A House of Repute

by E M Jones

  Ted lifted his gaze towards Lizzie, and she nodded. “And while I’m investigating, what will you all be doing?”

  “Well!” Charlie leapt from her stool and bounced in readiness, until Johnny pulled her back down.

  “We’ll be with you, Lizzie.” Johnny’s large, kind eyes made their pledge to her. “Ted and me will be round the back by the window. Charlie will pick the lock of the back door and wait. If you scream, we’ll be with you in no time.”

  “Exactly. In no time.” Charlie nodded vigorously and waved her fists towards the air.

  “Well, I think that’s as good a plan as any.” Lizzie smiled falsely towards the group. “I don’t think he realised I was worried last time, so I’ll just try to be normal. I don’t think he’s the kind to turn nasty over nothing.”

  “We don’t know what kind he is, Lizzie.” Ted looked towards her directly. “That’s the problem. So please, stick to what we’ve agreed, and we’ll be there to help you if you need us.”

  Lizzie’s mask fell and she stared at the plan once more. “So we wait.”

  “Yes. Do you have a way of contacting him?” Ted looked expectant.

  “No, no. I don’t contact Sir Glynne. He calls for me.”

  33

  The carriage clattered along steadily as the horses pulled easily out of the narrow, uneven knot of streets around Mrs Henry’s. Lizzie’s body was cushioned by the feathers and velvet beneath her, and she tried to steady herself against the seat. The pace changed as the horses galloped smoothly along the wide, even roads heading out of London.

  Lizzie pictured Ted pursuing the carriage on horseback, the wind eroding his weathered face; or Charlie and Johnny balanced on a bicycle, her agile legs spinning and face pointed with concentration, his large cheeks puffed with exertion like an exotic bird. She chuckled at her own imagination and then was quiet.

  The curtains were drawn around her and made the approaching night complete within the carriage. A lantern burned, polished to appear like crystal, and the odd shadow moved within the folds of the curtains as the horses’ momentum carried Lizzie closer to Sir Glynne. She pressed herself again into the seat and watched the dark shades sway on the curtains. She breathed deeply and hoped that Ted, Johnny and Charlie were following, by whatever means.

  ***

  Disturbed by the sound of her own tapping feet, Lizzie once again attempted to sit at ease in the parlour. She pressed her feet to the ground and placed her hands flat in her lap. She had walked from the carriage and along the hallway looking for signs that anything was different. Everything was the same, the hallway was polished and intimidating, and the servants addressed her with detached courtesy. Only Lizzie’s awareness of her own movements, speech and gestures were different: trying to make sure she was being herself had made her a stranger to herself.

  She turned her hands, staring at her palms and trying to decipher the creases in them in the candlelight.

  “Lizzie, dear.”

  She jumped and stared at Sir Glynne like a frightened animal. She leapt onto her feet and bowed a little; she cursed herself and then lifted her head with regained composure.

  “George.” She smiled at Sir Glynne and he smiled back.

  She searched his face. What did a murderer look like? She looked at his round, entitled chin, the bone structure passed down by generations of wealth and breeding. Was this it?

  “Would you care for some wine, Lizzie?” Sir Glynne approached her, and she shifted her gaze.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Please, sit.”

  “Would you mind if we looked at your paintings again?” Lizzie gestured towards the rectangular shadows on the walls.

  “Of course, of course. You are quite taken with them, I see.” Sir Glynne strode towards the bell.

  Candles were lit, lifting the darkness from the room in moments. Sir Glynne poured wine into two shining glasses and passed one to Lizzie.

  “Please, look at the ones you like best.”

  Lizzie walked purposefully towards a picture of no particular interest. She moved with great concentration, like a child regaining their mobility after breaking a leg, and held her glass nervously. She placed her feet at equal distances on the rug and carried herself carefully towards the frame on the wall.

  Sir Glynne was at her elbow. “Ah, yes, this is a very dignified representation of my estate in the North. I asked the artist to highlight the pastoral charm of our modest home there.”

  Lizzie looked at the country house the size of a castle and sipped her disagreement into her wine. “Are you happy with it?” She glanced sideways, catching a shadow passing across Sir Glynne’s face.

  He smiled openly. “Yes. It brings some of the countryside to the bustle of my city home.”

  “Do you go there often? Would you ever make it your permanent home?”

  Sir Glynne glanced towards Lizzie, anger flashing in his eyes before dispersing as he swung his head away from the painting.

  “No. I considered it once.” Sir Glynne looked into the fire as if at an apparition. He shook his head quickly. “We used to have connections there with another great family, but our relationship ended on bad terms. I have a man who cares for the estate. I visit when I want a change of pace from the city. More than just this room, a rest from life in society.”

  “And you also go abroad?” Lizzie sipped her wine and began to walk around the edge of the room to convince herself of her own confidence.

  Sir Glynne followed her, and she felt his eyes on her back. She stopped next to a painting of a terracotta terrace, lounged upon by six or seven almost identical nymphs.

  “Somewhere like this?”

  Sir Glynne looked at the painting and smiled. “Yes, the continent can be a release from the oppressions of the city. London can be so displeasing at times.” He turned and walked towards a side table. “More wine, Lizzie?”

  Lizzie followed him and held out her glass unshakingly. “Thank you.”

  Her eyes fell upon the heavy curtains behind a sturdy desk. They were grey and flowing, like a river after a storm. Lizzie peered at them, but they gave no indication of whether Ted and Johnny’s presence protected her behind them.

  “Were you on the continent this summer? I have never been abroad.”

  Sir Glynne looked at Lizzie’s eyes, searching for impudence. “I leave the city every summer, to enjoy a different way of life, experience different pleasures.”

  “Did you like Dina because she reminded you of the continent?”

  Sir Glynne looked directly at Lizzie, his face red and a little bloated. He twitched at her question and then began to pace around the room, blowing out the additional candles.

  “Please, sit.”

  Sir Glynne had circled back to Lizzie, and they sat on the leather sofa facing the fire. He twirled his wine glass in his hand, stared at the liquid, lava-like in the firelight.

  “Dina was an incredible beauty. Quite unlike any woman I had ever met. I think that the fact that she was foreign was part of her charm. She was different to other women and carried her otherness with confidence.” Sir Glynne stared into the fire as he spoke. “I was fond of her. But I find beauty comes in different forms, and I seek pleasure in all its forms.” Sir Glynne stared openly at Lizzie, appreciating her body from her face down to her toes. “I have always looked to have beautiful things, especially in my most private life.” He looked back to his wine. “In this room I have my fire, my paintings, you.”

  Sir Glynne’s eyes returned to Lizzie, and she felt her blush rising from her chest. The flare of the fire was warm, and she started to feel uncomfortably hot. Her head pulled again towards the heavy curtains. She turned back to Sir Glynne.

  “What beauty you must have seen abroad. Will you speak of it?”

  Sir Glynne tilted his head towards her as if composing his answer.

  ***

  “Can you see anything? Is she alright?”

  “Be quiet.”

  Even in the al
most total darkness, Charlie could see that Ted was very close to striking her. His face, etched with anger, almost touched hers. She stepped back and hopped once more to try to see through the parlour window.

  “Stand still.” Ted’s words were released in an almost silent hiss. “And be quiet. Or I am going to have to tie you up and pass you to Sir Glynne or any other murderer I can find.”

  Charlie took a further step back and found she could actually see the window better from further away. But she could see nothing though the window, just the darkness of a heavy curtain. She tapped her foot on the grass, and Ted turned to glare. Charlie stood still.

  The lock was picked, the back door open. She was ready to help Lizzie.

  Johnny, who stood at the other end of the window, turned around. She saw the blinking of the white of his eyes as he gave her a wink. She tiptoed towards him. “Can you hear anything?”

  Ted glared towards her, but she had been careful to speak almost inaudibly.

  “No, Charl, nothing. We should have told her to ask him to open the curtains.”

  “What do we do now then?”

  “We wait.”

  ***

  “I’m very hot, George. Could we open a window, please?”

  Sir Glynne moved closer to Lizzie on the sofa. “Of course.”

  He rang a bell on the side table and a servant arrived.

  “Open the window a little, please.”

  The curtains were drawn open like the parting of the sea, and the window opened an inch.

  “Do you need to lie down?”

  “No, thank you. Perhaps I’ve taken a little too much wine.”

  Lizzie placed her glass on a low table to the side of the sofa, sat back and closed her eyes to gather herself. She felt Sir Glynne’s thigh against her leg. The evening was drawing to a close, and she felt no closer to knowing whether Sir Glynne was a killer or not. She tried to think of another approach in their conversation.

  She opened her eyes and found Sir Glynne looking at her with interest. “You are very beautiful with your eyes closed. You are also beautiful with your eyes open, but with your eyes closed, you seem at peace in your surroundings. Your eyes, they question the world around you.”

  Sir Glynne continued to study Lizzie’s face, and she attempted to appear relaxed under his scrutiny. “Your beauty is different in nature to Dina’s. You are more homely, more girlish. She was haughty and impervious. I feel at home with you.”

  His gaze moved to study Lizzie’s shoulders and chest, and she felt as if her dress were being pulled down. “Lizzie, are you an Elizabeth?”

  “Yes.” Lizzie felt small as she nodded.

  “Yes, and yet you are decidedly a Lizzie.” Sir Glynne’s gaze moved to Lizzie’s lap. She held her hands still. “I knew another Elizabeth—well, she called herself Elsbeth. You remind me of her a little. She was slight, pretty and liked to appear modest.”

  Fear flared in Lizzie like a firework through her bloodstream. “Was she a companion of yours?” She spoke to the fire.

  “I knew her briefly. But then she disappointed me.”

  Lizzie kept her face towards the fire.

  “And you, Lizzie. Are you going to disappoint me?” An expression Lizzie had not seen before took over Sir Glynne’s face; his eyes were questioning but his jaw was set as a threat.

  She forced herself to face him and fought to keep her voice level. “I hope not. I hope to please you.”

  Sir Glynne assessed her response. “Indeed. What would please me now is a ride in my carriage, you and I alone together in the darkness. Come with me.”

  Without waiting for a response, Sir Glynne rose and walked towards the hallway. Lizzie stood up and followed. Before leaving the room, she looked towards the window with an expression she hoped would convey that she did now fear for her life.

  34

  Lizzie followed along hallways and through doors that were opened by silent servants. Sir Glynne rang a bell in the entrance hall, and two servants appeared more quickly than seemed humanly possible.

  “We will take a ride in the carriage.”

  The men nodded in unison and turned to carry out their duties.

  “Matthew.”

  One of them, the footman who came to fetch Lizzie each time, turned back in response to his master.

  “Not the family carriage. My carriage.”

  Matthew nodded again, and he and his twin paced along the hallway.

  “Wear this.” Sir Glynne handed Lizzie a black, fur-lined cloak. He pulled on a dark, floor-length coat that draped like mercury over his body.

  Lizzie followed him through the front door. Outside, on the oval driveway, stood a black carriage, similar in size and luxury to the one that had brought her here. But instead of the ‘G’ of the Glynne family, a golden wild boar leapt towards her.

  ***

  “What do we do now?” Charlie’s whisper was fierce, and she hopped on the spot. “Let’s go, we need to work out where she is.”

  “Wait, Charl.” Johnny’s hand folded over Charlie’s slight arm and stopped her movement. “You can’t just hop around the property of a peer of the realm who might also be a murderer. Come here.” He pulled Charlie firmly within his arm’s embrace. “Ted?”

  Johnny looked towards Ted, who was already peering around the edge of the house.

  “Ted!”

  Ted snapped at the loud whisper and met Johnny’s questioning gaze. He walked over quietly and purposefully and leant towards the other two with focused, glowing eyes. In the darkness, the three huddled like monks at prayer.

  “Right, first we need to see if she’s still in the house,” Ted whispered. “I think she probably is. You two, stay by this back door. I’ll find somewhere to hide by the front door. If nobody leaves in a while, I think we can assume they’re inside the house and things are going on as normal.”

  “Things aren’t normal, Ted. I saw Lizzie’s face, she wasn’t alright.”

  Ted and Johnny turned to Charlie, whose quiet contribution faltered Ted’s plan.

  Ted’s face creased briefly, his cheeks and upper lip shining in the darkness, then smoothed back into calm determination. “You might be right, and if we’re going to help her, we still need to know that she’s in there. If she isn’t, she’s on her own. If she is, we can do something.

  “Right, we’ll wait a bit. If there’s no movement, we’ll come back together and see how we can get into the house. If you see them leaving, whistle loudly and follow them.”

  Johnny and Charlie nodded silently and paced carefully towards the back door. Ted slid along the edge of the house and around the corner. He reached the front as the dust of hooves on gravel emanated from a dark carriage, almost out of sight in the darkness.

  ***

  “More wine?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Have some more wine.”

  Sir Glynne handed Lizzie the glass she did not want, and she took it. “Thank you.”

  She tried to look at the carriage rather than let her mind race. The seats and lining were as luxurious as the family carriage that had fetched her; the brass was as polished and the lantern shined to sparkling. And yet this one was darker. Lizzie was almost certain it wasn’t her sense of foreboding that darkened the wood and curtains. This carriage cloaked its inhabitants in almost complete black.

  “You are very talkative tonight.” Sir Glynne stared directly at Lizzie, his eyes scolding her. She was suddenly aware of his legs folded between hers, and her back pressed against the seat as she was pulled backwards through the night.

  “Am I?” She held her glass with two hands and tried to keep her voice level.

  “Yes. Inquisitive. Intrusive even.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  Sir Glynne swatted away her apology and inhaled deeply. “It’s a shame. I thought we were getting on well.”

  “So did I.”

  “You were quiet, interested but not brash, and so pretty. You still are prett
y of course, but it’s all spoiled now.”

  “George, why can’t I still please you?” Lizzie placed a hand gently on Sir Glynne’s knee. She could feel the blood moving around her body, the sweat gathering at the nape of her neck.

  “You were a comfort to me, an escape from the world outside, but you are like everybody else, like all the others. Like her! You come into my private life, my private space and thoughts, and you muddy it with your questions, your demands, your desires. This is the place for my desires; I am master here.” Sir Glynne thumped the seat to his left, and his wine spilled onto the carriage floor.

  Lizzie jumped and retreated into her own seat. The wine streamed between the boards on the carriage floor, staining the dark wood.

  ***

  Ted was bent low, his face stretched forward, thrusting forward like an arrow. He swore to himself, regretting not checking the other bikes outside his rooms before taking off on this one. There was no light and the seat was too low. He gave a brief look of thanks to the almost-full moon and bent down again as if his nose could lever additional speed from his legs.

  He tried to keep the dust from the road in sight. Shadows marred his view at times, and continuing forward was his only escape from despair for Lizzie. He had cycled past two turnings and kept onwards, convinced that the emissions from the carriage were ahead of him. He dared his legs to propel faster and pushed on against their protests. He had to reach Lizzie.

  ***

  “Say that again and I will cut your pretty little face clean off with this.”

  The maid’s eyes opened wide as Charlie produced a knife from inside her jacket.

  “Your master has my friend, and I think he’s going to hurt her. If you don’t help me find her, I am going to hurt you.”

  Charlie’s nose almost touched that of the young woman in front of her, and her nostrils flared dangerously.

  “Alright, Charl.” Johnny pushed Charlie back a little, opening up a few inches of space between the two women.