THE BLOOMSBURY AFFAIR
Anita Davison
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About this Book
About the Author
Table of Contents
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About The Bloomsbury Affair
1905 London is a heady mix of unimaginable wealth and simmering political tensions, and with war looming Flora Maguire wants to keep her family safe.
So when her beloved charge Viscount Edward Trent is accused of murder, she’s determined not to leave the investigation to the police. Flora has trodden the path of amateur sleuth before, but with so much at stake, this time it’s personal.
Slowly the body of the victim found stabbed on a train bound for Paddington starts giving up its secrets, and Flora and her husband Bunny become mired in a murky world of spies, communists and fraudsters. And with the police more sure than ever that Edward is their murderer, Flora must work fast to keep him safe.
Anita Davison’s compulsive story-telling, combined with the irresistible mix of historical drama and gripping mystery, make this unputdownable.
Contents
Welcome Page
About The Bloomsbury Affair
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgements
About Anita Davison
About the Flora Maguire Mysteries
Become an Aria Addict
Copyright
Dedicated to my lovely agent, Kate Nash.
You have been with me all the way, always offering encouragement without expectation and you understand exactly what this writing life is all about.
I mean you really understand.
Chapter 1
Eaton Place, London, April 1905
‘Good evening, Stokes.’ Bunny’s voice from the hall brought Flora to her feet. Issuing a brief apology to her two dinner guests, she left the dining room, shivering in the blast of cold air that rushed through the open front door.
Tall and muscular with slightly boyish looks which sent females of all ages checking their hair in nearby mirrors, Bunny’s pale skin was flushed from the cool night air, his blue eyes bright behind rimless spectacles.
‘I’m horribly late for dinner, Stokes. Is your mistress very angry?
He handed the butler his hat and then shrugged out of his overcoat.
‘I would rather not speculate, sir.’ Stokes placed the hat on a hook, took his coat and gave it a shake, scattering raindrops over the tiled floor. ‘I’ve laid out your dinner suit in your dressing room. Would you require my assistance to change?’
‘Not necessary, thank you, Stokes. I’ll manage. If you could just tell my wife I’ll be down as quickly as I can.’
Flora stepped from the cover of the archway from where she had observed them.
The butler froze, the overcoat held out in front of him.
‘Ah, there you are, Flora.’ Bunny cleared his throat before summoning a conciliatory smile. ‘I intended to be here on time, but it couldn’t be avoided, sorry.’ He lifted his arms intent on a hug, but she sidestepped him. ‘Ah, I’m not forgiven, then?’
‘What kept you?’ Her fierce whisper held the mounting irritation she had nursed all evening. ‘You’ve almost missed dinner.’
‘If you’ll excuse me, sir, madam. I must see to my duties.’ Stokes divested himself of the coat and, head down, fled in the direction of the kitchens.
‘How’s the reunion going?’ Bunny fingered an arm of his spectacles nervously, his gaze going to the closed dining room door.
‘Don’t change the subject.’ Flora brushed a hank of damp hair from his forehead. ‘Better than I could have imagined, actually.’ Her attempt to stay cross was ruined as his cologne stirred her senses. ‘It’s as if they have never been apart. I doubt they’ll even notice I’m gone.’
As if on cue, a baritone chuckle drifted into the hall, followed by a gale of relaxed feminine laughter.
‘Why the sad face?’ Bunny ran a finger along her cheek. ‘Sounds to me like your parents are getting along splendidly.’
‘They are, and I’m delighted, of course. It’s just – oh, never mind, we’ll talk later. I should get back to our guests.’
How could she explain? William and Alice might have put the past behind them, but theirs weren’t the only lives disrupted by twenty years of lies and secrets.
‘Your guests, this was all your idea, remember?’ Bunny planted a swift kiss on her forehead and headed for the stairs. ‘By the way,’ he halted halfway up and leaned over the handrail, ‘your trip to Harvey Nichols was very much worth it. The gown is magnificent. I love that shade of blue on you.’
She waved him off impatiently, but her steps lightened as she returned to the dining room, relieved he was home and the weight of the dinner party no longer lay entirely on her shoulders.
‘I’m sorry about that.’ Flora resumed her seat in a room where soft golden light reflected off crystal and gilt, the crackle of flames and shift of coals in the Adam fireplace completing the cosy ambience. ‘Bunny promises to be with us shortly.’
‘You’ve no need to apologize, my darling,’ William patted her hand. ‘I haven’t enjoyed a dinner this much for a long time.’ His gaze shifted from Flora to the lady opposite. ‘Although Flora did insist under no circumstances was I to cry off—’
‘Which you have done on two previous occasions,’ Flora added.
He had retained a muscular physique into his mid-forties, honed from years spent in the saddle on the horse ranches of far-flung continents. Tiny lines carved into his tanned skin beside intelligent dark eyes that sparkled with private amusement, his dark hair sporting half-inch wide silver wings at his temples.
‘It’s been a wonderful surprise.’ Alice’s cheeks warmed to a becoming pink. ‘I had reconciled myself long ago to never seeing William again.’ She tore her gaze away from him only long enough to rearrange her napkin on her lap. ‘He was a secret I imagined keeping forever. I could hardly believe it when Flora told me you lived in London and she saw you regularly.’
Alice too wore the years lightly, with her girlish slenderness, unblemished porcelain skin and the same wide, hazel eyes Flora saw in her own mirror every morning. When Stokes had shown William into the room where Alice waited, his soft murmur of her original name, Lily, followed by Alice’s sharp exhalation of breath, spared Flora the task of having to explain her reasons for deceiving them.
Silent, awestruck seconds passed in which, had they been alone, Flora had been convinced they would have rushed into each other’s arms, and only kept a respectable distance between them for form’s sake.
‘Had I known what you had planned, Flora,’ William said, ‘I would have cancelled my trip to Moscow and told Balfour to go to blazes.’
‘How would you have explained that to the Prime Minister?’ Flora
laughed as she set down her wine glass, belatedly realizing what he had said. ‘Russia? When you said you were taking a northern holiday, I imagined Scotland, or Belgium. Not Russia.’
‘Oh, you know me, my love.’ He adjusted his tie avoiding her gaze. ‘I’ve always had a yen for exotic locations.’
During Flora’s childhood, ‘Uncle’ William descended with no warning on Lord Trent’s family at Cleeve Abbey several times a year laden with gifts for his nieces and nephew. There was always something for Flora; the butler’s daughter, was invited to join them on cold evenings in front of the fire to listen as he recounted his adventures. He would stay a few memorable weeks, then disappear again as quickly as he had come. Her discovery three years before that William was her natural father was something she was still coming to terms with. This evening meant such a lot to her, in that she had recently discovered her mother was also alive and bringing them together at her dining table for the first time in twenty years was a huge gamble; one she had not told either of them in advance. Was matchmaking your parents socially acceptable, or would she forever be a pariah for interfering?
‘What’s Russia really like?’ she asked carefully, conscious of the secrecy connected to William’s work with the Foreign Office. ‘We see the newspapers, but it’s hard to form a true picture.’
The fact William could summon several armed men at a moment’s notice and his driver was a burly six feet four who sat in the lobby of his apartment at night contradicted his claim of being, ‘merely a lowly diplomat’.
‘Colder than anywhere on earth.’ William accompanied his broad smile with a contrived shiver. ‘St Petersburg lay under several feet of snow when I left, and—’ he broke off as the door clicked open to admit Bunny.
‘Good evening, everyone. Do forgive my being late.’ Bunny strode to the table where he shook William’s hand vigorously and kissed Alice’s cheek before taking the remaining empty chair.
Flora signalled to Stokes to serve the dessert, when Alice placed a restraining hand on her arm.
‘We’re in no hurry, are we? Why don’t we let Bunny eat his entrée first? After a hard day at work he deserves his dinner.’
‘As long as no one minds,’ Bunny raised his eyebrows in appeal at Flora. ‘I am rather hungry.’
‘Not at all, old fellow,’ William said before Flora could react. ‘Gives us time to let that excellent meal settle. Besides,’ he continued when the door had closed on the butler, ‘Flora has been keeping us entertained. Hasn’t she, Lily – sorry, I mean, Alice.’ He grinned, embarrassed. ‘It will take a while to become accustomed to that name.’
‘Lily Maguire no longer exists in any meaningful way.’ She aimed a sultry look at him through lowered lashes. ‘Everyone knows me as Alice Finch, and after twenty years, that’s who I am.’
‘I always loved your name, although Alice is equally charming,’ William, said, his gaze never leaving her face.
Flora directed a ‘see what I mean?’ look at Bunny, whose lips twitched as he poured himself a glass of water.
‘William was about to tell us about his recent trip to St Petersburg,’ Flora said, steering the conversation back to firmer ground. Despite an overweening ambition to reunite her parents, watching them staring into each other’s eyes like prospective lovers made her feel uncomfortable.
‘I’ve always wanted to go there,’ Bunny said. ‘I’ve heard it’s a beautiful city and the people are amenable.’
‘Not at the moment, it seems.’ Flora dared William with a look to change the subject. ‘The newspapers talk about nothing but riots and strikes.’
‘It’s true, I’m afraid.’ William cradled his wine glass in both hands. ‘The factory workers suffer harsh, unsafe conditions and all attempts to form trade unions are fiercely put down by the factory owners, who in turn are strongly backed by the government.’
‘I thought Tsar Nicholas’s father, Alexander, had abolished the serf system? Or am I being naïve?’ Flora looked to Bunny for his reaction, but he absent-mindedly broke apart a bread roll, his attention elsewhere.
‘He’s taking a hard line with anyone who raises a voice against him,’ William replied. ‘Tsar Nicholas is the richest ruler in the world yet he prefers to live like a country squire devoted to his wife and children. Matters of state take low priority. He avoids making decisions unless forced to, and when he does, he overreacts because he has this morbid fear he’ll be assassinated like his grandfather.’ He paused to take a sip of wine, his eyes troubled.
‘It’s brutal.’ Flora gave an involuntary shudder. ‘I’m not even Russian, and I’m angry with him.’
The conversation trailed off when Stokes reappeared with a covered plate he set before Bunny, lifting the lid like a magician, releasing a savoury aroma of roasted meat.
‘This looks wonderful, Stokes, and very welcome.’ Bunny rubbed his hands together over his plate. Stokes inclined his head with a wry smile implying he claimed full credit.
‘Tell us more about Russia, William,’ Alice asked. ‘I doubt I shall ever go there so I’ll have to learn about it second-hand from you.’
‘It’s a country of contrasts, where the magnificence of the Imperial Court is astonishing. However, the protocol involved in dealing with even minor members of the court stifles any meaningful discussions.’
‘Were you there for that protest march in St Petersburg when those workers were shot?’ Bunny became more engaged in the conversation, perhaps because he was no longer hungry.
‘I was, and it wasn’t so much a protest as a massacre.’ William twisted the stem of his wine glass. ‘Over a hundred people were killed by Cossacks and three times that number injured, when all they asked for was better working conditions and an end to the war with Japan.’
‘They’re calling it Red Sunday.’ Bunny spoke between mouthfuls. ‘I always feel naming such things tends to generate high emotions.’
‘That’s terrible!’ Flora blurted. ‘Shooting peaceful protestors is outrageous, and cruel.’
‘There won’t be any real fighting in Russia, will there?’ Alice asked. ‘Or is it my turn to be naïve?’
‘Not if the Tsar can be made to see sense.’ William’s tone betrayed the fact he harboured grave doubts. ‘He’s not a bad man, simply weak.’
‘Their war with Japan doesn’t make things easier,’ Bunny added. ‘All because the Tsar reneged on an agreement to withdraw troops from Manchuria, or did I get that wrong?’
‘A simplified version, but accurate,’ William said. ‘Grand Duchess Olga told me she hoped the soldiers would kill all the Japanese. When I asked her if she also meant the children, she said she didn’t realize they had any. She thought the Japanese were creatures, like monkeys.’
Flora gasped. ‘Whatever did you say to her?’
‘I told her the truth, of course. Olga is only eight years old, but she’s an intelligent child, so I trust I made an impression.’
‘Don’t they educate royal children in Russia?’ Flora tutted.
‘It’s hardly the child’s fault.’ Alice sighed. ‘The Grand Duchesses rarely see real life outside the palace walls at Tsarskoe Selo. If the Tsar has little insight into what goes on in the real world, how can they?’
‘The Tsar and Tsarina must be delighted about the new baby.’ Flora attempted to lighten an atmosphere that had grown sombre. ‘A male heir after four daughters must be such a relief for Alexandra.’
‘I’m afraid the child is a mixed blessing.’ William closed his eyes briefly. ‘Tsarevich Alexei shows signs of having the bleeding disease. He might not live very long.’
‘I had no idea,’ Alice said, horrified. ‘I’ve not seen any reports in the newspapers.’
‘You wouldn’t have,’ William shook his head. ‘It’s being kept quiet, though for how long is anyone’s guess.’
After his initial enthusiasm, Bunny appeared to have stopped listening and had resorted to picking at his food, his thoughts far away.
‘Is everything all
right?’ Flora asked in a whisper.
‘Of course, why shouldn’t it be?’ Bunny recovered himself quickly. ‘This lamb is delicious, Flora. It certainly hasn’t suffered from being kept warm.’
‘Then perhaps you’ll let Mrs Cope know you appreciate her efforts, or you may find you’re served cold eggs for breakfast.’
‘Don’t I always?’ Bunny smiled briefly but his amiable mask slipped slightly, convincing Flora something was bothering him.
‘I heard the Imperial family refuse to go anywhere these days without guards,’ Alice said into the brief silence. ‘Wasn’t one of their Grand Dukes assassinated recently?’
‘He was, Grand Duke Sergei.’ William’s voice dropped. ‘I was there at the time.’ Flora gasped and he covered her hand on the table. ‘I was in no danger, my darling, I promise.’
‘How can you say that if you were there?’ Her voice hitched slightly.
‘Do you feel able to tell us what happened?’ Alice asked gently, exchanging a look with her daughter. ‘Unless it would upset you, Flora?’
‘No, really. I want to know.’ Flora waved her away.
‘Well, if you’re sure?’ William’s gaze went to each of them in turn, then he inhaled slowly and began. ‘As you probably know, Duke Sergei was Tsar Nicholas’ uncle. He and his wife, Ella, had moved into the Nicholas Palace inside the Kremlin for their safety.’
‘Ella?’ Alice frowned. ‘Oh, you mean Princess Alice’s daughter, Duchess Elisabeth?’
William nodded. ‘She’s also the Tsarina’s elder sister.’ He cleared his throat before continuing. ‘Sergei had invited me to luncheon, and as he had recently resigned as Governor General, he planned to finish some business at the mansion afterwards. He took his driver but refused to allow his adjutant to go as the man had a family and he didn’t want to put him in unnecessary danger.’
‘He sounds like a courageous and compassionate man,’ Alice murmured.
‘In some ways, yes. And yet he was also reserved and autocratic. Very Russian in fact.’
The Bloomsbury Affair Page 1
