The corner of Bunny’s mouth twitched and he grabbed Flora’s hand, squeezing it in acknowledgement of their secret.
Flora wished it could remain that way, but she would have to share not only the news but, in a few months, the baby too.
‘I thought perhaps we might make it just the two of us, Beatrice?’ William interrupted. ‘Let Flora and Bunny have some time alone.’
‘Whatever for?’ Beatrice frowned, her lips puckered into invisibility, then in the face of William’s smile, she visibly softened. ‘Oh, well, if you really think it’s necessary.’
Coats and hats were retrieved and after a protracted leave-taking, Flora stood at the sitting room window while Bunny hugged her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder.
‘She seems to like him,’ Bunny said, his breath warm on her cheek.
They watched as William held open the gate of the park opposite to allow Beatrice to pass in front of him, performed with an elaborate flapping of hands and a flirtatious gesture of her head.
‘She resembles a tall, fussy chicken strutting along beside a panther,’ Flora said.
‘Never mind Mother, now I’ve got you to myself for a while.’ Bunny twisted her around to face him, head bent so their foreheads touched. ‘I’ve been longing to ask you since we got here, though I didn’t dare with Mother present. What did William say?’
‘Say about what?’ At his sudden start she recalled what he meant. ‘Um – I haven’t actually found the right moment. Not yet.’
‘Flora!’ He slid his hands down her arms, took a step back but did not release her hands. ‘You promised you would tell him. How much time does one need to tell a man he’s about to be a grandfather?’
‘I know but – look, this may sound odd, but to be quite honest, I don’t feel as if I’m going to have a child. Not yet.’
‘But you told me the doctor said—’
‘I know what he said, and it’s not that I don’t believe him.’ She looked down at her flat belly and shrugged. ‘It doesn’t seem real to me. No more real than William being my father in some ways.’
‘It’s early days yet.’
‘Exactly. I need to come to terms with what’s happening to me.’ The bewilderment in his face both annoyed and dismayed her. ‘Before I can tell William, I have to feel it myself.’ She removed one hand from his grasp and pressed it to her lower belly. ‘Real in here, as well as in my head. That might sound strange, but it’s the only explanation I can give.’
‘I would have thought that bout of sickness I witnessed would have convinced you.’
‘I haven’t felt that bad since, so I’ve not thought about it too much.’ Flora had always imagined giving such news to Riordan Maguire. That she would never see the pleasure on his face made the situation as sad as it was happy. For her at least. ‘It’s complicated.’ She laced her fingers with his and tightened her grip, willing him to make allowances. ‘William has been so distracted, what with all this panic about Serbian spies, the one time I did try to tell him we were interrupted.’
‘I see,’ he murmured, though Flora doubted that he did.
‘I went to an NUWSS suffragist meeting and met a lovely young schoolteacher called Lydia Grey, and-’
‘Flora.’ His voice held a warning. ‘You haven’t been getting involved in the Lange murder, have you?’
‘Ah, you heard about that?’ Her stomach knotted and she braced herself for a lecture.
‘Of course, I have. It was reported in The Times under the heading, “Knightsbridge Murder”. I’m not likely to have overlooked it. Please tell me you haven’t been nosing into something that doesn’t concern you? Especially now?’
‘When have I ever done that?’ Flora winced in response to his slowly raised, perfectly arched eyebrow. ‘Well, yes, I suppose I have. The death of Mr Van Elder on the steamship was nothing to do with me, but my father’s murder, I mean Riordan’s, was very much my concern.’
She entwined her arms around his neck and leaned into him in the way he always found difficult to resist, knowing she would get her way.
‘Really Flora.’ He released a long-suffering sigh that was beginning to be a common theme of their marriage. ‘This was supposed to be a pleasant visit with your father. A little shopping, a few quiet suppers and maybe a museum visit. Not a murder enquiry.’
‘I couldn’t help it.’ She experienced a small satisfaction that her ploy worked and he nuzzled her cheek. ‘I observed the victim talking to William’s colleague, who happens to live right here in this building with his wife. Then hours later she was dead.’
‘The wife?’
‘No.’ She pulled back slightly, aiming a gentle slap at his chest. ‘Evangeline Lange.’
‘You think the neighbour killed her?’
Flora shrugged. ‘Maybe at first. But there is no evidence, let alone a motive. Then William told me the two of them are working on something connected with this Serbian situation. He won’t explain, but I’m sure he knows far more about Evangeline Lange than he’ll admit. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know I hate mysteries and this is a complicated one.’ She recalled the two occasions when William had rushed from the apartment after something she had said, only to behave afterward as if it had never happened.
‘Does William know what you have been up to?’
‘Partly. Although he made it clear he wants me to stay out of it.’
‘Good. I hope you’ll listen for once. I don’t want you upset. You should be resting as much as possible.’
‘I’m not tired. Although I have developed an aversion to bacon, and a liking for cake. Lots of cake. Besides, when did puzzle-solving upset me? You could at least listen to what I’ve found out before you make any snap judgements.’
‘Go on then.’ He drew her down beside him on the sofa in front of a crackling fire Randall had prepared in advance. ‘I can see you won’t be content until you’ve told me the entire story.’
‘Really?’ She tucked in her chin bringing his face into focus. Such a rapid capitulation wasn’t like him and she had been prepared to evade the subject altogether. ‘Well, all right then.’
Weak winter light seeped through the long windows and accompanied by the soft tick of the clock on the mantel, Flora told him about her meeting with Lydia Grey and Harry Flynn, the Harriet Parker Academy, her unsatisfactory encounter with Inspector Maddox at Cannon Row and finding Evangeline’s bag with the letters held for her in Boltons Library and what Cecily and Molly had to say about Victor.
‘Goodness, Flora,’ Bunny said exasperated when she had finished. ‘You’ll be joining the police force next.’ He slanted a downwards look at her. ‘I may as well have saved my breath, although the Victor part is mysterious enough to be interesting.’
‘I thought so too.’ She pounced on his interest with enthusiasm. ‘Once I began, one thing led to another. Cecily Moffatt works for the head of the Foreign Office and she knew this Victor person.’
‘Or she says she did. You have no evidence they were acquainted.’
‘That’s true, I hadn’t thought of that.’ She nodded slowly. ‘I doubt it’s a coincidence that Evangeline was seen coming out of this very building the night she died.’ She pushed herself upright and twisted on the seat so their faces were on the same level. ‘I think Victor is using women to gain information about his fellow countrymen, either because he’s staging these riots, or maybe they are against his cause and he wants to intimidate them. William says the British government won’t acknowledge the new king. They suspect one faction of Serbians are plotting to put King Alexander’s mother, Queen Nathalie, back on the throne.’
‘Which cause is Victor working for do you think? The new King Peter or the murdered king Alexander’s mother?’
‘That’s the problem, I don’t know.’ She tilted her head with a frown. ‘You seem to know rather a lot about it.’
‘I read the newspapers.’ Bunny fiddled with one arm of his spectacles. ‘It’s important to keep up wi
th current politics.’
‘I see, all right then.’ A worm of suspicion insinuated into her head, but she was too busy with her account to pay too much attention. ‘William’s believes these Serbians are active in London. Or maybe the men Victor wanted to know about at the hospital are his enemies and he’s reporting back to his own government?’ Bunny opened his mouth to respond but she forestalled him. ‘William won’t discuss it with me because of something called the Official Secrets Act.’
‘Which comes as a relief, though I must say you put a good case.’ Bunny leaned both forearms on his knees. ‘I’m still not clear what the connection is between Victor and Miss Lange. Unless you think a girls’ school is a hotbed of Balkan spies?’
‘There’s no evidence Evangeline was aware he was involved in spying. Perhaps she needed to find him because he had treated her as casually as he had Cecily and Molly. Thus the advertisement. What Evangeline didn’t bargain for was Victor seeing it, and when he did, he must have suspected she was getting close to his activities, so he killed her.’
‘It all sounds very involved, not to mention dangerous. And a matter I trust you’ll leave the police to follow?’ He slanted another downwards look at her, which made her cheeks grow hot. If he knew exactly what she had been doing he would take her home with him that very afternoon.
‘Believe me, I don’t want to get involved with spy rings and violent men who kill royals.’ She wasn’t sure if she sounded convincing enough but Bunny made no comment so she relaxed again. ‘Somehow this all goes back to the assassination of King Alexander and Queen Draga in Belgrade?’
Bunny looked about to say something, but voices from the hallway alerted them to the return of William and Beatrice, breaking the mood.
‘I promise I’ll tell William about the baby before I leave,’ she whispered, giving him a final, desperate hug.
She had just that second managed to create a space between them on the sofa and patted her messed up hair back into place when the door opened on a beaming Beatrice and a somewhat subdued-looking William, his nose bright red from the cold.
Chapter 24
Despite Beatrice’s insistence that it was entirely unnecessary, Flora prevailed in her plea to accompany Bunny to Waterloo Station where they were to catch the six-twenty train that evening. Beatrice managed to exert her authority into the arrangement by dismissing the motor taxi Dunne had summoned and insisted on a hansom instead.
‘I don’t know why there’s all this fuss about these ridiculous contraptions.’ Beatrice tutted as she arranged the blanket provided by the hackney company over her knees against the frigid December wind. ‘Hansoms are a far superior mode of travel.’
‘Tell that to the horses,’ Bunny said, attracting Flora’s admiration. ‘Their lives are hard and short in London. Motor taxis are more efficient and the horses can return to the fields where they belong.’
‘Horses, indeed.’ Beatrice turned her head, causing Flora to press back against the seat to avoid being assaulted by her hat.
‘I know Richmond isn’t far,’ Flora squeezed in between them, ‘but I always think there’s something romantic about waving you off on a train.’
At Waterloo, their driver joined the end of a winding queue in front of the station and at Beatrice’s insistence, left his perch and helped her down.
‘If you could wait here,’ Bunny instructed the driver, at the same time pressing a generous tip into the man’s hand. ‘My wife shall be returning to Knightsbridge momentarily.’ He turned to help Flora down the step, where she tucked her hand beneath his elbow and squeezed his arm against her side as they stepped onto the platform.
‘Do enjoy the rest of your stay, Flora.’ Beatrice offered a powdered cheek in a rare gesture of affection. ‘I trust you not to do anything rash during your remaining holiday.’ Her instruction delivered, she accosted a passing porter. ‘My seat must face the engine and be located out of the way of any coal smoke,’ she declared, then glided through the crowds that streamed from a newly arrived express, the unfortunate porter dancing at her side.
‘What have you told her?’ Flora whispered as Bunny guided her toward the platforms.
‘Nothing about the murder enquiry,’ Bunny replied through gritted teeth. ‘And I don’t intend to. However, she has a point. My instinct is to demand you come home with me right now, but how would you explain cutting your visit short to William? Besides, you have yet to tell him our news.’
‘I shall, of course.’
‘As long as you don’t join that new suffragist group while you are here. The NUWSS is moderately acceptable, but Mother would have a fit if I told her what those WPSU women are planning.’
‘The civil disobedience? I’m not sure I could go along with that either. Smashing windows and disrupting meetings in the Commons strikes me as somewhat extreme. And you?’ Flora looked up at him. ‘How would you feel about my campaigning for the women’s vote?’
Bunny stooped to retrieve a cream kid glove a woman dropped at their feet, returning it to her with a slight bow. ‘Put it this way.’ He accepted the stranger’s grateful thanks with a smile. ‘Mrs Fawcett’s patient lobbying for women to have a stronger role in politics is admirable. Mrs Pankhurst, however, is another breed altogether and she’s too radical for my taste.’ A teasing smile appeared. ‘Perhaps she needs a good whipping?’
‘Taking your quotes from the late Queen Victoria?’ Flora viewed him askance. ‘I believe she once used those exact words.’ She pressed closer to Bunny as a man in a homburg and long overcoat pushed past her and demanded the porter hold the train about to leave from the opposite platform.
‘But if I don’t go right now, that will be me.’ Bunny brushed his lips against her cheek as he nodded to the man, now engaged in a tussle with the porter who had firmly closed the gate and refused to open it again.
A guard’s whistle broke the brief silence, just as a plume of white steam erupted from the engine, followed by the screech of a train hooter, all of which combined to make Flora wish she was going home with Bunny right now.
Beatrice appeared at the door of a first-class carriage. ‘Ptolemy, do come along. Or the train will leave without you.’
‘If only I could be that fortunate.’ Bunny climbed into the carriage, pulled down the window and stuck his head out.
‘You could have stayed with me at William’s. He invited you.’ Flora propped her chin on her gloved hands on the window ledge.
‘I know, but I’m working long hours at the moment and couldn’t spare the time. I hope my efforts will come to fruition soon. I may even have a surprise for you before long.’
‘Surprise for me? What sort of surprise?’ The sudden, harsh screech of the whistle sounded again and the train began to move slowly.
‘If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?’ Bunny raised his voice above the chug of the engines.
Flora kept pace for a carriage length as the train gathered speed. She released her hold at the last moment, staring after the window behind which Bunny waved as the train disappeared along the track like a massive snake. When all she could see of him was his hand, she returned to the obligingly waiting taxi.
Flora propped her chin on her hand as the hansom crossed Waterloo Bridge, the grey ribbon of the Thames flowed beneath them and Somerset House sat straight ahead, warmed by thought that she and Bunny would be together again in Richmond by the end of the week. With this though uppermost, she was determined to find out who killed Evangeline by the time that happened, determined to finish what she had begun.
It wasn’t until the cab pulled up outside Prince Albert Mansions, did it strike her that Bunny had been strangely accepting of her enquiries into the murder. He had listened to her story in silence but had issued none of the furious rebukes and husbandly edicts she had expected. Perhaps he was growing used to her penchant for solving puzzles and had decided to let her alone? Or was there something else?
*
Flora felt her separation
from Bunny more keenly after their short reconciliation, making supper that evening a subdued affair. Between courses, she decided she owed it to William to keep him informed as to what she had discovered about Evangeline Lange. Having rejected several accounts as being too apologetic or detailed, she settled on the simple, unvarnished truth. She waited until Randall had banked up the sitting room fire and set the coffee tray before she began.
‘William.’ She kept her back to him as she poured his coffee. ‘I need to talk to you about the Lange murder.’ Turning, she handed him a full cup, his favourite Florentine biscuit tucked into the saucer. ‘Would you like a brandy to go with that?’
His perplexed smile turned to delighted surprise and a firm nod. ‘I could do with one after the day I’ve had.’
‘My mother-in-law can be difficult at times, but you managed her perfectly. Your suggestion about the hot chocolate was a master stroke. It was kind of you to make it possible for Bunny and me to be alone for a while. Our meeting the other day was a little fraught as I had my head over a bowl for most of it.’
‘He told me. Food poisoning can be most unpleasant. I hope you are quite recovered now.’
Flora merely smiled, hoping there would be no repeat performance over the next few days. She had explained away the first with a story about Fullers serving day old fish, but that wouldn’t convince him a second time. She had a small speech prepared and wanted to tell him about the coming baby in her own way. Hopefully, after she had broached the subject of Evangeline Lange’s murderer.
‘Actually,’ he went on, ‘I found Beatrice Harrington quite charming in fact, despite her sharp tongue, which I suspect conceals an even sharper intellect.’
‘Really?’ Flora gave this some thought as she returned to the sideboard, reassessing her own opinion of Beatrice. Perhaps he was right and her mother-in-law’s obsession with social climbing was merely a façade, cultivated so she might appear less intelligent? Beatrice wouldn’t be the only woman brought up to believe men did not like clever women. Perhaps she should make more of an effort to know her better as a person and not simply as a rival for Bunny’s affections.
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