Flora's Secret

by Anita Davison

  ‘Hmm. In the same way is it romantic that Hester’s passion for her husband turned her into a killer?’

  ‘I don’t think romantic is the right word.’ Flora recalled that moment at the top of the companionway, and the vicious shove that had sent her to the bottom. In that second she had felt something inherently evil behind her.

  ‘We arrive in London tomorrow.’ Bunny nodded at a pinpoint of light that blinked in the distance. ‘That must be the Eddystone Lighthouse.’

  ‘Yes,’ Flora sighed, though the prospect of home seemed less attractive than it might have done. Despite the trials and sheer terror of the voyage, the prospect of leaving Bunny, perhaps forever, knotted her stomach with dread. Although a small voice told her she would be relieved to get off this ship.

  ‘I expect you’re tired, so I’ll say goodnight.’ His hand slid down her arm, pausing to squeeze her hand. Something entered his eyes and for a moment she half expected him to kiss her again, but the moment passed. Instead, his gaze wandered over her face, pausing on her bottom lip, then he gave a cough, turned and walked away.

  Flora watched him go, a hand braced against the door frame. When he reached the corner, she whispered, ‘Goodnight, Ptolemy Harrington.’

  ‘Is that you, Flora?’ Eddy’s voice sounded from the sitting room.

  ‘Yes, it’s me.’ She stayed where she was for a moment, staring at the tiny blinking light as the ship carried her closer to home.

  Eddy’s face appeared round the door jamb. ‘This steward they sent to sit with me can’t play chess for toffee. I’ve beaten him three times already. By the way, what was going on down on the saloon deck earlier? He wouldn’t let me look.’

  Chapter 29

  Sunday

  ‘Have you finished your packing, Eddy?’ Flora called to him through his bedroom door.

  ‘I did mine last night.’ He wandered into the sitting room, buckling his belt over a hastily tucked in shirt. ‘Can’t wait to see Ozzy this morning. I’ll bet he doesn’t know Miss Smith was a real life murderer.’

  ‘I imagine his father will have told him. The entire ship must know by now.’

  Flora had sat Eddy down before bed the night before and over cocoa and garibaldi biscuits, recounted a sanitised version of what had happened. Eddy had listened wide-eyed and silent until she got to the part about Hester’s fall, her breath held in case he took it badly.

  ‘Well,’ he said through a mouthful of crumbs when she had finished. ‘If she had survived and been picked up by the lifeboat, she would have been hanged anyway.’ He had wiped a raisin from his upper lip and shrugged. ‘Can you imagine what a spiffing essay I’ll be able to write on What I Did On My Holidays when I get to school? No one will believe it!’

  Flora would always remember that was the exact moment she knew Eddy would go on very well at Marlborough.

  ‘Oh, bother!’ Eddy’s voice brought her to the present. ‘I forgot to ask, how’s your ankle?’

  ‘Much better.’ She flexed her foot to demonstrate. ‘It still aches a little, but that’s all. I recovered quicker than I thought.’

  ‘You are going to see Mr Harrington again when we get home, aren’t you?’ He leaned against one of the wicker chairs and fixed her with a speculative stare so like his father’s, she looked away, disconcerted.

  ‘Doesn’t that rather depend on what Mr Harrington wants?’

  ‘What about you? What do you want?’

  Flora paused in the act of transferring her vanity case to the pile of trunks lined up by the door. ‘Maybe I should look further than Cleeve Abbey now that you’ll be at Marlborough. I could take a position at a school in London, or go to Paris to teach English to French children.’ Her heart lifted with new enthusiasm, her voice with it.

  ‘You’ll be alone,’ Eddy said, despondent. ‘Is that what you want?’

  ‘I-I don’t know. But whatever I do, I cannot rely on Mr Harrington, or any other man to make my happiness for me.’

  ‘You’ll always come home to Cleeve Abbey, though, won’t you?’

  ‘Possibly.’ A smile tugged at Flora’s mouth. Where else could she consider home? ‘Now go and say goodbye to Ozzy. We’ll be leaving soon.’

  A look of abject horror crossed Eddy’s face. ‘Gosh, yes. I don’t even have his address. See you later, then.’

  The porter arrived and removed their trunks, after which Flora surveyed the empty suite, bereft now of the items which marked it as having temporarily been hers. Like her hairbrushes on the dresser and her negligee on the end of the bed.

  The morning she had found Parnell’s body seemed a long time ago now. So much had happened since then. What had Bunny said about stripping the emotion to lessen the impact of the past? She doubted she would be able to do it at Cleeve Abbey; no one at home had ever been willing to discuss Lily Maguire.

  What had her mother done that was so reprehensible? Or maybe it was more about what had been done to her. Whichever it was, maybe Bunny was right and it was time to find out for once and for all. Too much hurt was caused by secrets, as the Van Elders could attest.

  Retrieving her valise from a chair, Flora stepped onto the promenade deck, where the discordant clamour of mechanical noise combined with the rumble of loaded trolleys being pushed across the deck. A line of carriages waited on the quayside for city-bound passengers.

  She paused at the rail which gave her a view of the quayside, where a group of police officers stood beside a black closed carriage beside the gangplank. More of a black box on wheels with a metal grille in the rear facing door.

  Gus Crowe emerged from beneath the superstructure, his hands shackled and flanked by two policemen. Heads turned as he appeared, and a low murmur went up amongst the crowd waiting to disembark.

  Flora felt rather than saw Mr Hersch drift to her side. ‘Viewing the results of your success, Miss Maguire?’ he asked without rancour.

  ‘Not at all. I think it’s a tragic outcome for everyone. Especially Parnell, not to mention poor Eloise.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Hersch leaned he forearms on the rail, one foot on the bottom support. ‘The charges against Crowe have been reduced to theft and common assault. We also discovered Max’s tiepin and cufflinks hidden in his stateroom. And you were right about that bracelet by the way.’

  ‘Oh?’ Flora turned her head to look at him. His air of triumph that had prevailed the previous day had softened to resignation. ‘You found it?’

  He nodded. ‘Amongst Hester’s things. Why she took it is a mystery. The inscription would surely only serve as a constant reminder of how it was obtained.’

  ‘I believe there was a more prosaic reason than that,’ Flora said. ‘She would most likely have sold it at her first opportunity.’

  ‘What a pragmatic young lady you are, Miss Maguire.’

  ‘I hope that was a compliment.’

  ‘It was,’ he said, grinning. ‘There was no sign of any photograph by the way.’

  ‘No. I didn’t think there would be.’ The morning of the storm came back to her, when Eloise raised her hand to the sea and dropped what looked to be confetti into the water. She had thought it was drops of water at the time, but now knew for sure what it was. At least Eloise was at peace when she died. A sort of piece anyway.

  ‘Young Eddy looks none the worse for his adventures.’ He indicated to where Eddy had joined the Gilmore’s and Ozzy further along the deck.

  ‘Children are more resilient than we know. With their common experience, they will likely remain friends.’ She smiled at Eddy as he chattered animatedly to Monica, accompanied by extravagant hand gestures.

  ‘I wonder if Mr Gilmore will write to his new friend?’ Hersch chuckled, pointing to where Gerald appeared to be searching the deck with his eyes for someone.

  ‘Was I the only one who missed that, Mr Hersch?’

  ‘I suspect that’s why he volunteered to spend so much time with the boys? It gave him an excuse to be with the young lady without suspicions being raised.’ He p
atted her shoulder gently. ‘Don’t feel bad, my dear. We’ll make a detective of you yet.’

  Bad didn’t begin to describe what Flora felt at that moment. That Gerald was a good father and fond of Eddy only went part way to atone for using him as camouflage for a flirtation. She could only hope Lord Vaughn never discovered that she had exposed his son to dubious morals as well as a dangerous killer.

  A flurry of activity commanded their attention to where two policemen appeared on deck, followed by the hunched figure of Dr Fletcher, his feet and hands in chains as he was escorted down the gangplank to the waiting van.

  Flora could only imagine how he felt with a hangman’s rope his only future. as she watched him being shoved unceremoniously inside. Did he envy Hester’s means of escape, or would he do anything to prolong whatever life he had left?

  As the metal door slammed, Flora flinched, aware she would never know the answer to that question.

  ‘I wonder what the future holds for Flora Maguire, the intrepid detective?’ Hersch asked once the Black Maria had moved off.

  ‘She’s retiring without having reached her zenith. Too dangerous – and complicated.’ She extended her gloved hand. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, but if you want any murders solved, I hope I will be the last person you think of.’

  ‘Now that would be a shame.’ He took her hand in both of his and squeezed before releasing her and raising his hat. ‘It was nice meeting you. Perhaps our paths will cross again.’ Skirting her, he strolled slowly down the gangplank, ruffling Eddy’s hair as he passed.

  ‘Flora!’ Eddy called from the end of the deck. ‘Papa’s carriage is here. They’re loading our trunks right now.’ He inserted a sense of urgency into is last two words.

  ‘I’m coming, Eddy!’ Flora replied, her heart dipping in disappointment as she surveyed the empty deck. Bunny hadn’t actually said he would come and say goodbye, but she had hoped he might appear.

  Most of the passengers had left the ship, while Flora stayed at the rail, listening to the metallic clang of the winch lines which had sounded a little bereft. Delaying a little longer, she counted to ten in her head, but when no one appeared, she sighed, hefted her portmanteau into her arms and descended the companionway to the saloon deck, aware it was likely the last time she would so in some time. A governess’s salary did not stretch to ocean voyages.

  When she had decided it wasn’t going to happen, heavy male footsteps pounded down the gangway behind her. Her heart jumped, but when the man came level with her she saw it was only one of the officers. He strode past with a polite nod which she returned, releasing a slow breath.

  ‘What are you waiting for, Flora? Come on!’ Eddy bounced on his toes at the end of the gangplank. ‘If we don’t go now we’ll have to go to the back of this queue.’ He indicated the line of carts, carriages and wagons piled high with luggage waiting to leave the dock.

  ‘I’m on my way,’ she called, then under her breath muttered, ‘I’ll give him one more minute.’

  More footsteps sounded behind her, accompanied by a frantic, ‘Flora!’

  Bunny’s shout stiffened her shoulders, but she didn’t turn round. He overtook her, then stepped in front of her. ‘You’re not thinking of leaving without a goodbye, I hope?’

  Flora’s blood surged in her veins but she kept her expression bland as she took in his high colour, disarrayed hair and his unbuttoned jacket; all evidence he had been running.

  ‘You’re late.’

  ‘I know. I’m so sorry. I had to organize Matilda’s loading onto the quay and those awkward stevedores didn’t have the right canvases. They were about to use hemp rope which would have scraped Matty’s paintwork dreadfully.’

  ‘And I thought calling her Matilda was going too far.’

  ‘Jealous, eh?’ He shoved both hands in his pockets and grinned down at her. ‘This reminds me of our first meeting, when you hit your head on the support and were angry, guilty and defensive all at the same time? You’re wearing that same expression now.’

  ‘Thank you for reminding me.’ Irritation sent heat into her face. Was she right all along and he saw her as an amusing shipboard dalliance destined to shrivel the moment they stepped onto dry land?

  He removed his hands from his pockets, gently gathered her hand in both of his and brought it to his chest. The deck seemed to dip beneath her, but that made no sense as they were standing on the quayside.

  ‘If it’s agreeable to you, Miss Maguire. Might I visit you at Cleeve Abbey? I could get down there for Easter.’ He held her gaze without speaking, and no matter how much she wanted to look away, she could not.

  ‘You remembered where I live?’ She took a step closer, all coyness redundant as she leaned into him, excitement fizzing through her veins. ‘Will you bring Matilda?’

  ‘Matilda cannot get much above fifteen miles an hour, whereas a train is far more efficient. Besides,’ his gaze softened, drawing her in, one hand lifted, and ran a finger down her cheek, ‘I suspect my priorities have changed somewhat. After all, she’s just a motor car.’

  ‘I never imagined I would hear you say that. However the sentiment is very much appreciated. And if you can tolerate my penchant for investigating murders, I can probably put up with your other woman.’

  He cupped her cheek and when she turned her lips into his hand, he pulled her forward until her mouth was under his.

  She relished the taste of him beneath her lips, marvelling at the newness of this intimacy and the strength of her own desire until, at last, but also too soon, he released her, though kept his arm locked around her as if reluctant to let go.

  She raised her chin and looked into his eyes where something sat in the blue depths which was hers alone, not caring one bit that a group of sailors were watching from the deck.

  ‘Flora!’ Eddy hollered from the quay. ‘We have to go.’

  ‘That visit? Perhaps we could make it next week instead?’ He eased in and claimed her mouth again.

  ‘I had better go,’ she whispered against his mouth, as reluctantly she pulled away and strolled slowly to the carriage, a broad smile on her face.

  ‘You kissed him in front of everyone,’ Eddy whined, hanging out of the open carriage window, shuffling back in his seat as she climbed inside.

  ‘I did, didn’t I?’ She settled on the seat opposite, her bag beside her. ‘Remove your feet from the seat.’

  ‘Huh!’ Eddy sniffed. ‘At least he didn’t pat you on the head like Mr Hersch did to me. Anyone would think I was a sheepdog.’

  Laughing, Flora relaxed against the upholstery, her hand lifted in a wave through the window to where Bunny watched from the quayside, his hands jammed in his pockets and a broad smile on his face.

  The carriage turned a corner and with a small satisfied sight, she settled back against the upholstery, then bolted upright again when she remembered she hadn’t warned him about her father.

  Ah well, Ptolemy Harrington would discover Riordan Maguire for himself.

  THE END

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  Acknowledgements

  About Anita Davison

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  Acknowledgements

  With grateful thanks to the brilliant team at Aria for all their efforts in making this series possible. To Caroline Ridding for her vision in bringing Flora to life, Sarah Ritherdon for her enthusiasm for my characters and Jade Craddock for her sharp eye in straightening out my clumsy narrative, as well as their creative cover artists for the beautiful, eye-catching jackets.

  Not forgetting my agent Kate Nash who always had faith in me even when I did not, and whose encouragement and har
d work is what has got me this far.

  Also I would like a special mention to the Historical Novel Critique Group, great writers all who never fail to keep me on track.

  About Anita Davison

  Born in London, Anita has always had a penchant for all things historical. She now lives in the beautiful Cotswolds, the backdrop for her Flora Maguire mysteries.

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  First published in the UK in 2016 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © Anita Davison, 2016

  The moral right of Anita Davison to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.