‘It is of no consequence,’ the stranger muttered through a heavy black veil as she swept past Flora and up the stairs, a hint of a floral perfume trailing behind her.
‘Good afternoon, Miss,’ Dunne said, distracting Flora. ‘Damp out today. That fog’s nasty stuff. You’re soaked afore you knows it.’
‘Uh, yes indeed.’ Flora turned towards him with a polite smile, then glanced up at the landing, which stood empty. ‘Who was that lady who came in just now? You were talking to her when I arrived earlier.’
‘That would be Mrs Crabbe.’ He stroked his chin with one hand. ‘Can’t say I was talking to her exactly. She tends not to engage in conversation with the likes of me, if you see what I mean.’
‘I think I do, Mr Dunne.’ Flora smiled as an image of her mother-in-law floated into her head. ‘Didn’t you say she doesn’t go out much?’
The porter’s brows rose into his hairline. ‘Come to think of it I did, and she doesn’t. That’s the first time I’ve seen her all week.’
‘I see, well thank you, Mr Dunne.’ Flora ushered Sally outside into a light drizzle, glad she didn’t have to go far as drops of moisture gathered on strands of hair that escaped her hat. The road was less crowded now it was nearer the luncheon hour. Apart from the horse buses and carts that whooshed through gathering puddles, the only pedestrians were a nanny who manhandled a bulky, coach-built pram through the narrow Hyde Park gate and a man in a grey overcoat with his hat pulled down who strode along on the park side of the road.
The shop window of Boltons Library was partly obscured by handwritten cards of all shapes and sizes, some pristine and new, others faded by the sun. Most of the messages they contained offered handyman services or appealed for lady’s maids, butlers and domestic staff. Each displayed an accompanying number in a corner to which the applicant could apply, thus keeping the employer’s identity a secret, which reiterated to Flora that Miss Evangeline Lange had a desire for secrecy.
The heavy glazed door resisted Flora’s gentle push, opening just enough to give her a reflected view of the road behind her. The man in grey had halted opposite, his attention focused in her direction. His face struck her as familiar, but she couldn’t remember where, or even if, she had seen him before. Pausing, she turned back to get a clearer look, but a horse-drawn bus blocked her view, disgorging a stream of passengers onto the pavement. When it pulled away again, the man was no longer there. Really, Flora, you are imagining things.
‘What’s wrong, Missus?’ Sally stared up at her.
‘I thought— Oh, it was nothing. This constant fog makes me see shadows everywhere.’ She straightened her shoulders and gave the door a firm shove. ‘Wait for me inside the door would you, Sally, while I go to the counter.’
Set to one side behind a stout counter stood a wooden cabinet similar to the one at Prince Albert Mansions into which Mr Dunne placed the residents’ mail. Rows of doors were stacked six high, each about nine inches square with a brass plaque below a number.
Gas lamps hissed from the walls, throwing a sulphurous glow onto rows of bookshelves that clung to the walls up to ceiling height on all sides. Assistants slid ladders attached to poles across the front of the shelves, their intermittent clicks the only sound except for hushed whispers.
‘May I help you?’ An unsmiling woman alerted Flora to the fact she had reached the head of the line. Her mousy hair was pulled back from her face in a severe bun, her dress a black bombazine garment with mutton-leg sleeves making her shoulders so wide, her top half looked triangular.
‘I hope so.’ Flora scrabbled for the speech she had prepared on her way there. ‘I wanted to enquire about the box number service you offer, what do—’
‘Sixpence a week for each box, payable in advance,’ the woman recited in a bored voice.
‘Ah, well I didn’t exactly want to rent one, I wished to know whether or not any correspondence had been put into a specific box over the last few days. I have the number here.’ She withdrew the receipt from her pocket and held it out, though the woman didn’t glance at it.
‘Is the box in your name?’
‘No. My cousin hired it,’ Flora said without so much as a blink, though she hoped the lie wouldn’t come back to haunt her.
‘Details of who hires the boxes and the nature of their contents at any time is the property of the person who signs the hire agreement,’ she recited in the same irritating monotone, her attention focused on a point above Flora’s head.
Flora inhaled slowly as she summoned patience. ‘I understand that however, the person – my cousin – who hired this particular box is now dead.’
‘In that case, your cousin won’t be needing it anymore will she?’
Flora gaped, though in the next breath, she had to agree the woman had a point. Annoyed with herself at not having thought this through, she hesitated, then jumped at the sound of a man’s voice.
‘The library is about to close. If you don’t mind.’ A man in an old-fashioned stove pipe hat held in both hands pushed past her to the counter.
‘I do apologize.’ She stepped aside and re-joined Sally.
‘No luck?’
Flora shook her head. ‘Now, what do we do?’ While she contemplated her next move, a fair-haired young man emerged from a hansom that had drawn up at the kerb and entered the library.
He glanced up and his eyes met Flora’s. ‘Mrs Harrington?’ He paused with his hand on the brass handle in the act of closing it. ‘It is Mrs Harrington, isn’t it? Harry Flynn. We met at the NUWSS meeting.’
‘Yes, of course. Mr Flynn.’ She accepted his outstretched hand. ‘What a coincidence. I had no idea you used this library.’ Perhaps it wasn’t pure chance which brought him here. Could he be following her?
‘There’s no reason why you should,’ he replied reasonably. He glanced up at the counter, then back at Flora. ‘Look, they are about to close, so let me get my letters before we continue this conversation. What do you say?’
‘Well - Yes, if you would like to, I—’
‘Excellent. Wait there, I won’t be a moment.’
The sour-faced woman behind the counter had her coat on and looked about to leave, but on seeing Harry, her face broke into a parody of a girlish smile and she rushed forward to offer assistance with a flirtatious tilt of her head.
Flora watched with amused resignation as she leapt to retrieve his letters, handing them to him with a caressing touch of her hand.
‘Some people are just too bleeding obvious,’ Sally said at her shoulder.
‘Hush,’ Flora whispered as Harry strode back and guided her onto the street where oppressive slate grey clouds hung overhead which augured more later.
‘You were about to tell me what brought you here,’ Harry said.
‘Actually, I don’t think I was.’ Flora pushed her hands into her muff, having hoped she would do the questioning. ‘I’m staying a few doors away at my father’s apartment. I thought I might investigate how to join the library while I’m here. I’m fond of reading.’
‘Never did get along much with books.’ He offered her his arm. ‘I’m more of an outdoor sports enthusiast. However the library also runs a mail service, which I use on occasion.’
‘I see.’ She checked behind her to ensure Sally followed, while wondering why a young man of evident means would have his mail sent to a box number.
He must have seen the confusion on her face and laughed. ‘I can see you are dying to ask, though the explanation is uninteresting. I have a flat around the corner in Lowndes Square, but there’s no porter. The mail tends to be left in the hall. A few items have gone astray in the past, so this way I can be sure nothing goes missing.’
‘Your family don’t reside in the city?’ She cast him a slow, sideways look as they walked. He lived almost next door to the Harriet Parker Academy, though she wasn’t sure if this was significant or not.
‘Heavens no. they prefer the quiet countryside of Berkshire.’ He laughed a rich, deep laug
h which did not sit well on a man who was supposedly grieving the death of a fiancée. As if he guessed her thoughts, his smile faded. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to be flippant. It’s only that at times I completely forget Evangeline is gone. Then it hits me when I least expect it and – well, I’m sure I don’t have to explain.’
‘I quite understand. Losing someone forever takes some getting used to and you must still feel raw.’
Their slow walk had brought them to the Alexandra Hotel, where his steps slowed as he stared at the entrance to Old Barrack Yard.
‘I wondered.’ A nerve twitched beside his mouth, rapidly suppressed. ‘Would you care to join me for a cup of coffee?’ He indicated the door to the hotel. ‘It’s bitter out here and we could take advantage of their lounge fire.’ He shuddered in comical emphasis. ‘And no one could regard my invitation as improper if your maid is here?’
Flora hesitated, then glanced back to Sally, who nodded in encouragement before pretending to examine one of the statues that flanked the hotel entrance.
‘I should be delighted to join you for coffee, Mr Flynn,’ Flora said. Why not? After all they were in a public place and as he pointed out, Sally was with them.
The doorman bowed them into a lobby dominated by a curved wrought-iron staircase that twisted above to an upper landing, its fine detailing picked out in gold. A reception counter took up the entire side of the room, beside which stood a cluster of immaculate bellboys in blue uniforms.
In response to a silent gesture from Flora, Sally took a bench seat beside the main door, where a doorman relieved them of their coats.
‘We could go upstairs if you wish by means of the ascending room?’ Harry suggested.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Flora halted beneath the entrance canopy and stared at him. Had she misjudged him completely and his invitation was anything but innocent?
‘Forgive me, I expressed myself badly.’ He flushed, and coughed discreetly into a fist. ‘This is one of the few hotels with an elevator. There is also a rather grand coffee room on the first floor, but perhaps you’re right and the lounge will do.’
Flora couldn’t help but smile at his obvious discomfort, as still blushing, he extended his arm to indicate she precede him into the lounge, while Sally’s snort of amused laughter followed.
Ignoring her, Flora took in her surroundings, where she noted walls covered in flock wallpaper and hangings in womb-like red, lifted by reflected light from a chandelier several feet wide that hung inches above their heads. Typical of a hotel popular during the last half of the previous century; all sombre colours and heavy fabrics, giving a feeling of warm intimacy.
‘Madam.’ A waiter showed them to a pair of high-backed chairs set in a bay window. ‘Coffee for two is it, sir?’
‘If you please and ask what the lady in the corner would like.’
The waiter snapped a brief salute, departing with the words, ‘And it’s nice to see you again, sir.’
‘Oh, er, and you.’ Harry gave him a vague look as he backed away.
‘Is this place a favourite haunt of yours?’ Flora stared around at the opulent gilt and glass that shimmered in the light.
‘Not really, and now I come to think of it, I haven’t been here for some time. Not since last Easter. I’m surprised the chap remembered me. Oh, well, I must have one of those faces.’
‘Yes, you must. And you were right about the fire, it’s lovely.’ Flora eased closer to the wide Adam-style hearth where orange flames crackled and spat. ‘This was a good idea. And it was nice of you to order a drink for my maid.’
‘Well, I could hardly invite myself to your father’s apartment,’ Harry said. ‘That would have been most improper.’
‘Almost as improper as inviting me to go upstairs with you.’ Flora slowly removed her gloves.
‘I hoped I had adequately apologized for that.’ Harry tugged his trousers above the knees and lowered himself into a chair at right angles to hers. ‘I intended no offence.’ His tone softening into persuasion, something Flora imagined he used often. ‘Lydia told me you brought the dreadful news about Evangeline to her at the school. It was kind that you tried not to let her hear it from the police. Though that doesn’t answer the question as to where your interest lies in the affair.’
‘Perhaps I do owe you some sort of an explanation.’ The warmth of his charm reassured her, which she hoped she would not come to regret. She had trusted handsome and plausible young men before who had turned out to be murderers. Two of them in fact. ‘By coincidence, I happened to see Evangeline outside my father’s apartment building on the night she died.’
‘Lydia told me that curiosity brought you to the suffragist meeting, but I’m still not sure what that has to do with anything.’ He arranged his jacket as he spoke and buffed one shoe tip with a hand so she could not see the expression in his eyes.
Flora licked her lips, suddenly nervous, the fact she had been economical with the truth came back to her in a rush. ‘I’m sorry if you think I deceived both you and Lydia, but it was more than curiosity. I had hoped the lady I saw wasn’t Evangeline, but as it turned out my suspicions were correct. Do you always share close confidences with Miss Grey?’
‘There was nothing untoward, I assure you. I’ve known Lydia for a while, and losing Evangeline was devastating for us both.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to imply anything.’ Or did she? Didn’t Lydia say Harry liked the society of free-thinking young women prepared to defy their families and move about town unchaperoned? Then there was what Tilly had said about Harry’s frequent visits to Lydia.
‘You’re forgiven, though am I to assume that your visit to Boltons Library was not a coincidence either?’
‘Not exactly,’ she said carefully, his directness taking her by surprise.
The waiter returned with the coffee, though as he bent to place a cup before Flora his glasses slipped from his nose and bounced off the surface of the table.
‘I’m, exceedingly sorry, Madam.’ He retrieved them clumsily. ‘Small accident in the kitchens earlier which resulted in the breakage of my best pair. These are my spare and don’t fit so well.’ He backed away, red-cheeked.
‘Not a problem at all,’ Harry waved him away with an amiable smile then leaned forward to whisper, ‘I shan’t allow that to affect his tip.’
Flora studied him covertly, wondering if a man concerned about not disappointing a waiter could murder his own fiancée in cold blood. If it was cold. For all she knew they could have had a passionate row in that alley, and Harry had strangled her in a sudden moment of uncontrolled rage.
‘I hope you don’t take this as an insult, Mrs Harrington.’ Harry returned his coffee cup to its saucer, and leaned closer. ‘But you are quite easy to read. Your startling eyes give so much away.’
‘Really?’ Flora raised one brow at him in an attempt to be enigmatic, but it only served to make him laugh.
‘You want to know if I’m the type of man who could strangle someone I profess to care for.’
‘I wasn’t thinking any such thing.’ Flustered, she buried her nose in her own cup but knew she did not fool him.
‘For your information, I had a pet rabbit when I was a child and it broke its leg. My father told me to put it out of its misery, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Pater wasn’t at all impressed.’
‘What happened to the rabbit?’
‘My mother killed it. Quite efficiently too. I, however, lost the respect of both of them. I blame that incident for their abandoning me to make my own way after university. I feel sure they would have cancelled my inheritance if they could, but my wealth comes from my grandfather so they cannot do much about it. And in answer to your next question, I inherit the lot when I reach twenty-five. Therefore I didn’t need Evangeline’s fortune.’
‘I promise you I wasn’t going to ask such a question, but I will admit the strangling part intrigues me.’
‘I asked Inspector Maddox about that too.’ He eased fo
rward on his seat, both forearms balanced on his thighs. ‘Do you know it would take thirty seconds of steady pressure as a minimum to strangle someone of Evie’s physical make-up and strength. Thirty seconds is a long time to watch the life leave someone, don’t you think?’
‘Indeed, yes.’ Flora replaced the shortbread biscuit she was about to bite into onto her plate, no longer hungry. ‘It would take a callous person to do such a thing, and a strong one.’ She changed the subject. ‘I was unaware you lived nearby, Mr Flynn. Or that you used the library.’
‘I haven’t been following you if that’s what you think.’ He replenished their cups with a steady hand. ‘Though I’m glad of the chance to talk to you.’
‘Oh, and why is that?’ A whiff of steam rose from the cup he handed her, from which an enticing aroma filled her senses without a repeat of her earlier nausea.
‘Lydia seemed to think you might know something about who killed my Evie.’
His possessiveness was so unlike his casual attitude toward Evangeline’s whereabouts at the suffrage meeting, Flora looked up in surprise. But then he didn’t know Evangeline was dead at the time. Or did he?
‘My connection with her is no more than you already know, in that she met her death a few yards from my front door. Or rather my father’s. As I said before, I hoped it wasn’t her, but hoping doesn’t change anything, does it?’
‘No, it doesn’t.’ He relaxed back into his chair. ‘Might I ask why you thought the woman you saw was Evie?’
‘It was the brooch. The one shaped like the NUWSS society badge which prompted me to attend the meeting. I met Lydia there and, well, you know the rest.’ Flora cradled her coffee cup. ‘How did you learn of her death? Did Lydia tell you?’ Evangeline’s name hadn’t been released to the newspapers as yet, but Harry Flynn seemed to know what had happened.
‘Inspector Maddox subjected me to some rather impertinent questioning last night,’ he replied, ignoring her reference to Lydia. ‘He said I had been implicated by her brother, John Lange.’ He fidgeted and adjusted his tie. ‘Not that I was very surprised. The man has never liked me.’
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