Amy bit her lip as she searched her memory. ‘Last year or the one before maybe, I’m not sure which.’
‘Did Mrs Thompson talk about Leo much? Who his friends were and what he was interested in?’
Bunny gave another cough, louder this time but again Flora ignored him.
Amy cast him a slightly worried look. ‘Are you all right, sir?’
‘Quite well thank you, Amy. Must be motor car fumes getting to my chest.’
Flora bit her lip to prevent a smile. Only two motors had passed them in all the time they had stood there. ‘You were saying, Amy?’
‘She never said so, but I sensed Mrs Thompson didn’t think much of his friends. If anyone asked, she’d change the subject.’
‘Really? Why do you suppose that was?’ Her pulse quickened as she waited for her answer.
‘I couldn’t say.’ Amy shrugged. ‘Why the interest, Miss Flora, if you don’t mind my asking. I had no idea you knew the Thompsons?’
‘Only in passing, and simple curiosity on my part. Her death struck me as rather sudden.’
‘You know what Flora is like when presented with a puzzle,’ Bunny interjected, his eyes widening in warning.
‘I do sir.’ Amy nodded, but her eyes sharpened with interest. ‘You don’t think there was something odd about her death, do you? Last time you were here, Sally Pond told us all about you breaking up a trafficking ring. Sylvia Thompson isn’t another one of your murder cases, is she?’
‘No, Amy. I was simply curious.’ Flora gave a thin, nervous laugh, resolving to have a word with Sally when she got home about below-stairs gossip.
‘I’ll tell you what though.’ Amy stepped closer, lowering her voice. ‘Sylvia Thompson was friends with a lady named Kitty Tilney. Very close they were, or so I heard. She helped Leo arrange his mother’s funeral, what with him not having anyone else in the world.’
‘Really? And where does this Mrs Tilney live?’ Flora asked.
‘One of those big houses in Clarence Square, but since her daughters married it’s too big for her so she rents out the top two floors.’
‘Do you know her well?’ Flora asked.
‘I’ve never met her.’ Amy’s eyes flashed with mischief. ‘One hears things. She lives at number twenty-four, that is, should you be thinking of asking her about how Mrs Thompson died.’ She delivered the information with a large dose of scepticism. ‘I doubt there’s any mystery there though, Mrs Thompson was taken to the hospital and everything.’
Bunny coughed into a fist and nudged Flora discreetly with a well-aimed elbow.
‘Thank you, Amy, you’ve been very helpful,’ She said, ignoring him.
With Amy’s penchant for gossip, Flora wondered how she had managed to keep the secret of Lily Maguire for so long.
‘We’re that busy up at the Abbey,’ Amy began, changing the subject. ‘What with all the arrangements for the house party next month. Even the lodge house is being opened up to accommodate the single gentlemen.’
‘We’re looking forward to it.’ Flora hoped they would have cleared Ed’s name by then or the house party would be a dismal one. Either that or it would be cancelled.
‘Looks like the rain has stopped.’ Amy poked her head out from beneath the canvas. The other people sheltering had slowly drifted away, leaving only the three of them.
‘So it has,’ Flora said.
‘I should be on my way, or I won’t have any time with Anne before I have to get the tram back to the Abbey.’ Amy backed away. ‘It was nice to see you, Miss Flora, Mr Harrington.’
‘You too, Amy.’ Flora watched Amy walk away over one shoulder as they walked in the opposite direction. ‘Oh dear. I might have made her suspicious.’
‘Your questioning wasn’t exactly subtle, and Amy’s no fool.’ He hefted the parcel beneath one arm, the other extended for her to take.
‘No, she isn’t. Her comment about the Summer Fair was interesting. Ed might have met Leo there?’
‘Why would you think that, when Ed said he didn’t know him? Besides, the whole town attends the Cleeve Abbey Summer Fair, so their paths might never have crossed. That Mrs Thompson disapproved of the company Leo kept is a more promising avenue to pursue.’
Their leisurely walk took them into the less grand streets of Pittville, which contained smaller versions of the grand residences in the town centre. Flora skirted around a baby carriage pushed by a young matron, following the wrapped occupant with her eyes while conjuring Arthur’s smile in her head.
‘Mrs Drake didn’t mention Mrs Tilney,’ Flora said, thoughtful. ‘Which is odd if she and Mrs Thompson were close. Or was Mrs Drake being discreet with regards to her employer?’
‘Hardly, she was happy to gossip about Mrs Thompson’s accident and Leo’s childhood.’
‘Perhaps Leo had a young lady in his life and Sylvia felt threatened?’
‘At the prospect of losing her only child to a wife?’ Flora knew all about that kind of rivalry. Her own mother-in-law’s attempts to keep Bunny’s exclusive affection was only relieved when they bought a home of their own. ‘Which doesn’t explain why he was killed.’
‘A jealous rival possibly?’ Bunny leaned close to whisper.
‘Too far-fetched. That only happens in cheap novels.’ Flora hugged his arm into her side. ‘We had better walk faster if we want to talk to Dr Billings before we catch our train home.’
Chapter 7
The surly man who opened the door at Pittville Parade answered Bunny’s enquiry after Dr Billings with a disdainful snort. ‘If you are referring to the woman with the effrontery to call herself a doctor, she moved to Sussex Lodge in Winchcombe Street.’
Bunny’s polite thanks was abruptly cut off by the hard slam of the front door.
‘It appears five years has done little to alter the opinions of the locals with regard to female medics,’ he observed as they set off again.
‘How Dr Grace tolerates such prejudice I’ll never know.’ Flora glared uselessly over her shoulder at the closed door. ‘At least her new address isn’t far, it’s just around the corner near the Pittville Gates.’
Sussex Lodge was a tall, thin terraced house ranged over four storeys identical to its neighbours, built in the Georgian style with a white stuccoed façade, full-height windows and a railed area in front with steps leading to a lower-ground floor.
The woman who answered their knock informed them in an imperious tone that afternoon surgery was between three and five o’clock.
Suspecting they were about to be faced with another slammed door, Bunny placed a firm hand on the wood. ‘Then would you kindly inform Dr Billings that Mr and Mrs Harrington are here on a personal matter.’
‘You’d better come in then.’ She jerked her chin in a gesture for them to enter. ‘I’ll tell her you’re here.’
While they waited, Flora took in her surroundings, which included a hall table displaying pamphlets detailing various complaints aimed at women and nursing mothers. The housekeeper returned in due course and led them up a steep staircase to the first floor, where Dr Grace greeted them in a neat private sitting room Flora guessed she used as her consulting room.
‘Ah, Mrs Harrington, Mr Harrington. What a pleasure it is to see you both again.’ She shook hands with each of them in turn with masculine firmness before inviting them to sit.
A tall, well-built woman in her early thirties, Dr Grace possessed penetrating dark eyes. Her appearance matched her surroundings, neat and professional in a white blouse ruched at the front over a dark, straight skirt. Handsome rather than pretty, her strong features became warm and animated when she smiled.
‘I gather it’s still an uphill fight against prejudice and mistrust, Doctor?’ Ignoring the arrangement of chairs, Bunny took up a position beside the long window which gave a view onto the street of the trams which glided by.
‘I’m prepared for the long haul as it were.’ Dr Grace sounded resigned, if not reconciled. ‘Lord Trent has been incredibly kind
, recommending me to his friends. I recently treated a retired septuagenarian army colonel who resides on Pittville Lawn. Perhaps the good people of this town are beginning to accept me.’
‘It must be hard to be so unappreciated.’ Flora chose a low, buttoned velvet chair to Bunny’s left. ‘I wish you lived in London so you might be our physician.’
‘How kind of you to say so. When I first opened my practice, there were forty doctors in the town, none of them women. I called on each one personally to introduce myself and was treated largely as a strange novelty. Most still feel I’m only good enough to hand out cough syrup and colic water to women and children, but I have no intention of giving up and I’m confident the town will accept me eventually. Now,’ she took a seat opposite, both her hands clasped in her lap, ‘I’m sure you haven’t come here to ask about the trials of being a female doctor. What can I do for you?’
‘We wanted to ask you about one of your patients,’ Bunny began.
Dr Grace’s eyes flickered, accompanied by an almost imperceptible stiffening of her shoulders.
‘Not a living patient,’ Flora added quickly. ‘This one died several months ago.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Dr Grace relaxed slightly. ‘That changes matters somewhat. And the patient’s name?’
‘Mrs Sylvia Thompson,’ Bunny replied. ‘We were told you treated her in her final illness.’
‘I did. Poor Sylvia. An unfortunate case indeed.’ A small frown appeared between her heavy eyebrows and she sighed. ‘I have to say I’m reluctant to discuss her without her son’s permission. He’s her closest and, in fact, her only relative.’
‘In normal circumstances, I would agree,’ Bunny said in his best solicitor tone used to impart grave news. ‘However, this is a special case. Her son was murdered yesterday.’
‘Leo?’ She bolted upright in her chair, her eyes wide. ‘Murdered? Are you sure?’ In response to Bunny’s slow nod, the colour drained from her face and she stared off, her mouth working as if unable to comprehend what she had been told. ‘Yesterday, you say? How did this happen? And where? I haven’t heard of any deaths in the town.’
‘It happened in London,’ Bunny replied. ‘We came from there this morning.’
‘We’re sorry to have brought such news,’ Flora winced, feeling woefully inadequate.
‘Such a nice young man. I can hardly believe it. Murdered you say?’ Dr Grace repeated in disbelief. ‘What with his mother having died so recently this makes it doubly tragic.’ Her eyes darkened in confusion. ‘I don’t understand. If it happened in London, what brings you to me?’
‘Leo’s body was discovered in a train compartment at Paddington Station,’ Bunny began. ‘The young man who shared his compartment is suspected of having killed him. At this stage, the police have no real proof, thus we are trying to find out who was in fact responsible.’
‘We hoped to find out more about Leo, only to learn his mother had died, so we haven’t been able to discover much,’ Flora added.
‘Ah, I think I see where this is going.’ Dr Grace’s expression sharpened. ‘You’re here on a quest to exonerate this young man, but are reluctant to explain further?’
Flora exchanged a look with Bunny, at which she added, ‘Discretion is an integral part of my profession, you realize.’
‘Of course, it is,’ Flora said, embarrassed. ‘It’s just that this is difficult.’
‘The young man the police suspect is Edward, Viscount Trent,’ Bunny said.
‘What?’ Dr Grace brought a hand to her throat, her expressive eyes darkening as her mind worked. ‘Earl Trent’s son? That delightful boy I treated for arsenic poisoning two years ago? Surely not?’ Her brow furrowed as her thoughts took another track. ‘Weren’t you his governess before you married, Mrs Harrington?’
‘Do call me Flora, please. And yes, I was. We’re certain he had nothing to do with Mr Thompson’s death, but unfortunately he was found with the body.’
‘I can see why the police would make such an assumption. But I cannot imagine that young man would commit a murder. May I ask how Leo was killed?’ Her tone switched from disbelief to calm professionalism.
‘The inspector in charge of the case didn’t say. However, he’s organized a search of the railway tracks in the vicinity for a weapon.’
‘What sort of weapon?’
‘We don’t know.’ Bunny shook his head. ‘However, I imagine if he was shot, it would have been heard by someone.’
‘Not if the sound coincided with a train whistle,’ Dr Billings suggested.
‘I knew it was a good idea coming to you.’ Flora’s eyes widened admiringly.
‘I doubt speculation will help,’ Dr Grace said gently. ‘You need firm evidence and at least one other suspect.’
‘Preferably before they formally arrest Ed.’ Flora blinked away sudden tears, her hands gripping her bag so tightly her fingers cramped. ‘And we don’t have much time.’
‘We appreciate this is awkward for you, Dr Grace, but Flora is extremely fond of Viscount Trent.’ Bunny brought a hand down on Flora’s shoulder. ‘We’ll do everything we can to avoid him being accused of a murder he didn’t commit.’
‘I quite understand, but I doubt I can be of assistance. Leo wasn’t a patient of mine. I only knew him through his mother.’
‘Would you be willing to give us details of the accident that caused Mrs Thompson’s death?’ Flora asked. ‘It might not be relevant at all, but we have so little information.’
‘With Leo dead, I don’t suppose there is anyone likely to object.’ Dr Grace thought for a moment. ‘I’ll tell you what I can to help. Lord Edward’s parents must be frantic.’
‘Lord and Lady Trent are in New York, therefore blissfully unaware of what has happened,’ Bunny said. ‘We hope not to have to deliver them bad news when they return.’
The doctor’s lips pursed in regret. ‘I wish I could tell you more, but there isn’t much to it, I’m afraid. Sylvia was brought to the surgery because of a wound to her hand, which I treated.’
‘Someone brought her?’ Flora remembered Mrs Drake saying she had been in Bristol on the day of Mrs Thompson’s accident and that Dr Grace had been summoned a couple of days later, but nothing about Sylvia being taken to the doctor.
‘A customer to the shop who happened to be there when Sylvia cut herself. The lady summoned a hansom and brought her here.’
‘Did you know this woman?’ Bunny asked.
She shook her head. ‘I had never seen her before. Nor did I pay her much consideration, as Sylvia took all my attention. She was very distressed.’
‘Where exactly was Mrs Thompson’s injury?’ Bunny asked.
Flora smiled at the way Bunny didn’t react to answers but pressed on with the next question. A technique he had learned from Inspector Maddox.
‘Right here.’ Dr Grace held out her hand. With the other, she drew a circle round the mound of muscle between the thumb and wrist. ‘Injuries to the thenar can cause long-term nerve damage, resulting in restriction of movement. The cut was no more than an inch or so long, but very deep and clean, so I expected it to heal with no residual problems. However, as I discovered, it’s not always easy to tell.’
‘And Sylvia didn’t explain how it happened?’ Flora asked.
‘No. She kept mumbling about being clumsy, but then the pain, combined with the amount of blood, made her very agitated.’
‘She accused you of being clumsy?’ Bunny asked.
‘I doubt it. I assumed she was rambling and referred to herself, but she was difficult to comprehend.’ Dr Grace’s wide mouth twitched at one corner but did not develop into anything resembling a smile. ‘Sylvia was tetchy with me, although the lady who accompanied her received similar treatment. The poor woman only tried to help, and yet I have to say I also found her rather annoying.’
‘The lady or Sylvia?’
‘Both actually. Sylvia screamed each time I touched her, and when I removed the binding to clean the wound, th
e woman kept getting in my way. She tipped my instruments onto the floor at one point. I had to send for my nurse to help me calm them both.’
‘Guilt at having been responsible for Sylvia cutting herself, perhaps?’ Flora suggested.
‘I admit that never occurred to me.’ Dr Grace stared off again as she gave the idea some consideration.
‘Could you describe her companion?’ Flora asked.
‘I wouldn’t call her a companion, I got the impression Sylvia didn’t know her. Nor did she give her name, although I judged her to be about my own age, with light brown hair and eyes. She was of a similar height as myself, but more slender. She didn’t strike me as the friendly sort, so it surprised me when she stayed to help Sylvia.’
‘Do you remember anything more specific about her?’ Flora asked. ‘A birthmark, a way of speaking perhaps?’ Flora had no idea whether this obliging stranger was relevant to their case, but at this stage, anything might help.
‘Hmm, not really.’ Dr Grace tapped her lower lip with a finger. ‘She was ordinary-looking, and by that, I mean nothing stood out. Light brown hair, wide cheekbones and non-descript eyes which tilted up at the corners, somewhat like a cat.’ She shrugged. ‘Which could have been due to the way she wore her hair, which was in a rather severe bun scraped off her face.’ Flora was about to thank her, when Dr Grace raised a finger. ‘One thing I remember was her extremely smart coat. It was the first thing I noticed about her. Maroon in colour, like good red wine with a design of embroidered diamond shapes in black around the hem.’ She hesitated. ‘No, not diamonds, more like chevrons. I rarely take notice of what anyone wears, but she put me in mind of a tall glass of wine.’ She broke off with a shaky laugh.
‘Could this woman have been local?’ Flora asked.
‘I doubt it, because she said she had a train to catch and left as soon as she could. I imagine because Sylvia was being quite difficult. Once Sylvia had calmed down, I finished what I was doing and made an arrangement for her to come back and have the dressing changed.’
The Bloomsbury Affair Page 7