The Bloomsbury Affair

by Anita Davison

  ‘I had to make myself scarce then, sir, because the housekeeper came looking for Libby.’

  ‘She’s something of a stickler is she, this housekeeper?’ Bunny asked, a smile in his voice.

  ‘That she is, sir. Most of the domestic staff live in and they’re watched closely by this Mrs Sharpe. Terrified of her most of them.’

  ‘Except when they are chatting to handsome chauffeurs,’ Flora murmured as they negotiated a corner, narrowly avoiding a man on a bicycle who wobbled precariously in the road.

  ‘They have to buy their own soap and aprons.’ Timms steered around the cyclist in a wide arc. ‘Any breakages have to be paid for, and if they swipe so much as a biscuit from a discarded plate they’re dismissed without references.’

  ‘That’s harsh,’ Flora pulled a face.

  ‘A fact of life in some trades, I’m afraid,’ Bunny said.

  ‘Mary Drake described Leo, or Leonard, as a quiet young man devoted to his mother,’ Flora said, growing tired of being upstaged by the chauffeur. ‘Nothing like the man I saw, who was both rude and arrogant.’

  ‘What do you mean, you saw?’ Bunny’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘I met him. Well, sort of. He was in the lobby with Mr Frederick Hunter-Griggs, the man you said I was flirting with.’

  ‘The chap in the green jacket? He’s the half-brother?’

  Flora nodded, still smiling broadly.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Bunny’s annoyed voice was sucked into the wind as he lowered the window. ‘Did it not occur to you I might have liked to know that earlier?’

  ‘I tried, but you rushed me out of there as if the lobby had caught fire.’ She lowered her voice, conscious the chauffer could still hear them.

  ‘That’s no excuse for not mentioning it.’

  ‘Why? You didn’t tell me about your arrangement with Timms?’ Aware she sounded sharp, she slid her arm through his, unwilling to let a minor spat develop into a row. They never argued, at least not the way Jocasta and Jeremy did, with flying china, slammed doors and injured silences which lasted for days.

  ‘Hmph,’ Bunny muttered, softening.

  ‘Oh, sir,’ the chauffeur said over his shoulder. ‘There was one other thing. Mr Leonard likes to gamble. Libby says there are always playing cards and empty brandy glasses scattered about his room when she goes in to clean.’

  ‘Excellent. Thank you.’ Bunny appeared to give this some thought. ‘If you remember anything else, do let me know.’

  ‘Of course, sir. And I hope you don’t mind, but Lord Trent came to help me in the mews this morning. I kept the doors closed so he wasn’t seen.’

  ‘Quite all right, Timms. Thank you, and I’m sure it helped keep his mind off things,’ Bunny said. ‘Now put your foot down or we’ll get caught behind that van.

  ‘Yes sir.’ The chauffeur threw a knowing smile over one shoulder as he gunning the engine, steering through a narrow gap between the van and a hansom.

  Flora gripped the back of the seat in front and swallowed, her eyes tightly closed until the motor levelled out again.

  Before dinnertime their entire household staff would know all about the Harrington’s exploits.

  *

  After luncheon, Bunny left for his meeting with Inspector Maddox, taking the needlework spike with him. Flora spent an hour with Arthur in the nursery, balancing coloured wooden blocks into towers the baby subsequently pushed over to gales of hysterical laughter. She tried to think of a way to discover more about the Hunter-Griggs family, specifically the Colonel, but to make it work, she would need to enlist Ed’s help.

  Persuading him to leave the house in secret would be the easy part, keeping it from Bunny might prove more taxing.

  Arthur pulled himself upright on the arm of her chair where he wobbled on chubby legs before collapsing again onto his well-padded rear end.

  ‘What a clever boy!’ she gushed. ‘Your papa will be sorry to have missed that.’ She lifted him into her arms for a close hug, inhaling the heady combination of gripe water and Pears soap. ‘Well, Arthur. As they say, it’s easier to seek forgiveness than permission.’ Planting a kiss on his soft blond head, Flora handed him back to Milly for his afternoon nap and returned to her room. To avoid a barrage of probing questions from Sally, she selected a tailored skirt in light wool and a plain cotton blouse, neither of which required her maid’s help to fasten. To complete her professional look, she added a plain navy jacket with unfussy fastenings, swept her hair into a smooth chignon on the back of her head, and completed her ensemble with a plain straw hat.

  Passing Stokes on her way downstairs, she requested him to have the motor car brought to the front before poking her head round Ed’s bedroom door.

  ‘Privacy!’ he called without looking to see who stood there.

  ‘Did you know it was me, or do you talk to everyone like that?’ she asked archly.

  ‘Oh, sorry, Flora,’ Ed started, and had the grace to blush. ‘I assumed you were the boot boy. I gave him a shilling for an errand yesterday and now he’s always hanging about in the corridors.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s simply trying to be helpful. Or,’ she added in an undertone, ‘he’s underemployed.’ She checked the hall and, seeing it empty, stepped into the door frame, whispering, ‘Would you like to come out with me this afternoon?’

  ‘Out? Really?’ Ed’s eyebrows lifted into his hairline. ‘I’d love to. Where?’

  ‘Never mind where. Bunny and I went to The Dahlia this morning, which I’ll tell you about later. Right now, I need your help with something.’

  ‘Won’t Bunny have something to say about that?’ He fastened one side of his braces with a snap.

  ‘On this occasion he cannot help. It has to be you.’

  ‘That isn’t what I meant.’ Ed sighed theatrically, his shoulders slumped.

  ‘I was joking, don’t be so serious.’ Laughing, she tousled his hair. ‘He’s gone to the police station on his way to the office. I would rather he not know about this afternoon in case it doesn’t work out the way I hope.’

  ‘Oooh, secrets.’ Ed smoothed down his rumpled hair with both hands, grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair and shrugged into it. ‘Are you sure I won’t get into trouble with the police?’

  ‘I’ll worry about them.’ She chewed her bottom lip, hoping she was right just as the growl of an engine came through the open landing window. ‘Ah, there’s Timms with the motor car. We’d better go down.’

  *

  ‘This isn’t exactly discreet, Flora.’ Ed stared round the Fortnum and Mason dining room, where ladies gossiped over cups of tea served with toasted cheese and tiny fancies, their conversations interspersed with the odd burst of high feminine laughter and the clink of crockery.

  ‘Stop fidgeting, Ed. It’s not as if I’m helping you to flee the country.’ Flora’s restlessness matched his. ‘If Maddox does find out, I’ll say we misunderstood the conditions of the agreement. Technically, you don’t need to be physically under our roof to be under our care. At least that’s what I’ll claim if he challenges me.’

  ‘Then what are we doing here? I’m not complaining though, as the food is pretty good.’ He pointed at her plate with his fork. ‘Aren’t you going to eat that Scotch egg?’

  Sighing, she slid her plate closer to his to expedite the transfer of Fortnum’s famous delicacy onto his own plate. ‘I remembered something Maddox said, which got me thinking.’

  ‘Which was?’ Ed cut into the sphere of golden breadcrumbs, revealing a glistening yolk thirty seconds away from being runny.

  ‘He told me to keep away from Piccadilly.’

  ‘I don’t remember him saying that. Why, is it relevant?’

  ‘Think about it.’ She cradled her tea cup in both hands. ‘Where would a retired Colonel reside in this district?’ In response to his puzzled frown, she nodded at the front window. ‘Look across the road and up a little to your right.’

  Following her gaze, his frown suddenly cleared. ‘
Albany. Of course. I should have known. You’re a genius, Flora.’

  ‘It was more an educated guess, but I’ll accept the compliment. Only, I cannot simply walk in and ask if a Colonel Hunter-Griggs lives there. I’ve heard the residents guard their privacy closely.’

  ‘They do indeed, so what’s your plan?’ Ed swallowed his last piece of Scotch egg and dabbed crumbs off his lip with his napkin.

  ‘If I remember correctly, your friend Stinky has a brother, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Fancy you remembering that?’ Ed grinned at her, a blob of egg yolk on his lower lip. ‘His name’s Arnold. He’s three years older than Stinky, and has an apartment in—’

  ‘Albany. Do you know exactly which one is his?’

  ‘I do.’ Ed polished off the last bite of egg. ‘I’ve been there a few times.’

  ‘What’s this Arnold like? Amenable to an amateur detective and her assistant?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. I quite like the idea of being your assistant.’

  Flora cradled her teacup in both hands. ‘Tell me about this Arnold.’ It might help to get an impression of him before they met. If Flora was right and the Colonel did live there, she didn’t want to risk Arnold spilling all the beans before she had a chance to talk to him.

  ‘As I said, he’s older than Stinky, but you’d never guess, as he’s smaller and thinner. I suppose it had something to do with him being ill when younger. And for your information, they’re called sets in Albany. Not apartments.’

  ‘Noted. What was wrong with Arnold?’

  Ed shrugged. ‘Not sure, but he wasn’t strong enough to go away to school. His parents got him a tutor. Stinky always felt sorry for him as he missed out on the fun we all had at Marlborough.’ Ed coughed and eased his collar away from his neck. ‘Why do you need to find this colonel anyway? What can he tell you the police can’t?’

  ‘I shan’t know unless I ask. And why the reluctance? I imagined you would be grateful for this chance to get out of the house?’

  ‘I was. I mean I am. You cannot imagine how bored I’ve been. But what if Inspector Maddox finds out? It might make things worse for me.’

  ‘You don’t think being a murder suspect is the worst thing that could happen?’

  ‘No, being found guilty is.’ He crumpled his napkin and tossed it onto the table. ‘Anyway, the doormen at Albany know everyone who enters the building. They’re bound to demand who you are and whether you have an appointment. Give the wrong answer, or even hesitate, and you’ll be shown straight out again.’

  ‘You make Buckingham Palace sound easier to get into. Why did you think I invited you? I’m hoping you might be able to get me inside.’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure, I’ve only been there a few times.’

  ‘You’ve just said the doormen remember everyone.’ Flora drummed her fingers on the table, her lips pursed. His excuses had begun to irritate her. ‘If we have to sneak inside, at least you know the way.’

  ‘You don’t sneak into Albany. Trust me.’ He scraped his chair back. ‘Oh, all right then. If I can eat in public without the world collapsing, I can probably step across the street.’

  Flora swept up her bag and followed him to the door, adding in an undertone, ‘It’s not as if you can get into more trouble than you already are.’

  Chapter 17

  Ed enlisted a crossing sweeper who cleared a broom walk across the manure-strewn thoroughfare of Piccadilly. Elderly, yet still spry, the man worked steadily, immune to the honks of the carts and carriages he held up in order to complete his work.

  When they had gained the opposite pavement, Ed pressed a coin into the man’s hand, which he accepted with a brief touch of his battered waxed hat before another pedestrian commanded his attention.

  ‘For such an imposing building,’ Flora said when Ed joined her at the twin stone pillars that flanked Albany’s U-shaped courtyard, ‘I’m surprised it’s tucked into little more than an alley.’ She stared up at the façade of dark brick, its white stone porticoes and Romanesque arches above tall Georgian windows occupying three sides of the open space. ‘I imagine it was a nobleman’s private home at one time.’

  ‘I believe it was, and if you are interested, Arnold will be able to tell you more. Let’s not linger out here, Flora.’ He slipped his arm through hers and glanced farther up the crowded street. ‘I’m sure that’s a policeman over there.’

  ‘Where?’ She peered past him. ‘Stop panicking, that’s one of the Burlington Arcade beadles. And don’t rush me. It’s not easy to move this fast in a long skirt.’

  He slowed his pace, though not by much, darting another worried look over his shoulder as they approached the steps to the double front door and into a lobby made gloomy by layers of dark brown paint and polished wood.

  ‘Let me handle this,’ Ed whispered as a doorman in a tailcoat and top hat approached them.

  ‘Good afternoon, my lord,’ the man’s eyes lit with recognition, one hand raised to the rim of his hat. ‘Master Baines is in residence this afternoon. Is he expecting you?’

  ‘He is not,’ Ed replied, ‘but as I’m in town, I had a fancy to pay him a visit. Mr Baines likes surprises.’

  ‘That’s true, my lord.’ They shared a conspiratorial smile before the man inclined his head and went back to his place. ‘You know the way, I assume?’

  ‘Of course I do, and thank you.’

  ‘That man didn’t even look at me, let alone ask my name,’ Flora said, mildly peeved as Ed led her along a corridor to a bare stone staircase that curved towards an upper floor.

  ‘He’s simply being discreet.’

  ‘What do you mean dis— Oh!’ She halted, her skirt hitched in one hand, a foot raised onto the first step. ‘You mean he assumed I was— That’s outrageous!’ Ed’s snigger earned him a sharp nudge in the ribs from her elbow. ‘Don’t laugh. I’ve a good mind to complain.’

  ‘You shouldn’t feel insulted,’ Ed replied still chuckling. ‘He would have ignored Queen Alexandra if she happened to turn up. It’s the way they are here. Arnold’s set is on the first floor, but be careful, these steps can be slippery.’

  ‘This isn’t quite what I expected.’ Flora examined the unadorned wrought-iron balusters and bare light fittings set into stark distempered walls.

  ‘I agree it’s a little different from the Baine’s mansion in Kensington, but Arnold wanted to live on his own and Albany is more like a gentleman’s club. These utilitarian common areas are a tradition. Like boarding school.’

  Ed paused at a heavy black door with no furniture other than a tarnished brass door knocker, his confident knock answered by a tall, lanky young man who put Flora in mind of a dandelion having bolted and on the verge of wilting. A thin layer of fair hair lay flat against his scalp and pale skin bore testimony to a life spent indoors. A high arched nose above thin, bloodless lips completed the fragile look which fitted with Ed’s comment about a childhood illness.

  ‘Hello, Ed old chap. What brings you to Albany?’ He greeted Ed with a handshake so vigorous, Flora feared he might snap the twig-like wrists sticking out of his sleeves.

  ‘Arnold, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Flora Harrington,’ Ed said, not answering his question.

  Arnold’s eyebrows shot up as he exchanged Ed’s hand for hers, regarding her with bright blue eyes which shone with intelligence. ‘Not the famous Cousin Flora who likes to solve murders? Well, well, this is a pleasure. Do please come in.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She darted a look at Ed, who shrugged. ‘I had no idea I had gained a reputation.’

  ‘How could you not?’ He ushered them into the smallest entrance lobby Flora had ever seen, which was only just large enough to accommodate the three of them. ‘I’ve read all about the Serbian spy thing in the newspapers, then there was the child trafficking case.’ His speech was rapid and slightly high-pitched, with an enthusiasm Flora found delightful. She had never been the object of such genuine admiration before and rather enjoyed it.

&nb
sp; ‘That’s kind of you, but my role on both occasions was purely as an amateur,’ she said, aware modesty was expected. ‘The police did most of the work.’

  ‘I’d still love to hear all about it.’ Arnold waved them into a sitting room decorated with a Morris wallpaper in shades of pale lilac, violet and cream, fashionable some ten years before. The room’s square shape and high ceiling made it seem much larger. Overstuffed sofas shared space with low-slung chairs packed with piles of cushions. Magazines, newspapers and framed photographs were arranged higgledy-piggledy on tables, a bureau in one corner and a wall lined with bookcases. A floor-to-ceiling window at one end flooded the room with much-needed light, giving a view of the courtyard and Piccadilly beyond.

  ‘Do take a seat.’ Arnold hovered between them like a nervous daddy-long-legs, then leapt forward and swept a two-foot pile of magazines from a chair to make room. ‘Excuse the mess, I don’t have many visitors.’

  ‘Please don’t concern yourself, Mr Baines. This is charming.’ She lowered herself into the empty chair, resisting the urge to dust it off with her gloved hand. ‘How many rooms do you have?’

  ‘Call me Arnie, please. Everyone does.’ His deprecating smile made him handsome, or he would be if he weren’t so thin. ‘As you see, this is the sitting room, and I have a similar sized bedroom next door, plus a bathroom on this floor. The kitchen is downstairs, along with a servant’s room and washroom most residents assign to a valet. However, my allowance doesn’t run to one, so I tend to eat out a lot. I can just about manage tea and toast with Gentleman’s relish when the need arises.’

  Flora was tempted to suggest he might employ a manservant to prepare weight-gaining meals at regular intervals before he disappeared altogether. ‘I suggested to Ed when we arrived how this building might have once been a private house.’

  ‘Indeed yes. Lord Melbourne built it. Not the Prime Minister, his father. In fact, William Lamb was raised here until the family sold it to Prince Frederick in the late seventeen hundreds.’

  ‘They probably spent too much money building it and had no option,’ Flora said.