‘I hope you don’t do any such thing. As for Cousin Kate, as a comedy with elements of farce, it works well.’
‘Mr Cyril Maude would be sorry to hear his work damned with such faint praise,’ William said. ‘Among thespians he’s considered a master of his class.’
‘I meant the script, although Mr Maude’s Heath Desmond was almost farcical. As for those menacing eyebrows, they put me in mind of an Italian gangster rather than an Irish Lothario. Had I been alone in an empty house when he walked in unannounced, I would have made use of those French windows and put as much space between us as possible.’
‘They were a somewhat contrived plot device, I agree.’ William laughed, a full-throated, genuinely amused laugh that drew other eyes in the restaurant towards them, just as it had in the theatre. ‘Even that walrus of a man in the next box who told us off for laughing couldn’t spoil it for me.’
‘I couldn’t help but think the playwright must be a misogynist.’
William looked up sharply, his knife halted above his plate. ‘Now there’s a controversial word. Some would say misogyny is merely the desire to reserve a specific role for the female gender. Preserve and cherish, not disparage.’ He eased back as the waiter removed the empty plates and replaced them with their entrees.
‘I see it as disparagement to assume women are so malleable they would accept an offer of marriage after one afternoon’s acquaintance. It’s too ridiculous to be taken seriously.’
‘His view of the male species isn’t much better. After all, Heath abandoned his fiancée two days before their wedding because he wanted to paint on the Sabbath.’ He nodded at her plate. ‘Lamb tasty enough for you?’
‘Excellent.’ Flora forked another piece of meat into her mouth, so tender that it required little chewing.
‘How long did it take you to fall in love with Bunny?’ he asked, apropos of nothing as far as she could tell.
‘Longer than a train journey, but I wasn’t engaged to someone else at the time.’ She mopped up the sweet sauce with a fluffy potato, using the time to gauge whether or not he was teasing her. William was well aware she had met her husband on a steamship, and that their romance had blossomed during the voyage.
‘I apologize, I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. Didn’t you both discover a murderer on your way back from New York after Amelia’s wedding?’
‘We did. Two in fact.’ His eager expression demanded more, so she complied, giving him a summarized account of how she had discovered a dead body on the deck and insisted everyone was wrong that it had been an accident. ‘I did receive help from a Pinkertons detective, not that I knew he was one at the time.’
‘Have you always been fascinated with violent crime?’ William asked, a smile in his voice.
‘Never, though I admit the voyage was made more exciting by the race to find a killer before we reached England. Bunny wasn’t quite so enthusiastic at first, but when the evidence began mounting up, he couldn’t deny what was going on.’
‘And he found you so fascinating, he proceeded to court you when the ship docked?’
‘Yes. Not quite a shipboard romance, but almost. We’ve been married over two years now.’
The couple at the next table rose to leave, and something about the commanding way the man guided his companion out of the door reminded Flora of the scene she had witnessed outside the apartment.
‘By the way, who is the gentleman from your building with sandy hair and a patchy moustache?’ She picked up her wine glass, surprised to see it was empty and put it down again. Little wonder she was talking so much, though William appeared not to mind.
‘Goodness!’ William blinked, his wine glass halted in mid-air. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘He came out of the building while I was waiting for you to fetch your opera glasses. You passed him on your way out the second time. I assume he lives there too?’
‘That was hours ago. What made you notice him in particular?’
‘I was just curious.’ Flora shrugged, in two minds whether to mention the young woman he had hustled out in such a hurry.
‘Ginger and a ’tache, you say?’ William considered a moment, then smiled. ‘That’s Arthur Crabbe. He lives at number eight on the floor above. With his wife,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘I expect you’ll meet him before long. Nice chap. He works with me at the Foreign Office.’
Flora stilled for a second, relieved she had kept quiet about the woman. Mr Crabbe had addressed her as Miss Lange. Definitely not his wife.
‘Which brings me to another subject.’ William cleared his throat. ‘A more difficult one for me, in that I’m afraid I’ll be unexpectedly tied up this week at the office. We have a major crisis which I have to deal with, so I might not be able to spend as much time with you as I intended during your stay.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Flora tried to hide her disappointment. ‘I was wondering about your work.’ She remembered the pasteboard card Mr Gordon had given her which now sat in her dresser drawer in the apartment. ‘I thought you managed cattle ranches in South Africa and Indian rubber plantations. How does that equip you for the civil service?’
‘I don’t know really.’ He gave a nonchalant shrug which was entirely unconvincing. ‘Perhaps having an earl for a brother-in-law helped.’
The waiter removed their plates, returning within seconds with oversized menus for dessert.
Flora declined, so William ordered coffee and brandy, both of which arrived so rapidly, she imagined they had overstayed their welcome, though one glance told her the restaurant was still half full.
‘Is that really how it came about?’ she asked when the waiter had gone. ‘Or were you vetted over a gentleman’s club luncheon and decreed a good fit for the corridors of Whitehall?’
‘My, I had no idea how acerbic you can be.’ He raised a cynical brow. ‘I’ll have to watch that, though I flatter myself you inherited that from me. In fact it wasn’t only one luncheon, young lady. I had to attend two rather tedious dinners as well. Not to mention a banquet with the Austrian delegation.’ He leaned closer, so the flame on the candle was reflected in his eyes. ‘The government feels that due to my frequent travels in the Baltic, I possess valuable local knowledge which might be useful in the current situation.’
‘What current situation?’
His eyes sharpened again, indicating their light banter was over and the conversation had taken a more serious route. ‘Have you heard of something the press referred to as the May Coup?’
‘Vaguely.’ Flora frowned as she searched her memory. ‘Something about murders in Belgrade, but not the details. Wasn’t there a queen with a strange name I cannot for the moment recall?’
‘Queen Draga, the Serbian word for “dearest”.’ William’s smile faded as he swirled the dark liquid in the crystal bowl he held in one hand. ‘In May, King Alexander and his wife were assassinated by their own security service. They were cornered in their bedchamber, both stabbed, and their bodies hurled over a second-floor balcony into the palace garden.’
‘How awful.’ Flora broke off from nibbling at a Florentine biscuit.
‘Accounts vary, but a reliable source says when the king was pushed, he tried to hang onto the balcony by his fingertips, so they slashed his fingers off with a sword to make him let go.’
‘Makes me glad I’m not royalty.’ Flora shuddered, though she attributed that more to the brandy.
‘Indeed. They killed the queen’s brothers too, which wasn’t much of a loss.’ He snorted. ‘Our government has recalled our ambassador in protest, and Balfour is still debating whether or not to impose sanctions against Serbia.’
‘The Prime Minister? Goodness, you do move in exalted circles these days.’ When he didn’t respond, her smile faded. ‘This is serious, isn’t it?’
‘I fear so.’ William signalled the waiter to bring him another brandy, an enquiring brow raised at Flora.
‘Not for me, thank you. I doubt I’ll be able to finish this
one. What are the government trying to do?’
‘They have insisted the new king, Peter Karagergevich, should punish the Head of Security. A man called Dimitriević,’ He took a breath. ‘And please don’t ask me to repeat either of those names. I’m not sure I pronounced them correctly.’
‘I promise not to.’ She smiled at this admission. ‘I doubt the king would publicly expose the men who put him on the throne in the first place? That would hardly engender his people’s trust.’
‘Precisely, although rule by blood is never a good idea in my opinion. King Peter favours the Russians, which means the pro-Austrian nationalists are bound to step up their activities within Serbia, as well as Bosnia and Herzegovina. If we don't contain the situation, I wouldn’t be surprised if Europe isn’t at war by the next decade.’
‘In that case, you must do what you have to,’ Flora said, surprised by his candour as well as the turn the conversation had taken.
Lady Vaughn had always described her younger brother as the dreamer of the family who though capable, never settled to anything for long. Had Flora’s mother rejected him because she too subscribed to the notion that he was not only fickle but unreliable? If only she could see him now; an impossible wish as Flora’s mother had disappeared twenty years ago.
‘Flora, I hope I haven’t worried you with my mention of war.’ William’s soft voice broke into her thoughts. ‘This is still a foreign problem which we hope to settle before it has any impact on this country.’
‘No, not at all. And don’t worry about me, I’m quite capable of amusing myself while you are busy.’ Her initial nervousness at being alone in his company was replaced by disappointment that their time together might be limited.
‘I’m annoyed about it too. I was so looking forward to getting to know you, but I didn’t want to postpone this visit.’
‘William, you’ve known me all my life.’
‘As a governess to my nieces, not as my daughter. I like to think things have changed between us.’
‘We’ll still be able to spend the evenings together won’t we?’ Flora said, surprised by the plea in her own voice. The evening had gone so well and she no longer felt awkward in his company, which made her determined to make the best of whatever time he could spare.
‘I sincerely hope so.’ He replaced his glass on the table and covered her hand with his. ‘Now, as that’s the second yawn you’ve smothered in the last five minutes, I think it’s time to take you home.’ He scraped back his chair and rose. ‘Besides, the waiters have been eyeing us for the last quarter hour from the kitchen door.’
Chapter 5
William waved down a passing hansom cab on the corner of Charlotte Street, by which time Flora was yawning in earnest. The rhythmic clop of horse’s hooves sent her into a light doze on the journey back to Prince Albert Mansions. William nudged her awake as the cab drew to a halt at the kerb.
‘I wonder what’s going on over there?’ He nodded towards an alley that ran down the side of a hotel on the corner.
‘Hmm – where?’ Flora murmured through a yawn, heaved upright and stretched her stiff neck muscles.
A knot of curious onlookers were being held back by several policemen; while another stood guard at the end of the street, feet apart and hands behind his back. A horse-drawn black police van stood beneath the greenish-blue glow from the gaslights at the end of the alley.
‘Perhaps something has happened at the hotel next door?’
‘I don’t think so.’ William leapt onto the pavement, handed the fare to the driver through the hatch in the roof, then extended a hand and helped her down the step. ‘They’ve blocked the entrance to Old Barrack Yard.’
‘A barracks?’ Flora pulled her collar tighter against the icy wind that insinuated itself under her coat. ‘Are there soldiers billeted there?’
‘Not for the last seventy years. The barracks are unused now, but the building at the end of the alley was once the Duke of Wellington’s officers’ mess for the infantry regiment. It was so popular, even the last King George was a frequent visitor, so it was opened in ’18 as a public house, called, I believe, The Guardsman. After Waterloo, the name was changed to honour the Grenadier Guards who distinguished themselves there.’
‘You are a fount of information, first theatres and now soldiers.’ He greeted her comment with a sardonic lift of an eyebrow and hoping she had not offended him, added, ‘Which delights me, in that I love London and its history is so rich, there’s always something new to learn. And what better teacher than you.’ She shivered as a gust of wind threated to remove her hat. ‘Let’s get inside, it’s freezing out here.’
‘That’s far too much flattery, but you’re forgiven.’ William tucked her arm through his as they set off along the path lit by welcoming lights from the lobby where the porter stood holding open the door.
‘What’s happening in the street, Dunne?’ William enquired of the porter as they stepped into the well-lit entrance.
‘We’ve had a little bit of excitement this evening, sir.’ The porter’s eyes glinted as he prepared to share his superior knowledge. ‘They’ve discovered the body of a young woman in the alley… Strangled.’
‘Gracious, when did that happen?’ Flora had been on her way to the apartment’s front door but returned to the counter.
‘’Bout eleven or so. First I heard of it was the whistles.’ Dunne scanned the desk with a frown. ‘I have a card here from the detective in charge. Name of Maddox. He says he’ll be here in the morning to interview all the residents who weren’t at home this evening. Asks that everyone makes themselves available.’ He held the card by a corner and held it out as if the idea of the residents being given orders from the constabulary was distasteful.
‘Do the police know who the dead woman is?’ William fingered the card thoughtfully.
‘I’m thinking they don’t know any more than I do, sir.’ Dunne lowered his voice and looked past them towards the doors, though they were the only occupants. ‘I doubt she was a lady of quality.’
‘What makes you say that?’ Flora asked in response to his smug, knowing expression.
‘Stands to reason, Miss. There’s nothing in the Yard but the school and The Grenadier public house.’ His flabby chin telescoped into his neck. ‘Everyone knows a lady wouldn’t be seen there alone late at night. Unless she was up to no good, if you understand me.’
‘What makes you think she was on her own?’ Flora demanded ‘There could have been someone with her. Have they questioned the other patrons?’
‘Can’t say, Miss. I just assumed—’ the porter broke off, flushing.
‘Exactly. It’s slanderous to make assumptions without proof.’
‘Thank you, Dunne.’ William gripped Flora’s upper arm. ‘Come on, Flora. It’s getting late.’
‘I was only—’
‘I know what you were doing,’ he whispered, guiding her gently across the lobby to his front door. ‘Perhaps the victim didn’t require a champion, much less deserved one.’
‘Even so.’ Flora sniffed as he helped her out of her coat and hung it beside the front door.
‘Would you like some cocoa or something before you retire?’ William asked. ‘I told Randall not to wait up but I could rouse him if you wish.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it, and thank you, but no. I wouldn’t mind your company for a little while though.’ The thought that a woman had been brutally killed not fifty yards from where they stood made Flora unwilling to be left alone, although her eyelids felt heavy and she had fallen asleep in the hansom. ‘I cannot stop thinking about that poor woman they found.’
‘Ah, yes. Dreadful business,’ he spoke absently as if he had already forgotten about it. ‘One doesn’t expect such things to happen in Knightsbridge. Though not everyone regards this area as desirable. One of my more aristocratic neighbours moved out recently because of the underground station being constructed further down the street. She thought it would lower the tone.’
<
br /> ‘She’ll imagine she was proved right now there’s been a murder here.’ Flora fought another yawn, but lost. ‘You’re right, I ought to get to bed.
William escorted her along the corridor, and halted outside the door to her room. He looked about to hug her but at the last second, gave her shoulder a pat and dropped his arms to his sides. ‘I wanted you to know that I’m really glad you’re here, Flora.’
‘So am I. Thank you for this evening, I really enjoyed myself.’ She was about to add excluding the murder next door, but thought better of it. She pushed open her door, turning back at the last second before going inside. ‘Goodnight, William.’
His parting smile didn’t reach his eyes, which told her he didn’t like the fact she called him by his given name.
‘At last, Missus.’ Sally’s strident voice came from inside the room. ‘I thought you were never coming. I’m yawnin’ me ’ead off in ’ere.’
William frowned at the door, looked about to speak, then changed his mind, skirted a small wave and retraced his steps along the hall.
Flora stood watching him, annoyed with herself for being hurtful. She could hardly call him ‘Uncle’ anymore but was uncomfortable calling him anything else. Maybe she should mention it at breakfast? Or would that make the situation worse? Unable to reach a solution, she exhaled with a sigh and turned to matters over which she had some control.
‘Now Sally,’ she closed the door and leaned against it. ‘We need to have another talk about when you should remain silent in company.’
*
‘I don’t want you to worry about what went on last night, Sally.’ Flora attempted to sound reassuring as her maid dressed her the next morning. ‘I imagine the porter keeps a wary eye open for strangers in the block.’
‘I didn’t know anything about it ‘til those coppers came banging on the door.’ Sally tutted as she arranged petticoats in the dressers drawers. ‘Thought they was going to break in for a minute. Don’t they know what doorbells are for?’
A Knightsbridge Scandal Page 4