Marble Arch Murder: A Piccadilly Ladies Club Mystery

by Jane, Bettie

  Resting on a small pillow of black satin was a silver key on a chain.

  “A key. It’s beautiful, Jacob. Thank you.”

  “It’s from Italy,” he said awkwardly. “Er, I mean, it was fashioned in Italy. I’ve had it for weeks. I always intended to give it to you on Valentine’s Day but then we had that argument and well, the key is a Valentine’s tradition. I’m giving it to you because you have, in all your stubborn grandeur, managed to unlock my heart, Julia Barlow. I think I might love you.”

  Her eyes welled with tears. He sounded nervous and uncomfortable and still charming and wonderful and sincere.

  “Will you help me?” She took the necklace from the jewel box and held it up for him. He took it and fastened it around her neck, kissing her gently once the clasp was fastened.

  “I think I might love you too, Jacob Gibbs. Maybe, possibly.”

  “That’s good enough for me.”

  3

  February 16, 1921

  Goodall Residence, Mayfair

  London

  Frankie arrived at the Goodall residence at eight o’clock in the morning for the planned meeting he’d scheduled with Julia.

  “Come in, Frankie. Join me in the parlor. I’ll call for tea. Now, what is it that you wished to discuss with me so early?”

  “I’ll get straight to it. I think we should open our own detective agency. We make a great team, there doesn’t seem to be a shortage of crimes to solve lately, you have an in with the Inspector, which will help us, and with both of us working…I think it can be a profitable venture.”

  She’d known this was coming. She wanted to object to it, but ever since he’d started calling himself her assistant, she’d begun imagining having her own business. She’d be the master of her own destiny, not reliant on editors from her paper to tell her what she had to write and how often. She toyed with the key necklace Jacob gave her last night while she racked her brain, trying to come up with a reason that Frankie’s idea was a bad one, but she was coming up short.

  “Have you spoken with Mattie about your idea, Frankie? It’s not just going to be you now. You’ll need to be sure your future wife is on board.”

  He nodded, taking a gulp of the tea that one of the servants brought.

  “I spoke with her last night. She fully supports it. Thinks that you and I working together would be a wonderful idea.”

  Julia wanted to be worried about the financial strain that starting up something like this would have on Frankie and Mattie and their new life together, but after Mattie had disclosed her situation with money, mostly that she didn’t need any, Julia knew that wasn’t a likely a valid concern. Still, she thought she should bring it up.

  “I don’t actually hate the idea, but I wouldn’t give up my position at the paper, at least not right away. Remember that every investigation I’ve worked on so far wasn’t for money. I was always receiving a salary from the paper. I don’t know if we could even find paying clients. Or how often we’d get them. I couldn’t make any guarantees about your salary, especially at first. I don’t want to be responsible for any strain a new venture might cause for you and Mattie.”

  Frankie addressed her concerns.

  “Don’t worry about that. Mattie told me last night, when we were discussing this, that her mother set some cash set aside for Mattie. Her mother insists that she have her own money once she’s married. I’m determined we won’t touch any of it, though, and I’ll secure plenty of business for us—you just leave that bit to me. We can get this agency started, and once it’s up and running and producing a reliable income, only then will Mattie and I set an official date for the wedding. I won’t marry her unless—until—I am self-sufficient.”

  Julia looked at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I’ve got some concerns. Have you considered that we’d need a public office space if we want to appear legitimate to potential clients? You say you want to be self-sufficient, but you don’t have any capital for starting up something like this. Neither do I for that matter. I’ll need to ask my father, which I’ll do, but there are often strings attached to his aid. I’m not sure I want to find myself beholden to him.”

  He nodded. “I have thought of it and I think you are right. I’m open to suggestions for potential locations, but I agree that we will need a place of business. Assuming you are able to get funds from your father.”

  Julia’s mind was racing with excitement and worry. A lot of pieces need to fall into place if this idea was to come to fruition. She wished she could stop trying to find the reasons this was a bad idea and simply embrace it.

  She extended her hand, her heart beating soundly in her chest. “We have lots of details to work out, but, I suppose we should shake on it. Julia and Frankie Detective Agency…no, that’s a terrible name. We’ll need to settle on a name, but you’ve got yourself a business partner, Frankie Sutton. Assuming I can get money from my father and assuming your future wife doesn’t decide to object to marrying a co-owner of a fledgling business that will be worth nothing for a long time. I mean, what could go wrong, Frankie?”

  He shook her hand and then picked her up and spun her around, apparently not at all deterred by her efforts at reminding him of the reality of it. “This is going to be the greatest undertaking we’ve managed so far, Julia, and we’ve had our share of adventures!”

  His enthusiasm was contagious and even though there were a million unanswered questions, she found herself carried away by the possibilities. Partnering with a man had its advantages. She hated to acknowledge it, but there were certain things she needed to be able to do as a business owner that she couldn’t do as a woman. It galled her to need a man on an endeavor such as this, but Frankie was the perfect person to go into business with. He was hard working, kind, and she’d known him forever. She knew exactly what she was getting into when she agreed to work with him. She couldn’t wait to tell Jacob. Hopefully he’d be thrilled or at least have the good sense to pretend as though he was.

  “Let’s talk again soon, Frankie. I’ve got an appointment to meet with Jacob’s aunt this morning. She’s going to give me a tour of the Tyburn Convent. Do you know of it?”

  “The cloistered sisters?”

  “So you have heard of them?”

  “Oh, yes. You may have gotten out of going to church with your family, but my parents insisted on our active attendance. I could probably give you more details than you’d care to know about most of the churches and convents in London. My mother took it as a point of pride that we were well-versed in the many ways that Catholics were discriminated against in England. The martyrdom of hundreds of Catholics at Tyburn Tree was one of her favorite recurring history lessons to give.”

  “Well, why don’t you come with me then? You can meet Penelope and brush up on your medieval-aged Catholic persecution.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Actually, I’ve got a couple of leads for our business. I’ll skip your tour, if you don’t mind, but tonight I’ll drop by and catch you up on what I’ve done today.”

  “All right, Frankie, but don’t get over-eager. Don’t commit to anything. We need quite a bit more planning before we can make our first official move. If I get a minute today, I’ll make a list of the items we’ll need to deal with before we are officially open for business. In fact, I’ll stop by the Piccadilly Ladies Club and talk to Meredith. I’m sure she’ll have some ideas for me. Women of business are sort of her specialty!”

  Frankie, ever affectionate, kissed Julia’s cheek. “I’m going to tell Mattie you said yes. See you later. Oh hey—” He turned back to her. “Nice necklace. Is that from Jacob—a Valentine’s key?”

  “Yes and thank you. Now get outta here!”

  He laughed, and Julia watched him race out the door, taking the front steps two at a time, then down the block in the direction of Mattie’s house. His enthusiasm for life generally was quite contagious. She found herself whistling as she made her way to her auto and down to Tyburn Convent to meet with Penelope.
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  As she drove, she contemplated what would be a perfect situation for her. In her mind, she could visualize a small home that housed the detective agency on the first floor and her residence upstairs. Her heartbeat accelerated thinking of not only starting her own small company, but of moving into her own residence.

  Staying with Opal and Oscar had been lovely, and they’d made her feel welcome since the moment she’d arrived, but she wanted to live in a modest home without a butler or maid or servants of any kind. She simply wanted her own space. She made up her mind in that moment that she’d do her best to make that happen. She needed to learn what parts of town she could make an arrangement like that work. Could she simply put up a shingle and open for business just anywhere? She doubted it.

  She’d been saving money from her employment at the paper, but she’d need quite a bit more than the small amount she had set aside. Already problem-solving, she was making a short, mental list of ways to secure a building. Frankie had just suggested the best, most exciting, idea of her life so far. Her excitement about this detective agency was more intense than when she’d moved out of her parents’ house after deciding to not marry the Sydney Guinness. Of course, they’d also changed their tune after she’d proven that he was a double murderer.

  Maybe she could work that situation to her advantage. Her father had actually demonstrated some remorse at nearly marrying her off to a psychopath. After her tour and after she’d spoken with Meredith, she’d stop by her parent’s house and discuss what they might be willing to do. After all, her parents were likely worth more than even Mattie’s parents, and that was saying something because they probably had more money than God.

  4

  10:00 am

  February 16, 1921

  Tyburn Convent

  London

  “Penelope, thank you so much for agreeing to give me a tour of these facilities. I spoke to my editor, and he’s very interested in a story. Apparently, there’s a bit of intrigue over the cloistered nature of the nun’s order here.”

  Penelope rang the bell, and a nun opened it to admit them. It was like stepping back in time to medieval England. White walls, simple iron gates, eerily quiet.

  “It’s my pleasure,” Penelope said, nodding to the nun who proceeded to lead them into the depths of the building.

  “Sister Marta, this is Julia Barlow. She writes for the newspaper. She’s agreed to do a story about our memorial and fundraiser. Julia, this is Sister Marta.”

  “Hello. Good to meet you, Sister,” Julia greeted.

  Sister Marta replied with a friendly smile and shining brown eyes.

  “Wonderful to meet you, Julia. Penelope, Mother Marie will meet you in the courtyard for tea in a few minutes. I’ll let her know you are here.”

  Julia watched the sister disappear around a corner, surprised at how quiet it was.

  “I’m not a practicing Catholic,” Penelope told her, “but Joe’s family was, and he actually had an ancestor who was executed at Tyburn Tree. We donate to this convent often, but this year the memorial that they are creating struck Joe as a worthy cause. They are going to build a model of the hanging gallows in front of the Marble Arch and read off all the names of those Catholics who were martyred here. It should be quite spectacular.”

  Julia wondered if Jacob had any religious leanings. They’d never actually spoken in depth about it, so she suspected not, but supposed it would be something worth discussing. Not that it would truly matter to Julia, but her parents would definitely object to her marrying a Catholic. She shook her head. She wasn’t marrying anyone. She chided herself to stop daydreaming about love and marriage and focus her attention on Penelope.

  “How many died in all?” Julia asked.

  “More than three-hundred fifty. Felons were also executed here, but the convent is only honoring the Catholics. Mostly they were killed during the Protestant Reformation. Once King Henry VIII separated England from the Catholic Church, he doubled down on murdering anyone who wouldn’t disavow the pope. Catholics, especially Jesuits, were labeled as traitors, supposedly having plots to overthrow the monarchy. It wasn’t a good time to be Catholic.”

  “Didn’t Henry VIII break from the Catholic Church because he wanted to be able to divorce his wife Catherine of Aragon and the Pope wouldn’t allow it? I thought he became the head of the Church of England just so he could get a divorce.”

  “Yes. Catherine of Aragon failed to produce an heir, and Henry VIII was smitten with Anne Boleyn, one of Catherine’s ladies-in-waiting. It’s a long complicated story, but the church at the time was heavily under the influence of King Charles the Fifth of Spain, who just so happened to be Catherine’s nephew, so the Pope refused to grant Henry the divorce. So he became head of the Church of England, and the Archbishop of Canterbury granted his divorce right away. The short answer to your question is that historical experts say that if Henry hadn’t wanted a divorce, the English Reformation wouldn’t have happened in Henry’s lifetime, which means all those deaths wouldn’t have occurred.”

  “Interesting. So the memorial is a tribute to those who died after the split and simultaneously a rebellious gesture aimed at Henry VIII.”

  “I don’t suppose anyone would say that out loud, but yes, I suppose it is. Honoring the martyrs is by default a commentary on how it is they came to be martyrs.”

  “I don’t really think our country has quite recovered from that, do you? The divide between the Catholics and the Anglicans? Although, I’ve been doing a bit of research lately on the suffrage movement and it’s ironic to me that Catholics were granted what amounts to equal rights in the Roman Catholic Relief Act of 1829. I guess England likes its Catholics marginally more than it likes its women.”

  Penelope chuckled at Julia’s comment. “I suppose you are probably right. I’m not religious so I don’t quite understand the animosity, but there’s certainly an ongoing rift, isn’t there?”

  Penelope led them into one of the three buildings that made up the convent campus. “That building houses the nun’s cells. Strange that they call them that, don’t you think?”

  “I wouldn’t like if my sleeping quarters were referred to that way.”

  “There’s the chapel.” Penelope pointed to another building. “There’s a crypt, like under a lot of these historic buildings. This one actually houses remains for some of the martyrs. There are sections of hair, a fingernail, bloodied linens, and a couple of pieces of wood from the original Tyburn Tree. It wasn’t actually a tree, just a triangular wooden form that allowed multiple people to be hung at the same time. I suppose efficiency is important in these matters.”

  They both recognized the sarcasm in her voice but neither commented on it.

  “One of the sisters is always praying, did you know that? They rarely leave the convent, and they pray in shifts so there is always someone praying for the martyrs that were executed here. Unlike other convents, the nuns don’t offer service as nurses or to feed the poor. Theirs is an adoration-focused mission. This convent was established by a Frenchwoman twenty years ago for that specific purpose. That’s why this is the year for the memorial.”

  “Are any of the sisters willing to give an interview for the paper?”

  Penelope shook her head. “No, their order doesn’t allow for that, but I will happily go on record for your story. Let’s have a seat out in the courtyard since the weather is so fair and pleasant today. We’ll have tea, and I’ll do my best to answer any more questions you might have.”

  “Tea would be lovely. Thank you.”

  “By the way, thank you again for coming to our home for dinner last night. Jacob is clearly very smitten with you, and Joe has only good things to say about you. He said you rarely take no for an answer and manage to keep Jacob out of trouble. That’s quite a feat.”

  Julia smiled. “I enjoyed our time with you both thoroughly. I’m fairly enthralled with Jacob, so I’m pleased that he returns the sentiment. I wasn’t entirely sure that was the c
ase until just yesterday, in fact.”

  Penelope led them out to the courtyard and continued the interview about the martyrdom with an entirely too-detailed account of the execution of the martyrs remembered here.

  “They didn’t let them die easily, did they?”

  “No, I’m afraid it was rather horrific. Hanged until nearly dead, then disemboweled, and finally drawn and quartered. A nasty business, but the real surprise is how many thousands turned out for the public hangings. One criminal, a highwayman who’d been convicted and who escaped justice four times before it finally caught up with him, is said to have turned out more than two-hundred thousand people to watch him hang.”

  Julia shivered, fascinated and horrified at the morbid ways in which humans were entertained.

  “Would it be okay if I brought my photographer, Jimmie Hutchins, to photograph the gallows before the memorial service?”

  “That should be fine. I’ll double check with the sisters. There may be some areas they don’t want photographed.”

  “Wonderful, thank you.”

  Julia spent another half-hour listening to Penelope’s recounting of Tyburn Tree’s history.

  “This was so informative. Thank you so much. My editor should be quite pleased with this.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ve been following your investigative articles. It seems you were quite instrumental in solving a few murders recently. This article on the convent looks to be a bit different than the kind of reporting you typically do.”

  Julia nodded. “I go where the story goes. Thankfully, it’s not always murder. Although, my business partner and I are going to be starting up our own private detective agency. I’m quite excited about it, actually.”

  “That sounds fascinating. How would that work?”

  “It’s all still very much in the creation stage, but we would be available for hire by anyone who needed our help. Missing persons, scandal—there’s plenty of that in Mayfair—and possibly murders. I anticipate it will keep us fairly busy.”