to Albert when he was alive. Although I heard they had their rows.’

  ‘Does Cornelius boss you around, Claudia?’

  ‘No, but perhaps he is the exception to the rule. Did my father ever try to control you, Alexis?’

  ‘No. He even said I could work after we were married if I wanted to do so …’ She broke off and closed her eyes.

  Claudia gave her a moment, and coughed behind her hand, then said, ‘I must go, Alexis. I need to get back to London.’

  Alexis opened her eyes. ‘I’m sorry I missed Lavinia’s birthday. How can I make it up to her?’

  ‘By going back to being the woman my father fell in love with. Pull yourself together, get back your looks and go to work alongside your father. You must know he misses you. Furthermore, you are his heir. It is going to be your company one day.’

  ‘I will put my mind to it,’ Alexis promised.

  Claudia nodded and rose. ‘I must go to the back, to the carriage, and return to London.’

  ‘I will walk with you,’ Alexis said.

  Together they left the library, went along the corridor and outside to the stable block. As she headed for her carriage, Claudia turned to Alexis and in a low voice said, ‘You’re letting my father down. He wouldn’t approve of your behaviour, or the way you’ve let yourself go. Buck up and lose some weight.’

  Shocked at her words and her tone of voice, Alexis was rendered speechless. Before she could say anything in response, Claudia had stepped into the carriage and banged the door shut.

  As it rolled away, Alexis stood watching her go. There was no question in her mind that Claudia Trevalian Glendenning was angry with her. And she had travelled a long way to tell her so.

  Claudia settled back on the carriage seat and closed her eyes for a few moments. She was glad she had left at that moment. She had said enough for today.

  Her tone had been stern, her words harsh, but this technique might work. Certainly being nice had not. Claudia now understood that kindness didn’t work with Alexis. In fact, it was almost like colluding with her.

  Jane and she had discussed this trip yesterday, when Alexis had not arrived for Lavinia’s birthday party at the Grosvenor Square house. Jane had begged her to be tough, and she had taken Jane’s advice.

  Claudia opened her eyes and sat straighter on the seat, sorry now that she had not brought up Haven House. Alexis had not visited the home for battered women for almost two years.

  This charity, which Alexis had founded, had been a huge success so far. Women came to them in droves, desperate to escape their abusive husbands or the men with whom they lived. She, Lavinia, Marietta and Jane spent time there once a week and, fortunately, the money Alexis ha
d given herself and also raised among her friends had lasted. It had been used carefully.

  But now Claudia believed that it was time Alexis Malvern came back to Haven House. Jane had promised to make that happen. Fingers crossed, Claudia thought, and closed her eyes again, wanting a rest from her constant worry about the woman she had just left.

  Alexis found Tilda in the garden, cutting the last few roses with the garden shears and laying them in the flower basket.

  ‘I’ve been looking all over for you,’ Alexis said, coming up to her lady’s maid, smiling at her.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Miss Alexis, but when Miss Claudia arrived I decided to come out here. I realized she wished to speak to you in private.’

  ‘She did, and she was annoyed with me. I might go so far as to say she was angry.’

  ‘She did have a ferocious look on her face.’ Picking up the basket, Tilda showed it to Alexis. ‘These are the last few of your favourite roses. I thought they’d be nice in your bedroom.’

  ‘Thank you, Tilda. It’s a lovely gesture. Can you please come and sit with me in the arbour? I need your help.’

  ‘But of course, Miss Alexis.’ The lady’s maid picked up the basket, put the shears in it, and together the two women walked on the path through the flowerbeds, making for the secluded corner.

  ‘Sit down here, Miss Alexis. We must keep your face out of the sun.’

  Alexis did as she was told. Once Tilda was seated, she turned to her maid and said, ‘I’ve lost my looks, haven’t I?’

  ‘No, you haven’t, but you have been neglecting yourself, I’m afraid to say,’ Tilda said, adding, ‘We’ll soon get them back. You need a few of my special face rubs and several body massages to make you relax.’

  ‘I know I’ve neglected my hair,’ Alexis went on, ‘and there are some grey patches or streaks, I should say. How do you get rid of these?’ She stared at Tilda, and her eyes grew damp. ‘Miss Claudia told me to lose weight. Am I fat, Tilda?’

  Tilda hesitated. She knew Alexis Malvern was upset, and she was pleased that Claudia Trevalian had spoken out so clearly. The harsh words which had probably been said had obviously had an effect on her mistress, of whom she was very fond.