‘It does to me!’ Gordon advanced on her, his face grim. ‘I want to know how she found out after all my hard work.’
‘Actually, it was the poetry,’ Flora said, halting him when he was still several feet away. ‘My father said you have an excellent memory, Mr Gordon. Cecily Moffatt said the same thing. That you recited poetry to her without referring to a book.’
‘That’s all?’ He slammed a hand against the door making Flora jump. ‘That’s how you identified me?’
‘It’s always the little things which give us away, Petar,’ Miss Lowe gestured him away with her free hand, a wry smile curving her thin mouth. ‘Now go and lick your wounds somewhere else, I have work to do.’
‘What work?’ Gordon frowned, then his eyes cleared and he gasped. ‘Elena, what in God’s name are you doing? Don’t you know who her father is?’
‘I cannot help that.’ She looked from Flora to Gordon and back again. ‘Anyway, this is all your fault! I told you not to mess with that Grey girl? She was never part of our scheme.’
‘What can I say?’ Gordon smiled, sheepish but triumphant despite his nervousness. ‘She’s an attractive girl, I couldn’t resist. Besides, she led me to you, so you should be grateful.’
‘I don’t wish to hear your excuses.’
The gun in the woman’s hand shook, creating a light-headedness Flora found difficult to fight. She wanted to ask if she might sit down before she fainted, but didn’t dare. What had possessed her to barge into the apartment without knowing the dangers?
‘You aren’t thinking straight, Elena.’ Gordon paced the floor, both arms flailing. ‘You’ll bring the entire might of the government down on us. We need to get out of here. Her father is due back with Crabbe any moment.’
That Crabbe wasn’t part of whatever was going on, reassured Flora, though Miss Lowe’s implied intention made her mouth go dry. She prayed Gordon could talk her out of it as he seemed the most squeamish of the two.
‘Go and keep an eye out for them then!’ Emotion chased across the woman’s face as she considered what Gordon had said. ‘I need time to decide what to do with her. Keep them talking if you have to but don’t let them come up here!’ Her grip on the gun changed when she brought the other hand up to steady it.
Flora swallowed. Dare she hope the woman was inexperienced with firearms and was thus a poor shot? But then if so, it could go off by accident.
Growing panic made Flora’s breathing fast and shallow, combined with a small triumph that she had been right about Gordon, or Petar, if that was what his name was. He had not reacted as he should have when he caught her eavesdropping.
If these two were the Serbian spies William had been so worried about, they didn’t seem very experienced. What had they been doing? Agitating activists in London? Arranging riots? Either or both seemed too trivial to necessitate killing Evangeline. Though maybe not if she had discovered their activities. Flora pushed all questions aside and tried to concentrate on the, more pressing need of finding a way out of there in one piece. She still felt faint, and conscious of the sofa behind her, bent at the waist, intending to sit.
‘Don’t move!’ Miss Lowe’s shout brought Flora upright again, making her feel dizzy.
‘Elena, think.’ Gordon stopped his pacing. ‘Mrs Harrington seeing us here together is proof of nothing.’
‘Just go, Petar,’ Miss Lowe said without looking at him.
Gordon threw Flora a look filled with regret before he made for the door, a path which took him between her and Miss Lowe, a pause during which Flora debated whether she could duck behind him when he reached her; an idea she rejected at once as being too risky. The room was too close to the front door and precious seconds would be lost opening it. Even if she managed to use Gordon as a shield, bullets could penetrate two bodies close together.
A voice inside Flora’s head screamed that she must do something, but her body remained paralyzed. The dull click as Gordon closed the door sent dread flooding through her. He might have been persuaded to mercy but the dull-eyed woman in front of her was quite ruthless.
‘Sit down!’ Miss Lowe flicked the gun toward the sofa she had denied her a moment ago.
Flora didn’t hesitate. Her head swam and she felt nauseous.
‘Now.’ The woman took a straight-backed chair opposite, the look she directed at Flora of pure contempt. The vulnerable, almost ingratiating demeanour she had exhibited at their first meeting was entirely absent. ‘What are we going to do about you?’ She stroked the gun with her other hand as if it were a pet. A particularly dangerous one.
Flora was about to say she thought she had already decided, but there was no point in goading her. ‘Miss Lowe, Elena or whatever your name is. It’s not as if I could tell anyone anything. I have no idea what you and Mr Gordon are up to.’ Her gaze strayed back to the gun and she swallowed, wishing the woman wouldn’t keep it pointed at her like that.
‘Then why did you come to see me at the school?’ Her eyes narrowed giving her face a more pronounced Slavic quality
‘To see Miss Grey. Your maid jumped to the wrong conclusion and took me to your office. I wanted to tell Lydia about Evangeline Lange before the police did.’
‘You have a certain innocence about you that I find quite intriguing, Mrs Harrington, though you should know I’m not fooled by it.’
A rush of fury drove away Flora’s panic and anger took over. ‘Look, Miss Lowe. Whatever association you have with Mr Gordon is none of my concern. I’m prepared to overlook your pointing that gun at me. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be going now.’ Flora started to rise, but the room tilted around her and she collapsed onto the sofa again. ‘Perhaps not.’
‘You aren’t leaving until you tell me what William Osborne told you.’ Her mouth twisted into a cruel smile. ‘And maybe not even then.’
‘Why would he?’ Perhaps this woman wasn’t as clever as she thought? ‘My father is bound by the Official Secrets Act. He isn’t allowed to tell me anything. Besides, I wasn’t aware you and Gordon knew each other until I walked in here.’ Flora closed her eyes at a sudden wave of giddiness accompanied by a sense of the ridiculous. She talked like one of those villains from the cheap novelettes her mother-in-law read. All black cloaked men with long noses and wide eyed heroine’s. Who did this woman think she was keeping her here? Was the gun even loaded?
Could she keep her talking until help arrived? If help arrived. No one knew she was there except maybe Dunne who might have seen her go up the stairs. Would he mention it to anyone, or simply wait until she was missed?
‘True.’ Miss Lowe’s lips pursed as she considered Flora’s response. ‘Perhaps. However, you are an inquisitive young woman, or you wouldn’t be here.’
‘I told you, I don’t know anything!’ Flora snapped, the notion she might die for what she didn’t know struck her as ironic.
This couldn’t be happening. Where was this bodyguard William had engaged to look after her? She would have his job if this woman shot her; a thought so ridiculous, she giggled.
‘You think this situation amusing?’ Miss Lowe sneered.
‘Not really.’ She fought down hysteria and tried to keep her voice calm. ‘I’m impressed you managed to get a spy into the Foreign Office though. My father will be most disappointed.’
‘Ah yes, Petar. Not the most intelligent of men, but he proved useful.’
‘Useful for what? Seducing young women then abandoning them?’ Lydia’s tear-stained face came into her head, followed closely by Miss Moffat’s. Is that how spies behaved?
‘That and other things. Surely you must know by now, Mrs Harrington, that your government has thus far refused to acknowledge our king?’
‘Probably because of what you did to the last one,’ Flora said without thinking. Then a thought struck her. ‘Was Gordon involved in the assassination of the Royal family in Belgrade?’
‘Gordon isn’t a killer.’ Elena snorted. ‘He’s simply a hired thug. Don’t let his good looks
fool you, Mrs Harrington. He’s a primitive with an ingrained penchant for violence. It wasn’t difficult to make him believe I share his hatred of the pro-Austrians.’ She gave a small sigh of satisfaction. ‘It’s a long and complicated story, but I should enjoy telling it. After all, it’s only fair that you should know why you are about to die?’
‘Oh yes, that’s going to make all the difference,’ Flora murmured beneath her breath. She knew she should stop talking, but couldn’t help herself. Though how much more trouble could she get into?
‘We had nothing to do with the assassination of King Alexander, or his wife’s family, though that doesn’t mean I’m not delighted that the odious brute and that awful woman are gone. However, when I heard of the plan to reinstate the late king’s mother, Queen Nathalie, I knew I could not let that happen.’
‘May I ask why?’ Not that Flora was particularly interested, but the woman was obviously a fanatic. She seemed a little calmer now she had an audience for her story, though her grip on the gun hadn’t changed.
‘Gordon is of Magyar extraction,’ Miss Lowe went on. ‘His people suffered under King Alexander, who favoured the Austrians. My reasons are far more prosaic, in that I have a personal hatred for Queen Nathalie and would like nothing more than to see her dead.’
‘That’s a strong emotion to feel for a virtual stranger, unless…’ An image of Miss Lowe’s desk at the Harriet Parker Academy sprang into Flora’s head. ‘The photograph. The one of the house in Biarritz that belongs to your cousin. She’s Queen Nathalie?’
Miss Lowe inclined her head. ‘Very astute, my dear. My mother was Nathalie’s maternal aunt, and when she lost her parents, she came to live with my family. From the day she arrived I was pushed aside. Ignored, neglected. Treated like little more than a servant to the oh-so-perfect Princess Nathalie.’ She spat the words out like grape pips. ‘She was seven years older than me, and very beautiful, even as a child. She dominated my mother’s every thought.’
‘That must have been very difficult for you.’
‘You cannot imagine.’ Her eyes darkened with old and bitter memories. ‘I became someone of no importance, no more thought of than my mother’s maid. When the servants saw what was happening, they too treated me with disdain. I did not deserve that.’ Pride showed through at the calm toss of her head. ‘When she married Milan, that monster, she was sixteen, which is when I thought I was rid of her, but I was wrong. I fell in love with an army officer, but my family refused us permission to marry because he wasn’t good enough for the cousin of the great Queen Nathalie.’ She poked her own chest with a finger of her gun free hand. ‘My happiness meant nothing to them, only appearances.’
‘Didn’t Queen Nathalie divorce King Milan?’ Flora recalled what she had learned about the Serbian royal family from her recent talk with William. ‘It was in the newspapers. How did that affect you?’
‘Because, my mother sent me to live in Biarritz with Nathalie. To keep her family close, and make me forever subservient to that…’ She trailed off as if she couldn’t think of a suitable epithet. The veins on her neck stood proud and her eyes burned with hatred. She raised the gun in line with Flora’s face. ‘What about my life?’
‘You seem to have solved that problem by coming here,’ Flora said reasonably.
‘I had to sell all my jewels to do so. I changed my name to one the English would accept and got rid of my accent so the governors of the school would let me teach their spoiled daughters.’
‘And made a success of your life at the Academy.’ Flora shrugged, not comprehending her motives. ‘What changed?’
‘Petar Gordon did. Or Victor as he called himself. He knew of my connection to the former queen and invited me to join him in his plans to destroy the Obrenovich dynasty for good.’ Miss Lowe relaxed back in her chair with a self-satisfied smile. ‘Then the world will be rid of them all forever. It’s exactly what she deserves. Not least for spawning that odious son of hers. Alexander was a monster too you know.’
‘So you intend to assassinate Queen Nathalie?’ Had jealousy turned this woman’s mind or was she coldly, horribly sane? Neither prospect said much for Flora’s life expectancy.
‘How else to rid the world of her kind?’
‘And Mr Gordon? What was his role?’ Flora listened for any sound outside the room, but there was only silence beyond the walls.
‘Revolutions require money. Lots of it. Petar has raised funds among the Serbians who live here. Not all of them sympathetic to us but he has his ways of persuading them.’
‘Will you return to Serbia when you have disposed of the queen?’ What was she saying? The conversation had become so unreal, they might have been discussing a shopping trip.
‘Whatever for? I am someone who matters here. I like your country. I will stay and teach young women how to fight their oppressors.’
‘Oppressors? Flora’s sense of justice overwhelmed her fear at the thought of the young minds this woman could influence if she went free. ‘Their father’s, or do you mean their husbands?’
‘Their rulers.’ Her eyes flashed again with a dangerous fervour. ‘I shall make rebels of them.’
‘I agree young women should think for themselves and fight for their rightful place in society. But I don’t think that’s what you mean is it? Serbia’s fight, or even Romania’s, isn’t theirs.’
‘Women in every country have a right to respect, Mrs Harrington. And besides, what makes you think my pupils are all English? This city heaves with Slavs, Russian Serbians, Albanians, Romanians, even Austrians.’
Flora hadn’t considered that, but it made sense that the wealthier Eastern Europeans could afford to send their daughters to the academy.
‘You managed to fool Mr Crabbe as well then? Or why would he let you use his apartment?’ Flora experienced sympathy for the poor man. Would his job be safe if William found out he had been duped? Or had William been taken in as well? The urge to find and warn them looked large but for that gun. If she had a weapon, or could distract her, she might stand a chance. But that gun was impossible to fight.
‘I convinced your gullible Mr Crabbe that I was being threatened by activists. He offered to protect me in exchange for my co-operation.’ She smiled again. ‘Though he made it clear my co-operation in providing information about Queen Nathalie was required in exchange for my right to remain in this country. I blame your father for that.’
‘My father threatened to deport you if you didn’t spy for the British government?’ The fact she intended to kill Queen Nathalie seemed to have been overlooked.
‘Don’t look so horrified, my dear. Your government is no less ruthless in its dealings than Serbia’s. Nothing is too brutal if done in the name of a country’s security.’
‘I see, so in exchange for your spurious information, Mr Crabbe tells everyone you are his wife so you may hide here in safety?’
‘A simple subterfuge. Who would suspect the reclusive Mrs Crabbe brings messages for your government? False ones of course.’
Flora nodded. Now it was beginning to make sense. ‘You told Mr Crabbe about the meeting in the public house last night to distract him while Gordon broke into my father’s study.’
‘Innocent, but shrewd too. You would make a good spy, Mrs Harrington.’
‘Thank you, but I have other plans for my life.’ Flora wrapped a protective arm across her abdomen, one which Miss Lowe did not appear to notice.
‘Then I am sorry that they will never come to fruition.’ She raised the gun again and the tiny black hole took on monumental proportions.
‘Wait!’ Flora held up her hand as if she could deflect a bullet with fingers of flesh and bone. ‘You aren’t a murderer yet. Your life could still continue here.’ It was all nonsense, but the only way she could think of to delay the inevitable.
‘I won’t have to worry about that. Crabbe will return sometime this afternoon and find you here. I will be long gone, but this,’ She lifted the gun a little higher, ‘wil
l be found beside you. It’s Gordon’s gun.’
‘You’d let your accomplice hang for murder?’
‘Why not? He’s already being hunted for killing Miss Lange. Whereas I have co-operated with your government from the beginning. Mr Crabbe will attest to that. Whatever Gordon claims will be disregarded.’
Flora’s breath left her in a rush as she recalled Evangeline’s words that night. If she didn’t get what she wanted she would be back. Was that why Evangeline Lange went to see Mr Crabbe? To tell him Petar or Victor was a spy?’
‘But he didn’t believe her did he?’ Flora said aloud. ‘Crabbe didn’t believe her and it got her killed.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Miss Lowe’s eyes held irritation not triumph. ‘Where is Petar? He should have returned by now.’ The gun waved dangerously in her hand as if she had forgotten it was there.
Flora’s stomach tightened in fear. What if it went off by accident? With nowhere to run she hunched on the sofa in an effort to make herself as small as she could, while at the same time became vaguely aware of a sound coming from outside, like a scuffling but was too far off to make out. Flora tensed as a shout followed, then a loud bang that she hoped was someone breaking in the door.
Suddenly the door flew open and the room was full of dark, shadowy figures.
Miss Lowe inhaled sharply, her eyes widened and she raised her arm and spat out a word Flora didn’t understand. A sharp crack sounded close to Flora’s head, who ducked as painful pressure in her ears was followed by a heavy silence that reverberated inside her head.
Inspector Maddox’ face appeared amongst the crowd, but he moved in slow motion, and though his mouth was open, no sound came out.
The last thought that went through her mind before everything went dark, was that Bunny would be furious with her.
Chapter 29
‘Flora!’ The loud male voice in her ear made her flinch. She hunched her shoulders and groaned in protest, a hand raised in the general direction of the noise to make it go away.
A Knightsbridge Scandal Page 31