The Bloomsbury Affair

by Anita Davison

  ‘Whatever makes you think so?’ Flora’s hand stilled on her hatpin.

  ‘Well, stands to reason, like.’ Sally clutched the linens to her diminutive chest. ‘The only visitor he’s seen since he arrived is Inspector Maddox and he stayed in his room while you were downstairs with Lady Jocasta. Then he spends the rest of the time moonin’ about the place with his chin on the floor. You and Mr Bunny are poking about in another murder, aren’t you?’

  ‘It’s a complicated situation, Sally and hard to explain.’ Flora pretended to adjust her hat, her eyes averted from her maid’s reflection in the glass. She had never been able to successfully lie to her maid. Sally was too sharp for that.

  ‘I know what’s going on, because Mr Bunny never keeps a newspaper for more’n a day.’ Sally huffed an impatient breath. ‘Now there’s three copies of The Times and two Evening Standards on his desk, all opened to an article about a murder at Paddington Stat—’

  ‘All right, Sally.’ Flora lowered her arms, resigned. You mustn’t say a word to anyone about murders, or mention Lord Edward is staying here, do you understand?’

  ‘Course I do. Stokes has already warned the staff to keep shtum. Did his lordship kill that man?’ Her round brown eyes widened in excitement rather than shock. Sally’s claim to notoriety was having been born in Flower and Dean Street, where two of Jack the Ripper’s victims lived. That the area had been demolished before Sally was born did nothing to reduce her pride in her origins.

  ‘He certainly did not!’ Flora inhaled sharply. ‘I’m not going to discuss this with you now as I’m about to go out. Would you ask Stokes to have the motor car brought round?’ As Sally turned to go, she added, ‘On second thoughts, as you’re so interested, you can get your coat and accompany me.’

  ‘That’s more like it. Won’t be a mo.’ Grinning, Sally hurried off down the hall. Ed wasn’t the only one who hated being stuck in the house all day.

  Her maid’s footsteps had barely receded when a noise made Flora glance up to where Ed leaned over the bannister, his sandy hair flopped forward partly obscuring his face.

  ‘Has she gone?’

  ‘Who? Sally?’ At his frustrated sigh, she gasped, ‘Oh, Ed, I’m sorry. I completely forgot. Jocasta left a while ago.’

  ‘And you left me up there?’ He stomped down the remaining steps, his gaze sliding from her toes to her hat. ‘You’re going out? What about luncheon?’

  ‘I’ll have something later.’ In response to his raised eyebrows, she added, ‘Ah, I see, you meant you?’ Though by his blank look, her sarcasm had been wasted. ‘Don’t worry, you won’t starve. Stokes has his instructions and he’s been made aware you don’t like cabbage.’

  ‘I just wish I didn’t have to stay here.’ He slumped down onto the last step, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands. ‘How many times can I read about a rabbit in a blue coat and stay sane? It’s not as if Arthur appreciates it; he giggles in all the wrong places.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ed, but it cannot be avoided.’ The distress in his voice scraped at her heart. The optimistic, fun-loving boy she once cared for had become a despondent young man in a matter of hours. Close up, she could see purple smudges beneath his eyes. Had he slept at all since his arrival?

  ‘Where are you going anyway?’ He pressed his face against the balusters.

  ‘Your sister recommended a couture house she frequents.’

  ‘What?’ His jaw dropped. ‘You’re going to buy a new dress? That’s a bit rum. You might at least spend the time looking for clues or something.’

  ‘I’m not going with the intention of buying clothes. I have an idea, but I need more information before I can discuss it with you.’

  ‘An idea about what? Come on, Flora, you cannot leave me hanging.’

  She shrugged into her coat. ‘Look, Ed.’ Her fingers worked their way down the row of buttons as she talked. ‘If I do learn anything, I promise you’ll be the first to know.’

  ‘I’m not really in any position to argue, am I?’

  ‘Precisely. And don’t be so petulant. I’m doing this for you.’

  ‘I know you are, but if you come back with a cardboard box with a pretentious name scrawled across it, I shall be most peeved.’

  She was about to protest but his cheeky grin revealed he was joking.

  ‘Couldn’t I come with you today?’ he wheedled. ‘I’ll stay in the motor car.’ When she frowned at him, he added, ‘I overheard Stokes tell Timms to bring the Berliet round.’

  ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea, Ed. What if Inspector Maddox found out? Look,’ she sighed at his disappointed expression, ‘there are some copies of The Strand Magazine in the study with some of Conan-Doyle’s detective stories. I know you like those. Try spending more time in there. You never know, you might even find something instructive which might help in preparation for your next term at Balliol.’

  ‘You’re not my governess any more, Flora.’ He pushed himself to his feet and descended the last few steps, where he stood slouched against the newel post, his arms crossed over his chest.

  ‘It’s a hard habit to break. Also, I cannot believe how quickly you forgot all the things I taught you about manners and gratitude. You’re behaving like a peevish child at the moment.’

  ‘I don’t mean to be, especially when you’ve been so kind in helping me. I’ll try to behave better, but have you any idea how frustrating it is being stuck here. I want to be out there helping you find out who killed Leo?’

  ‘I sympathize, but—’ She met his gaze. ‘You called him Leo, not Mr Thompson. I noticed you did that before.’

  ‘Did I?’ He shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Not really, but – well, never mind.’ Perhaps it was more common these days to use someone’s first name so soon after meeting them. ‘Incidentally, Jocasta expects you to stay with her this week. We don’t want her calling Cleeve Abbey and finding out you aren’t there.’

  ‘Cripes, what do I do?’ He pushed a hand through his hair, making the front stand on end ‘I know. I could say I ran into Stinky Baines and decided to stay with him instead. His parents are away in the South of France until the end of June.’

  ‘I assume Stinky isn’t his real name?’ Flora paused in the act of pulling on a glove. ‘Or shouldn’t I ask?’

  ‘It’s a funny story, actually. He loves cheese, so his parents would send him packets of the stuff throughout term which he always kept in—’

  ‘I get the gist, Ed. Thank you.’ She gave an exaggerated shudder, briefly pondering the strange proclivities of schoolboys. ‘Do the Baines’ have a telephone?’

  ‘I expect so, why?’

  ‘Don’t leave your sister to worry. Call her and explain you’ve decided to stay with him instead. Apologize for not contacting her before and say you have been too busy and now you have a cold or something.’

  ‘That’s a spiffing idea. Jo hates germs. If she thinks I’m ill, she’ll ban me from going within a mile of her. But what if she insists on calling a doctor or sending her maid round with calves’ foot jelly or some equally awful concoction?’

  ‘Keep it brief, and if the conversation becomes awkward, complain the line is noisy and hang up.’

  ‘Oh, all right.’ He trailed back upstairs again, his sulky expression reminding her of the boy she spent a week with at sea on the SS Minneapolis in pursuit of a murderer. As the drama unfolded, their closeness developed into a strong bond. Now another murder had thrown them together again. This time less an exercise in deduction than a matter of keeping Ed’s reputation intact. Not to mention his life. The responsibility weighed heavily, especially if Ed was tried for murder. Lord and Lady Trent would be devastated and have every reason to accuse them of mishandling the situation.

  Sally approached along the hall, her head cocked to where Ed’s footsteps could still be heard above them. ‘Will his lordship be all right? He’s been that tetchy this morning.’

  ‘He’s frustrated. I doubt I’ll be abl
e to keep him indoors much longer.’

  ‘I’m glad to be getting out m’self, if truth be known.’ Sally pulled a soft-crowned velvet hat on over her dark curls, squashing them. ‘I ain’t never been to one of them coo-chure houses.’

  ‘Haven’t ever been,’ Flora corrected her. Either Sally had remarkable hearing or she had eavesdropped. How else would she know about The House of Joel?

  ‘The new girl, Jessie, is getting on me nerves.’ Sally followed Flora along the tiled front path to where Timms waited at the open door of the motor car. ‘She’s a bit simple, if you ask me. I asked her four times this morning to make me a cup of tea and she just stared at me as if I was talking Dutch.’

  ‘It’s not her job to make you tea, Sally.’ Flora climbed into the rear seat, where she waited patiently for her maid to settle before giving Timms an approximate address for The House of Joel.

  ‘What do you hope to find at this coo-chure house then?’ Sally asked when Timms had pulled into the road.

  She had hoped to keep Sally away from Ed’s trouble, partly because he was family but mainly because the last investigation she had been involved in had almost cost Sally her life, though one look at Sally’s face told her she was not going to be put off easily.

  ‘I told you it was complicated.’ Flora sighed, resigned. ‘One of the witnesses we spoke to mentioned a lady in a red coat similar to something Jocasta wore. When I asked her about it, she said the design was exclusive to a fashion house. I’m going to take a look and see if there’s a connection.’

  ‘A red coat?’ Sally wrinkled her nose in mild disgust. ‘Is that all the clue you’ve got?’

  ‘Unfortunately, yes. As I told you, it’s a difficult situation.’ Sally’s obvious disdain made her realize how tenuous the link was. ‘It’s worth a try. Anyway,’ she slanted Sally a teasing sideways look, ‘I’m surprised you’re not more concerned about leaving Jessie with Abel? It’s thirsty work building walls. I doubt he’ll need to ask her to fetch him tea more than once.’

  ‘What choo implyin’, madam?’ Sally’s tone was just the right side of respect. ‘My Abel’s not fickle.’

  ‘I didn’t say he was. But are you willing to take the risk?’

  ‘Hah! Don’t you worry ’bout him. I’ve got his measure.’ Sally jutted her chin belligerently and stared out of the side window. ‘And hers.’

  Chapter 11

  Timms guided Bunny’s Berliet into a neat double-fronted Georgian house in Albemarle Street. A set of gleaming black railings led up to a black front door, a discreet brass plaque on the wall beside the bell push proclaimed it as The House of Joel.

  A fair young woman with a winsome smile answered Flora’s knock. She wore a tailored grey skirt and crisp white blouse, her honey gold hair drawn back into a neat, unfussy coil at the back of her head.

  ‘I’m Miss Renee Joel. All our patrons call me Miss Renee.’ She thrust out a slender hand that Flora took after brief hesitation, having mistaken her for a junior member of staff. ‘Is this your first visit, Mrs Harrington?’ Miss Renee glanced at the calling card Flora handed her.

  ‘It is. My cousin, Lady Jocasta Fitzhugh, recommended your establishment.’

  ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to assist you.’ Miss Joel dimpled charmingly. ‘Lady Jocasta is a frequent and valued patron.’

  Flora didn’t doubt it.

  Flora and Sally were shown into a cream and white salon with an abundance of gilt mirrors and delicate French-style furniture on a deep blue rug. The only concession to business being the desk set in one corner, displaying an open appointment book beside a vase of fuchsias. The whole house smelled of new paint and beeswax polish.

  Flora wandered to the full-height window that overlooked the street which gave her a clear view of Timms, who leaned on the car bonnet, his arms folded. Two young ladies in straw hats and skirts swaying round their ankles approached. Their steps slowed as they drew level with the handsome chauffeur, heads close together and cheeks flushed pink as they whispered behind their hands. The chauffeur inclined his head and smiled at them in flirtatious acknowledgment. Flora’s lips twitched as she turned away from the window and took the seat Miss Renee indicated on the sofa. Sally perched on an upright chair in the corner, her feet together and her hands clasped in her lap.

  ‘How might we be of service today?’ Miss Renee asked.

  ‘I admired one of your designs recently, of a rather distinctive coat.’ Flora described the red coat Dr Billings had told her about. ‘I would like to own a similar garment.’

  ‘The chevron motif is a feature of our autumn collection.’

  Flora’s pulse quickened, encouraged by the fact Miss Renee knew which design she referred to.

  ‘However, the item to which you refer was a one-off piece commissioned by another client.’ Her eyes softened in regret. ‘It cannot be replicated.’

  ‘How disappointing.’ Her excitement dissolved. ‘Would you be prepared to reveal for whom you made the coat?’

  ‘I’m not sure I ought to—’ Miss Renee broke off, flushing.

  ‘I asked,’ Flora smoothed down her skirt while conjuring a credible reason for her request, ‘because I’m due to attend a house party quite soon. One of the guests also patronize your establishment and if I were to wear the same motif in her company, it might prove embarrassing. For both of us.’

  ‘I can see that might be difficult.’ Miss Renee worried her bottom lip with small white teeth. ‘Perhaps, if it’s merely for reasons of discretion, I might make an exception. We made that particular garment for Lady Merivale.’

  Flora recalled a flamboyant woman in her late forties from a recent suffrage meeting she had attended. Short and plump, Lady Merivale was nothing like the woman Dr Billings had described.

  ‘An exclusive item you say?’ It was possible the lady had ordered the coat for a relative. If Flora’s memory served, Lady Merivale had a daughter in the late twenties. She stored the information away for future reference, though it wasn’t quite the breakthrough she had hoped for.

  ‘Lady Merivale is a very particular client,’ Miss Renee fidgeted. ‘Every item we make for her is exclusive. She’s most insistent.’ Apparently eager to avoid further talk of a client, Miss Renee retrieved a leather-bound folder from a nearby table. ‘Perhaps you’d like to browse our current designs? I’m confident you’ll find something you like. In the meantime, I’ll send Abigail to take your measurements.’

  ‘How kind, but perhaps on this occasion I won’t require—’

  ‘Wouldn’t hurt to take a look, would it, madam?’ Sally left her chair and crept across the carpet on silent feet, eyeing the book hungrily.

  Her discreet exit sabotaged, Flora hesitated. ‘Well, as I’m here, I suppose not.’

  Lulled into the comfortable atmosphere, and with both Sally and Miss Renee urging her on, time sped by as together they browsed through the plates. Jocasta had not exaggerated, The House of Joel produced unique and beautiful gowns which did not conform to the fashionable S-bend shape Flora found so uncomfortable. While Flora admired specific gowns, Miss Renee made skilful pencil sketches to illustrate subtle changes which could be made to suit Flora’s figure. Once Abigail had taken Flora’s measurements, other staff would arrive at intervals with samples of fabrics and trims for Flora’s examination.

  With the use of blatant flattery and Sally’s encouragement, Flora was persuaded to try on a cornflower blue organdie gown, the full skirt floated to her feet like a soft cloud.

  ‘This suits your colouring perfectly, madam.’ Miss Renee tweaked folds and adjusted buttons as she talked. ‘It brings out the green tinge in your eyes too. You are so slender, you could be one of our regular models. I doubt this gown would need much alteration to fit you.’

  ‘It would be perfect for Miss Lydia’s wedding.’ Sally hunched her shoulders excitedly, her hands clasped beneath her chin.

  ‘I admit, it’s stunning. And original.’ Flora fingered the bodice overlaid with delicate lace, t
wisting from side to side as she considered whether or not she dared buy it, when she knew deep down the battle was already won. ‘The wedding is tomorrow. Can the alterations be done in time?’

  ‘It’s minor work, which is well within the abilities of our seamstresses. Mrs Harrington.’

  ‘Then I’ll take it.’ Flora ran her hands down the skirt, hoping Bunny would regard the expense as justified in the name of investigative research.

  ‘What about the dusky pink one, madam?’ Sally hovered at her shoulder. ‘It would be perfect for the earl’s house party. Your uncle, the earl, would love to see you in that.’

  Flora raised her eyebrows, but Sally’s blatant showing off had an instant effect on Miss Renee, who sensing another lucrative sale, fluttered and gushed round her.

  ‘We’ll have to make the orchid pink gown from scratch which could be completed within a week.’

  Flora exchanged a conspiratorial look with Sally. ‘Why not?’

  The sale agreed, Miss Renee wrote up the appropriate documents, booked a fitting appointment for Flora’s second gown in four days and, amid thanks and gratitude all round, showed them to the door.

  ‘I rather enjoyed myself,’ Flora tugged on her gloves and started to descend the front steps. ‘More than I expected to, actually. It was almost worth finding out nothing about the coat.’

  ‘Madam,’ Sally nudged her. ‘There’s someone trying to get your attention.’

  Flora followed her gaze to the area steps, where Abigail, the girl who had taken her measurements ascended to street level.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she asked, hesitant, shooting a quick glance to the closed front door. ‘I heard you ask Miss Renee about the coat.’ She pressed a card into Flora’s hand. ‘The people here will be able to help you and for a more reasonable price.’ Without waiting for a response, she hurried back down the steps and disappeared through a door into the basement.

  ‘What’s it say?’ Sally peered over her shoulder as Flora examined the thin, slightly greyed piece of card.