House of Bliss

by T T Thomas

  As they wordlessly looked at one another, Lena wondered if their youthful dalliance was running through Jean’s mind the way it played across her own.

  As if by divine intervention, Jean answered the unasked question. “Of course I remember, darling. I regret nothing, and I wouldn’t change a thing. My past informs my present, and I live in the efficacious glow of certainty that I’ve chosen the right path…for me.”

  Lena took a deep breath. “Thank you for saying that, Jean. I’ve…I’ve always wondered if guilt from our interlude drove you into the arms of God. I worried that it had.”

  Jean expelled a good hearty laugh. “Humility was never your strong suit, darling. Seriously, though, the two events, your arms and God’s arms were quite unrelated, unlikely as that may sound. I was given a guilt-free spirit in life, and when I was ready to hear it, I found a part of myself, long-hidden, that wished to serve a higher power for my life’s work. Besides, as I’m sure you would agree, you were the best lover one could have, so I thought, why not move on to the spiritual realm since I never hoped to match the superiority of the physical one again.”

  Lena laughed, her face reddening with self-consciousness. Jean invited her to stay the night at the convent. Jean said that while Lena was getting settled, she’d go immediately to the rectory. She’d be back before evening vespers.

  Lena had a small, plain room with bathroom en suite on the main floor. The dining room was further down the hall, so everything was convenient. She decided to rest awhile and lay fully clothed upon her narrow bed. She fell asleep wondering where Jean’s private living quarters were.

  When Lena awoke, it was dark. She could hear the last dozen notes of the nuns singing softly in the chapel. She got up, refreshed her face and clothing and wandered down the long hallway. She saw Jean standing outside the dining room talking to another nun. “Oh, Lena, perfect timing. I’m asking that our dinner be brought into my quarters—I have much to tell you.”

  Two other nuns set up a small table in Jean’s sitting room. A fire was crackling and a decanter of wine rested on the table. When they were alone, Jean poured them both a glass.

  “I will do the toast,” Jean said, raising her glass. “To our love and our life, with God’s good blessings.”

  Lena smiled broadly. “To our love and our life with God’s good blessings,” she repeated, clinking her friend’s glass.

  The two young nuns brought their dinner to the table. Lena purred at the scents of the mushroom risotto and crunchy French Bread.

  “This looks divine,” Lena said, “And delicious.”

  “And may I add you are looking divine yourself, Lena?”

  Lena blushed. Sister Jean raised an eyebrow at the sight of Lena’s rosy cheeks. They both reached for their wine goblet again.

  Jean had found the exact information Lena needed. She was more than a little shocked when she heard the details. It wasn’t anything that she, Jeremy or Sabrina would have ever guessed in a million years.

  Chapter 41

  When the call came in, Walters was dusting. He answered the phone, using his dust cloth to wipe down the wall-mounted device as he listened. When he hung up, he stood for a moment looking off into space. Finally, he called out to his wife.

  “Cath, luv, Dr. Jeremy has called a meeting here at 5:00 p.m. He said we should have a light tea in the library for…” he mentally counted the participants, “…four people.”

  With Bel, Felicity and Lena sitting in the library, Jeremy explained. “There’s been some major news. “ We’ve done some investigating,” Jeremy said. “While Lena was in Cornwall, I was meeting with my father’s old school mate, who happens to be the Metropolitan Police Commissioner.

  “It seems the Chief Superintendent over Mendicott has reservations about the case against Sabrina. He’s launching his own confidential internal investigation. But aside from the charges, there’s every indication she’ll be home within a couple days.”

  “Well, thank God,” Bel said. “Maybe things will improve.”

  Jeremy reached for a tumbler of water. “There’s more,” he said. “Lena, why don’t you begin?”

  Lena spent over a half hour explaining the highlights of what her research revealed. By prior arrangement with Jeremy, she left out that she had reported her findings to the Crown. Lena sat forward in her chair. “I learned that George Markham was an orphan the Baron and his wife passed off as their own—he was adopted!

  “When I discovered that, I knew he would go to extraordinary lengths to eliminate the competition. He had no more authentic claim to the title and the family home than Sabrina’s father, Louis, or her aunt Sarah. Or Sabrina, for that matter,” Lena added. “In fact, he had less. And then, once we realized Bel had signed a document about the settlement monies the same night she was attacked…things began to fall into place.

  Lena inclined her head toward Bel. “Not only is Sabrina in danger, you are in imminent danger, Bel. As soon as George Markham finds out you are still alive and now that we can guess at his motivation for wanting Sabrina hurt, damaged and out of the picture, we must assume he will do something even more desperate. But we know that someone has targeted and killed women wearing House of Bliss corsets, so one has to conclude there is a message there and Mr. George Markham is probably the messenger.”

  “I am in disbelief about all of it…the women,” Bel said, “I knew them. Well, I knew Annie Bishop and Daisy Bowker, Franny in passing…”

  Lena swallowed hard before speaking. “As did I, Bel, and none of them deserved this.”

  Bel looked at Felicity and raised an eyebrow.

  “I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to scare you,” Felicity said. “Besides, I don’t see how we can prove Markham’s involvement with those murders.”

  “Motive, Proximity, Means,” Jeremy said. “I suspect Markham means to take whatever monies Glyver is paying him, probably settlement money, and abscond with it.” He faltered here. “I think he meant to kill you, Bel. I’m sure of it.”

  No one said anything for a moment, but the unspoken words hung above and between them like the blade of an executioner’s sword, sharp and threatening. Bel took the first audible breath. “In that case, he may think me dead already as I’ve not contacted George since the assault. Something put me off doing so, and I can’t say what.”

  No one said anything for a few moments. “I’m not sure what we should do,” Bel said to no one in particular. “I’ve married him. He, he, he…helped me out when I was destitute. I didn’t even read what he had me sign. But I recall seeing five thousand pounds as the amount.” Bel lowered her head in shame and remembrance. “The recovery has been—it’s been trying. Things keep coming back to me about that night.”

  Lena murmured, “It truly has. This is all a shock, I know.”

  Both Felicity and Jeremy shook their heads. “Five thousand pounds! He’ll spend all that money on his rundown baronial mansion,” Felicity said.

  “Not right away,” Lena suggested. “Even Markham knows how suspicious that would look. Besides, I’m not convinced Glyver has given him the money yet. But if Markham doesn’t try to contact Bel to give her the money, then we will have proof of his intentions toward Bel and his motivation for the attack.”

  Jeremy looked at her thoughtfully then stood up. “I see a problem. I’m reasonably certain there will be a story in the papers some time soon, possibly tomorrow, about the attack and Bel’s survival of it.”

  Everyone looked up at him expectantly.

  “So the question is: Markham may not yet know Bel survived the attack but does Glyver know? Regardless of whether or not Glyver has paid the five thousand pounds, doubtlessly he will conclude Markham means to abscond with it—the timing of Bel signing the document and the attack on her is too convenient to be a coincidence.”

  After tea, Walters switched out the sandwiches and desserts for whiskey. Neat.

  Bel took a generous swallow of her whiskey. “I have a question,” she
began. “What made you investigate George’s background in the first place?”

  Lena smiled. “That’s the fascinating part, Bel. I wasn’t looking at Markham’s background, actually. I was looking into Sabrina’s family history. As it turns out, Sabrina’s maternal grandmother made a bit of a deal with the devil. She didn’t love the 8th Baron Porthleven, but she did love the lands and home of Blissdon Park. She agreed to adopt a child and raise it as her own to give him an heir. In that day and age, it was the only way he could get an heir because you see, the 8th Baron was a homosexual, a rather earnest and dedicated one.”

  Jeremy laughed. “The best ones are,” he said. “Dedicated, that is.”

  Lena stood, and she and Jeremy prepared to leave. “Everyone try to get a good night’s sleep,” he said.

  As they were leaving the library, Lena turned to Bel.

  “Would you enjoy an early ride in the morning? I hire a carriage twice a week, now, and I find a nice ride, rain or shine, clears the cobwebs. I could pick you up at eight.”

  “I would absolutely love it,” Bel said, without hesitation. “The fresh air sounds wonderful!”

  Chapter 42

  After everyone had left for the night, Bel and Felicity sat side-by-side in the library. “What are you thinking, Bel?”

  Bel looked at her sister and her eyes filled with tears.

  “Darling, what is it,” Felicity said, putting her arms around Bel.

  “Fels, I know about you and Sabrina. And you know about me and Sabrina. But what I need to know, now, is are you willing to forgive her? She did not know we were related I can assure you.”

  Felicity started, her body jerking forward. She re-gained control, then frowned. “I know. I’m trying to forgive, Bel, but it’s hard for me. I really cared about her. As I’m sure you did.”

  Bel nodded her agreement. “Sabrina is like a magnet,” she said. “and a fire. The magnetic personality pulls one in, and the fire warms one, but get too close to the flame…” She didn’t finish the thought. She didn’t feel she needed to.

  “I was angry,” Felicity said. “But I never wanted this for her.”

  “And she is abundantly sensitive, so her incarceration has surely left her forlorn and feeling a failure. I believe she fully belongs to Lena, now, and we were important but temporary stops along the way. That happens to all people, including women who love women. Especially them,” she added.

  Felicity sat studying the front of her skirt. “And what about you, darling? You’ve apparently married a man who aims to do you in. We’ve both of us had some awful luck at love, haven’t we?”

  Bel smiled knowingly. “You may have loved Sabrina a little, dear sister, but you must trust me that this is not the end of love for you.”

  “It was quite an accident,” Felicity said. “I never…I hadn’t considered such an option.”

  “I know,” Bel said. She decided against giving her own personal history in that regard. Besides, for her it was only Sabrina, there would not be another to replace her. She might marry again for the sake of Sophia, but as she could never replace Sabrina, she knew she wouldn’t try. Melancholia struck her heart, but when she looked up at Felicity, whose eyes were brimming with tears, she rose to the occasion.

  “There will be another woman, if you choose thus,” she assured her sister. “You are young, intelligent and pretty…someone will find you or you will find someone again.”

  Felicity stood up but swayed. “I do believe I am drunk,” she announced.

  “I think we both are,” Bel said. “Let’s see if we can maneuver those stairs without breaking our necks. Here, hold on to me.”

  “Oh, Lord, the physically challenged leading the emotionally defective.”

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Bel looked at Felicity. “You are not defective. You do, however, smell like an abundance of spirits. Onward.”

  They giggled and swayed their way to the top of the staircase, whereupon they hugged goodnight and stumbled into their beds.

  Chapter 43

  A courier arrived at Markham’s Belgravia home before breakfast hour. He handed him an envelope. “I’m to wait for an answer, sir.”

  Markham frowned and tore open the envelope. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. Glyver wanted to meet him at their usual place at the docks. The note was brief.

  “Allow me the pleasure of handing a larger envelope to you. Let’s take a walk. Noon. Usual place. Glyver.”

  It flustered Markham. It could mean nothing or it could be a trap of some sort. He didn’t think he had given Glyver any reason for suspicion, but Glyver was wary to a flaw when it came to her. Bel addled his brain. No telling what he had up his sleeve.

  “Yes,” he said to the messenger. “Tell Mr. Glyver, yes.” He handed the runner a coin.

  As he was dressing, he wondered why Glyver hadn’t merely telephoned his request. Deciding to hedge his bet, he picked up the receiver on the telephone. When Chief Inspector Mendicott answered, he told him where to be to observe the walk and the transaction. “I’ll have your remuneration in a separate envelope,” he said. “I’ll walk past you after I’ve left Glyver and hand you the proceeds. Are you certain no one saw you that night? Yes, yes, all right.”

  Markham hung up the phone and sat down to read the morning paper with his coffee. An article under the front page fold made him choke. He nearly spilled the coffee. He read aloud.

  Unknown Assailant Leaves Woman In Coma

  The former Mrs. Bel Glyver, having recently survived an assault in her own home, had recovered sufficiently from her wounds to be released from hospital yesterday.

  The newspaper article said she had been in a coma for over a week. Markham tapped his fingers on the table in a nervous rat-tat-tat of impatience and fear. First, he’d get the money. Then, he’d have to see Bel. That bloody, incompetent detective.

  He sat still to calm himself. Had Glyver read the same article? Almost certainly not—if he read at all, he read The Evening News and disliked reading a newspaper in the morning.

  He also worked out that Bel couldn’t possibly have seen who assaulted her, and even if she had, how could she know Mendicott? She couldn’t. She must therefore think her husband innocent. He’d send flowers around to her flat once he got the funds from Glyver.

  He walked to the window and looked out. It was blue-sky clear. This wasn’t happening as smoothly as he had planned, but he needed to stay flexible. He’d waited this long, and he could wait a while longer to renovate and refurbish the family home.

  When the renovations were complete, he’d throw a huge lawn party. Invite all the titles and up market people. Finally, put to rest the corrosive rumors of his financial decline and…other issues. He’d invite everyone except Hugh Glyver—insufferable prig.

  Chapter 44

  Lena came by early to pick up Bel. As their driver covered their laps with a tartan plaid blanket, they were spared the dew from the early morning mist under the cabriolet cover. Lena pulled out a thermos of something hot and two ceramic mugs. “I hope you don’t mind a splash of milk in your coffee—I always find it’s a nice treat at breakfast time.”

  Bel put the steaming cup up to her lips. “Divine,” she said.

  Bel looked furtively at her hostess a couple times. Finally, Lena leaned in toward her. “Did you want to ask me, something, Bel?”

  Bel looked at her and nodded. “I did see something more than my attacker’s shoe and pant leg,” she said. “I twisted and turned under the shroud he threw over me, and I saw a glimpse of his necktie, the bottom bit.”

  “Do you recall the color of the tie?” Lena asked.

  “It was so fast…blue I’d say, leaning toward Hyacinth. And white. Stripped.”

  “Could the white have been more of a cream color?”

  Bel furrowed her brow. “Well, ivory, I suppose.

  “Did you ever know Carolina?”

  “Not well,” Bel said, “I recall she was pretty. She’s not dead is she
?”

  “Heaven’s no!” Lena said. “I certainly hope not. I spoke with her last week. She remembered a man, a client she considered odd, who asked her about her corset even before he inspected it personally, you know, as he helped her to remove it before they got down to business.”

  “I would say it’s more than odd,” Bel said.

  “Well, but here’s the strange part. He wore one of those school or club ties, and she described it much as you have. Light blue and white, except she thought off-white.”

  “Would she recognize the man if she saw him again?”

  Lena nodded. “She says she would. Let me ask you, Bel, would you recognize the tie if you saw it again?”

  Bel shrugged. “I’m inclined to say I would. It was quick and a mere glance beyond the hem of the cover he threw over me, but yes, I think I would. You know…” Bel took a deep breath. “George Markham used to wear a similar tie. I’ve not seen it in a long time, but…it was similar I think.”

  “Anything unusual about your attacker’s shoes?”

  Bel shook her head. “Black Oxfords, shiny, no, nothing special. It was so fast, it disoriented me. But, yes, he wore well-shined shoes.”

  “Are you able to say for sure they were Oxfords and not Derby shoes? And were they were ankle boots or shoes?”

  “Now you ask, I might say they were boots,” she said. “As to the other, I can’t say. I’ve always called them Oxfords. But, I don’t know if I can be positive, Lena.” She frowned, trying to recall.

  “Nothing to worry about, right now,” Lena said.

  Bel hesitated. “I don’t want to believe George assaulted me, Lena, but like you, I want to find out.” She paused. “But there’s something else I feel you should know. Hugh hired Felicity to find me not so long ago. It was a hiring facilitated by Mr. Markham. And now, I’m not certain his intentions were pure.”