The Bloomsbury Affair

by Anita Davison

  ‘Keep still, Ed,’ Flora snapped. ‘You’re making it worse. The more you pull, the tighter the knots become. You don’t have to worry about Paige. He’s either languishing in a police van or halfway along the Ratcliffe Highway by now.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ Francis paced the room. ‘Who is this Paige person, and why would Leonard tie you up and leave you down here?’

  Flora sighed as she wrestled with the bindings, wishing she could defer the explanations to another time, but Francis was evidently not going to give up; a sentiment Flora understood perfectly.

  ‘All right, I’ll give you an edited version. Eric Paige has been impersonating your half-brother for months. I’m afraid the real Leonard was murdered.’

  ‘Murdered?’ She halted, her eyes welling with tears. ‘No. It cannot be true! You must be mistaken!’

  ‘It gets worse, I’m afraid.’ Flora tugged at an especially tight knot. ‘Agnes is involved too.’

  ‘How… how did my brother die?’ Francis’s voice hitched in genuine distress.

  ‘Perhaps this isn’t the time?’ Flora gritted her teeth as the rope fibres scratched her skin like tiny needles. ‘There’ll be time for all that later.’

  ‘I want to know everything.’ Francis loomed over them. ‘Please, tell me what happened?’

  ‘Leonard was murdered on a train to Paddington,’ Ed gabbled, ignoring Flora’s frantic eyebrow signals.

  ‘On a train you say?’ Francis’s gaze slid off into the distance, ‘I think I read it in the newspapers.’ Her eyes darted round the room as she fought to compose herself, her mouth working soundlessly. ‘I… I’ll need some time to think about this. Not that I think you’re lying. I mean, why would you? But I just—’

  ‘Look, Miss Hunter-Griggs,’ Flora spoke firmly, but grimaced as the ropes chafed her fingers. ‘Why don’t you go and inform the police that Viscount Trent has been found?’ Having something to do might help her focus. ‘Ask for an Inspector Maddox.’ She hoped he would still be there and had not called his men off and returned to the police station.

  ‘Frederick will be devastated about Leonard,’ Francis drifted off again. ‘He was so thrilled to have him back in the family again. ‘Poor Papa!’ She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she seemed calmer. ‘What was I doing. Oh, yes.’ She paused at the door and turned back. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can rouse someone. And, Lord Trent, I’m so sorry about what Leonard has done.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Ed mumbled, then louder, ‘Miss Hunter-Griggs. Do you think you might call me Ed?’

  ‘Ed, then.’ Francis smiled at him over her shoulder as she left.

  ‘She’s too old for you,’ Flora said, once the door closed.

  ‘I know.’ His sigh held regret. ‘How are you doing with those knots? My wrists are sore and my head really hurts.’

  ‘I’d work quicker if you’d stop squirming.’ The more he struggled, the tighter the knots became. ‘What happened exactly, Ed?’ Flora tried to distract him. ‘How did you end up here?’

  ‘I reached the telephone cubicle when that chap stuck a gun in my back and forced me down the back stairs. Did you say his name was Paige?’

  ‘Yes. Eric Paige.’ His shoulders relaxed and she managed to loosen the rope that held his hands together. ‘What then?’

  ‘When he was tying me up, he said he was going back for you, so I brought the chair leg down on his foot and grabbed the gun, only he was much stronger than me and he took it back easily. I should have stopped him but – well, I froze. That’s when he hit me across the head with the handgrip.’

  ‘There’s no need to be ashamed. It’s probably a good thing you didn’t struggle with him. You would probably have come off worse.’

  ‘I was a bit groggy so I didn’t put up much of a fight. Then something must have spooked him because he left. A noise on the street, I think. Shouting and such. I cannot believe I had that gun in my hand and did nothing. I was completely useless.’

  ‘Mine didn’t get me anywhere either,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘I managed to scoot the chair over to the wall.’ He nodded to where a long dent in the plaster showed where he had made contact. ‘I banged it for ages but wasn’t sure anyone could hear me.’

  ‘It was good thinking because Francis and I both heard it.’

  ‘Did I hear you tell Francis he had got away? Paige?’

  ‘Don’t worry, the police went after him, assisted by a group of Russians.’ She smiled at an image this created in her head. ‘I doubt he’ll get far.’

  ‘Russians? Where did they come from?’

  ‘Er… I’m not entirely sure.’ Gritting her teeth, she tugged at a particularly stubborn knot. ‘Ah, I’ve got it.’ The bindings fell away, pooling onto the floor in a continuous brown snake.

  ‘That’s a relief. I was getting cramp in my arms.’ He flexed his shoulders, leaned his forearms on his knees and rubbed each wrist in turn. ‘By the way, I told you Miss Francis wasn’t guilty.’ He angled his head towards her, grinning.

  ‘All right, I admit I got it wrong.’ Flora sighed. ‘The most important thing is, you’ll be exonerated and I haven’t publicly accused two innocent people.’

  ‘Two?’

  ‘I assumed Frederick was complicit, but I’ve changed my mind about that as well.’ She reached to brush dust from his hair, revealing a two-inch wound on his forehead that oozed red. ‘Ed, you’re bleeding!’

  ‘Am I?’ He brought a hand to his head and frowned. When he brought his fingers away, they were stained with red.

  Flora got to her feet and started round the room. A half-sized butler sink occupied a corner, above which sat an old-fashioned pump. On the wall above was a row of hooks, each with a neatly labelled fob. It took a moment for Flora to register the room had no window, only a glass-covered metal grille set above shoulder-height which threw a rectangle of daylight onto the floorboards. The click of footsteps and rumble of wheels beyond told her the main street lay on the other side. She approached a brass bound trunk in a corner, which to her relief wasn’t locked. Though heavy, the lid came up easily. Inside were piles of sheets and blankets, most of which were darned and frayed, most likely intended for sewing or tearing up into dusters. She grabbed a faded pillowcase, tore it deftly in half and carried it to the sink where she pumped the metal lever a few times.

  ‘Now hold still, this will be cold.’ She tilted his chin up and dabbed at the drying blood on his forehead.

  ‘Ouch, that hurts.’ He ducked away from her touch like a schoolboy avoiding a wet hankie.

  ‘Keep still.’

  ‘Flora,’ Ed submitted, wincing while she cleaned the blood away. ‘Was it my imagination, or did you say you had brought a gun with you?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ she replied, refusing to apologize. ‘It’s a Webley Bulldog. Small but effective.’

  ‘Not for you, evidently,’ Ed probed the lump on his forehead with his fingers.

  ‘Leave the cut alone, or you’ll make it bleed again.’ Flora slapped his hand away. ‘I always rush into these situations without thinking of the consequences, so this time I wanted to be better prepared.’

  ‘Where is this gun then? Did you lose it?’

  ‘I did not lose it. Inspector Maddox took it from me.’ She rose and threw the bloodstained cloth into the sink, annoyed with herself. ‘Now could we please drop the subject?’

  She had never harboured a desire to shoot someone, but for a moment in the lift she had felt in control. The raw fear on Paige’s face when she had pointed the gun at him had given her confidence.

  ‘Can you stand on your own, or are you still giddy?’

  ‘I ache a bit, but I think I can get up.’

  She tucked her arm beneath his and eased him to his feet. ‘Your eyes look a bit cloudy.’

  He stretched each leg in turn and rolled his shoulders.

  ‘Good, now let’s get out of here and see
what’s happening upstairs.’ Placing a hand on Ed’s shoulder, she approached the door, which opened with a creak before they got there. ‘You weren’t very long; did you manage to find William?’ Flora asked, her smile fading as Agnes Sharpe appeared, her expression as cold as her eyes.

  ‘I’ve no idea who William is,’ Agnes said from the doorway. ‘But I couldn’t leave without ensuring you get what you deserve.’ In her right hand sat a revolver somewhat larger than the Webley Bulldog.

  *

  Flora groaned inwardly.

  ‘You know who I am, don’t you?’ Agnes adjusted her grip on the revolver, raising it higher.

  ‘Me, no I don’t think we’ve met, I—’ Ed stammered.

  ‘Not you,’ she snapped, her aim swinging to Flora. ‘Her.’

  ‘Not until about half an hour ago, no.’ Flora’s voice rose and she found she could barely breathe. The hole at the end of the barrel seemed to grow and recede. ‘I’ve seen your photograph though.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Agnes tilted her head, her eyes narrowed.

  ‘An acquaintance of ours took it during a sports event at Marlborough College three years ago. You were there that day with Lady Egerton.’

  ‘I wondered why you were so interested in that photograph,’ Ed murmured, shifting from foot to foot. ‘But what’s it got to do—’

  ‘That’s where you met Eric Paige,’ Flora said, ignoring him, her gaze fixed on Agnes. ‘He was one of her young men. Lady Egerton sacked you for stealing her bracelet.’

  ‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ The gun trembled in Agnes’ hand. ‘My bad luck about the bracelet. I thought her ladyship had forgotten she had it, let alone noticed it was missing.’

  A voice in her head told her to be quiet but her need for the truth overruled her common sense. ‘Either it was a coincidence, or you went looking for the Hunter-Griggs family. You took the position as housekeeper and befriended Francis. It didn’t take long for you to discover the shy boy you had met at the Marlborough Sports Day with Lady Egerton two years ago was Colonel Hunter-Griggs’ estranged son, Leo. You persuaded Eric to pretend to be Leonard Hunter-Griggs. For some reason, you decided to dispose of Leo Thompson. I doubt Eric would have used a needlework tool to kill him, so I assume it was you.’

  ‘Well, you’re quite the little busybody, aren’t you? I might admire your skills of deduction had you not brought the police here.’

  ‘And yet you managed to avoid them.’ Where was Francis, and more importantly, the police? Belatedly, Flora remembered most of the policemen had rushed off after Paige. She didn’t even have a scary Russian she could call upon.

  ‘I know all this building’s secrets.’ Agnes administered a swift kick to the door which sent it back into its frame with barely a sound. ‘I told Eric we should leave days ago, but he didn’t listen. He wasn’t going to give this life up easily. Always was greedy that man. As for me, I don’t intend to wait and see if he’ll keep quiet about me to the police.’

  ‘You’re abandoning Eric?’ Flora swallowed and her stomach clenched. If she had no one to protect, it made her more dangerous.

  ‘Why not? I expect he’ll say those killings were all my doing in any case.’

  ‘If you have a way out of here the police don’t know about, just go!’ Ed pointed to the door. ‘We’ll give you a head start, won’t we, Flora?’

  ‘Of course.’ Flora admired Ed’s quick thinking. Unfortunately, Agnes didn’t look willing to take advantage of the offer.

  ‘How obliging of you.’ Her eyes narrowed, giving them the cat-like quality Dr Grace had mentioned as she jerked the gun at Flora. ‘I’ll bet it was you who told that Russian downstairs to call the bluebottles. Why were you talking to him anyway? He didn’t know Thompson.’

  ‘What’s she talking about, Flora?’ Ed whispered. ‘What Russian?’

  ‘Hush.’ Flora nudged him into silence. ‘Actually, Leo did know him. He came here to take part in the Russian Socialist Congress. Leo knew nothing about you or Eric. He didn’t even know he was the Colonel’s son.’

  ‘He didn’t come here to meet his father?’ Her gaze shifted to the middle distance as if she were talking to herself. ‘Then we messed everything up for nothing! Eric and me, we would have made a good life in this place. He knows how to fleece the rich who lose more on the turn of a card than I ever earned in a year. Now everything is ruined, and it’s all his fault.’ She levelled the revolver at Ed’s chest. ‘Now stand aside.’

  ‘Oh, cripes, Flora, I think she means it.’ Ed’s face paled.

  ‘What good would killing him do?’ She wanted to say Agnes wasn’t lost, that there was a way out for her, but it would be a lie. She had killed two people. ‘Look, why don’t you do what Ed suggested and just go?’ She stepped sideways, partly blocking him. ‘No one knows you’re involved except us.’

  ‘Liar!’ The gun shook in Agnes’ hand. ‘You’ll yell for the coppers as soon as I’m out of the door.’

  ‘Why did you kill Sylvia Thompson?’ Flora couldn’t curb her curiosity any longer, despite the danger she was in. ‘She and her husband hadn’t spoken for years, and Leo thought his father was dead.’

  ‘I hadn’t bargained for the Colonel living beyond New Year. When he was ill last winter, he wrote his will leaving the hotel to his three children. When Frederick said they didn’t know where Leonard was – well…’

  ‘The twins trusted you to help find him, didn’t they?’ Flora said, marvelling at the woman’s duplicity. Though if she hoped to appeal to the woman’s better nature she was wasting her time. Agnes had planned everything to the last detail. Except the part that meant killing Leo.

  ‘Why wouldn’t they? I often sat with the twins in Miss Francis’ sitting room of an evening when Frederick would join us. They stopped noticing little me sewing away quietly in the corner. They wanted to put things right before the old man died. Couldn’t have that, could I?’

  ‘That’s when you went to Sylvia’s shop in Cheltenham.’

  ‘And made sure Sylvia wouldn’t be in any fit state to accept an invitation to London. Worked better than I thought. I knew it would make her ill, but I didn’t count on her dying. Bit of luck that was.’

  ‘Not for Sylvia,’ Ed snorted.

  Flora nudged him into silence, though Agnes seemed not to notice as she appeared to enjoy her chance at self-congratulation. ‘Is that when you had had the idea of Eric pretending to be his son, Leonard? Even though Leo was alive and living in Cheltenham?’

  ‘You said yourself Leo had no idea his father was alive. He didn’t even know his real name. Sylvia made certain of that. The plan was when the old man died, Eric would inherit part of the hotel. Then in a few months, Leonard would announce he didn’t like hotel work and get the twins to buy him out. Then he and I would be off and no one would be the wiser.’

  ‘Ah, now I see. But Leo wrote a letter saying he was coming to The Dahlia, and you panicked, thinking he had found out about his family?’

  ‘Why else would he come here? There are hundreds of hotels in London.’

  ‘But only one in which the Russian Labour Party Congress was being held.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Agnes’ features twisted with frustration and anger.

  ‘But what happened to Frederick’s letter? The one he wrote to invite Sylvia to London?’ Was it possible Leo found it after his mother died, which was the real reason he chose The Dahlia for his stay in London?’

  ‘My luck held there. He had only just begun looking for Sylvia when he received a notice from the bank saying she had died.’

  ‘That wasn’t luck. You killed her!’ Ed blurted.

  ‘All you had to do then was handle Leo? Who had no idea his half-brother and sister wanted to see him?’

  ‘Eric did a great job of playing the grieving son who had always wanted to see his father again but Sylvia would never allow it. That he even wanted to take his real name again as a tribute to his old d
ad. Nice little drama that was, you should have seen it. Eric gave a fine performance.’ Agnes’ upper lip curled into a parody of a smile that made Flora shudder.

  ‘You appear to have thought of everything, Miss Sharpe.’ Flora tried to work out how long they had kept the woman talking. Surely long enough for Francis to have found someone and told them where they were. But then Francis thought they weren’t in any danger so might have simply waited for them to join her.

  Forcing herself not to stare at the gun still pointed at Ed, Flora asked, ‘What about the real Leo? Why wait until now to kill him if he hadn’t contacted the twins or the Colonel since Sylvia’s death? Didn’t that tell you he knew nothing about them?’

  ‘That’s what I thought, but then that letter came. Why would he come here if it wasn’t to see his father and the twins again? I couldn’t take the risk.’

  ‘What’s she talking about, Flora.’ Ed fidgeted, his gaze darting the room. ‘She’s not making any sense. How did she know about Leo and his father?’

  ‘Yes she is,’ Flora whispered, then louder for Agnes’ benefit. ‘You were Lady Egerton’s companion when Sylvia pretended not to know her that day in Bath. She told you she had known Sylvia in India. Then at the cross-country race you saw Leo and remembered what she had said about the family rift. Couldn’t you and Eric make enough at her card parties so you had to think of something else?’

  ‘You’re better than the coppers, aren’t you?’ Agnes’ harsh laugh matched the sheer fury in her eyes. ‘It was a sweet deal that one, until Eric stole that bracelet. He had to disappear and I found the Hunter-Griggs and got the job here. Took me over two years to plan all this, and now you come along.’

  ‘And once Sylvia was out of the way, you sent Leo the train ticket. It wasn’t only Eric on that train, but you were too. Which explains why you had to kill him with a stiletto.’

  ‘She put that thing in my pocket?’ Ed’s voice was a hushed whisper.

  ‘You’re too clever for your own good,’ Agnes said before Flora could answer.

  ‘Not clever enough,’ Flora murmured. ‘Which why I’m down here looking into the barrel of your gun.’