The Bloomsbury Affair

by Anita Davison

‘Do they have any idea who the victim might have been?’ Flora attempted to divert him from his views as to a woman’s natural role in life.

  ‘None at all. This inspector said they found the body on a train at Paddington, would you believe?’ He snorted as if the location were as unbelievable as the crime. ‘He wanted me to go and identify the body, but I put a stop to that. Sent the chap off with a flea in his ear too.’ He burst into loud laughter, making Flora’s pencil jump in her hand, leaving a long mark on the page. ‘I feel sorry for the poor chap they found, of course.’ His eyes clouded as he pondered the question. ‘Odd that Inspector chappie thought it was Leonard.’

  ‘I gather you’ve seen your son since the policeman called?’ Flora asked, carefully. ‘For your peace of mind, I mean?’

  ‘What?’ He jumped slightly. ‘Oh, yes, yes, of course. Freddie and Leonard dropped round last evening for a nightcap. I told them what the police said and we had a good laugh about it.’

  The Colonel settled back in his chair, his eyelids drooping. Flora debated whether she could ask another question or withdraw discreetly, when Arnold reappeared at the door, an ‘is everything all right’ expression on his face.

  Flora nodded, returned her notebook and pen to her bag and rose, pressing the old man’s hand on the arm of the chair. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me, Colonel.’

  He jumped and stared round as if he had forgotten where he was. ‘What? Oh, not leaving already? Shame.’

  ‘I’ve taken up far too much of your time, and I promised Arnold I wouldn’t monopolize his afternoon. Oh, please don’t get up,’ she added when he tried to lever himself up with the stick. ‘I’m sure Arnold knows the way out.’

  ‘Nice of you to call,’ he reverted to a clipped manner of speech as if full sentences tired him. ‘Good luck with your career.’

  ‘My what? Oh, yes of course. Thank you.’

  ‘Well?’ Arnold prompted once Toombs had shown them back onto the Rope Walk. ‘Did you find out what you wanted?’

  ‘Partly. There are still some unanswered questions. Maybe I could come to tea again when this is all over and I’ll explain it to you.’ She didn’t relish the idea of recounting what promised to be a very sad story, but she owed it to him. ‘How did you get on? Has Toombs sorted out your boot polish problem?’

  ‘What?’ His brow furrowed for a moment. ‘Ah, no I made that up. Good thinking, eh?’

  ‘Very good thinking, and thank you again, Arnie, for being so obliging. This must strike you as a very odd way to behave.’

  ‘Not at all, I find it exciting. I always believed I’d make a good detective. I always had plenty of time on my hands to think things through.’

  ‘You could well be right.’

  Chapter 20

  Flora was several feet from the motor car when Ed poked his head out of the window. ‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘Did you find out anything?’

  ‘You could at least let me get inside first before questioning me.’ She slid into the seat beside him and waited for Timms to close the door; an automatic reaction but a redundant one. Their chauffeur knew almost as much as they did. ‘Nothing we didn’t know.’ She adjusted her hat in her reflection in the window. ‘The Colonel is charming, although he’s adamant his son Leonard is alive, well and living at The Dahlia Hotel in Bloomsbury. I might call on Inspector Maddox to see if he’s found out anything more about the man on the train.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that. I’d rather go straight home if it’s all the same to you.’ He eased his collar away from his throat, swallowing. ‘We don’t want your inspector knowing I left the house without permission. Besides, don’t you and Bunny have a wedding to go to later this afternoon?’

  ‘Oh yes, I almost forgot you are under house arrest, and we do indeed have a wedding, but there’s plenty of time as the ceremony isn’t until later. And he isn’t my inspector.’ Flora tapped the chauffeur lightly on his shoulder. ‘You heard his lordship, Timms. Back to Eaton Place.’

  ‘As you wish, madam.’ Timms pulled into the heavy traffic moving towards Hyde Park Corner, the silence in the motor car broken by the chunter of the engine and clatter of hooves from carriages and tradesmen’s carts that crowded the road.

  ‘Albany is a strang… er, unique place isn’t it?’ She could do without insulting Arnold’s home when he had been so obliging. ‘Though I wish you’d told me about that odd rule of silence regarding other residents.’

  ‘I’d forgotten it actually. But it turned out all right didn’t it? What did you think of Arnie?’

  ‘I really liked him.’ She fully intended to raise the subject of the photograph again, while they were inside the car so he couldn’t avoid answering. ‘What an intelligent young man he is, and so talented. Those photographs he took are excellent. The one of the cross-country race presentation particularly interested me. Strange that you weren’t in it. I remember distinctly your mother telling me how hard you trained for it all through the Easter holidays.’ She sneaked a look at him but he continued to stare straight ahead, his profile impassive.

  ‘Um, Flora,’ He tugged his collar away from his throat but still did not look at her. ‘Before we, or rather you, do anything else, there’s something I need to tell you.’

  ‘Go on, I’m listening.’ Her senses prickled, the motor car swaying as Timms manoeuvred into the traffic flowing swiftly past Green Park.

  ‘I wanted to tell you before, but—’ His gaze slid to the windshield and widened. His lower jaw went slack, his eyes widening as he yelled, ‘Look out, Timms!’

  A Harrods delivery van had taken a sharp turn and cut right across their path. Muttering a colourful curse, Timms braced his arms on the steering wheel and stamped down on the brake.

  Time seemed to slow as they sped towards the van, the company name growing larger with each drawn-out second as the flat side of the van loomed inches away from the motor car bonnet.

  The driver of a hansom approaching from the opposite direction gaped in horror at the van coming straight towards him. At the last second, before a collision between all three vehicles seemed inevitable, the cabbie hauled on the reins.

  Ed gave a yell of fury and frustration, at the same time throwing himself at Flora, who gasped as his arms closed round her, pinning her to the seat. She made a grab for the leather handle above the window just as the screech of brakes and the grind of wooden wheels were followed by a hard jolt as Timms had expertly steered the motor car between the van and the hansom. Braking hard, he brought the car to a shuddering halt at an angle in the road.

  The hansom rumbled past them with a clatter of hooves, the horse’s fearful snort scattered foam flecks on the glass before the driver halted twenty feet farther along the road.

  The van carried on in its chosen path as if nothing had happened, the driver oblivious and staring straight ahead.

  ‘Goodness that was close!’ Flora unclenched her fingers from the grab handle and brought them against her bodice to still her thumping heart.

  ‘The crazy driver, he didn’t even look!’ Ed glared at the miscreant through the rear window. ‘There should be rules about people like him being on the roads.’

  ‘Are you all right, Timms?’ Flora asked as the van disappeared round a corner.

  ‘I’m fine, madam.’ He twisted to face her, one arm spread across the back of the seat, his face pale. ‘Is anyone hurt?’

  ‘Not me. What about you, Ed?’ Though her enquiry was perfunctory as Ed continued to complain loudly.

  ‘A bit shaken, but not hurt, and well done, Timms. Excellent driving.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord. I’ll just check to make sure the hansom driver is all right.’ He slid out of the driving seat and loped across the road to where the hansom stood. The driver had climbed down from his perch and was busy calming his spooked horse. Several passers-by stood to watch the small drama unfold, some of whom shook their heads at Timms as if the fact he drove a dangerous contraption must put him at fault.

  ‘Are
you sure you’re all right, Flora?’ Ed’s gaze roved Flora’s face and came to rest on her forehead. ‘Did you hit your head?’

  ‘I’m all right.’ She fingered a sore spot above her left ear but decided it wasn’t worth making a fuss over.

  After exchanging a brief word with the cabbie, Timms circled the motor car, aiming the odd kick at a tyre and polishing a fender with the sleeve of his jacket. Apparently satisfied no damage had been incurred, he retrieved the starting handle and yanked the engine into life again.

  ‘Is the horse all right, Timms?’ Flora asked.

  ‘The cabbie seems to think so.’ He climbed back into the driving seat and released the brake handle, slowly pulling back onto the road. ‘The poor animal had a fright. I think he’ll be finished for the day.’

  ‘Good. I worry about those poor animals. They always look so tense and far too thin. Their life on the roads is so hard and many die too soon.’ She picked up her bag from the floor where it had fallen and settled it in her lap.

  ‘I agree,’ Ed propped his elbow on the sill and stared out of the window. ‘I think horses should get fat on hay and run free in green fields, not be forced to dodge the traffic in city streets.’

  ‘Quite. Now, what did you want to say to me, Ed?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Ed’s bemused frown was almost comical.

  ‘You were about to tell me something.’

  ‘Was I? Ah, well, it wasn’t important. Forget it, we’re almost home now.’

  *

  While Ed joined Timms in a final check to see the motor car had sustained no damage, Flora let herself into the house, where from the hall table, she retrieved a lilac envelope addressed to her.

  A series of rapid footsteps across the hallway tiles announced Stokes’ arrival. ‘Mr Harrington asked for you, madam.’ He gave the closed study door a long, knowing look. ‘I wasn’t sure what to say with regards to your whereabouts.’

  Flora’s stomach lurched. She had hoped she and Ed would have got home before Bunny returned.

  Ed bounded up the front steps but had only one foot across the threshold when Flora shoved the letter hurriedly into her bag with one hand, grasped his arm with the other and propelled him towards the stairs. ‘Go upstairs quickly. Bunny’s home.’

  ‘Lawks, how did that happen?’ Ed shoved his coat into Stokes’ waiting arms just as the study door opened.

  ‘Too late.’ Flora held her breath as she watched Bunny stride along the hall towards them, his furious gaze aimed at Ed before sliding to her.

  Stokes ducked his head and made a discreet withdrawal.

  ‘I wondered why the staff avoided all my questions as to where you were this afternoon.’ Bunny’s voice was tight. ‘You have them well trained, Flora.’

  ‘Thank you. I mean, no, I’ve done no such thing. And before you get too angry,’ she began, taking a deep breath, ‘I needed Ed with me today, but we were discreet.’ She removed her coat and hung it on the row of hooks in the vestibule. ‘You’ll never guess where Colonel Hunter-Griggs lives. Well, you might, but I claim sole credit for having thought of it first. However, without Arnold Baines we would never have—’

  ‘Who the devil is Arnold Baines?’ Bunny interrupted, his eyes hard behind his spectacles.

  ‘Um, he’s a friend of Ed’s.’ Flora widened her eyes. Bunny never used such language, especially in front of her.

  ‘A friend, eh?’ Bunny’s uncompromising gaze shifted to Ed. ‘One you admit to knowing, or did you denounce him too?’

  ‘Cripes,’ Ed muttered from beside Flora, easing behind her as Bunny withdrew an envelope from an inside pocket, this one a thick, creamy bond.

  ‘This arrived in the second post. It’s quite enlightening.’ He paused, his gaze going to each of them in turn. ‘Don’t you want to know who it’s from?’ He opened out a page covered with bold looped handwriting on evenly spaced lines: the hand of a man of confidence.

  ‘All right, we’ll do this your way.’ Flora swallowed, taking in her husband’s set jaw and stiff shoulders. ‘Who’s the letter from?’

  ‘Funny you should ask.’ He adopted a false, sarcastic tone. ‘It’s from Reverend Bell.’

  ‘Ah.’ Ed stared at the page as if it might bite him, his face drained of colour. ‘Um, perhaps I’ll go upstairs and leave you two to talk.’ He sidled past them towards the staircase.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ Bunny’s free hand fastened onto his shoulder. ‘You have some explaining to do, young man.’ He jerked his head towards the sitting room door.

  ‘Better do as he says, Ed.’ Flora gave him a push before following.

  Bunny took up his master-of-the-house pose beside the fireplace while Ed chose the sofa the farthest away, his forearms on his knees and his head down.

  ‘Would someone explain?’ Flora broke the tense silence. ‘Who’s Reverend Bell?’

  ‘He’s my old headmaster at Marlborough.’ Ed sneaked a look at Bunny, who raised a sardonic eyebrow, adding, ‘Our old headmaster.’

  ‘He’s no longer headmaster,’ Bunny said. ‘He retired a couple of years ago. I wrote to ask if he could he tell me anything about Leo Thompson’s time at Marlborough College.’

  ‘How long have you known Leo Thompson went to your old school?’ Flora regarded Bunny steadily. She had only found out herself an hour ago. Had he been keeping secrets from her?

  ‘When Maddox was here last, he asked if the words Deus Dat Incrementum meant anything to us.’

  ‘I remember.’ Flora nodded. ‘In fact, I was going to ask you about it but something distracted me and it went out of my head. Why, is that significant?’

  ‘It’s the Marlborough College motto,’ he replied. ‘One Corinthians, chapter three, verse six. God gives the Increase.’

  ‘It means,’ Ed muttered, shifting his feet. ‘That we all do our part to make things grow but at the end the improvement is down to God.

  ‘What a strange concept.’ Flora shrugged. ‘Why make any effort at all when the final result is decided at the whim of—’

  ‘That’s irrelevant, or irreverent, whichever you prefer.’ Bunny cut her off with a sartorially raised eyebrow. ‘What matters, is that the chances of anyone other than a Marlburian having that particular verse on his person is unlikely.’ That’s how I knew. Leo must have had it written somewhere among his things.’

  ‘Leo also said something about a spark. Did he have that written down too?’ Flora asked as memory returned.

  ‘I’ve no idea and according to Reverend Bell’s letter,’ Bunny waved the paper briefly while enunciating each word in an effort to control his anger. ‘Ed and three other young reprobates caused Leo Thompson a good deal of trouble at school.’ When Flora made no comment, he raised an eyebrow in enquiry. ‘You don’t look very surprised, Flora?’

  ‘I’m not, but I didn’t find out until this afternoon that Leo and Ed went to Marlborough. As for trouble, perhaps Ed ought to tell us what he did?’

  ‘We didn’t do anything!’ Ed insisted. ‘Nothing serious anyway. We played jokes on each other. Hiding Leo’s books and sports kit, that sort of thing. He did the same to us!’ Ed clenched his fists on his knees, his boyish indignation dissolving beneath Flora’s stare. ‘I tried to tell you in the motor car just now but lost my nerve.’

  ‘Go on, Ed. We need to know all of it.’ Bunny placed one foot on the fender, his arms folded across his chest and the incriminating letter dangling from one hand.

  ‘It’s not as bad as you think.’ Ed loosened his tie, keeping his gaze averted. ‘Leo was two years ahead of me and had a reputation for treating the first years like his personal servants.’

  ‘It’s called fagging, Ed,’ Bunny interrupted him. ‘It’s normal, we all did it.’

  ‘I know that, but some prefects treated the commoners worse than others. Leo picked on one small, skinny little chap. Got him carrying things he could barely manage. Some of the other boys and I decided to do something about it.’

  ‘That sounds
pretty noble to me.’ Flora held Bunny’s gaze in challenge. ‘Did you make smaller boys work for you?’

  ‘For simple things like cleaning my shoes, running errands, that sort of thing.’ Bunny shrugged. ‘It’s traditional, reminiscent of the relationship between squires and knights in medieval days. It symbolizes service between ranks. Everyone has to go through it.’

  ‘Exactly. It’s medieval.’ Flora shuddered at the thought of Arthur having to endure being treated that way at school by some smug, entitled aristocrat’s brat.

  ‘Yes, well sometimes boys tend to get carried away.’ Bunny had the grace to blush. ‘I never caned mine, although some of the other chaps did.’

  ‘That’s what I meant,’ Ed interjected. ‘Leo pushed it too far. He made his fag clean his boots at midnight when he should have been in the dorm. Got him a detention for it too.’

  ‘I have to agree,’ Bunny said, chastened, ‘that was above and beyond.’

  ‘Why didn’t the boys complain to the housemaster?’ Flora asked.

  ‘And get punished for being a sneak?’ Ed snorted. ‘Not likely.’

  ‘Oh.’ Flora fell silent for fear of compounding her ignorance of what the English upper class regarded as a normal childhood for their sons. Not that daughters had a better bargain as once released into the world, men still had the upper hand.

  ‘I expect Ding-Dong told you all about the race?’ Ed stared at the page in Bunny’s hand.

  Flora bit her bottom lip to hide a smile at the nickname attributed to their former headmaster. ‘Why don’t you tell us about the race?’

  ‘Thompson organized the cross-country race on sports day, which is when he decided to pay us back for all the japes us chaps played on him.’ Ed twisted his hands in his lap, reverting to the habit of referring to other pupils by their surname. ‘He fixed it so Stinky, another two boys and myself would start last. Pettigrew and Farley, in case you’re interested.’

  ‘Not particularly,’ Bunny snapped. ‘Keep talking.’

  ‘Leo must have arranged to have the signposts changed as we were sent off on a longer route over rough ground.’ His upper lip curled, ‘Very rough ground.’