House of Bliss

by T T Thomas

  Bel shrugged. “I’m not sure. I have no idea what George’s regular schedule is, but as soon as I know the answer, I’ll send around a note.”

  Chapter 31

  On the way home the next day, Felicity directed the driver to Hugh Glyver’s office.

  Thinking about Bel’s newfound fortune, she felt the same unease as her sister had. Her instinctual response to George Markham was swift and unfavorable—she knew what reserved looked like, and he wasn’t it.

  He had the look of an aging rounder used to having his way, especially with women. She saw in Markham’s eyes a sizing up, a carnal appraisal of her she didn’t care for. She hoped Bel hadn’t seen it—she thought not.

  Felicity discovered Glyver was not in his office.

  “I do expect him to return within a quarter hour,” the assistant said, “and you’re welcome to wait.”

  Felicity said she had another appointment, so she left a note in an envelope with his secretary. She enclosed the leftover cash from her investigation attempts. She sealed it and wrote Glyver’s name on the front, grateful for not having to do so in his presence.

  Once back in the rig, she relaxed. So, Bel now lived in a decent flat, and that was a huge relief. She set aside her concerns about Markham, for now, because he had come through for Bel. Felicity West no longer had to spy on anyone for Glyver, and Felicity North would invite herself to dine with Sabrina to cap off a busy day.

  And who was the woman Sabrina was escorting to the gate that afternoon? It must be a friend. She’d find out details over dinner, or, better yet, while in bed with the adventuresome bohemian.

  It was an hour before sunset when Lena left the library, her messenger bag weighted down with notes, a couple books and the remnants of the lunch she was too busy to eat. She stood at the cabstand, and a driver rode up right away.

  On the way home, she was wondering how she would tell Sabrina the news. It hadn’t taken Lena long to find information on Markham Manor. The old baronial manse was in a sorry state of disrepair, according to one newspaper account. Halfway between the villages of Porthleven and Helston, on The Lizard Peninsula, Cornwall, the house occupied the crest of a hill with a stunning view of the Bay and its beaches. The current Baron, George Markham, was a businessman who spent most of his time in the Belgravia district of central London.

  Debrette’s Peerage provided her with the most interesting information, however. Markham Manor was originally known as Blissdon Park. Lena noted that Markham had one brother and one sister, both deceased. Further inquiry gave her the shocking realization that the man Sabrina knew as her father, Louis R. Blissdon, was none other than George Markham’s half brother.

  Digging more, she found notes from a family Bible entry that revealed they had the same mother, different father. Louis was older by ten years, reflecting his mother’s first marriage, which also produced his sister Sarah Blissdon. The provenance of the note was unclear but referenced the announcement of George’s birth date and baptism.

  Louis and Sarah Blissdon’s father, Henry Blissdon, had died, and the 8th Baron Porthleven, James Markham, married his widow, Marie Blissdon. He adopted Hugh and Sarah, and together the couple had George.

  Lena marveled at the change in fortunes. Marie married into the Blissdon family who had lost Blissdon Park, only to be left a widow who then married a second time into the Markham family, present and titled owners of the same land.

  Upon the senior Baron’s death, Marie lived at Blissdon Park and the Barony went to George, who changed the name of the family lands from Blissdon Park to Markham Manor soon after Marie died. Unfortunately, George Markham, the 9th Baron Porthleven barreled through the monetary assets of the estate within a few years and the baronial homestead fell into grave disrepair.

  Why George Markham changed the name was less clear. Blissdon Park had originally been a royal gift for military service to a Blissdon ancestor in the mid-18th century. As the family experienced a multi-generational decline in fortunes, they eventually sold the property to the Markham family. It became a baronial home but retained the Blissdon Park name until George Markham changed it.

  The last major renovations of the large manse itself had been in 1879, nearly 50 years earlier. Throughout the preceding decades, various Blissdon descendants worked at the house they no longer owned. Charlotte O’Brien, had been a local girl in service to the Markham’s before marrying Sabrina’s father, Louis.

  Lena scoured the newspapers of the time, but could find nothing to suggest a reason George and his half siblings were estranged as they apparently were. A falling out of some sort? She found only a document from The Committee for Privileges and Conduct and record of the Letters Patent confirming George Markham as the Baron of Porthleven. A search for a record of George’s birth certificate turned up nothing.

  On the carriage ride home, Lena tried to fit the pieces together. Sabrina’s mother had worked in service at Blissdon Park. So…Sabrina’s mother and father must have met then. And George would have known Sabrina’s mother, too. She wondered if the conflict had been about the woman, Sabrina’s mother.

  Lena looked out the carriage window and realized she was within a couple miles of Sabrina’s house. Should she? She leaned forward to give the driver a new destination. Given the hour, perhaps Sabrina would invite her to join for dinner. Should she go home, change clothes and call ahead first? Looking again at the sky, Lena decided to go straightaway to Sabrina’s.

  She walked slowly up the stone path to the front door and knocked twice, but turned around when she heard something behind her. It was Felicity, walking toward her with a smile.

  “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, Felicity North,” the woman said.

  At that moment, Sabrina opened the door. “Lena! What a lovely—and Felicity.” Sabrina stared dumbly at both women.

  “Well, I live here,” said Felicity with a smirk, “but I believe Lena is a guest, so you ought to invite her in.”

  Sabrina took a step backwards. “Of course, Ladies, lovely to see you. Both. Dinner is in a half hour, so I trust you’ll join, unless—”

  “Delighted,” said Lena, brimming with smiles and enthusiasm.

  “Charmed, I’m sure,” gushed Felicity.

  Both women walked through the front door as Cath and Walters appeared from the dining room.

  “I thought I heard a knock,” Walters said. “Oh. Oh.”

  “I’ll set two more places,” Cath said, turning on her heels toward the kitchen.

  “I’ll help, of course,” Walters said, departing equally fast.

  Sabrina blanched but forced a tight smile. “Please join me in the library, ladies, for a good stiff—a good cocktail.”

  Chapter 32

  When Hugh Glyver returned to his office, his secretary handed him an envelope. Walking into his office, he read the short missive from Felicity West.

  Dear Mr. Glyver,

  I must return to my home county on urgent family business, and as I do not know the date of my return, must resign the assignment as of today. I enclose the remaining monies not spent in my search for Bel Glyver. Regrettably, I had no luck there. I hope the other information gathered on the person of S. Blissdon was of some use to you. Thank you for the opportunity, and I consider our account with one another paid. Regards, Felicity West.

  Glyver sat at his desk and looked over the note again. Oh well, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Shame she hadn’t consulted him prior to resigning. Rather unusual that she didn’t. Have to ask Markham about her. She seemed professional enough, but one never knew.

  He soothed himself with the notion it hadn’t cost him much, and he’d learned a few things about Sabrina Blissdon. Besides, the better money was going toward Markham achieving something more valuable. He expected to know more soon when they met at their club. Eventually, Markham would obtain the legal agreement signed by Bel Glyver, with Markham as witness.

  Glyver called his wife to see about the evening’s
plans. She was under the weather so he was on his own for dinner. Much better. He needed to think. Something was bothering him, but he couldn’t quite name it. Something about George Markham, he thought. Could George be seeing Bel? Was the six hundred pound settlement merely one of Markham’s usual hare-brained schemes to raise money? The man was singularly poor at business…pity he hadn’t inherited money as well as land and title because he was bad at earning. Still, seemed like a lot trouble to go to for a twenty-five pound fee. Unless Markham was planning to keep the six hundred pounds himself…which might mean—Glyver sat up straight. Could it be this easy?

  Glyver decided to close the office early. He called his wife again and told her to rest, that he’d go on to the club for a quick meal. His driver was at the curb.

  “Home, Sir, or the Club?”

  Glyver didn’t hesitate. “The Club.”

  He wasn’t really in the mood to see Markham, but they’d made plans once he realized Glynnis wasn’t feeling well. He’d walk around for an hour or so once he’d let the driver go. Get a daytime look at some of the merchandise on parade.

  Markham sat up at the upstairs bar in Garrick’s. A couple men down at the other end were deep in conversation.

  “The usual, My Lord?”

  “Yes, thanks, Mikey.”

  Markham drummed his fingers on the bar. Glyver was late—not like the persnickety bastard at all. As soon as he had the thought, Glyver approached him, hand out, sheepish grin on his face.

  “Sorry old man, had to pop by the jewelers for a little gift.”

  “Not to worry,” Markham said with a tight smile. “Is it your anniversary then?”

  Glyver signaled the barkeep and raised two fingers. He’d be having a double. He motioned Mikey to bring another drink to Markham, too.

  “No,” Glyver finally said, “it’s not my anniversary. It’s a gift for a new baby.” He smiled at Markham who blinked a few times.

  “It’s not Lady Glynnis is it?” Markham asked. Then, “My God! It is. You old coot, how did you do that?” Markham stood up and slapped his friend on the back several times. Glyver, who was raising his glass to his lips, jerked forward and spilled his liquor. A few small splotches flew onto Markham’s tie.

  “In the conventional way,” Glyver said, sputtering. “We expect the stork to land in about seven months. Sorry about your tie.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Markham said. “Ah, never mind, needs a good cleaning anyway.”

  The two of them lingered at the bar discussing Glyver’s upcoming state of fatherhood. Markham gloated inwardly at the thought of his own child.

  After they ordered dinner, Markham brought up the subject of Bel. “I’ve secured a deal for you regarding that other business,” Markham said. “She’ll go away immediately and stay away forever.”

  “How much?” Glyver asked.

  Markham sighed. Then fidgeted with his napkin. Then took a long swallow of his wine.

  “Damn it man, out with it,” Glyver spat out. “I want this ordeal done and over. How much?”

  “She won’t budge from the city for under a thousand pounds. But she will leave permanently for that.”

  Glyver looked into his drink. “Permanently? How I do wish her departure could be permanent. What happened to make her go from six hundred pounds to a thousand?”

  Markham decided to leverage his position. “She’s smarter than I thought,” he said. “And I’m going to owe you an apology. That lady detective? It was her sister. I didn’t know, I swear. She lives with that corset lady, Sabrina Blissdon.”

  Glyver raised an eyebrow. “Of the House of Bliss fame. I’ve supported her over the years with my wife’s purchases.”

  “Haven’t we all?” Markham agreed. “I hear she’s a very bad influence on the young ladies. All rumors, of course, but my sources are pretty good.” One side of his mouth turned downward in a grimace while the same muscle movement pushed the other side of his mouth upward in a half sneer.

  “You sound as though you personally dislike her—have you met her?” Glyver watched as Markham troubled the answer.

  “I used to know some of her distant relatives. All dead now.”

  Glyver gave him a sick smile, then shrugged and waved his hand as if it were of no import to him. He took a long swallow of his drink to mask his surprise at being told what he already knew. “The settlement with Bel—do it,” he said. “And get it in writing.”

  “How soon can you have the funds?” Markham asked. “She’s ready to go tomorrow.”

  Glyver looked up at Markham before lowering his gaze again. “I’ll send a delivery around to your Belgravia place first thing tomorrow after the banks open,” Glyver promised. Markham nodded but said nothing.

  “And I suppose you’ll want a little something for this effort,” Glyver said drily. Markham’s sardonic expression revealed that he expected the sarcasm.

  “I’ll leave the details of that up to you,” Markham said with a rare smile as he looked down at his glass. He lit a cigarette and offered one to Glyver who accepted. Glyver blew his smoke upward before speaking.

  “Well, those details largely depend on you, Markham. How permanent can you make permanent? And how soon can you…make things permanent?”

  Markham jerked his head up. Smoke hung in the the air between them, heavy and close. “Is that necessary?”

  Glyver shrugged. “I don’t know. Can’t decide. But for five thousand pounds instead of one thousand, maybe that’s a decision you should make. Tonight.”

  He watched as Markham absorbed this volley. Wanted to say something personal, but restrained himself. So many things he could say. He settled on “You might need some help—in fact, someone more familiar with the physicality of such things.”

  Markham drank the rest of his drink in one long gulp. “Long night, mate, shall we go on our way?”

  After the dinner, the two walked outside the club before going their separate ways.

  “Let me have that tie, old man. Glynnis has a place make it good as new.”

  Markham loosened his tie and handed it to Glyver. They said their goodbyes and went in opposite directions.

  Markham called Mendicott from the public box. He gave him an address. And a time.

  He stopped at a coffee house and in the dim light of a corner table, he scratched out a two-page agreement. Then he stopped at a street florist and bought a gorgeous bouquet of white roses. He walked 14 blocks and knocked on a door.

  Bel looked beautiful when she answered the door, a state enhanced by her surprise and delight at seeing the flowers. “My husband,” she whispered, as she pulled him inside and put her arms around his neck in the hallway.

  “For my wife,” he answered, handing her the bouquet.

  After Bel fixed them a drink, he brought up the subject of Glyver. “I’ve got it all sorted out for you,” he said. “Glyver is sending me, ah, several thousand pounds by courier tomorrow. For you.”

  “He didn’t wonder how you found me?” Bel asked.

  “He may have done,” Markham said, “but not aloud. He’ll give me a small ‘finder’s fee,’ of course, and I’ll give that to you too.”

  “Oh, George, that’s not necessary. How long before we can announce our marriage?”

  “Our marriage. Yes, our marriage. Soon. Within six months, latest. We’ll move to my family home, once I’ve got it back to living condition, and if you’ll agree.”

  “It will be lovely to raise Sophia there.”

  Markham reached into the breast pocket of his suit. He pulled out an envelope and spread its contents on the table. “He wants a written agreement, and I see no problem with that.” He handed Bel his fountain pen.

  She glanced at the two-page document and was about to sign it when a thought occurred to her. “George, if you have no objection, and as there’s plenty of room in the family house, might I invite my sister, Felicity, to live with us.”

  “The mysterious Felicity West,” he said.

&nb
sp; “Well, George, to be honest, it’s Felicity North—West is the name she used when she came to London. She thought it posh—a country girl’s idea of posh, anyway.”

  “I see,” he said. “And yes, certainly Felicity may live with us. I wouldn’t have it any other way. She is Sophia’s auntie after all.”

  “And she’d be such a help to me, George,” Bel said, as she signed her name to the document. “Are you able to stay awhile this evening?”

  Markham put the document back into the envelope and the envelope in the pocket from which he had retrieved it.

  He stood up and removed his jacket, which he placed over the back of a chair. “I was hoping you’d invite me,” he said warmly, taking her by the hand.

  Bel giggled. “Well, you are my husband.”

  “I am indeed.” He led her into the bedroom.

  Glyver’s driver turned to him. “Sir? You want to go back to your office?”

  “Yes, and I want you to wait. I’ll be going home then.”

  Once inside his office, Glyver tore through his files for Felicity West’s address. He had to find her first report, which had shown the address on the—there it was. He pulled the envelope out of the file.

  He then made a quick phone call. “I figured as much,” he said. “Listen, Bailey I’ll put the tie near the door knob. Nobody around at this hour,” he said into the phone. “Pick it up on your way.”

  As he left the office, he folded up Markham’s tie and put it on the doorknob. He wedged it securely between the knob and the door casing. Markham was such a fool. He couldn’t pay Mendicott what it would take to eliminate Bel, but Glyver could. Markham had no idea that Mendicott’s real employer was Glyver.

  As he walked toward his driver, he put the paper with the address in the inside pocket of his suit coat. He’d wait…a few days or a few weeks and watch the newspapers closely.