‘Pregnancy.’
‘Pardon?’ He blinked, his lips parted as he digested the word. ‘You mean you’re—’
‘Going to have a baby. Yes. The sickness is quite normal, though had I known it was this awful I—’ Her last few words were lost in the thick folds of his woollen jacket as he pulled her towards him and held her tight.
‘Flora, that’s wonderful. I never thought—’
‘It would happen? – no, nor did I.’
‘That wasn’t what I was going to say.’ Though the look in his eyes told her otherwise.
‘I hoped to have told you in a more romantic setting. One which did not have me sprawled on a bathroom floor with my head over the sink.’ She released a tiny burp, muttered an apology and covered her mouth with a hand.
‘Oh, heavens, I don’t care about that.’ He hugged her tighter. ‘It frightened me to see you like that is all. My poor darling, I had heard of ladies who experience such symptoms but I had no idea it was so – well violent. Are you feeling better now?’ He released her and peered into her face, handing her a handkerchief from his pocket.
‘A little.’ She dabbed at her mouth, waiting for the nausea to begin again, but nothing happened. ‘Could you pass me that glass of water?’
‘Oh, yes, yes of course.’ He pressed the glass into her free hand.
‘You didn’t answer my question. I expected you to luncheon later in the week. Although I’m really thrilled to see you. It’s been strange waking up without you in the mornings.’
‘I’ll say.’ He scooted further onto the bed so they were side by side, sliding an arm around her shoulders. ‘I had to come into town for a meeting today, so thought I would take an earlier train and pay you a visit. I’m sorry if I spoiled your surprise, but at least I’ve seen one of the worst aspects of what you are going through.’ He smoothed the wayward curls that had sprung from their pins away from her forehead. ‘I’ll do my best to be both sympathetic and understanding.’
The mixture of worry and happiness in his eyes made Flora want to cry and laugh at the same time. ‘Whatever makes you think this is the worst of it?’
She liked this sentimental side of him, especially on a subject in which gentleman weren’t supposed to show an interest until there was a final product to feel proud about.
Flora took a few sips of the water, which helped banish the soreness in her throat. ‘However, as a man, you’ll be spared the very worst part altogether.’
‘Ah yes, I see what you mean.’ He flushed and looked sheepish, but in seconds was smiling again. ‘Although it’s rather exciting. In a few months, there will be three of us?’ He hunched his shoulders like a boy and hugged her tighter.
‘Four, there’s still your mother, don’t forget.’
‘You know what I mean.’ He pressed a kiss to her temple then lowered his voice. She thought she heard him mumble something about it being time to make changes, but wasn’t sure what he meant, then louder, ‘Did the doctor tell you when it’s due?’
‘The end of May, or maybe the beginning of June.’ A shiver ran through her as the inevitability of what those few months would bring occurred to her. ‘Everything will be all right, won’t it? I mean, most women have babies quite successfully.’
‘I’ll employ all the best medical people to ensure everything goes smoothly.’ He nuzzled his chin into her hair. ‘It might be better if you came home to Richmond with me and rest properly. I’ll ask Sally to pack your things and Randall can let William know. I’m sure he’ll understand.’
‘No!’ Bunny’s chin jerked back at her vehemence. ‘What I mean is, there really is no need. The sickness isn’t any worse just because I’m here, and I have plenty of time to rest as William is busy.’
‘Does he know about the baby?’
‘No, of course not.’ She frowned, dismayed. ‘No one knew. Though Sally guessed.’
How could she explain that she wanted to keep their baby safe, but also that she was making progress in another murder investigation. She had no wish to sit at home with her feet on a stool with Beatrice telling her she was doing everything wrong. There would be plenty of time for that, not to mention when there was a grandchild for her to fuss over.
‘Bunny,’ she softened her voice, ‘I’m glad you know, but now that you do, I would like to stay and tell William myself. I don’t want to put it in a note or rush away without an explanation. He might think I feel awkward being here and we are just starting to get to know one another.’
‘I should have thought of that. It was selfish of me wanting to keep you to myself.’
‘I’m the selfish one,’ she said and meant it. ‘But I will take care. I promise.’
The tiny ormolu clock on the mantel struck ten and Bunny gasped. ‘So much for my vision of a romantic breakfast with my wife. At this rate, I’ll be late for my meeting.’ He released her, rose and went into the hall. ‘Randall? Would you call me a cab?’
Flora heard a faint ‘Certainly, sir’ from the depths of the apartment and her stomach knotted, in sadness that he was leaving so soon.
‘Although—’ Bunny hesitated, his eyes clouded with concern. ‘Perhaps I should stay here with you after all. I hate to see you so frail-looking.’
‘There’s nothing you can do and, as I said, I’m not ill. This meeting’s important, isn’t it?’
‘Well yes, but not as important as you.’
‘Rubbish. You must go, but you’re still coming to luncheon as we arranged, aren’t you?’
‘Naturally. Now you must promise to rest for a while this morning. You’re still very pale.’
‘That won’t be too hard. I do feel a bit shaky still and William is out all day, so I’ll do nothing more strenuous than a bit of light reading.’
Sally gave an exaggerated cough from the doorway which Flora ignored.
‘See that you do.’ Bunny kissed her cheek just as Randall arrived to say the cab was waiting outside. ‘I’ll telephone William later to check you have been following instructions. And, Sally,’ he turned a steady stare on the maid that made her blush. ‘Take care of your mistress.’
‘Of course, sir.’ Sally clasped both hands behind her back, her head bowed as he threw a final kiss at Flora and left.
As his footsteps receded down the hallway, Flora relaxed against the pillows again, sure she heard Sally heave a gentle sigh.
*
Flora must have drifted off to sleep because the next thing she knew the shadows in the room had shifted. Sally stood with her back to her, bent over a drawer into which she placed clean shifts and petticoats. She must have sensed Flora was awake and turned round, wariness in her half-smile.
‘How do you feel now, Miss Flora?’ Her eyes darkened with concern.
Flora eased up onto an elbow, taking inventory of her head and stomach, both of which had settled with no residual dizziness. ‘Almost normal.’
‘You did look poorly. Mr Bunny got himself into a right tizz.’
‘The next time he sees me, I hope I won’t be crouched over on a bathroom floor or pale and sick in bed.’ She peered myopically at the clock but the figures were blurred. ‘How long did I sleep?’
‘Just under two hours.’ Sally slid the drawer shut and came to her side of the bed.
‘How did you know, Sally? About the baby?’
‘I can count, Missus, and there’s been no sign of your flowers for over two months. Don’t take a scholar to know what that means.’
‘I suppose it was naïve of me to keep it secret from you.’ Flora swung her legs over the side of the bed onto the floor. ‘To be honest, I’ve been pushing the fact to the back of my mind because I don’t quite believe it myself yet.’
‘You’ve been to see a doctor, though, haven’t you? Like you told Mr Bunny?’
‘For all the good it did me. I didn’t know what questions to ask him.’ She was relieved to be talking about it at last. It had been like a secret between her and her body, one she could neither prove nor
feel. ‘He seemed to think I would know what to expect, and when I asked, he reeled off a whole list of symptoms I might experience. I was getting worried because until this morning, I haven’t had any of them.’
‘That’s as maybe, Miss Flora, but the only thing I can say to that is bacon.’
‘I beg your pardon, Sally?’ Was this a Whitechapel insult she had never heard of?
‘It’s been weeks since you’ve been able to look a rasher in the eye. And you complain when I tie your corset too tight when you never said a word before.’
‘I suppose that’s settles it then, I am having symptoms.’ She brought a hand to her hair that lay in an untidy knot of curls on her neck. ‘Which comes as something of a relief. I think.’
‘Why didn’t you tell Mr Bunny before now?’ Sally demanded.
Flora hesitated. ‘I don’t know. Apart from the bacon thing, I don’t look or feel any different.’ She rubbed her belly as nausea threatened. ‘Isn’t the morning sickness supposed to wear off after the first few weeks?’
‘Not always.’ Sally giggled knowingly. ‘My sister lost her dinner every day for months when she was expecting.’
‘Oh, dear, that’s not very reassuring.’ Flora planted her feet on the floor and pushed herself upright. ‘I certainly don’t intend to lie here all day either.’
‘You’re not still going to try and find out who killed that poor girl are you?’
‘I’m not sure what direction to take next, but I don’t see why not.’ Avoiding Sally’s eye, Flora bent to her reflection in the dresser mirror, where she tweaked stray hairs into place. ‘Asking a few questions hardly comes under the banner of not looking after myself. I thought I would begin in Old Barrack Yard as it’s practically next door.’
‘There won’t be anything to see down there now.’ Sally sniffed. ‘Coppers will have tramped about the place in their size twelves since they found her.’
‘Maybe, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a look.’ She slid onto the stool in front of the dresser. ‘Now, see if you can do something with my hair. This awful fog makes it frizz horribly.’
Chapter 17
Although it was mid-morning when Flora ventured out, the skeletal trees in Hyde Park were frost-rimed and the pavements still slippery; the air filled with a pungent combination of fresh manure mingled with smoke and sulphurous fog, thankfully, dampened down by the cold.
Flora entered Old Barrack Yard from the street crowded with purposeful walkers, while motor cars, carts, and horse-drawn hansoms moved along Knightsbridge like snails in the gathering fog. The clamour of the main road receded as she ventured between the high buildings on either side which loomed above her.
‘Do you think we should go down here, Missus?’ Sally plucked at Flora’s sleeve. ‘I’m sure Mr William wouldn’t like it. You never know, the bloke who done that woman in might still be hanging about?’
‘I doubt that, and Mr William is too busy to worry about me at the moment.’ Flora reached a hand to the brick wall beside her that leached damp cold through her glove. If Sally’s warning was meant to discourage her, it did the exact opposite. ‘Go home if you like, but I’m going to take a look. You never know, the police might have missed something.’
The alley forked to the right, where it opened out into another, wider road lined with one-story buildings, each with wooden coach doors which told of their former life as an army barracks. Scarred and with peeling paint, one hung drunkenly to one side, revealing a pile of crates stacked on clumps of dirty hay where cavalry horses were once stabled.
In the shadow of a gothic church that loomed to her right at the end of the row, a neat squat building no bigger than a small family house stood, with three sash windows in a façade slightly above street level, a short flight of stone steps bounded by black railings leading up to a front door. A hanging sign above sported a soldier in Regency uniform and the words The Grenadier in black lettering.
‘Is it true this place is haunted, Miss Flora?’ Sally hung back.
‘I didn’t think you believed in ghosts.’ Flora shook her head as she caught Sally’s wide-eyed look. ‘It’s a building made of bricks and mortar, that’s all. Nothing to be afraid of.’
‘It’s not that, but ladies don’t go into public houses by themselves. It’s not done.’
‘I appreciate the lesson in social acceptance, but I’m here pursuant to an enquiry. Besides, there’s no one here.’
The street lay empty, the only occupant a girl who swept the steps of the public house, a black wooden gate to one side led into a small yard in which wooden barrels had been stacked.
‘Come ta see where that woman was killed, have ya?’ The girl paused in her sweeping. She wore a faded green apron over a patched woollen dress, her arms bare to her elbows. Flora doubted the dress gave her much protection from the cold as goose bumps stood out on her white skin.
‘We were just passing,’ Flora said, realizing too late the alley was a dead end where a sturdy fence separated it from the next street.
‘You ain’t the only ones interested.’ The girl planted both feet apart and tucked the broom into her side, one hand draped over the top. ‘We’ve ’ad no end of nosey parkers coming round since it happened. Hobbes says it’s been good fer business, so he ain’t complainin’.’ Her voice contained a hard, cracked quality as if she were accustomed to shouting.
‘Hobbes?’ Flora enquired. ‘Is that the landlord?’
‘Nay, he’s the manager, and a grasping sod he is an’ all.’ The girl wiped her free hand down her grubby apron. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t start charging for the privilege. Joe Fulcher’s the landlord, but there’s no harm in him. Close as ye can get ter a gentleman, he is.’
‘Did you see anything that night? Was the dead woman with anyone? A man maybe?’ Flora crept closer. The girl was younger than she first thought, made world-weary by a sullen expression.
‘Miss Flora,’ Sally warned, giving the street a worried glance, but Flora ignored her.
‘I couldn’t say.’ The girl shrugged. ‘We was crammed to the rafters that night. Even the card room downstairs was full.’
‘What about the other staff?’ Flora persisted. ‘Someone must have seen something. The woman’s body was found not far from your front door.’
‘I told yer, I didn’t see nothing.’ She swiped an arm beneath her nose, looking from Sally's plain brown coat to Flora’s expensive cornflower blue one with its frogged fastenings.
‘I don’t mean to harass you,’ Flora pressed her. ‘I live nearby, you see and when I heard about that poor woman…’ Flora shrugged. ‘As you can imagine it was quite a shock.’
The girl eyed her as if this concept was beyond her understanding. ‘We’ve ’ad lots of new customers since it ’appened. Seems murder’s good for business. I heard she turned out to be a lady, do yer think that’s true?’
‘I believe so, yes.’
Panic flashed into the girl’s eyes but was gone in an instant. ‘Anyway, I didn’t see nothing and now if you’ll ’scuse me, I’ve work to do.’ She swung the broom in a wide arc, catching the end smartly with her other hand, turned and disappeared through the black gate that clicked shut behind her.
‘Well, that didn’t get us anywhere,’ Flora muttered.
‘Course not, Missus.’ Sally rolled her eyes. ‘Girl like that ain’t going to say anything to a toff, even if she does know something.’ Wordlessly, Sally eyed Flora’s cashmere coat and fox fur muff, ending with another dismissive tut when she reached the matching hat.
‘I’m not a toff!’ Flora’s cheeks burned, partly because she acknowledged that she had changed since her days as an upper servant, but to be referred to thus sounded like an insult.
‘We may as well go.’ Flora started to leave. ‘I doubt the landlord would be any more cooperative, even if I went inside, which I won’t.’ Loitering outside a licensed premises was one thing, but Sally was right, only women of a certain type would dare venture inside a bar al
one.
‘There are ways.’ Sally placed a restraining hand on her arm. ‘I’ve got an idea. Got any money?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Lucre, coppers. You know, for a bribe?’ She stuck out her gloved hand. ‘Look, if you ain’t going to listen to me or Mr William, I might as well see what I can find out.’
‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ Flora muttered, delving into her bag for her purse. ‘Is that enough?’ She handed over four half-crowns.
‘Depends who I offer it to.’ Sally’s cheeky grin lit up her face.
‘Depends to whom you offer it,’ Flora corrected her.
Sally rolled her eyes. ‘You wait here and I’ll be back in a jiffy.’ Before Flora could question her further, she had disappeared through the side gate.
Alone in the cold alley, the light muted by a layer of fog, Flora fidgeted, her discomfort worsening when two men in workmen’s clothes and battered bowlers emerged from the public house; loud laughter drifted from the open door behind them. The younger of the two raked her with a half-amused, almost insulting glance as he passed. She could have sworn the other one winked at her.
The two disappeared into the mist, only to be replaced by a shadowed figure moving toward her. A well-dressed man in a black overcoat appeared from the corner, cane swinging as he walked. She narrowed her eyes but could not make out any individual features. Unwilling to be subjected to speculation she looked around in panic, then her alarm dissolved at the sight of a familiar face.
‘Mr Lange?’ Her uncertainty dissolved as he drew nearer. ‘It is you.’
‘Mrs Harrington?’ His cane halted in mid-swing, his eyes wary. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I assume that like me, you are curious about where your sister was murdered.’ A shadow crossed his features and she winced. ‘I’m sorry, that sounded awful, didn’t it? I’ll try again. I felt there may have been something the police missed and, as I live close by, I came to take a look.’
A Knightsbridge Scandal Page 17