House of Bliss

by T T Thomas

  She sighed. She was tired of fighting to survive. More than anything, she was weary of the bleakness of constant struggle. The marriage could be her safe harbor, a place to catch her breath and find some semblance of the person she used to be.

  She wondered why they hadn’t gone for a civil ceremony in the civil register office. Perhaps it had something to do with her now being a Baroness. She smiled. It was so perfectly absurd, she wished she could tell Felicity.

  After the exchange of vows, George leaned over and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. She signed two copies of the certificate and then waited in the parlor while George settled the fee and claimed the original of the certificate. As she looked around the small room, she saw a small glass plate with calling cards for the rectory. St. Paul’s Rectory, Samuel Clevins, Rector. Penzance. She picked one up, folded it and placed it inside the hidden pocket of her corset.

  Chapter 24

  Lena had two friends from her working days, and one of them was dead.

  She was eager to talk to Sabrina about Daisy, but she hadn’t heard back. Restless, she wandered around her flat until an idea occurred to her. Dressing in her modest daytime attire, she left early in the afternoon with plans to return within a couple hours.

  She knocked lightly on the thin door on the second floor of a plain but clean apartment building. She heard the rustle of movement from behind it and felt an eye peering at her from the keyhole. Then, the sound of the latch.

  “My heavens, Lena, it’s been a year of Sundays since I’ve seen you. Come in. The flat is untidy…”

  Lena walked in and gave her a warm hug. “Carolina, I’ve been a terrible friend. The flat is lovely.”

  They chatted for over an hour. Lena told her about the killings. And the connection to the corsets.

  “We don’t know much more than that,” Lena said. “That is, the police don’t know. Moreover, I don’t think they have any clues. You’ve not had any gentlemen that seemed odd or off-center in any way, have you?”

  Carolina reached for a cigarette. “They’re all a bit odd, now you mention. But no, not really anything I recall—except there was one man who asked me who made my corset before we had even got down to business, if you get my drift.”

  Lena held her breath.

  Carolina squeezed her eyes shut. “Corsets, Hmm. Still not sure why would some lout kill a girl because of the corset she wears?”

  “That’s what we’re all asking. Well, I must get back. If you think of anything, anything at all, about that odd one who wanted to know about your corset, send me a note. Do you have a telephone?” Lena looked around.

  “Right there on the kitchen wall,” her friend answered pointing.

  “I’m impressed, Carolina. Sabrina is having one put in our flat later this week. Let me have your number, and I’ll call you when I have mine or drop you a note if you don’t answer.”

  Carolina walked Lena to the door. “Thanks for the warning about the corset killer, Lena. Won’t wear mine for a while.”

  “Good idea,” Lena said. She decided to try one more time. “If anything occurs to you about the odd man, his description, his demeanor, his clothes—”

  “Oh, I do remember something. He had a tie from one of those private men’s clubs he’d wear from time to time.”

  “Color?” Lena asked, holding her breath again for the answer.

  “Light blue stripes, I think, against an ivory or white background, stripes on the diagonal like they do. Maybe more of a sky blue.”

  “You wouldn’t know which club by chance?”

  Carolina shook her head. “You know, it could have been a school tie, too, but something makes me want to say club tie. I wasn’t sharply interested, you understand.”

  “Indeed I do!” exclaimed Lena. She didn’t know what club it might be, but she knew who would know. “Did you see him often?”

  “Seven or eight times,” Carolina said. She looked down at the floor. “He was, he got too rough. I don’t go for that.”

  “But you would recognize him, if you saw him again?”

  “I’ll never forget him. He was all sweet and thoughtful, at first. Said I looked like someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Well, he’d never say. Figured it was a lady rejected him or something, and he was too embarrassed to say so.”

  “Interesting,” said Lena. She looked at Carolina. She did remind her of someone too, but Lena couldn’t place it. Carolina was pretty, with fair, gorgeous skin and dark hair. She had taken care of herself as well as she could under difficult circumstances.

  The women said their goodbyes, and Lena left the building and hailed a hansom cab at the corner. It was only four o’clock. Maybe she’d have a note from Sabrina when she got home.

  As she walked up the front steps to her flat, a man with highly shined black shoes stood at the top of the stoop.

  “Miss Lena Thornbrook?”

  “Yes?”

  “Chief Inspector Mendicott. May I have a word with you?”

  “What about?” Lena knew all about his visits to Sabrina and decided to stake her claim to independence and equality in front of this man.

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions about Daisy Bowker.”

  “As you wish, Chief Inspector. Please come into my flat.”

  She walked ahead of him down the hallway and up the stairs. Neither said a word, but she felt his eyes on her body. She unlocked her door and walked in. He closed it behind them and then locked it. Lena whipped around at the sound of the lock bolt clicking into place.

  “Please sit down, Inspector,” she said evenly. He didn’t move away from the door, so she held his stare. Finally, he looked the room over and then nodded. She tried not to exhale visibly or loudly as he took a seat. She looked at his shiny shoes as he waked to a chair. It wasn’t until she sat, too, she noticed they were ankle-high boots, glazed to a patina of polished obsidian.

  Chapter 25

  Hugh Glyver frowned as he folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope. The lovely Miss West was apparently having no luck locating Bel. She reported that she had put two different police officers on the search as Glyver had suggested. So far, no results.

  He stood up and paced around his office. Time to take George Markham to dinner. Glyver sent a note by courier suggesting they meet at their club earliest. Within an hour, the phone rang. It was Markham’s secretary confirming for that evening.

  Glyver raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t realized Markham had a phone, never mind a secretary. To do what? Maybe his old school chum had breathed life into those craggy thousand acres to which he held title.

  The Baron of Porthleven, what a scandal of a life—no money, no wife, no heir, no prospects. His only livelihood seemed to be the fees he received from a dozen tenant farmers and a small inheritance that barely covered his Belgravia house expenses. No self-respecting woman would marry George Markham, and if he didn’t persuade someone soon, no one ever would. They were the same age, 54, and not getting any younger.

  “Markham you old fox,” Glyver greeted him with a slap on the back. “Why did you never tell me you’d had a telephone put in?”

  “Feared you’d wake me mid-sleep with some too-good-to-be-true investment opportunity,” Markham said good-naturedly. “Did my secretary give you our new number?”

  Once seated with a drink, Glyver sent out a fishing expedition. “What have you been up to Markham? Any new business venture aside from that grim and moldy thousand acres of barren land?”

  Markham smiled. “As a matter of fact, Glyver, that thousand acres is rather fecund. It’s the baronial manse that’s crumbling to bits. Got to find a way to repair it, modernize it, make it fit for humans.”

  Glyver laughed. “Why? Are you planning to raise a family in it?”

  “You never know.” Markham lifted his tumbler, and a waiter materialized.

  “Listen, Markham, how’s about you do a little side-job for me. I’d pay twenty-five pounds to find Bel.
You’ve run into her once or twice…maybe you could keep your eyes open.”

  “What you going to do, kill her?”

  They both laughed. “No, I was thinking of paying to get rid of her continuing pull on my life.”

  “How so?” Markham asked.

  “By settling a nice lump sum on her and break all connection. My wife wants a child, a family, and Bel is a thorn in my side. I want no more dealings with her.”

  “What’s a nice sum to you, Glyver?”

  “I don’t know yet. Any suggestions? What do you think it would take to get her to sign off on any future regular stipend?”

  Markham shrugged. “Lady Glynnis wants a child, is it? That’s a lovely picture, Glyver, you as a father.”

  Glyver ignored the sarcasm. “Markham, I’m sure I’m responsible for more than one bastard out there somewhere. Or have you forgotten our Oxford days?”

  Markham shook his head and smiled as if remembering. “We went through a fair amount of precious funds back then,” he said. “Paying for damage to dining premises.”

  Glyver signaled the waiter. “Shall we order? I’m starving.”

  As they ate, Glyver glanced at Markham a couple times. “Something on your mind, old boy? You seem sluggish this evening.”

  “Let’s say I were to come across Bel,” Markham said. “Am I given leave to tell her of your proposal?”

  “Of course. That’s the whole point. I’m on the hook for a monthly stipend. It’s not much but the whole idea makes my wife ill. So, no lawyers, no judges, no courts—a simple written agreement for a lump sum, a modest sum—”

  “Of how much, Glyver?” Markham looked directly at him.

  “Think she’d go for a couple hundred pounds?”

  Markham laughed. “In a word: No. Go higher.”

  “All right then, let’s go for broke. Five hundred pounds, final offer.”

  “Make it seven fifty and I believe you’ll have a deal.”

  “Six hundred, and so help me God, that’s it. Not made of gold, you know.”

  Markham nodded. It was a nice, tidy sum. Enough to get him through a couple years and possibly renovate at least part of the family mansion.

  “Add in the 25 pounds you were willing to pay me to find her, and it’s a deal, Glyver.”

  Glyver looked at Markham who was busy finishing off his Trifle. So it was true—Markham does know more than he’s been letting on if he feels sure enough to make deals for her.

  “Listen, George, and I say this purely as one old friend to another, isn’t it time you take yourself a wife? Hell, she doesn’t have to be as highborn as you are, better if she’s not, but you could use a steady partner. Maybe get yourself an heir. If you don’t come up with the next Baron Porthleven, it ends with you.”

  Markham stopped eating and wiped the clotted cream from around his mouth. “Not necessarily, Hugh. Mine can pass to a female as well as a male.”

  “Ah, in her own right, then. Brilliant. Well, better get on with it man. You were always the man with the pretty girl at Oxford, George. Shouldn’t be that hard to snare a good one.”

  George grinned. “She’d have to have a certain something though. I like them to have sophistication, or seasoning, if you will.”

  Glyver gave him a look. “I recall you used to favor whores.”

  George raised his glass. “We all did, as I recall.”

  They clinked a toast and let the subject hang in the air between them. Glyver spoke first. “Ah, but we were earnest boys in search of manhood, and who’s blaming us for finding willing tutors.”

  “Who indeed,” Markham said. “Who indeed?”

  Chapter 26

  We sat silently sipping our tea. The small ping of bone china cup on saucer and the smart, crispy snap of the fire were the only sounds. At some point, Lena sighed and looked my way. I sensed it rather than saw it as my eyes were focused on the bursting clumps of half-burned wood exploding in the fireplace. Finally, I turned to her, my mood wary, my visage most likely a mirror of my mood.

  “I think you miss Annabel more than you’re willing to say,” she said. It was short of a full question, more than a statement of fact.

  Excerpt from Sabrina Blissdon’s journal, Exhibit 4, Evidence File No. 3.

  Sabrina was home alone for a few hours. Cath had taken the baby to the park, Walters was out getting fresh vegetables from the local greengrocer, and Felicity had gone to visit her sister.

  On a whim, she picked up the earpiece of the phone and when the operator came on, she haltingly voiced her request.

  “3246, uh, Mayfair, hmm, please.”

  She heard the ringing.

  “Yes? Hello?”

  “Lena?”

  “Of course, dear, who else would it be? We have our new telephone, and I barely knew what to do when it made a noise.”

  Sabrina laughed. She liked that Lena called it our new phone. “Well, darling, can I send a car for you? Why not join me for coffee and some of Cath’s delicious pound cake?”

  There was a long silence on the other end. “At your house, Sabrina? Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I’ll get off this contraption—a car will pick you up in an hour.”

  After calling for a driver, Sabrina looked around her library. Lena had never been to her house, and that suddenly seemed many shades of odd, even wrong.

  She walked into the kitchen and saw the newly baked pound cake on the counter. She poured water for a fresh pot of coffee and put it up to cook. Everyone except Felicity would be back by the time Lena arrived. Perfect.

  An hour and a quarter later, she opened the door to a somber-looking Lena.

  “Come in,” She stepped back to allow entry.

  “You have a fine house, Sabrina, an estate, really.”

  “Yes, thanks to my parents, I do—and the studio is at the back in its own building. Let’s go into the library. My housekeeper, Cath should be back any minute now. But I’ve managed to get a fresh pot of coffee brewing.”

  “That is an accomplishment,” Lena said.

  “Oh darling, I’m not altogether hopeless in a kitchen.” She turned to a smiling Lena.

  “No, not entirely,” Lena answered.

  “Ah, yes, well there was that one evening. Surprised you remember.”

  Lena gave her a look. “As I recall, we broke the table. Difficult to forget.”

  Sabrina blushed. Right. “So, my dear, what news do you have for me of Daisy?”

  Sabrina rearranged herself on the chair across from Lena. “Daisy?” she said.

  “Right. Well, first of all—”

  “First of all, why were you even calling on her? I thought you usually met your friends at a tea room or restaurant.”

  Lena opened her mouth to speak, but instead, she shrugged and raised an eyebrow. She hoped it would convey the message that what she did or where she went was really no concern of Sabrina’s. No longer a concern.

  “Sorry, Lena, I’ve no right to ask such a question. Please go on.”

  “I arrived at her flat, and there was police outside the front door to the building. No one could go in or out. I finally saw her landlord come around from the back, and after the detectives spoke to him, I introduced myself. He told me someone killed Daisy. Murdered her.”

  Sabrina nodded. She wanted to see if her information matched Lena’s.

  “Not far from the waterfront. Remember how exceptionally warm it was, night before last? Daisy must have been heading toward the cooler area on the riverbank. During her walk, it seems she stopped in a darkened doorway…with a client I would think. That’s where they found her with her throat slashed.”

  “Do you know who any of her clients are, were?”

  “Heavens no. Why would I?”

  Sabrina shifted again in her chair. “I don’t know, maybe she’s mentioned things over the years—didn’t you tell me she only saw her regulars?”

  “Yes, that’s what I understood. But, you know, Sabrina, I don’t see my fr
iends all that often now.”

  “Do you wish to?”

  Lena looked up, her face pale with reluctance to explain. After a moment, though, she did.

  “Sometimes, it’s nice to have a woman friend to chat with. I’m alone a great deal, Sabrina.”

  “I didn’t realize you would go to her flat—I could have saved you the shock as I knew about her death, Jeremy told me. I’m sorry you had to hear it that way, Lena.”

  Lena’s unfocused gaze settled on Sabrina. “I have precious little in common with them anymore, of course, but Daisy and I, we had a bond. A familiarity. And she trusted me. She was outspoken but terribly sweet. We even saw your old friend Bel not long ago when we were out at a market.”

  Sabrina sat forward. “What? Bel? You didn’t tell me! I would have thought you might have said something. You know her disappearance affected me greatly. I mean…surely you knew…”

  Lena frowned with concern. “It was only a few weeks ago, darling, and things haven’t been…things have been a bit tense with us, so I meant to say something but truly forgot.”

  Sabrina’s skin took on the mottled look of one who had been shocked and angered at the same time.

  Cath entered with fresh coffee and plates of pound cake.

  Sabrina stood up and walked around the library to a large window near the rear of the library. With her back to the room, she called out, “Thanks, Cath, lifesaver.”

  When Cath left, Lena joined Sabrina who was leaning up against the window sill in a moody slouch. “I think you miss Annabel more than you’re willing to say,” she said.

  “I only recently found out she is alive,” Sabrina said. “And I discovered it along with an altogether stunning turn of events when my houseguest Felicity said Bel is her sister!”