They fell into a companionable silence as they followed one of the pathways between the trees, while Flora’s thoughts swirled and collided in her head.
Why did Evangeline visit Mr Crabbe that night? Was it something to do with this Victor person she was so keen to find? Did Mr Crabbe know who Victor was?
And why did John make no comment about the fact Evangeline’s brooch wasn’t in the bag. Even if it wasn’t worth much, was he not sad that an item which meant so much to his sister was lost or stolen? Or perhaps the brooch was of little interest if he believed it was paste jewellery?
Chapter 21
‘Well, can you see anything?’ Flora said in a fierce whisper. She pressed herself against the wall of the building next to Boltons Library, careful she couldn’t be seen by anyone inside.
‘That sourpuss you spoke to last time isn’t there.’ Sally stood with one hand shielding her eyes and her nose pressed to the glass.
‘Perhaps she’s in the back. Give it a moment and see if she appears. I’m not going in if she’s there. She might recognize me.’
Sally pulled her head back. ‘I was with you that time, she might remember me as well.’
‘Not likely.’ Flora waved her back to the window. ‘Go on, take another look. Is she there?’
‘There’s one young man on his own. Now, what are you going to do?'
‘Not sure yet. Stay here. I’ll be back in a while.’ A very short while if this doesn’t go well.
Flora pushed open the door of the library, giving the long room a swift glance to make sure the young man behind the counter was the only member of staff on duty. ‘Good morning,’ she addressed the man, whom she could now see was little more than a youth.
‘Good morning, Madam. ‘Ow might I ’elp you?’ His expression was eager, but he had a little trouble with his aitches.
‘I was here yesterday and hoped to speak to the lady who helped me on that occasion. Is she here?’
‘I’m sorry, Madam. Today is ’er day off. Might I be of assistance?’
‘Oh dear, and she was so helpful too.’ Flora released a long, exaggerated sigh and did her best to look distracted. ‘She was dealing with my sister’s mailbox and she said she would make arrangements for me.’
‘If it’s something to do with the rented boxes I’m sure I can ’elp.’
‘Well, the lady said,’ Flora halted, grimacing. ‘Oh, dear, I cannot remember her name.’
‘Gladys Holt,’ the young man replied, with barely restrained dislike.
‘Of course, I remember now.’ She gave him her most charming smile. ‘My sister rented a mailbox here, but…’ Flora heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘She died you see, quite recently. Miss Hold was making the required arrangements to let me have the contents of her mailbox.’
‘Miss Holt,’ he corrected her. ‘She’ll be back tomorrow, Madam. I could ask ’er then.’
‘Yes of course. Miss Holt. Oh, dear.’ Flora brought a crumpled handkerchief to her nose and blew into it noisily. ‘It's the funeral tomorrow and I – oh this is so hard for me.’
‘I do understand, Madam, and allow me to offer my condolences on the loss of your sister.’
‘Thank you.’ Flora sighed again. ‘You’re so kind. I don’t suppose—’ She directed a look at him filled with appeal. ‘No, I cannot ask that of you. After all, you’re only a junior member of staff. I imagine they don’t let you do anything around here but sweep the floor and make the tea without having to ask permission first?’
He drew himself up to his full height. ‘I assure you, Madam, I’m a respected member of the staff with every authority to offer a full service to the public.’ He flicked open a wooden box filled with keys attached to brown cardboard labels. ‘Which number was your sister’s box?’
‘Number thirty-two. Oh, I’m so grateful. And if my sister were here, I’m sure she would be too.’ Don’t overdo it, Flora.
He rifled through the box, withdrew a small key with a large black number on it and approached the bank of doors behind him, counting along the row as he went. ‘Ah, ’ere it is.’ He opened the door with the key and withdrew two slim envelopes. ‘This is all that was in it, Miss Lange.’ He gave the envelopes a cursory look before handing them to Flora.
She tucked them into her bag before he changed his mind and took a step back. ‘I shall be sure to let your employers know how efficient and helpful you were.’
‘But—’ the young man held up a hand. ‘You’ll need to sign the waiver.’
Pretending she hadn’t heard, Flora backed away from the counter, just as a portly gentleman barged past her and commanded the young man’s attention in brusque angry tones.
‘Did you get it?’ Sally asked out on the pavement.
‘Hush!’ Flora looked both ways before hurrying her back in the direction of Prince Albert Mansions. ‘There were only two letters in the box. I just hope it was worth that excellent performance. Perhaps I should go on stage.’
‘I thought you laid it on a bit thick, myself.’ When Flora glared at her, Sally shrugged. ‘I could see you from outside. All that handkerchief waving and limpid looks. Goodness knows what he thought.’
‘Oh, do be quiet. I got the letters didn’t I?’
The first envelope had the Boltons Library address written in neat cursive script on thick, lilac-coloured bond, while the other was an untidy scrawl on thinner, white paper that looked as if it had been torn from a notebook.
Both said virtually the same thing but with different syntax. ‘This Victor appears to have struck up an acquaintance with both women, then dropped them equally as suddenly and with no explanation.’
‘What are you going to do with the letters?’ Sally asked. ‘Give them to the police?’
‘How can I, unless I tell them about the bag as well. I’ll have to be sure John Lange has given it to them or we’ll both be in trouble.’ She cast a swift glance back at the library. ‘They are bound to discover this place, and I might even have committed some sort of crime by lying to that chap behind the counter. Besides,’ she gestured to the pages in her hand, ‘Inspector Maddox might dismiss them as unimportant.’
‘Isn’t that up to them?’
Flora bridled. ‘Sally, when did you become my conscience? Look, when I’ve discovered what these women know about this Victor, I’ll give them to the police.’ She tapped the lilac sheet of paper with a forefinger. ‘Starting with this one.’
*
The following morning, Flora took Sally with her to Lennox Gardens, which was the address quoted on the lilac-coloured letter.
‘Sally, please don’t look so furtive. What are you staring at anyway?’
‘Not sure, Missus. But that bloke over there looks like someone I saw yesterday when we was at the library.’
‘Who?’ Flora gave the street a sweeping glance. The day’s fog had not yet thickened to invisibility, but a thin white mist obscured anything more than twenty feet away, throwing more shadows in the garden square behind them than people.
‘Grey coat, hat pulled over his face. He’s over there by the lamp post.’
‘Sally that is a lamp post.’ She turned swiftly back to the door which was being opened slowly. A plump, soft-faced lady stood on the threshold, a mild look of enquiry on her face.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,’ Flora said when she caught herself staring. ‘I was expecting a butler.’
‘It’s his day off,’ the woman said, her voice matched her face. Kindly and soft. ‘In fact, it’s everyone’s day off. The Mistress has gone to the country for Christmas and taken most of the staff with her.’
‘I see, and Miss Moffatt?’ Unsure as to Cecily’s role in the household, Flora hoped the housekeeper would enlighten her.
‘Cecily?’ The woman’s face softened further. ‘Oh, she’s still here. You were lucky to catch her. She’ll be escorting Madam’s luggage on the train tomorrow. Are you friends of hers?’
Ah, so Cecily was a servant, and if she
was entrusted with her mistress’s luggage, maybe she was a lady’s maid.
‘Not exactly. Look, this may sound unorthodox, Mrs—’
‘Atkins,’ the lady supplied.
‘Mrs Atkins. I wanted to ask Miss Moffatt about someone she may or may not have known recently. A young man.’
‘If you mean that Victor, I doubt she’ll want to discuss him with anyone.’ Mrs Atkins raised one bushy eyebrow, her hands crossed over an ample belly she used as a shelf.
The use of the name made Flora hope she wouldn’t be turned away. ‘I don’t wish to upset her, but if she could spare me a moment or two, I would be very grateful.’
Mrs Atkins gave Flora a slow, appraising look, then opened the door fully. ‘All right then, but don’t you go upsetting her.’ She led them along the lower hall to a door at the back. ‘Dreadful how that rogue treated her,’ she muttered, throwing the door open that led into a small parlour at the back of the house. ‘Most of the downstairs rooms have dustsheets over the furniture, so you’ll have to talk in here. The Master and Mistress are never back until mid-January.’
‘That’s perfectly all right, it’s kind of you to let us see Miss Moffatt at all.’ Flora hoped the girl in question would feel the same.
‘Yes, well, heed me mind.’ The woman issued her warning and withdrew.
‘Interesting that the housekeeper knows who this Victor is,’ Flora mused as she wandered to the window that overlooked a neat courtyard garden.’
‘Miss Flora,’ Sally began.
‘She appears to be quite fond of Cecily to warn us like that,’ Flora continued, ignoring her. ‘I—’
‘Miss Flora.’ Sally nudged her in the ribs, causing Flora to swing around sharply, poised to reprimand her.
Sally stood with her eyes rounded, a finger pointed to an oil painting of a distinguished looking man with silver hair that hung over the fireplace. Dressed in the fashion of some twenty years before, a stand-up collar and cravat tied loosely at his throat and a superior expression.
‘Must be the master of the house,’ Flora said. ‘He looks very proud, but quite handsome. For an older gentleman.’
Sally tutted, and snapped. ‘Never mind that. Look at the label.’
Flora stepped closer and peered at the engraved gilt plaque. ‘Jervis Stanton Hanson, Secretary of the Foreign Office.’ Flora gasped. ‘Oh, my goodness, he’s William’s boss!’
‘Perhaps we should slip out before the housekeeper gets back?’ Sally whispered.
‘Didn’t Mrs Atkins say he was in the country? We mustn’t lose our nerve, Sally. This investigation is about to become interesting if it wasn’t already.’
The door clicked open, admitting an attractive girl in her early twenties with almond-shaped blue eyes. ‘Mrs Atkins said you wished to speak to me?’ She looked from Flora to Sally and back again, but did not invite them to sit.
‘I appreciate your agreeing to see me, Miss Moffatt,’ Flora began. ‘This might seem an odd question, but are you acquainted with a Miss Evangeline Lange?’
‘The woman who was found dead in Knightsbridge?’ Her eyes flew open in shock. ‘I read about it in the newspapers. No, no I didn’t know her at all.’
Flora withdrew the advertisement she had cut out of the newspaper from her bag, together with Cecily’s letter. ‘You replied to this advertisement, with this letter.’
Cecily read the newspaper clipping quickly but did not touch the letter, handing both back with a brief nod. ‘I did, yes. I sent it as instructed to the postbox.’
‘And you weren’t aware that box belonged to Miss Lange?’
The colour left Cecily’s face and she staggered slightly, a hand reaching for something to hold onto. For a moment, Flora thought she was going to faint and leapt forward to help her into a chair. Her breathing grew shallow, her hands pressed to her middle.
‘Shall I send for the housekeeper?’ Flora whispered, awkwardly patting her hand.
‘No, please – I’ll be quite all right in a moment.’ Cecily took several short breaths and then longer ones. Her colour evened out but her lip still trembled. ‘Was it my fault?’
‘Was what your fault?’ Sally removed a white handkerchief from her bag and held it by two corners and rapidly flapped it in front of Cecily’s face.
‘Sally, will you stop that, you’re causing a draught!’ Flora snapped.
‘Sorry, just trying to help.’ Sally hunched her shoulders and backed away.
‘Miss Moffatt,’ Flora urged. ‘You were telling us something might have been your fault.’
‘Is-is Miss Lange dead because I wrote that letter?’
‘Why would you think that?’ Flora’s voice rose and she reminded herself not to alarm this girl more than she already was.
‘Because – because of him?’
‘You mean Victor? The man she asked about in the advertisement?’
Cecily nodded, her tears, like transparent pearls clung to her cheeks.
‘Miss Lange never saw your letter, Cecily. It was still in the mailbox after Evangeline was killed.’
‘Then what are you doing here?’ Her perfectly arched brows lowered over a pair of vivid blue eyes.
‘I hoped you would tell me what you knew of this man Victor.’
Cecily gasped and rose, backing toward the door. ‘You came from him?’
‘You misunderstand.’ Flora grasped her hand and drew her back towards the chair, taking the one opposite. ‘Please, calm yourself. I haven’t come to cause trouble, or embarrass you. However, your letter to Miss Lange written in response to this advertisement says you were acquainted with him. That’s the only reason I’m here. I’m trying to find out who killed her.’
‘You think Victor might have hurt Miss Lange?’
‘I don’t know. That’s why I need you to tell me what you know about him. Evangeline was obviously interested in him – but why?’
‘Excuse me!’ Sally interrupted. ‘Is this your employer?’ She cocked her head at the portrait of the grey-haired man.
‘My employer’s husband, yes.’ Cecily left her chair and came to stand before the painting. ‘He’s an important man in the government.’
Heat flooded Flora’s cheeks, but she remained silent.
‘He’s in the country,’ Sally said. ‘That’s right, ain’t it?’
‘Mrs Hanson is. She’s gone to their estate in Sussex for the festive season. Mr Hanson will follow in a few days. There’s some crisis as the Foreign Office he has to sort out first. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ Sally widened her eyes at Flora. ‘Just interested. Wouldn’t want him walking in, would we?’
‘Cecily.’ Flora cleared her throat, more eager than ever to end the interview and leave before Mr Hanson returned. ‘Was Victor your young man?’
‘I thought he was.’ Cecily’s pretty eyes welled with tears.
That was all she needed, vagueness. ‘Well, how did you meet him?’
‘Victor always seemed to be in the vicinity whenever I left the house. I didn’t think anything of it at first, seeing him in the street, the park and browsing through the shops I frequented. After a few weeks, he approached me and struck up a conversation in the way any young man does when he wishes to become acquainted with a lady.’
‘You accepted his attentions?’
She nodded. ‘I was flattered and he was very attentive. We went for talks, visited tea shops. He took me to a concert once. I didn’t see any harm in it. However, after a while, I came to trust him and I-I let down my guard. He was so – passionate. We became close, too close.’ She released a sob. ‘I thought he liked me.’
‘He most probably did. You’re a very pretty girl, Cecily, any man would be flattered to have your affection. I gather things didn’t go well between you?’
She shook her head and stared at her lap. ‘I let him take – liberties.’
‘Oh lord,’ Sally snorted. Flora gestured her into silence.
Cecily’s head jerked up and sh
e glared at Sally. ‘Not those sort of liberties.’
‘I’m sorry, my maid didn’t mean anything.’ She widened her eyes at Sally, who retreated. ‘What do you mean, Cecily?’
‘When the Hansons were at church, I allowed him into the house sometimes. To take tea and read poetry, that sort of thing. He had such a lovely speaking voice and always recited from memory. I never saw him use a book.’
‘Please go on, Miss Moffatt.’ Flora frowned as a memory surfaced. She had heard something similar recently but couldn’t quite grasp where.
‘Once,’ Cecily swallowed before continuing, ‘I found him in the master’s study. He told me he had got lost, so I thought nothing of it, but when I checked, I saw the top drawer of his desk wasn’t quite closed. The master never leaves his desk like that. I didn’t say anything that time, but when it happened again, I told him to leave and never come back. That I could lose my position if the master ever found out.’ Her mouth twisted but not enough to spoil her delicate looks. ‘I really need this position.’
‘Was anything missing?’ Flora asked.
‘I couldn’t very well ask him, could I?’ Cecily’s penetrating gaze made Flora feel she was being stupid. ‘The master hasn’t said anything, so I assume not.
‘I don’t suppose you had any idea as to what he was looking for?’ Flora asked.
Cecily shrugged. ‘I imagined he had befriended me so he might steal from the house.’
‘But he only ever searched the study? And nothing went missing?’
‘It does seem odd, I agree. I caught him on those two occasions, but how do I know he hadn’t been elsewhere when my back was turned?’ Her eyes, still tear-filled, glistened.
Flora nodded. This girl was brighter than she looked.
‘It wasn’t until afterward,’ she went on, ‘did I realize I don’t even know where he lived or what he did for a living. How could I have been so stupid?’
‘Did you tell anyone about Victor?’
‘No!’ Cecily looked up, her nose red, but still annoyingly pretty. ‘That letter to Miss Lange was the only time I have ever admitted I knew him.’ Cecily released a half sob. ‘If Mrs Hanson knew I had brought a strange man back to the house, she would dismiss me with no references.’ She accepted Flora’s proffered handkerchief and sniffled into it. ‘I addressed it to Miss EL, just as the advertisement said.’ She blinked. ‘Are you sure she was this Miss Lange?’
A Knightsbridge Scandal Page 23