The Bloomsbury Affair

by Anita Davison

  Bunny idly studied the passers-by in the street from his chair as Flora talked, his attention caught by something outside.

  ‘What will you do when the shop is sold?’ Flora handed Mrs Drake a folded white five-pound note.

  ‘Don’t you go worrying about me, dear?’ she said brightly, counting change into Flora’s palm. ‘If the new owners don’t want to keep me on, I’ll find something else soon enough.’

  Bunny abruptly scraped back the chair and grabbed Flora’s arm. Startled, she blinked as he grabbed the wrapped parcel from the counter, pushed it into her hands and ushered her towards the door. ‘Thank you, Mrs Drake, this has been most enjoyable,’ he said over his shoulder, 'but we ought to be going.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Of course.’ Mrs Drake bustled round the counter, intent on seeing them to the door.

  ‘We’ll see ourselves out.’ He released Flora’s arm long enough to gesture her away. ‘We don’t want to be late for our appointment, do we, my dear?’

  ‘Um… no. It was so nice seeing you again, Mrs Drake,’ Flora said as the shop door banged shut behind them. ‘What appointment?’ she asked as Bunny hurried her along the pavement, the parcel beneath her arm giving a satisfying crackle of paper.

  ‘It was the first thing I could think of.’ He took a swift look over one shoulder. ‘Don’t look now, but we have company.’

  Despite Bunny’s warning, she glanced over her shoulder and inhaled sharply. Two police officers had halted outside the haberdashers to remove their helmets before they entered. ‘Goodness. Do you suppose they’ve come to tell her about Leo?’

  ‘What do you think?’ He increased the length of his stride, pulling her along the street with him.

  ‘Oh, dear, poor woman. What should we do?’ The wooden needlework case bounced against her ribs as she hurried to keep up with him.

  ‘About Mrs Drake? Nothing. I vote we go for luncheon at the Queen’s Hotel, I’m starving.’ He sidestepped pedestrians who chattered in groups and obstructed the wide, tree-lined pavement. ‘You did an excellent job of questioning her, by the way. She might have become suspicious if it had gone on much longer.’

  ‘Let’s hope she’s too occupied with what the police have come to tell her to mention us.’ Flora cast the shop a final backwards look, then stepped off the kerb into the road, only for Bunny to haul her roughly back onto the pavement just as a drayman’s cart swept past them in a thunder of hooves on gravel.

  ‘Are you all right?’ His hand slid round her waist and he leaned close, his eyes behind his spectacles dark with concern.

  ‘Yes, of course. I should have been paying more attention.’ Her heartbeat quickened to an almost painful thumping, as she tightened her hold on her new acquisition. ‘I’m still distracted by the fate of that poor woman.’ She smoothed down her skirt with her free hand and allowed her breathing to slow.

  ‘Which one, Mrs Drake or Sylvia Thompson?’

  ‘Both, I suppose.’ She reminded herself Mrs Thompson was beyond sympathy now. ‘It’s a shame Mrs Drake didn’t know more about Leo’s plans. Perhaps Inspector Maddox has had more luck?’

  Chapter 6

  They entered the hotel between a pair of Corinthian columns that flanked the doors into an entrance lobby dominated by a Georgian staircase that wound up to a crowned glass roof. The scent of spring flowers mixed with beeswax polish and a tang of vinegar greeted them; familiar smells of wealth and comfort, borrowed during Flora’s life as a governess but which since her marriage to Bunny had become her own.

  ‘Earl Trent once told me this building was modelled on the Temple of Jupiter in Rome,’ she dropped her voice to a whisper in the hushed atmosphere as they headed into the dining room. ‘It opened the same year Queen Victoria came to the throne.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me.’ Bunny flicked a look at a wing-back chair in a corner. ‘That chair over there looks as if Lord Melbourne might have sat in it.’

  ‘Hush. The town is very proud of this hotel,’ Flora whispered as the maître d’ held out her chair in a dining room, the clink of cutlery, tinkle of crystal and the low murmur of conversation created a calm and affluent ambience.

  Bunny flicked up the back of his jacket and took the seat opposite before accepting a menu the size of a broadsheet. ‘You’ve gone all wistful, Flora. What are you thinking?’

  ‘Only that this room contains so many memories. the girls attended the Ladies College, and every Thursday afternoon, Lady Trent would bring the four of us here for tea. I didn’t go to the college, of course but I was enrolled at Miss Bostock’s on Bays Hill Road. I loved that school.’ She sighed as her head crowded with more memories. ‘We’d sit at the same table in the corner over there where Lady Trent would be mother and Lady Amelia doled out the fancies. I never got to have the vanilla one, which was Jocasta’s favourite.’

  ‘You could have one now if you like.’ Bunny raised a hand to summon a waiter.

  ‘No, don’t.’ She gestured for him to lower his hand. ‘Anyway, it wouldn’t be the same. Ignore me, I’m wallowing a little.’ Bunny would never understand how for one blissful afternoon a week, she would forget she was simply the butler’s daughter. ‘Now,’ she opened her menu, ‘what shall we have?’

  *

  After an excellent meal of tender roast beef followed by lemon sorbet decorated with chocolate swirls, they adjourned to the lounge, where they occupied twin wing chairs flooded with light from the double-height arched windows overlooking Imperial Gardens.

  ‘I shall need no more than consommé and crackers for supper tonight.’ Flora sank onto the squab with a tiny, self-satisfied sigh and tucked the wrapped needlework case beneath her seat. ‘Should we have asked Mrs Drake if Leo had any enemies?’

  She broke off as a waiter brought their coffee, together with a plate of petits fours shaped like miniature pieces of fruit. He offered them a copy of the Examiner which Bunny pounced on as if he had not seen a newspaper for a week.

  ‘She would have thought it a strange question when she didn’t yet know Leo was dead.’ He offered her the plate of petits fours.

  ‘I suppose so. And she did say Leo didn’t have many friends in the town, so no one local would have a reason to kill him?’ She declined the marzipan treats reluctantly. ‘Apart from the shop, I doubt he has much money and with no living relatives, what would be the point of killing him?’

  ‘No money that we know of,’ Bunny murmured. He slapped the newspaper with one hand, making Flora jump. ‘Some former military chap called Elwes was prosecuted for what is described here as “driving furiously” along the Promenade at twenty miles an hour.’ He frowned and peered closer at the page. ‘I should be interested to know what sort of motor it was, but it doesn’t say.’

  Sighing, she glanced up from her cup. ‘Bunny, did you hear what I said?’

  ‘What? Oh, yes, of course I did.’ He lowered the paper and gave her his full attention. ‘Mrs Drake’s impression that Sylvia Thompson had an alternative income could be relevant. I doubt that shop could have supported them both and provided enough for private school.’

  ‘There’s always your suggestion of a robbery gone wrong.’

  ‘I’ve rejected that theory,’ Bunny crumpled the paper in his lap. ‘Had there been a struggle in the compartment, someone would have heard or seen something. And why were Leo’s pockets empty when he was found?’

  ‘That fits with the robbery idea,’ Flora said.

  ‘Or his assailant deliberately stripped him of anything which might have identified him.’

  ‘Why kill him on the train? He would have had to wait until it arrived at the station before he could get away, either that or jump off when it was still moving?’

  ‘My guess is the murderer planned to be off the train and well away by the time the body was found.’ He refolded the newspaper and discarded it on a nearby chair. ‘What he didn’t count on was Ed being there, firstly to prevent him carrying out the deed, then raise the alarm sooner than planned.’ H
e plucked a pear-shaped marzipan decorated with angelica leaves from the plate. ‘It’s not looking good for Ed. All he has in his favour so far is his lack of motive.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’ A tremor of fear ran through her. ‘He’s relying on us to help him out of this mess.’

  ‘I don’t believe Ed is a murderer any more than you do.’ Bunny demolished the petit fours in one bite. ‘However, nor do I possess a layman’s faith in the police. I see too many of their mistakes in my profession.’

  ‘Mrs Drake must know about Leo by now,’ Flora said. ‘Do you think she’ll tell those policemen we were at the shop asking questions?’

  ‘I do hope not. If our name does come up, things could become awkward with Inspector Maddox. I don’t relish another lecture from him about interference from amateurs and civilians.’

  ‘Thus far,’ Flora mused. ‘All we have is a department store we know nothing about, a letter which may or may not exist confirming a booking at a hotel which may or may not be a flower beginning with a B or maybe a D.’

  ‘It’s not much, is it?’ He crossed one ankle over the other, rested his head against the back of the wing chair and popped another marzipan into his mouth before reaching for another.

  Flora watched his hand hover over the last remaining petit fours, and unable to resist any longer, swiped the marzipan delicacy from between his reaching fingers. His mouth opened in surprise as she sank her teeth into the almond paste, closing her eyes as she relished the thick sweetness on her tongue. When she opened them again she found him grinning at her.

  ‘Leo could have been looking for answers as to why his mother died?’ Flora licked sugar from her fingers. ‘Blame is part of grief isn’t it?’ She recalled how unwilling she had been to accept the man who had raised her had died in a riding accident. Her tenacious search for the truth when everyone told her she was merely being unreasonable finally proved he had been murdered.

  ‘If he believed Sylvia’s death was suspicious, surely he would have contacted the local police?’ Bunny said sceptical.’

  ‘Perhaps he did, but maybe no one listened, so he might have decided to go to London to see someone with more authority?’ Flora sat forward in her seat turning the idea over in her head. ‘The story he gave Ed about the job could have been subterfuge. He would hardly admit to a stranger he was looking for answers as to why his mother died?’

  ‘Possibly not, but it would certainly have made Maddox’ investigation more interesting.’

  ‘Leo might have appealed to the hospital for answers as well.’

  ‘The hospital isn’t likely to tell us anything. Especially if they were culpable.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of the hospital.’ She searched the room for a clock, but the only one she found was located too far away to make out. ‘What time is our train?’

  He consulted his half-hunter. ‘Another hour and a half yet. Why?’

  ‘While we are here, why don’t we pay a visit to Dr Billings? No, don’t look at me like that. If your mother died in similar circumstances, wouldn’t you demand every detail of her case from her doctor to ensure no mistakes were made?’

  ‘Hah! It would take more than a cut hand to take off my mother,’ he muttered under his breath and signalled for their bill from a passing waiter.

  ‘There might be more to it.’ Flora gathered her gloves, bag and the needlework case. ‘I mean, what are the chances of a perfectly healthy mother and son both dying within four months of each other?’

  ‘Probably higher than you would imagine.’ Bunny fastened his coat. And don’t be disappointed if the good doctor has nothing interesting to add.’

  Flora smiled, nursing a quiet conviction that Dr Grace would be far more forthcoming.

  *

  While she waited for Bunny to locate a hansom on Montpellier Street, Flora lifted her face to a shaft of early spring sunshine that had broken through a canopy of grey clouds. Despite her worry over Ed, the prospect of lighter, warmer days held promise, the smell of spring flowers and new-mown grass reaching her from the garden square opposite.

  ‘No luck, I’m afraid.’ Bunny returned to her side. ‘I suggest we wander farther along the Promenade to see if there are any cabs there. Or we could always take a tram.’

  ‘It’s not far to Pittville Parade. Let’s walk. I could do with some exercise after that luncheon.’ She thrust the parcel towards him. ‘Would you mind taking this for me? It’s getting heavy.’

  Their route took them past the fountain with its stone statue of Neptune surrounded by prancing horses Bunny had so admired. Halfway along the Promenade with its various shops with their inviting window displays, a spatter of rain brought them to a halt on the pavement.

  ‘And we didn’t bring an umbrella,’ Flora said, dismayed as dark spots appeared on the flagstones, while benches emptied rapidly as their occupants made a dash for cover.

  ‘Come on, this way.’ Bunny shifted the parcel beneath one arm, grabbed her hand with the other and pulled her beneath a red and white striped awning of a gentlemen’s outfitters. ‘It doesn’t look as if it will last long. We’ll wait here until it passes.’

  Flora brushed raindrops from the shoulders of her powder blue coat, huddling closer to Bunny as more people crowded into their temporary shelter. A young woman in a black skirt and jacket with a straw boater on her brown curls joined them, breathless from her run to get out of the rain.

  ‘Amy? Amy Coombe?’ Flora raised her voice above the steady thrum of rain on the awning above their heads.

  The woman’s startled frown changed instantly to a broad smile of delighted recognition. ‘Miss Flora! Well, this is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you.’

  ‘We’re only here for the day to um-visit friends.’ She drew Bunny closer to include him in the conversation. ‘You remember Amy don’t you, Bunny? The housekeeper at Cleeve Abbey where I used to live?’

  ‘Of course, I do. How are you, Miss Coombe?’ Bunny tipped his hat.

  ‘You look as if you are on an errand.’ Flora indicated the beribboned box that hung from Amy’s hand. ‘As you can see I’ve been shopping.’ She nodded to where Bunny kept a firm grip on the needlework case, the brown paper wrapping darkened in places by raindrops.

  ‘It’s my afternoon off, so I’m going to visit my sister who’s in service in Fauconberg Road. She recently got engaged to their butler.’

  ‘That’s such good news, Amy. You must be excited?’ It seemed Amy’s sister too had risen above the abuses administered by their drunken father, whom many believed had killed Lily Maguire after an argument about the way he treated his children. Three years previously, Flora was at Cleeve Abbey looking for the truth about Riordan’s death, when Amy had told her the story of her mother’s disappearance as well as her own childhood at the hands of an abusive father. Lily Maguire, as she was known then, had tried to help Amy escape Sam Coombe, whose attack on Lily had resulted in her disappearance.

  ‘I am, Miss Flora. I’ve bought her a little something to celebrate.’ She held up a small parcel wrapped in candy-striped paper tied with a pink bow.

  ‘Have you considered marriage yourself, Amy? I can recommend it.’ She smiled at Bunny, who winked.

  ‘Not me, Miss Flora, I’m happy as I am.’ Amy’s pursed lips displayed her opinion of the idea. ‘I’m head housekeeper now since Hetty died,’ she said, referring to her predecessor.

  ‘I heard. Such sad news.’ Hetty had been the Cleeve Abbey chatelaine for three generations who had finally lost her grip on reality and spent her last weeks frightened and disoriented.

  ‘Indeed, though perhaps for the best,’ Amy said gently before her face brightened. ‘Oh, and thank you so much for your letter, Miss Flora. Who would have guessed Lily Maguire was alive after all these years? I spent half my life thinking my father had killed her. It was such a tonic hearing you’ve been in contact with her again.’

  ‘I knew you would want to know, as you were very fond of her all those years ago.’r />
  ‘Where had she been all this time?’ Amy’s eager expression rapidly faded. ‘Oh, beg pardon, Miss, it’s not my place to ask, but I’ve always wondered what happened to her. Has she changed much?’

  ‘I cannot tell, Amy. I was only six when she disappeared. I barely knew her.’

  ‘Ah, yes of course.’ Amy flushed a deep red. ‘Even so, I’m really happy for you both. And you have a baby now. A little boy?’

  ‘Arthur, yes. He’s a year old and growing every day.’

  ‘How lovely. Are we to expect you up at the Abbey today? We had no word you were coming?’

  ‘Er no, not with Lord and Lady Trent away. We only came for the day.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Amy’s brown eyes widened, her head on one side inviting further explanation.

  ‘Actually, we called in at Thompson’s Haberdashery, only to discover Sylvia Thompson had died recently.’ Beside her, Bunny gave an expressive cough, but she refused to look at him.

  ‘I heard about that.’ Amy shook her head sadly. ‘Such a shame, and so sudden.’

  ‘It must have been a terrible blow to her son.’ Flora adopted a vague expression she hoped was convincing. ‘Did you know him at all?’

  ‘I knew Mrs Thompson, but I only saw Leo from a distance when he came to the Summer Fair with his mother. She was nice to me, polite like, but he didn’t pay me much attention. As you might imagine, a handsome young man like him wouldn’t pass the time with a housekeeper.’ Her tone might have been sarcastic coming from anyone else, but this pronouncement was delivered without resentment.

  ‘When was this?’ Flora asked.

  In August each year, Lord Trent threw open the grounds of Cleeve Abbey to the townsfolk for a summer fair, a tradition begun during the previous incumbent’s time. Intended as an afternoon of outdoor games with a beer tent for estate workers, it had expanded over the years into an annual festival with sideshows, art exhibitions, pet shows and cake competitions attended by the entire district.