The voice came again, this time louder, and though familiar, didn’t match the images that crowded her head. She rolled her shoulder to remove the firm grip, but the voice persisted. ‘Flora, wake up!’
‘What? What is it?’ She blinked against a harsh light that stung her eyes, then raised herself onto one elbow, blinking as she tried to focus on the room.
It took a moment to absorb that the roughness against her cheek was the tweed of a man’s jacket. For a fleeting second she imagined it might be Bunny’s, but when she raised her head she found herself staring into William’s concerned face.
‘Where did you come from?’ Her head still spun a little, then sharp reality intruded and she grabbed his sleeve. ‘Miss Lowe! She’s got a gun, she—’
‘We know. But it’s all right, we got here just in time.’ William gathered her into his arms again and rocked her gently. ‘You aren’t hurt are you?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ Flora eased away from him and performed a rapid inventory of each of her limbs. One hand drifted to her stomach, relieved that she felt no internal pain.
A brief glance around told her she lay on the sofa in Arthur Crabbe’s sitting room. ‘I think I just fainted. What happened?’ She swung her legs onto the floor and sat up, making room for William to ease more fully into the space beside her.
‘As you said, you fainted just as we burst through the door. Miss Lowe fired the gun, but Maddox knocked her off her feet and the shot went wild.’
‘Wild, as in the bullet went right through my Charles Korschann,’ Arthur Crabbe said from somewhere over her shoulder.
Frowning, Flora turned her head to where Crabbe stood silhouetted by the window. He stared at a small bronze statuette of a wistful-eyed woman he held in one hand, a thumb-sized chunk missing from the lady’s hip.
With a long sigh, he replaced it on the polished surface, thrust his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. ‘What made you take her on?’ he asked, obviously impressed.
‘I didn’t take anyone on, as you put it.’ Flora massaged her forehead and released a nervous laugh. ‘I had no idea what I was walking into.’ An image of the revolver returned and she hoped it was somewhere where it could do no harm. ‘Where is she now? Miss Lowe?’
‘We have her safely in custody.’ Inspector Maddox handed her a glass of water. She glanced at him briefly, but he didn’t appear angry. Instead a wry smile curved his mouth as he looked at her. Perhaps he was saving a lecture for later?
‘Did Dunne tell you I was here?’ Her hand shook as she gulped the cool water greedily.
‘He did in actual fact.’ William chuckled. ‘When Crabbe and I returned from luncheon, I saw Neale outside.’ He indicated a man in a grey overcoat by the door, his hands clasped in front of him like a soldier on guard.
Flora recognized him as her recent shadow and gave him a tiny nod, which he returned.
‘He said he had followed you out of the park, but assumed you had come home. When I realized you weren’t there, we knew something was wrong and that’s when Dunne said he had seen you come up here. Then Gordon appeared and tried to distract us with some nonsense about you leaving with a strange man, but he was very nervous, so we knew he was up to something. I was going to come up here straight away, but Crabbe insisted we call Maddox first.’ He rubbed his hand up and down Flora’s back in agitation. ‘It was the longest twenty minutes of my life, I can tell you.’
‘We couldn’t take any chances, sir.’ Inspector Maddox said from the door. ‘Had you been shot, Mr Osborne, I would have been held responsible.’
‘I appreciate that, Inspector,’ Flora began. ‘I know it was my fault, I shouldn’t have been so foolhardy, but when I saw Miss Lowe enter the building, I followed her without thinking.’ She giggled with a mixture of relief and what was probably delayed shock. ‘I was convinced she was going to recite her entire life history while I waited for someone to appreciate what was going on.’ She paused and steadied her breathing, telling herself she was safe, though there was an odd echo inside her head, and voices seemed to come from a distance. ‘You didn’t let Gordon get away did you?’
‘Certainly not.’ Crabbe interrupted the policeman’s response. ‘Dunne has him under lock and key in the porter’s room. We’ve been keeping him under surveillance since Randall said he had turned up here that night you and Mr Osborne were at the theatre.’
A young policeman whispered something to Maddox, who nodded, then followed him out of the room. The sound of authoritative voices reached her from the landing, followed by the indignant ones of residents demanding to know what was going on.
‘He shouldn’t have been anywhere near so the surveillance was a precaution,’ William took up the story. ‘Until then we didn’t suspect him at all.’
‘Did you suspect Miss Lowe?’ Flora took another sip of water, vaguely aware the room had cleared leaving only the three of them. Even Neale had slunk away when she wasn’t looking.
‘Maddox searched her office at the Harriet Parker Academy this morning where he found the plans of Queen Nathalie’s house in Biarritz.’
‘We knew her real name was Elena Leskovac.’ Crabbe rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. ‘She isn’t political, but has some personal grudge against the former queen Nathalie. What did she tell you?’
‘That she had deceived you into thinking she was working for you.’
‘Maybe at first,’ Crabbe looked affronted. ‘But we discovered early on she was giving us duff information, so we let her carry on to find out what she was really doing. It seems she and Gordon persuaded a group of his countrymen living here to carry out the assassination, then return to London before the authorities knew what had happened.’
‘Don’t they have enough assassins of their own in Serbia without sending them here?’ Flora placed the glass on a nearby table, though didn’t expect an answer. She craved something stronger than water, like sherry or maybe Madeira, then remembered she needed to take care of herself. She wasn’t the only one she had to think about now.
‘What was he looking for in your study?’ Flora felt calmer now, even a little proud of herself. Funny how near death experiences conjured a sort of euphoria.
‘Lists of London-based Serbians, I expect,’ William answered. ‘Most likely they intended to either recruit or intimidate.’
‘I knew that was Gordon at the theatre that night,’ Flora said. ‘He left during the interval so had plenty of time to come back here and kill Evangeline. I should have paid more attention to Sally’s misgivings that first day at Waterloo.’
‘We had no idea what he was up to at that stage.’ William exchanged a loaded look with Crabbe. ‘We knew a spy existed, but we had no name or even a description. It was when you found that advertisement of Evangeline Lange’s looking for Victor, we made the connection with the Harriet Parker Academy and Miss Lowe.’
‘Has he admitted to killing Evangeline?’ Flora looked from Crabbe to William and back again.
‘As well as burglary, false imprisonment, and attempted murder.’ Crabbe went back to the examination of at his ruined statuette. ‘No doubt we have enough evidence to lock them both up. I’m confident we’ll get confessions out of them both for everything.’
‘I don’t think I wish to know how that might be achieved,’ Flora murmured, aware he had used the word ‘we’ not the police. Perhaps Miss Lowe was right about the British government being ruthless?
‘Why did Evangeline come and see you the night she died?’ Flora studied the younger man more closely, surprised at how attractive he was now he was neither angry nor worried. He had also said more in the last ten minutes than he had since they had met. Maybe he was feeling a bit euphoric too?
‘Evangeline came to tell me I had employed a man called Victor who was seducing respectable young women and insisted he be sacked.’ He replaced the statuette, dragged a stool up beside the sofa and perched on it. ‘I didn’t know who she meant because we didn’t have anyone called
Victor on staff. I had no idea why she connected me to him.’
‘She saw you in the street with him. She and Lydia Grey.’
‘Oh, I see. Well that explains it.’
‘It doesn’t explain why you dismissed Evangeline. Or don’t you believe breaking young women’s hearts is a sacking offence?’ Flora took a small triumph in the deep flush that rushed to his cheeks. ‘Anyway, Mr Dunne thought Miss Lowe was your wife.’
‘Ah, that was my idea.’ Crabbe sported a boyish grin at this remark which she did not associate with the serious-minded clerk. ‘She said she needed somewhere safe when she thought she was being followed. Not that she was, but – well you know what I mean.’
‘There isn’t a Mrs Crabbe, is there?’ Flora said.
‘I regret, no.’ Crabbe’s sigh indicated this fact was a source of disappointment.
‘It was only after Miss Lange’s death that things began falling into place.’ William had stopped rubbing Flora’s back and relaxed on the sofa, though he held onto her hand. ‘We’ve been watching Gordon for the last week, but he distracted us with the riot the other night. Had I thought it through, I would have known he was playing with us, but I acted on impulse.’
‘Beats me how we came to engage the fellow in the first place.’ Crabbe ran a hand through his sandy hair, making it stand up on end. ‘He was vouched for by a high-ranking Foreign Office employee.’
‘Would that be Cecily Moffatt’s employer by any chance?’ Flora ducked her head and slanted a look at William through her lashes.
‘How did—’ Crabbe groaned. ‘Of course.’ He clicked his fingers in the air. ‘That’s why he befriended Cecily Moffatt. To gain access into Mr Jervis Hanson’s study to steal some of his embossed notepaper. Gordon’s credentials are forgeries.’
Flora stayed silent, allowing the details to sink in. She might have misjudged the situation, death threats notwithstanding, but she found it exhilarating to have discovered aspects of this case that had eluded the so-called experts.
‘I’m glad you didn’t turn out to be a spy or a murderer, Mr Crabbe,’ Flora said. ‘I’m also sorry about your statue. Was it valuable?’
‘I hoped it would be someday.’ He huffed a breath. Ah, well never mind. All’s well that ends well and all that. Though no one has cast me in the role of a dangerous killer before.’
‘Not to mention a wife beater.’ Crabbe looked up sharply as she added, ‘I assumed Miss Lowe wore that veil to hide the bruises.’
‘Oh, I say, that’s rather unnecessary!’
‘She’s joking, Crabbe!’ William gave him a mock scowl, then turned relieved eyes on Flora. ‘At least I hope she is.’
*
Weak beams of winter light poked through the gap in the curtains while Flora lay in the soft bed, her arm behind her head as she sifted through the events of the previous day. After an emotional but short journey back to William’s apartment, Inspector Maddox had taken everyone’s statements, while Sally fortified several members of the Cannon Row constabulary in the kitchens with copious cups of tea.
Sally fussed over her in half sympathetic but mostly annoyed tones as if the entire debacle was her own fault. Even Randall appeared unusually ruffled and kept offering to bring her restorative drinks, blankets and even smelling salts.
Flora finally managed to cut through their solicitous attentions, reassuring everyone that she was quite unhurt but wouldn’t mind a nap.
Before going to her room, she telephoned Bunny and informed him the spies had been apprehended, but left out all the details of her near brush with death. She knew William would most likely put him straight at their next meeting but she would deal with that when it happened.
‘I’m coming to town tomorrow to bring you straight home,’ Bunny had insisted, despite her protests that it wasn’t necessary. ‘It’s unimportant that you weren’t hurt. You might have been and I cannot have you upset at such a time. No, don’t argue,’ he interrupted when she tried to protest. ‘I need to be sure you are all right. I’m sure William will understand.’
‘I know he will. And so do I. The thought of home sounds wonderful. I’ve missed you more than I believed I would.’ She ended the call with another rush of tearful endearments and a feeling of happiness that not only did she have a husband who cared so much for her welfare, but she had helped track down a murderer too. It wouldn’t help Evangeline, but perhaps John would be happy to know his sister’s killer would not escape justice.
Flora had slept since then and woken the next morning refreshed, looking forward to Bunny’s arrival, though there was one more thing she had to do before she went home.
Sally arrived in response to her ring, a cup of tea in one hand and wiping what looked to be toast crumbs from her skirt with the other, Flora’s summons having interrupted her maid’s breakfast.
‘Are you feeling better this morning, Miss Flora?’ She handed Flora her tea and gathered Flora’s discarded linens from the floor where they had fallen the night before.
‘I was fine last night, just exhausted.’ Flora yawned. ‘I still can’t believe Mr Gordon is a spy.’
‘I can.’ Sally grunted as she plumped up the pillows and straightened the coverlet ‘I said he was foreign, didn’t I? He could have murdered us all and we’d never have known.’
‘You could be right,’ Flora replied, not wishing to pursue that particular train of thought. She shrugged away a shiver at an unbidden image of Miss Lowe, or Elena Leskovac or whatever her name was, pointing that gun at her. ‘Could you run a bath for me, Sally?’ She handed the maid her empty cup and saucer. ‘Might as well take advantage of the luxury of a private bathroom.’
‘Don’t have ter lug buckets up three flights from the kitchens here, Miss Flora.’ Sally deposited the china on the dresser. ‘All you have to do is turn a couple of taps. Any fool could do it.’
Flora chose not to remind her that they had indoor plumbing at Richmond. Noisy, inefficient and erratic, but still better than pumps and outdoor privies.
‘I’m going out this morning, Sally,’ she informed her when the hot, fragrant water had done their work on her muscles. ‘I’ll wear the sapphire blue skirt with one of my white lawn blouses. Oh, and don’t overtighten my corset. I might not be showing yet, but this bodice feels snug across my chest.’
‘Are you sure you want to be going out, Miss?’ Sally’s head jerked up and met Flora’s reflection in the cheval glass. ‘Master William said you should rest today, what with you being almost killed yesterday.’
‘Almost doesn’t count,’ Flora said with a smile. ‘Then I suggest you don’t mention it to him.
‘Which won’t be difficult, Miss, as you haven’t yet told me where we’re going.’ She knelt to retrieve Flora’s slippers from under the bed. ‘’Sides, Master William went to see that Inspector Maddox first thing. Something about witness statements and such.’
‘Good. He’ll be gone for a while then. Could you ask Dunne to hail me a cab for after breakfast?’ She looked up at her maid’s reflection in the mirror in time to see her pull a face behind Flora’s back on her way out. ‘I saw that, Sally. And don’t slam the door.’
Flora smiled to herself. Either pregnancy made her lazy or having Sally exclusively at her disposal contributed to her lethargy. Whichever it was, Flora quite liked the freedom it gave her. She had served her time being at the beck and call of others, so could quite easily get used to it.
Chapter 30
Flora stepped from the taxi onto a pavement slippery with frost outside the Lange residence. The wreath of white camellias intertwined with evergreen and black ribbon that hung from the brass knocker had wilted, giving the house a neglected appearance.
She waited at the gate while Sally paid off their driver, frowning when he made some comment about his tip being derisory.
Reluctantly, Sally dropped another coin into his palm, at which the man gave her a grudging nod, then flicked the reins and the cab pulled away.
‘I gave yo
u an extra sixpence for the driver,’ Flora said as she pushed open the black wrought iron gate and negotiated the monochrome tiled path to the front door.
‘Din’t think he deserved it.’ Sally avoided her eye as she drew up beside her on the top step. ‘I gather you want me to get the servants to talk again?’
‘That won’t be necessary, Sally. With Mr Gordon and Miss Lowe safely locked away in Cannon Row Police Station, I doubt there’s anything new to learn.’
The jangle of the doorbell had barely faded away when the butler pulled the door open a bare four inches and informed them in sombre tones that Master John was not at home. He started to shut the door again when Mrs Lange’s face appeared at his shoulder.
‘Let Mrs Harrington in, Jenks. I haven’t had a visitor for days.’
Jenks inclined his head and, resigned, stepped aside to allow Flora and Sally into the hall.
Camille Lange stood with one hand braced against the sitting room door frame, a small glass in the other which held a trace of some brown liquid. Her mourning black made her look shrivelled and pallid, though her eyes were overly bright, her angular cheekbones tinged pink.
‘How are you, Mrs Lange?’ Flora waited while the butler helped her off with her coat. ‘And Mr Lange?’ she added as an afterthought.
‘I’m the same as ever, my dear.’ She appeared to have forgiven Flora for being married, though slurred her words even more than last time. ‘Jenks, take Mrs Harrington’s maid to the kitchens, would you?’
The butler bowed again and strode away, Flora’s coat slung over one arm, leaving Sally to hurry after him.
The familiar sitting room was still gloomy in the half-light, the curtains drawn and with the mirror above the mantle covered with black cloth.
‘My husband is devastated, poor man.’ Her hostess indicated a hard, upright sofa with a shaking hand and bade Flora sit. ‘Evangeline was his joy. He’s out at the moment, though I have no idea where.’ She refilled the glass from a decanter on a low table then lowered herself into the chair beside it, but misjudged the distance. Falling the last few inches, she landed with a bump on the upholstery, spilling stray drops onto her skirt, which she didn’t seem to notice. ‘He’s most likely haranguing that detective person as to how far he has got in the investigation.’
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