A Knightsbridge Scandal

by Anita Davison

‘I know precious little, I’m afraid.’ Flora replied, apologetic. ‘I wasn’t certain until you told me just now that the woman they found was Evangeline Lange - I mean, your sister. Her description sounded like someone I had seen, but-’ Flora gasped, straightening. ‘Which means Inspector Maddox already knew her identity when I spoke to him. Then what was that charade he put me through all about? He acted as if I was deluded and wasting his time.’

  ‘I don’t know what the Inspector said, but I imagine he was simply being professional.’ He fingered his collar again in what she interpreted as a nervous gesture. She might have been dismissed by a pompous bobby, but this man had had to look at the dead body of his sister.

  Flora grabbed at the strap on the canopy, the cab swaying on its light suspension as the driver guided them through heavier traffic approaching the park gates.

  ‘I’m sorry to be angry.’ Shame made her contrite. ‘But Maddox was most unhelpful.’

  ‘The police don’t like giving out information on an ongoing investigation if they can help it.’

  ‘Even so, he might have said something.’ Flora sniffed. ‘Instead, he practically threw me out.’ Her anger dissolved as she was being less than sympathetic. ‘That must have been terrible for you, identifying your sister’s body?’

  ‘I’ve never seen a body before. I—’ He swallowed, his eyes squeezed shut as if he was trying to banish an image that haunted him. ‘I tried to ask questions, but my voice wouldn’t come. I got out of that mortuary as quickly as I could.’

  ‘Which is quite understandable, but what made you conclude the woman in the alley might be your sister?’

  ‘She hasn’t been home in two days, which is so unlike her. I came here hoping to instigate a police search. Not a murder investigation.’

  ‘You didn’t think she had gone to Brighton then?’

  ‘Brighton?’ His eyes clouded with confusion that struck her as too spontaneous to be contrived.

  ‘Oh, nothing. I must have misunderstood.’

  ‘Father and Evangeline argued about her involvement with those suffragist women the night before last,’ he went on. ‘They were both still furious when she left the house that evening and didn’t come home. We assumed she had gone to stay with a friend to teach us a lesson.’ He ran a finger around the inside of his collar again before continuing. ‘The second day passed with no word when Father remembered there was a meeting scheduled for last night. He went there to bring her home.’

  ‘You must have been frantic when he returned without her?’

  He nodded. ‘We sat up all night waiting for her, Mother, Father and me. When I saw the newspaper this morning, I instinctively knew it was her, but didn’t tell my parents. I made an excuse about visiting her friends to see if they had seen her, but instead I came straight here.’

  ‘I see.’ Flora wondered how a vague drawing in a newspaper made him think of his sister, but perhaps it was a logical step to grasp at any link, however tenuous. Harry Flynn seemed convinced she would go to her godmother’s in Brighton. Which of them was misinformed? Or maybe lying?

  ‘How well did you know Evangeline?’ he asked. ‘Forgive me, but I don’t believe we’ve met. You’ve never been to the house.’

  ‘I was at the NUWSS Headquarters and spoke to some of her friends.’ She answered the question she had been dreading, her answer suitably vague

  ‘That explains it, you’re one of her suffrage group.’ His face cleared and he nodded slowly. ‘Evie never brought any of those people to our home. Father would have had an apoplexy.’

  Flora took a deep breath, aware lying to this man was not only unnecessary but might be misconstrued. ‘Actually, Mr Lange, I’ve never met your sister.’

  He brought his head up sharply and pinned her with a hard look. ‘Never met her? Then how—?’

  ‘It’s complicated, but on the night your sister died, I saw a young woman at my father’s apartment building, which is close to where she was found. I couldn’t be sure she was the same one, which is why I came to see Inspector Maddox this morning.’

  ‘I see.’ Disappointment entered his eyes and he stared off. Silence stretched between them, the only sounds of the clop of hooves and the sounds of traffic around them as the driver slowed the horse into a leisurely stroll along Birdcage Walk, then turned right at Buckingham Palace and headed in the direction of The Mall.

  ‘Where is this apartment building you mentioned?’ he asked after a pause.

  ‘Prince Albert Mansions. It’s in St George’s Place in Knightsbridge.’

  ‘And you said you saw Evangeline inside this building?’

  ‘She came out of the building with someone.’

  ‘Then it’s possible this person—’

  ‘That’s unlikely.’ Flora cut him off. ‘Evangeline walked off down the road after they spoke and this – person - didn’t follow her, so unless they met up later, he didn’t kill her. My father knows him and insists he’s a respectable man.’ The last thing Flora wished to do was set this grieving man off after Mr Crabbe without cause.

  ‘I assume your father is a gentleman, but that’s hardly a reason to dismiss this man as a suspect on that premise.’

  ‘Yes, you’re quite right,’ Flora chose her words carefully. ‘I’m sure Inspector Maddox will talk to him if he hasn’t already.’ She didn’t want to contemplate what would happen if Mr Crabbe denied seeing Evangeline after what she had told the Inspector. Whose side would William take if his daughter and colleague gave different stories to the police?

  ‘I’ll have to hope this Maddox is good at his job, but I can’t sit back and do nothing while whoever killed my sister is still free.’ He slumped in his seat, despondent. ‘I simply don’t know where to begin.’

  ‘Perhaps your first task is to inform your parents of her death,’ Flora said. ‘They must be frantic by now, and although it’s awful for you, they must be told. The news would be better coming from you before the police arrive to question them.’

  ‘The police will come to our home and question, my parents?’ His eyes widened in alarm. ‘Why would they need to do that?’

  ‘I agree the timing is unfortunate, but it’s how they go about things.’ Flora eased back in her seat as if to avoid his anger. ‘They’ll want to know everything about her.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Yes, of course, how stupid of me.’ He blinked and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’m not thinking straight. The thought of my poor mother being subjected to such an ordeal on top of everything else. What with the shock of seeing Evie like that, so still and white, I—’ he broke off with a shudder. ‘How shall I tell them? My father will be devastated. Evangeline was his pride.’

  ‘I’m sure you are too. You’ll be his consolation.’ Flora’s hand hovered above his for a second, but she withdrew hers without making contact.

  He flicked a look at her and away again, too fast for her to read anything in it, but she suspected there was a story there. ‘My parents always said something like this might happen if Evie insisted on going to that place. And I agreed.’

  ‘What place? Oh, you mean the NUWSS?’ At his slow nod, Flora went on. ‘What made them think that?’

  ‘Unnatural women putting ideas into her head. And she was right, it ended in tragedy just as Mother said it would.’

  ‘I don’t think you could blame—’

  ‘How can you be sure?’ His eyes hardened and he dropped his head against one hand. ‘These women aren’t simply misguided. My father thinks they present a real threat to society and they deserve a good whipping. Perhaps someone decided Evie could act as a warning to others.’

  ‘That sounds a little extreme,’ Flora said carefully. Did this man always agree with whatever his parents said? Was Evangeline the only free-thinker in their family? ‘I saw a few odd-looking characters outside the meeting last night, but nothing that would indicate they would want to harm any of the women.’

  ‘You said you were there last night. At the meeting?’ Hope entered his ey
es as he turned to look at her, or was it suspicion?

  ‘I was.’ She contemplated mentioning that she had seen Mr Lange there too but decided against it. ‘I spoke to a Miss Grey who said she knew your sister quite well. Lydia Grey. Do you know her?’

  He shook his head. ‘I told you, Evangeline kept her suffragist activities separate from her family.’

  Flora was about to mention they both taught at the same school, but perhaps her family disapproved of her career as a teacher as well. In which case, Evangeline might not have spoken about her work colleagues either.

  ‘Maybe,’ he paused, his hand lifted as if an idea had come to him, ‘she was distributing those NUWSS leaflets in the public house where she was found and someone took umbrage? They followed her out, got into an argument and killed her?’

  ‘That’s pure speculation, Mr Lange. Which, and forgive me for saying this, isn’t helpful.’ Though she could understand why he might try to come up with a theory, any theory, to explain why his sister was taken from him.

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ He slumped back against the seat. ‘I have no idea what Evangeline was doing in a public house on her own.’

  ‘The police said she was found outside The Grenadier, but was there any evidence to say she was ever inside? Is it possible she went there to meet someone?’

  ‘That seems most unlikely. Even her fiancé, disreputable lout that he is, wouldn’t expect her to go to a public house.’

  ‘Harry Flynn is disreputable?’ Flora recalled the charming Mr Flynn. Or was he too charming? Harry had seen Evangeline the day she died, they had met for tea, or was it luncheon? She couldn’t quite recall. Was his blithe unconcern for Evangeline’s whereabouts been because he had seen her after her parents? ‘If so, why would your parents encourage her to marry him?’

  ‘Because he’s about to inherit a title and an estate to go with it.’ His derisive snort was cut off in response to Flora's hard look. ‘Well, perhaps I used the wrong word. A bit of a cad might be more accurate. He’s a certainly a ladies’ man.’

  Flora made no comment, having observed that for herself. ‘Did the police have a theory as to who might have hurt Evangeline?’ Perhaps Inspector Maddox had been more forthcoming with the victim’s brother than he had been with her.

  ‘Only that she most probably didn’t know her assailant. That in his opinion, the location of the attack indicated an opportunist thief who strangled her to keep her quiet.’ He pounded his clenched fist against the wood flap.

  ‘That would explain the missing brooch, though if that was the case, why didn’t the thief simply run away? Why risk killing her?’

  ‘Brooch?’ He directed a guarded look on her.

  ‘The one that resembled the Society badge. Lydia told me she had it made specially.’

  ‘Ah, I had forgotten about that. I expect whoever killed her must have stolen it.’ He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing against his collar. ‘I can’t think that was the reason she was attacked, that brooch was only worth a few pounds. It probably fell off her coat in the struggle.’

  ‘People get murdered for much less than a few pounds, Mr Lange. Did the police mention that any other jewellery had been taken?’ Flora recalled Maddox mentioning only her engagement ring remained on her body.

  He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t know, but Mother might. I could check with her when I get home to see if anything is missing.’ As if mention of his mother made his breath catch in his throat, he looked away.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. This is all still so raw.’ He released a breath in a sigh. ‘And this is all guesswork in any case and gets us nowhere.’

  ‘I suppose it doesn’t.’ Flora looked up over the horse’s gently swaying rear. As they approached the curved façade of The Royal Avenue Theatre beside Charing Cross Station, she realized they had covered a lot of ground. A gentle rain had begun to fall, invisible through the mist but evidenced by a soft drumming on the canopy above them.

  ‘I ought to be getting home or I’ll be missed,’ Flora said.

  ‘Oh, of course. Prince Albert Mansions, did you say?’ He pulled down the trap and gave instructions to the driver. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.’

  ‘It’s Flora Harrington.’

  ‘Very pleased to meet you, Miss Harrington, despite the circumstances.’ He thrust out a hand, which she took tentatively in hers.

  ‘Actually, It’s Mrs Harrington.’

  ‘Ah, just my luck.’ He held both hands up in surrender. ‘I always seem to meet young ladies at entirely the wrong time. The pretty ones are always betrothed or married.’

  ‘Um-thank you.’ Flora retrieved her hand. His rapid change of demeanour from abject dismay to flirtatiousness came as a surprise.

  The remainder of the journey passed in silence, and when the cab pulled up outside William’s building, Flora felt something like relief. Her emotions swung from awkwardness at arriving home with a strange man, to unease at what to say to him. To express a hope the police would find his sister’s killer seemed an inappropriate parting remark.

  ‘Might I ask something of you?’

  Flora hesitated. ‘Well, it depends what it is. I’m only in London for a few days, but if there’s something I can do to help, I would be glad to.’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t have much confidence in that Maddox chap, so if you recall anything else you might have seen, or maybe remember, perhaps you might let me know?’

  Flora’s more cautious side surfaced, though she was tempted. ‘Isn’t that a job for the police?’

  ‘Is that what you would do if your sister was brutally murdered? Go home and forget about it, then hope the police do a reasonable job and find the culprit? After all, they never found that Ripper murderer, did they?’ His eyes darkened with grief or anger, she wasn’t sure which. He had nice eyes, brown and limpid with thick lashes, though despite his apparent distress they remained dry.

  ‘I don’t have a sister, but I might feel the same in those circumstances. If I find out anything, I would be happy to pass it on.’

  ‘I appreciate that, Mrs Harrington.’ He alighted onto the pavement and helped her down.’

  Flora fumbled inside her bag, her hat protecting her from the worst of the gritty rain that formed rivulets in the gutter. ‘Allow me to pay for the cab, I—’

  ‘Wouldn’t hear of it.’ Before she could say any more, he leapt back inside the cab and closed the flaps.

  Flora’s boots splashed through gathering puddles as she hurried inside the building. It was not until Randall had bowed her into the apartment did she realize that Mr Lange had made no mention of where he lived or how she might contact him. The thought gave her pause, added to the fact she knew nothing about him. Then it occurred to her that he might not be Evangeline’s Lange’s brother all, though what reason could he have for making up such a story?

  Chapter 13

  ‘Has Sally returned from her shopping trip?’ Flora asked Randall as he relieved her of her wet coat at the door of the apartment.

  ‘She arrived back a few moments before the rain started, Miss. Though I believe she’s showing her treasures to the maids in the basement housekeeper’s room.’ His mouth twitched as he bowed and left, indicating he was peeved that Sally had eschewed his company for that of the downstairs maids.

  ‘Thank you, Randall.’ Flora guessed Sally was most likely gossiping about the murder too and resolved to ask her if she had heard anything interesting.

  Over her solitary luncheon in the dining room, Flora considered how she might fulfil her promise to Evangeline’s brother without treading on the toes of the arrogant Inspector Maddox. Interviewing possible witnesses, like those in the building, would definitely be frowned on, but perhaps there was another way she could discover more about Miss Lange.

  ‘Randall said you wanted to see me, Missus.’ Sally’s bright announcement broke into Flora’s contemplations. Strands of her frizzy br
own hair had escaped from the bun on the back of her head, her eyes alight with new enthusiasm.

  ‘You seem to be enjoying your stay here, Sally?’ Flora liked to see her happy. She had been a scrawny, pale skinned creature when she first came to Flora. Characteristics which had made her mother-in-law refuse to employ her at first.

  ‘I need someone strong and capable, Flora,’ Beatrice had insisted. ‘Not a whey-faced mouse with no energy.’

  ‘She’ll thrive here, I’m sure.’ Flora had stood up for herself at the time, and had been proved right. Sally had filled out in the last few months, with a new spring in her step and she no longer flushed red when anyone looked at her.

  ‘I hear you had a good trip. What did you buy?’ Flora enquired.

  ‘Just a few fancies, Oh, and some of those biscuits you liked. Though I didn’t pay those Harrods prices. There’s a bakers round the corner who make ‘em for half the price. They taste as good and you ain’t paying for a fancy box.’

  ‘Very enterprising, Sally. Now I wanted to ask you something.’ Flora relaxed back in her chair as Sally picked up her teacup, but instead of removing it, she slid it to one side to make room and took the chair next to hers, her arms folded on the table.

  ‘Fire away, Miss.’

  ‘When we were at the suffrage meeting, do you happen to remember the name of the school Miss Grey said she and Miss Lange worked at?’

  ‘How would I know? Sally’s eyes rounded. ‘I don’t listen to your private conversations, do I?’

  ‘I’m not implying you eavesdropped, Sally.’ Flora adopted her most ingratiating voice. ‘However, while you were in the queue for refreshments, you might have picked up a word or two purely by accident.’ If that didn’t dilute a possible accusation, then nothing would.

  Sally’s eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what you’ve been doing this morning, Miss Flora? Poking about in the murder of that woman?’

  ‘Might have been.’ She held Sally’s gaze for long seconds.

  ‘Well, see’in as you’re asking.’ She paused, apparently for effect. ‘I might have heard something.’