A Knightsbridge Scandal Page 13

  Flora didn’t doubt it but waited in silence, rewarded when Sally hunched her shoulders and leaned closer.

  ‘That Miss Grey mentioned Harriett Parker Academy in Lowndes Square. The maids downstairs said it was a school where the gentry sent their daughters. It’s only a couple of streets away from here.’

  ‘Ah yes, that was it. I remember now.’ Flora wondered if the fact Evangeline worked and was killed within the same neighbourhood was significant. ‘I met Miss Lange’s brother today, who confirmed it was her. He was very upset.’

  ‘Her brother?’ Sally jerked upright. ‘How did you happen to meet him then?’

  ‘That’s not important.’ She decided not to reveal she had got into a hansom with a strange man outside a police station. ‘He doesn’t think much of Inspector Maddox, so I agreed to let him know if I found out anything.’

  ‘What are you going to do? Visit this school and ask questions?’ Sally’s eyes sparkled at the notion. ‘Like a detective?’

  ‘I’m hardly that, but it’s a good place to begin. After all, wouldn’t it be kinder to let Miss Lydia know what had happened to her friend before Evangeline’s name found its way into the newspapers, along with all the other lurid details which journalists were so fond of?’

  ‘That Inspector bloke won’t be too pleased if he finds out.’

  ‘Probably not. But I don’t intend to tell him.’

  ‘Shall I come with you to this school?’ Sally twisted a strand of hair around her finger, her excitement growing.

  ‘If it’s close by, that won’t be necessary.’

  ‘This ain’t Richmond, Miss Flora. You can’t just walk about the streets on your own. What would Mr Bunny say?’

  Flora was about to remind her Mr Bunny wasn’t there, but there was William to consider. He might not like the idea of her venturing alone in the either. ‘Oh, all right. You can come.’

  *

  According to the Baedeker’s guide Flora unearthed in William’s library, Lowndes Square, was indeed only a short walk along Knightsbridge, with a left turn at William Street which led into the square.

  She left the apartment for the second time that day, this time with Sally. The rain had ceased, though the streets were still foggy. Figures loomed out of the mist at the last second and inanimate objects took on a sinister bent, making her glad she had agreed to take Sally with her. The grey pavements glistened and water dripped from the trees in the central railed garden, while the muted sound of unseen traffic reached her from the main road.

  Twice on the short walk from the apartment Flora had the feeling someone was walking behind her but when she glanced back, all she could see was a wall of yellowish mist.

  ‘What’s wrong, Miss Flora?’ Sally asked, peering into the gloom. ‘What can you see?’

  ‘Nothing really.’ Flora shivered. ‘It was a feeling, that’s all. I hate this fog, it makes me imagine things.’

  The school occupied a smart four-storey townhouse in a terrace of similar properties in the square; the central railed garden exuding a sense of genteel prosperity. Flora conjured a pleasing image of the pupils sitting over their sketch pads or poetry books on summer afternoons. Would they appreciate their privileged youth when they became women and life offered them far weightier concerns? Most likely not, she hitched her skirt and mounted the short flight of steps to where a bell sat beside a brass plaque that read Harriet Parker Academy For Young Ladies.

  A harsh jangle from inside sent momentary panic through her. What excuse could she give for intruding on Miss Grey’s place of work? She hardly knew her, and curiosity apart, she had never met Evangeline. Before Flora could change her mind and retreat, the door was flung open by a uniformed maid.

  ‘I wonder if I might speak to—’ but she got no further.

  ‘Do come in, Miss.’ She beckoned Flora into a tiled entrance hall that smelled of linseed and lavender. ‘I expect it’s Miss Lowe you’ll be wanting, Miss. The headmistress?’ Little more than a schoolgirl, her uniform was bunched loosely around the bodice, her narrow shoulders overwhelmed by voluminous mutton leg sleeves.

  ‘Well, actually no, I wished to—’ Flora began, but the maid ushered them inside, still chattering. ‘We’ve had a terrible upset here this afternoon, Miss.’ Her mop of curls beneath a frilled cap bobbed as she talked. ‘Miss Lowe is in the common room with a police inspector just now, but I’m sure she wouldn’t want me to be impolite to a prospective parent.’

  ‘This policeman, his name isn’t Maddox by any chance?’ Flora asked glancing fearfully at Sally, who shrugged.

  ‘Why yes, Miss.’ The girl’s eyes widened in admiration. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It’s unimportant, though perhaps I should call at another time? I don’t want to inconvenience this, er Miss Lowe did you say?’

  ‘Miss Lowe always insists new parents are to be shown into her office straight away. I’ll just let her know you’re here.’

  Flora opened her mouth to object, but the distinctive low tone of Inspector Maddox reached her from a room to her left. ‘If either you or any of your staff recall anything which might be relevant, Miss Lowe, you might put in a call to me at Cannon Row.’

  Flora calculated that even if she managed to get the front door open again in time, the chances of being seen leaving the building were high. She would never make it to the corner of the square undetected. ‘Where is Miss Lowe’s office?’ she asked the maid in an urgent whisper.

  ‘Upstairs, Miss. This way.’ The maid set off towards an inner hall that stretched to the rear of the ground floor. Flora hurried after her, Sally at her heels to where an oak staircase in the style of the previous century curved upwards, ending at the roof where a glass lantern cast weak winter light onto the floors below.

  Not daring to look behind her, Flora gained the first landing with Sally close behind. At the sound of voices below, Flora ventured a peek over the balustrade where the top of the inspector’s hat was just visible on the floor below. The front door opened, throwing a rectangle of weak daylight onto the tiled floor, then a low female voice said, ‘Good day to you, Inspector.’

  ‘If you’ll wait in here, Miss.’ The maid opened a door at the end of the hall, one hand extended in invitation.

  ‘Oh, yes of course. Thank you.’ Gesturing Sally to follow, Flora entered a neat study with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to two walls. A rectangular oak desk faced a full-height window onto the square, two chairs set on one side and a more imposing one with arms and an upholstered back on the other.

  ‘I’m sure Miss Lowe won’t be long.’ The maid bobbed a curtsey and left, the door closing with a soft click.

  Sally went to the window and twitched the curtain aside, staring down into the street below.

  ‘Come away from there, he’ll see you,’ Flora whispered, then in a normal voice. ‘Has he gone?’

  ‘He’s getting into a carriage so he will be in a minute. There’s another bloke a bit further down, watching.’

  ‘Watching the Inspector?’ Flora’s curiosity got the better of her and she joined her at the window.

  A man in a charcoal grey overcoat and homburg hat stood half-hidden beneath a low-hanging branch on the other side of the road. The carriage carrying Inspector Maddox pulled away but the man remained where he was. Another policeman, or merely a curious resident?

  ‘He’s most likely just waiting for someone.’ Flora dismissed him, too relieved the inspector hadn’t seen her.

  ‘No he ain’t. He doesn’t want to be seen. I can tell.’

  ‘Isn’t,’ Flora murmured, not bothering to ask her how she knew. Sally liked to be enigmatic.

  Flora strolled the long bookshelf, her neck craned to read the titles on the leather spines of an eclectic collection that ranged from Jane Austen to Dickens. Ancient books with softened covers and faded gilt writing shared space with pristine volumes that might never have been opened. The Life of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, by Millicent Fawcett, jostled with a copy of Arnold
Bennett’s, Anna of the Five Towns, a novel which Bunny had presented to her on her last birthday.

  ‘This looks nice.’ Sally plucked a framed photograph from the desk and turned it towards Flora. A square white villa in a Mediterranean style emerged from swathes of tropical flowers. Despite the sepia tone on the picture, the scene gave sense of endless sunshine beneath a clear sky.

  ‘Don’t touch things!’ Flora took it from her, her eyes caught by the inscription beneath the image. The words, Le Palais de Sacchino, Biarritz in cursive script, together with a scrawled greeting she could not decipher, but which ended with a capital letter ‘N’.

  Flora indicated a small chair in the corner she hadn’t noticed when she entered. ‘Sit there, and when the headmistress arrives, you wait outside in the hall.’

  ‘Suits me.’ Sally rolled her eyes, just as the door opened with a firm click, revealing a tall lady in a grey gown who strode confidently into the room. Sally flicked a look at Flora, then bobbed a curtsey and eased past her into the hall.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ The newcomer’s eyes slid to the picture in Flora’s hand and back again to her face. ‘I’m Miss Helen Lowe. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance?’

  Flora judged her to be in her mid-thirties, with a wide, smooth brow above clear grey eyes, a straight nose and high cheekbones that were striking rather than pretty. The tight bun pinned to the back of her forehead accentuated the strong cheekbones and a broad forehead.

  ‘Mrs Harrington.’ Flora held out her free right hand, while with the other she returned the frame to the desk. ‘I couldn’t help but admire the house. It’s quite beautiful.’

  Miss Lowe flicked a glance at the frame, but her expression did not alter as she took Flora’s hand, her grip firm but brief, adding softly. ‘It is indeed. I spent holidays there when I was younger. Not now, though. Things have changed.’ She slid a printed leaflet across the desk towards Flora before taking her seat. ‘Have you read the school’s prospectus? You’ll find we run a comprehensive syllabus here, with emphasis on the arts, although we allocate time to mathematics and some sciences.’ She enunciated each word slowly and with careful precision as if English was not her first language.

  ‘I’m afraid there appears to have been a misunderstanding,’ Flora interrupted, summoning her most pleasing smile. ‘I’m not a parent. Well, not yet.’

  ‘Oh?’ Miss Lowe folded her hands on the top of her desk, pinning Flora with a stare. ‘I admit you do appear rather young, but I’ve learned not to make assumptions.’ Her handsome face split into a wide smile. ‘If you are seeking employment, I’m afraid we have a full complement—’

  ‘Uh no, that isn’t why I came. Although I used to be a governess.’ She did not add that Miss Lowe’s full complement was now minus one, which either had not yet registered or the lady was being tactful. ‘Had I not married, I would have welcomed an opportunity to teach at such a prestigious, school as this.’

  ‘Miss Lowe relaxed in her chair, her arms draped on the upholstered arms and regarded Flora levelly. ‘How kind.’ She spoke the words slowly, with an inclination of her head which implied flattery had no effect. ‘If you do not require either employment or enrolment, what can I do for you?’

  ‘I came to-’ she broke off as a female cry sounded from the hallway outside, followed by the sounds of distressed weeping and rapid footsteps.

  Miss Lowe looked up at the door and back again to Flora. ‘I apologize for the disturbance. I’m afraid I’ve had to announce some distressing news to the pupils and staff.’ She made a show of rearranging items on her desk as if playing for time in which to compose herself. ‘Now, what were you saying?’

  ‘I think I know what that was, Miss Lowe.’ Flora began, wondering how much she should reveal. ‘I had a conversation with Inspector Maddox this morning, about Evangeline Lange.’ Miss Lowe didn’t have to know it had been an entirely unsatisfactory one.

  ‘Ah, I see.’ Her slow nod was loaded with speculation. ‘You were, a friend of Miss Lange’s?’ Her words were innocuous but her penetrating grey eyes probed deeper.

  ‘We attended the same branch of the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies.’ It occurred to her Miss Lowe might also be a member and detect the lie, though her expression did not alter.

  ‘I got the impression the police only discovered her identity this morning, Mrs Harrington.’ That look again, surprise mixed with a heavy dose of mistrust. This woman wasn’t going to be easy to fool.

  ‘Miss Lange did not attend the meeting, at which her friends expressed concern. I found out about her unfortunate death through other channels, and knowing Miss Grey was a friend of hers, I came to inform her before she saw it in the newspapers. However, I appear to be too late.’

  ‘That’s very considerate, but I’m afraid the police were no kinder than the newspapers. The poor dear girl is quite distraught. I’ve left her in the common room with another teacher until she feels a little better.’

  ‘The police implied Miss Lange’s death might have had something to do with her suffrage activities. Is that something you agree with?’

  ‘That would be a dreadful indictment of our fellow man, would it not?’ Miss Lowe’s expression changed from dismay to resignation. ‘Although, I’ve had occasion to reprimand Evangeline for discussing votes for women with the older pupils. I hold similar views on the role of women in society, though I advocate caution as far as my pupils are concerned or risk ostracizing their parents, who wouldn’t hesitate in removing them from the school.’

  ‘I quite understand.’ Flora smiled, though this sounded more a well-rehearsed speech than a personal opinion. ‘I expect Miss Lange’s fiancé will be distraught.’

  ‘Ah yes, Mr Flynn.’ She drew the words out slowly. ‘I haven’t met the young man, but as a friend of Evangeline’s,’ she paused for a heartbeat, her stare unwavering, ‘you’ll be aware he was the topic of wide speculation when their engagement was announced.’

  ‘Did Evangeline confide in you regarding her engagement?’ Flora aimed for nonchalance but doubt she succeeded. Miss Lowe continued to regard her. I heard she was having second thoughts.’

  ‘Not specifically. She did mention that her parents had certain expectations of her which she found burdensome, none of which involved the suffrage movement.’ She folded her arms on the desk, her chin jutted towards Flora; a stance she imagined worked well on her pupils. ‘I’m sorry, did you say you were a friend of Evangeline’s?’ Her eyes clouded with suspicion. ‘I’ve just spent a half hour answering similar questions posed by the police.’

  ‘Not as such, but I am curious. You see, Miss Lange was found in an alley quite close to where I am staying. We’ve had the police crawling over the apartment building asking all sorts of questions. When I discovered who she was, well, as you can imagine, as a member of the NUWSS-’ Flora left the rest to Miss Lowe’s imagination.

  ‘I see, and maybe you were right about Mr Flynn.’ Miss Lowe rose and went to a bell pull beside the fireplace. ‘One of the drawbacks of employing young women is that their minds are either clouded with thoughts of a love attachment or crying over the loss of one. In fact I am presently dealing with just such a situation with a member of my staff.’

  Seconds after she had resumed her seat, the chirpy maid who had shown Flora in reappeared at the door.

  ‘Ah, Chloe,’ Miss Lowe looked up with a smile. ‘Would you ask Miss Grey to come to my office? She has a visitor.’

  ‘I don’t wish to cause Lydia any further distress.’ Flora started to rise.

  ‘Nonsense.’ Miss Lowe waved her back into her seat, while at the same time dismissing Chloe. ‘The entire school has already been disrupted. Miss Lange was a popular teacher and everyone is too upset to work, so I intend to send the girls home. Lydia needs a sympathetic face at such a time. I’m sure she would be pleased to see you.’

  Flora resumed her seat with the strange thought Miss Lowe was teasing her. Then there was the possi
bility Lydia might not be pleased to see her at all, not after just one meeting.

  Seconds passed as they waited, during which Flora searched for a subject which might help dispel the oppressive silence. The framed photograph of the villa caught her eye once more; its impression of blue seas and darkened rooms behind pulled blinds in the midday sunshine appealed.

  ‘You seem quite taken with that photograph, Mrs Harrington.’

  ‘Do I?’ Flora fidgeted. ‘It is rather beautiful place, and yet not in England, I suspect. Do you know it well?’

  ‘I do.’ Miss Lowe’s eyes became guarded. ‘And indeed, Biarritz is very beautiful. The house belongs to my cousin. She’s older than I, but was always generous and invited me there whenever I wished. I have some wonderful memories.’

  ‘Your cousin still lives there?’ Flora hoped she was not treading on the lady’s sensibilities, or worse, her cousin was dead.

  ‘She does.’ Miss Lowe licked her lips slowly. ‘Unfortunately, her circumstances have made her a much sadder lady these days.’ She broke off as the door opened again to admit Lydia, whose red-rimmed eyes brightened at the sight of Flora.

  ‘Flora!’ She strode forward, a handkerchief clutched tightly in one fist. ‘What are you doing here?’ Her bright red-gold curls had been tamed and swept off her heart-shaped face in a smooth style. Her navy-blue mutton sleeved dress with only a touch of white at her neckline and cuffs was a more formal look that made her look younger.

  ‘I heard about Evangeline.’ Flora relaxed at Lydia’s enthusiasm, grateful she was not about to be denounced. ‘I came to say how sorry I am.’

  ‘I can hardly believe she’s been killed.’ Lydia’s face crumpled and she gave a wet sniff. ‘And in such an awful, violent way. I knew something was wrong when she didn’t come to the meeting, especially when Harry said he expected her too. Then her father marching in like that, demanding-’ she broke off to emit another, grief-laden sob.

  ‘I’ll leave you two to talk.’ Miss Lowe pushed back from the desk, and rose.

  Flora reached the door before she had got it fully open. ‘Miss Lowe?’ Flora lowered her voice. ‘Should you have occasion to talk to Inspector Maddox again, might I ask you not to mention my visit today?’