A Knightsbridge Scandal

by Anita Davison

  ‘Did you wish to say something to me, Flora?’ William asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  ‘I did, actually, I—’

  ‘By the way,’ William interrupted her, ‘I had a talk with your Inspector Maddox this morning.’

  The solid crystal decanter came up heavier in Flora’s hand than she had anticipated and almost slipped from her grasp. ‘He’s not my Inspector Maddox. He’s entirely the property of the Metropolitan Police Force.’ Why did mention of the man raise her hackles? She shifted her grip on the crystal and set it back onto the tray.

  ‘I stand corrected.’ William chuckled as he took the balloon glass from her and cradled it in his hand, his free elbow propped on the mantel. ‘Anyway, he told me that on the night she died, Miss Lange was seen at the Alexandra Hotel with a man at around nine-thirty.’

  ‘Really?’ Flora swung to face him, the milk jug now in one hand. ‘Do they know who he was?’ She whitened her coffee which she carried back to the sofa and sat.

  He shook his head. ‘The staff claim not to remember them well enough to give a description. The only thing they all remember was a piece of costume jewellery she wore. A brooch, wasn’t it?’

  ‘A brooch, yes, but I’m not sure the one I saw was what they are talking about. Both Lydia and her brother said it wasn’t valuable, but Harry Flynn seemed to think it was made of rubies and emeralds.’ She took a tentative sip from her cup, savouring her first taste, relieved her sickness was confined to mornings. Randall made it just the way she liked it. Strong and hot.

  William’s brows lifted. ‘Well, that changes things somewhat, in that rubies and emeralds are enough motive for any thief.’

  ‘Do you really think Evangeline was killed by an opportunist thief?’ She was about to ask him why he had rushed away from the ice rink after seeing Evangeline’s advertisement, but changed her mind in case he clammed up completely – or rushed out again. She had rejected the robbery theory almost from the start, and wasn’t prepared to change her mind now.

  ‘I cannot say, and as yet no one knows what happened.’ He stood with his back to the fire and swirled the dark amber liquid in the bottom of his glass.

  ‘What about Mr Crabbe?’ Flora caught his sharp look, adding, ‘I know he’s not a suspect, but he took a late night walk at about the time Evangeline was killed. He might have seen her with this man?’

  ‘You can forget Crabbe altogether, Flora. He was out for a walk, though I won’t ask you how you knew that. However, he insists he was nowhere near the alley or the hotel.’

  ‘If you say so, in which case I won’t mention him again.’

  ‘Something is obviously on your mind, Flora. Would you care to share whatever it is?’

  ‘I went to Old Barrack Yard the other day to see where Evangeline died.’ She ran her tongue over lips suddenly dry. William looked about to speak but she held up a hand. ‘No, don’t interrupt, I need to tell you everything before you start asking questions. Or lecturing me.’

  ‘I’m listening.’ He took a sip from his glass.

  Flora repeated what she had told Bunny that afternoon, even the part about Evangeline’s bag and John’s reluctance to trust the police to find his sister’s murderer.

  ‘Not everyone has faith in the police,’ he said when she had finished. He pushed away from the mantelpiece and strolled to the tray where he refilled his brandy glass. He was calm, almost detached as if nothing she had told him was news to him. ‘May I see these letters?’ He set his glass down on the low table and waited.

  Flora retrieved them from the bureau beside the window and handed them to him. She returned to her seat where she sat in tense silence waiting for him to finish reading them.

  ‘And this Cecily allowed Victor inside the home of the Secretary of the Foreign Office?’ he said when he had finished.

  ‘Not allowed. He slipped away from her when she wasn’t looking. She would never have given him permission and she threw him out when she discovered what he had done.’

  William pursed his lips, tapping the letter against his other hand. ‘I apologize, Flora. You do indeed have something here.’

  ‘I do?’ Blood rushed through her thighs and up into her chest in sudden excitement. ‘You aren’t angry with me for poking my nose into things which don’t concern me?’

  ‘No.’ He frowned. ‘Why would I be? I just want you to stay safe that’s all; I wish I had such a resourceful investigator as you. Crabbe will be most annoyed when he finds out you have trumped him.’ He chuckled.

  ‘Mr Crabbe is your investigator?’ Flora asked as realization dawned.

  William had the grace to blush. ‘He’s not experienced, but he has his uses,’ he said, neatly avoiding any explanation as to what he was investigating, and whom. ‘I’ll take charge of these if you don’t object.’ He gathered the letters together and tucked them into an inside pocket. ‘I’ll put them safe in my desk tonight, but first thing tomorrow I’ll take them to Cannon Row as proof my Serbian spy is indeed linked with his murder.’ He retrieved his brandy glass and swirled the brown liquid lazily. ‘I blame myself for having neglected you since you arrived. I should have known you wouldn’t be content sitting in the apartment reading Tennyson or out shopping for trinkets at Mr Harrod’s store. You forget, I watched you grow up at Cleeve Abbey, witness to all the scrapes you got yourself into. The tree climbing and scaling of hay bales in the barn in your best clothes.’ He waved the glass in her direction. ‘Do you recall that summer you and Jocasta built a raft to cross the stream?’

  ‘It fell apart midstream and we got drenched.’ Flora smiled at the memory, which returned with all the laughter and incipient fear of getting both her and Jocasta into trouble.

  ‘My sister made the most dreadful scene when you both came running back over the lawn in just your petticoats in front of a whole garden full of guests.’ William laughed.

  ‘Our dresses soaked up all the water and dragged us under. We had to take them off.’ Flora recalled with a pang Lady Vaughn’s horror when she saw them from the terrace. Flora had assumed she would be blamed for that escapade at the time, but due to William’s intervention that did not happen. If only she had known then why he was so ready to jump to her defence, perhaps things might have been different. But then her childhood had hardly been unhappy, so knowing William was her father might have simply made things more confusing. For the first time, she began to see William’s dilemma and entertain the thought that maybe his frequent visits to Cleeve Abbey might have had something to do with her.

  ‘Since I discovered who you were, I always thought nothing could have affected my feelings for Riordan Maguire. That his place in my heart was fixed, and yet now—’ She fought sudden tears as unresolved feelings for the man who had raised her vied with what was happening between herself and William.

  ‘I never sought to supplant him, Flora. I could see how much he loved you, and despite my jealousy at the fact he was raising you when I was denied that privilege, I would not have spoiled that for you.’

  ‘Don’t you see it is spoiled in a way? He lied about Mother. He told me she was dead, when all along he wasn’t sure if she ran away or was taken from us.’

  ‘He was trying to protect you. What could he say? That she had left and he didn’t know why? What would a young girl make of that? You would have blamed yourself as much as he did.’

  ‘I never thought of it that way.’ Flora frowned. ‘He lied to me about you too.’

  ‘I know, but for a very good reason. I also think he truly believed Lily was dead, so felt it unfair to give you false hope that she might return.’

  ‘In the back of my mind, I always knew there was something missing. Not just the fact Mother didn’t have a grave, but he would never discuss her. He refused to, no matter how many times I asked. I thought it was because he couldn’t bear to. Now I’m not so sure.’

  ‘Don’t cast Riordan as being at fault. He did what he thought was right, and you were happy being his child, weren�
�t you?’

  ‘Of course I was, but I thought we had no secrets. Yet now, when I am in no position to demand an explanation, I discover he kept the most important one from me.’

  ‘You’re still angry with him? Even after all these months?’

  ‘Yes, yes I am, and there’s no way to put it right.’ She swiped the tears from her cheek. ‘Why didn’t he tell me when I was old enough to understand?’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t want to take the chance that knowledge might change the way you saw him? For not being honest about Lily as well as the fact he had married her partly for your sake?’ He took a sip from his glass, swallowed. ‘While it was all happening, and Lily and I vacillated, blaming each other and being weak, Riordan took charge and acted in all our interests.’

  ‘What about you? Did you ever wonder how the truth would finally affect me? Or did it suit you to ignore your indiscretion.’ He winced and she instantly regretted her harshness. ‘I’m sorry, that was cruel, and when you are trying your best to make up for it all now.’

  ‘Was it – difficult for you?’ she asked when he stayed silent. ‘Knowing about me, I mean, and yet having to treat me like Riordan Maguire’s child?’

  ‘How could it not have been?’ His eyes clouded with remembered pain. ‘When you turned eighteen and became Eddie’s governess, I went to Riordan and asked him if we could tell you the truth, together.’ He raised the brandy glass to lips but moved it away again without taking a sip. ‘He refused.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ He sauntered back to his chair, leather creaking as he settled into the cushions. ‘I understood he wanted to keep you to himself. He loved you very much.’

  His words hung in the air as silence grew heavy between them. William stared off through the window towards Hyde Park, his eyes suddenly dark, which made her hope he recalled the happier moments of his life rather than what he didn’t have.

  Flora blew her nose and wiped away the remnants of tears. Though not all that sat between them was resolved, she felt better about things and more prepared to bring the subject up again at another time. One day she might even feel comfortable with calling him, Father.

  ‘Now.’ William stood and placed his unfinished glass on the mantel and huffed a breath. ‘As you’ve been honest with me about what you have been doing these last few days, I think you should know that we are aware of Victor’s relationship with this Miss Cecily Moffatt. Although we did not have a name.’

  ‘By we,’ she began, ‘do you mean you and Mr Crabbe, or your superiors at the Foreign Office?’

  ‘The latter, although we’re an exclusive circle. Do you imagine much happens in Lennox Gardens without someone reporting it back to us? We deal with some sensitive information, so have informants everywhere.’

  ‘Mr Hanson reported to us that his study had been disturbed, so I put a man to watch his house. The man saw Victor just the once and then not clearly, and as you know he broke off with Miss Moffatt soon after that. By the time we realized, we still had no idea who he was.’

  Flora relaxed slightly, relieved. She had begun to feel guilty about the Boltons Library masquerade. Not to mention what she would say if Inspector Maddox had discovered she had spoken to Cecily and Molly.

  ‘Cecily won’t get into trouble will she?’ Flora edged forward on her chair. ‘As soon as she discovered Victor in the study she made him leave.’

  ‘The man’s an expert spy and an innocent lady’s maid stood little chance. I expect all she’ll receive is a reprimand. As for Miss Lange, I doubt she knew anything about spies. In fact her involvement was an inconvenient coincidence which we haven’t quite worked out yet.’ Retrieving his glass, William warmed his brandy with both hands round the bowl, his attention leaving her as he looked to be deep in thought. Did this mean Mr Crabbe was exonerated too? ‘This man Harry Flynn,’ William forestalled her question about Crabbe, ‘he seems to pop up all over the place. Are you sure he doesn’t know more then he pretends to?’

  ‘I’ve wondered that myself. The truth is, I cannot be sure, though Harry doesn’t seem the type to strangle a woman.’

  ‘Any man might be, given the right circumstances.’

  ‘I suppose so. He admits to having an argument with Evangeline about when they should be married, though as far as I know she didn’t call off the wedding. I also recognized genuine grief in him. I don’t think he would have hurt her.’

  ‘You’re still young, Flora.’ He released a world-weary sigh. ‘You see attractive young men as being largely honourable and the world as a kind place.’

  ‘Isn’t your world kind?’ She searched his face which, apart from a cynical lift of an eyebrow, revealed nothing. He was the handsome, carefree man she had always known, and one who had led a life of comfort and privilege. Or perhaps those things didn’t matter when he had been forced to live without the woman he loved most in the world? One thing which had struck her forcibly was William’s insistence that he had truly loved Lily. He had tried more than once to convince her to elope with him, but she had refused. When she disappeared, he had been distraught.

  ‘Don’t listen to me.’ William placed his glass on the table between them with a tiny click. ‘Middle age and dealing with politicians is making me taciturn.’

  Flora refrained from stating the obvious, that he neither looked nor acted middle-aged. ‘What about Victor? Do you think he could have killed Miss Lange?’

  ‘It’s beginning to look that way.’ He pressed the tips of his fingers together and rested them against his upper lip. ‘However, ideas aren’t proof. We need to find out who he’s working for, as well as the names of his co-conspirators.’

  ‘He could be a murderer too?’

  ‘Indeed he could.’ He shifted in his seat, his expression softening. ‘Now, enough of unpleasantness. You seemed very happy to see Bunny this afternoon. I hope I’m not keeping you from him?’

  ‘Not at all.’ She recalled her promise, and taking deep breath she said, ‘William, there’s something else I need to— She broke off as the door opened to reveal Randall, who skirted a small bow, but before he could speak, Arthur Crabbe barged into the room, a waft of freezing fog clinging to his overcoat.

  ‘Never mind that, man, I don’t need announcing.’ He nudged Randall out of the way, then addressed William, hesitating when he caught sight of Flora.

  ‘Don’t worry, Crabbe. Flora and I have just enjoyed an enlightening conversation about Balkan spies. You may speak freely in front of her.’

  Crabbe actually smiled, which made his normal taciturn looks soften into near handsomeness. ‘Well, sir, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but our man has been seen again.’

  ‘Where?’ William rose, his fists clenched as if prepared for flight.

  ‘At a public-house in Tottenham Court Road. The landlord rented an upper room to a group of foreigners who claimed to need somewhere to hold a prayer meeting. Then some others, also foreigners, turned up.’

  ‘I take it there wasn’t much praying going on?’ William asked as he checked his half-hunter.

  Crabbe shook his head. ‘The landlord said things began to get out of hand, so he sent for the constabulary. I’ve called Inspector Maddox, who’ll meet us there.’ He aimed an apologetic nod in Flora’s direction. ‘Pardon me, Mrs Harrington, but we must be off or it will all be over before we get there.’ Crabbe took off along the corridor and William followed, making a brief stop at his study to put the letters Flora had given him into his desk drawer.

  Flora followed them into the hall, where the front door stood ajar.

  ‘I’m sorry, Flora,’ William said as he shrugged into his overcoat. ‘We’ll have to continue our talk at another time.’

  She nodded. Maybe this wasn’t the right time to tell William about the baby after all. Not when this spy business occupied him. ‘Who does Mr Crabbe mean by “our man”? Did he mean Victor or someone else?’

  ‘We aren’t sure, as yet.’ William pinched the bridge
of his nose between thumb and forefinger. ‘There are some aspects of this case which only came to our attention recently. This Evangeline Lange business, for instance. It was totally unexpected, although I’m not dismissing your part. What you have found out is significant.’

  ‘I gather there is a “but” coming?’ Flora said, resigned.

  ‘You must let me handle this from now on. I hope you understand.’

  ‘You could at least tell me whom you suspect for Evangeline’s murder? Is it anyone we’ve talked about?’ She did understand, but that didn’t mean she was willing to capitulate so easily.

  ‘Not now.’ He slung his scarf over one arm, retrieved his hat and put it on. ‘I’ll explain everything when I know more.’ Giving her a brief, farewell nod, he jammed his hat onto his head and strode across the tiled hall and onto the street, the glazed front door flapping behind him.

  Chapter 25

  Flora woke with a start, bolting upright, then shivered as the chill night air slid across her bare arms. She tugged the heavy satin coverlet around her shoulders, certain that what had woken her had no place among the usual night-time noises of the apartment.

  She groped for the light switch and blinked as a yellow glare flooded the room, blinding her. Would she ever grow accustomed to these electric lights? Though at the same time she had to admit they were easier than having to fumble in the dark with matches and a taper.

  When the spots in front of her eyes cleared, a glance at the clock told her it was almost midnight. Seconds passed and nothing stirred, though she grew increasingly uneasy. Had she overreacted, and it was only William returning?

  Going back to sleep became impossible, so she slipped from the bed, and drew on her dressing gown, her fingers fumbling with the slippery cord. She opened the door a crack onto a shadowed hall, lit only by a shaft of winter moonlight from the window at one end.

  She froze, listening, but apart from the distant chime of the clock in the sitting room heard nothing. Her rapid heartbeat slowed a little, and reassured, she was about to return to bed when a sound from behind the door of William’s study brought her alert again.