Florence Nightingale Comedy Mysteries Box Set Page 25

  He seemed to be assembling his memories. “Another lady unknown to me had come in while I was tending to a request for tea service. The strange woman met with our corset maker, Mrs. Medici, in the very front of the salon, which is unusual. The woman conducted herself as if she was pressed for time and wished to depart in great haste. The two ladies spoke in whispers, but never did sit nor sip the tea Mrs. Medici had requested.”

  “Did Mrs. Dupree spend any time with them?” Florence asked.

  “Madam was gone at that point. In any event, she would not have met with them had she been in the shop. Mrs. Dupree only takes the time to review Mrs. Medici’s sketches once a gown has been commissioned or if the undergarment is to be sewn into the dress.” He squinted as if trying to recall the details of the meeting. “I thought it odd for the woman to see the corset maker as I was certain she had never set foot in the shop before that day. Occasionally a lady may order a…” he stammered, “an undergarment without commissioning a dress, but those things are done in private, not in the open salon.”

  “Do you recall what the stranger looked like?” Florence asked.

  He shook his head. “I was concerned with the absence of Mrs. Dupree and I am sorry to say, I gave the visitor nothing more than a cursory glance.” Again he looked to the upper right. “I do recall she was tall, finely dressed, and had light hair—blonde perhaps.”

  I looked past him, fearing Granny might be running out of steam. How long could she hold that gorilla at bay with her chatter?

  “The stranger remained for such a brief period that I am certain there was no discussion of a dress. After a dozen years of serving as Mrs. Dupree’s butler one gets a sense of the timing of such things.” He blushed a bright crimson. “If there was a dress in the planning they would have removed themselves to meet in private, but the woman acted intolerant and at times even raised her voice. She stayed for about one-quarter of one hour and then rushed out the door.”

  “Would the young lady looking at the ribbons have been visible to Mrs. Medici and her client?” Florence asked in a soft whisper.

  The butler cut his eyes to the salon where the talking had ceased. When he looked back there was trepidation in his eyes. “I was not in the room and so had no way of knowing. The young lady had vanished when I returned,” he said and then quickly changed the topic and the tone of his voice. “Yes, madam. I can bring tea and cakes to your mistress,” he said. The butler then scurried away as Mr. Harley stomped into the hall.

  Chapter 16

  Snarling like a guard dog coming upon burglars, Mr. Harley said, “Your mistress is trying my patience. I am leaving her in the care of Miss Nancy who will measure her, as that has yet to be done and I should not be in the room when she disrobes. Once the old woman’s sizes are recorded Miss Nancy will return to supervising the workers.”

  He glanced at the retreating butler, raising one eyebrow in curiosity as if sensing some minor mischief was afoot. “Miss Anna is Mrs. Dupree’s assistant. I am sending her to deal with the crone. I don’t know how you tolerate the old woman. She makes my teeth rattle!”

  By the look of his brown and black teeth, they rattled often and frequently in dark breakfast tea.

  “Let her tell Miss Anna what she wishes, I have neither the patience nor the time. Mrs. Throckmorten can return tomorrow to view the drawings after she has had a day to clear her fuzzy white head.”

  That was three remarks too many about my grandmother’s age. I had enough of his insulting Granny. Placing my hands on my hips I advanced upon him. How dare he? Mr. Harley was so huge I felt as if I was approaching a mountain in Scotland, but I could not stop myself. About to let him have a piece of my mind, I was cut off by Florence who stood between us. She had cautioned me about my temper and how it often led to my spilling of the beans. Once fired up I had a tendency to share everything that was on my mind. I backed down and let her take over.

  “May we watch the seamstresses work, for their precision is enthralling?” Florence asked most politely.

  “They do not like to be observed. It makes them nervous,” he squinted his eyes looking at me suspiciously. “Gawking slows down stitching, Mrs. Dupree—my aunt would never allow it in the workroom. You must leave this hall and join your mistress in the salon. Perhaps you can help her make some decisions if she continues to flounder, which is most annoying. I will expect payment for my wasted time.”

  It was just as well that we did not stand over the seamstresses; their loyalty to Mrs. Dupree was not what the butler assumed; they were looking out for themselves. Concocting a plan to escape without a thought for their employer’s safety showed they were neither a part of Mr. Harley’s gang of Chartists nor held any loyalty to Mrs. Dupree.

  Athena took that moment to begin chirping. Harley did a double take, one brow arched over his dark eyes. “Did you just say something?” The man had excellent hearing for his eyes went directly to Florence’s pocket.

  I feigned a spate of hiccups but there was no bluffing.

  “That is the sound of a bird. Have you a bird on your person?” he growled advancing on Florence. “We don’t allow pets in the shop with all these fine silks and satins!”

  “It is not exactly a bird…Athena is a guard owl.” Florence said, placing her hands protectively over her pocket. “She is a unique weapon for a lady’s protection. All the finest ladies are now carrying owls.”

  Harley’s eyeballs spun, trying to come to grips with Florence’s disclosure. I watched his face run through a series of gyrations, each one more comical than the last.

  Florence continued, “Right now Athena is hungry. I don’t suppose you have any mice, perhaps caught in traps?”

  “Does this look like the sort of emporium that would tolerate mice?” Harley was quickly running out of patience. “Finish your business, then take your owl and your dowager and leave.”

  “With your manners it is a wonder you have any trade at all,” Florence said with a menacing touch to her voice. “Mrs. Dupree shall be informed of your efforts to drive away business. She would never tolerate your outrageous behavior to her clients.”

  “You are a fine one to speak of outrageous when you carry an owl in your pocket!” He mumbled “odd bird” but not quietly enough. “Now, join your mistress in the salon and allow me to get to work!” Harley snapped.

  Florence and I were summarily escorted back into the salon. Granny sat in an armless chair, her skirts wilting around her, her hair sticking out like pinfeathers on a mangy chicken.

  Miss Nancy stormed from the room, barking at Mr. Harley as if she were married to him. I made a note of her behavior, guessing they must be husband and wife. Was that relevant to our investigation? It might be. I noted that Mrs. Medici was not to be seen. She must be a lady of low tolerance to make such a hasty exit from the shop.

  While I checked Granny’s pulse, Florence walked to the ribbon cabinet and stood behind it pretending to study the colorful display. Mr. Harley lingered a moment, watching her suspiciously and then left. Did he suspect her of mouse napping?

  Miss Anna arrived to sketch Granny’s ideas for her gown. My grandmother’s playacting had taken its toll on her but she assembled herself as best she could and began to instruct the designer as to what her ideal gown would look like.

  While Granny occupied the seamstress, who might or might not be a Chartist plotting against the Queen, Florence and I sniffed around looking for clues as to what poor Lady Julia had by chance heard and seen. From behind the ribbon counter, in the alcove, it might have been possible to overhear the conversation taking place between Mrs. Medici and the unidentified lady.

  Claiming fatigue, Granny requested we leave. Florence agreed whispering that she was satisfied with the information she had gathered. I had surreptitiously written a few clues in my journal so we could discuss them before we met with the Queen.

  Each of us took one more look about the room, confirming there was nothing we had missed except for the fact that we had not l
ocated Mrs. Dupree. Satisfied we did our best under the circumstances, Granny sent Miss Anna to inform Mr. Harley that we were leaving. It was best to make a hasty exit before he insisted on payment for his so valuable time. Once the designer was dispatched, we dashed to the front door eager to make our escape without encountering the big lug, for goodness knew what he would require of us.

  Of all the people in England, who should we barrel into as the three of us rushed out the shop door, but Roger Broadribbs! Stunned we stood silently staring at him. It was a moment frozen in time as our decampment was ruined.

  “Ladies!” boomed Harley’s voice from behind us. “I require payment for the time you have wasted!” He stomped toward us as we gathered our skirts and pushed our way out the door.

  Granny had shoved Roger from her path, but now she turned and wriggled between Florence and me. “Send the bill to me at Brown’s Hotel!” she yelped and then scampered down the steps and into the carriage.

  “Brown’s?” Roger said, clearly impressed with the address and spoke much too loudly. “Since when can you afford such a fine emporium? And what are you doing here?” The nosy parker went on as if he could not tell we were hotfooting it from the shop. He never was good at recognizing an escape when it was occurring.

  Mr. Harley was close on our heels. “I shall do that, Mrs. Throckmorten, he hollered after Granny. You society people have no respect for the valuable time of the working class. Don’t come back unless you are ready to make a decision!” With his personality it was a good thing for Mrs. Dupree that he was not really in charge of her shop.

  There was a brief moment when it seemed we were all suspended in midair; then despite being dressed as a gentleman and even wearing a day coat and vest, Roger seemed to shoot fire from his eyes as he launched himself through the door. “You will apologize to these ladies for your tone of voice immediately or I shall beat you to within an inch of your life.” I was impressed at his nerve but doubted his follow through.

  It was both brave and foolhardy of him to confront a man who loomed over him, but Roger had spent his entire life preparing for this moment. He bubbled over with excitement since he was about to defend me, Miss Poppy Throckmorten.

  When Mr. Harley had the audacity to laugh at my Derbyshire knight in a top hat that was all the provocation Roger needed. He landed a lucky punch on the ox’s muzzle and just like that Mr. Harley dropped to the floor. He must have possessed a glass nose.

  “Let us get out of here!” Florence said. We were off and running out the door toward Moon, who stood by the carriage wearing an expression of utter surprise. He helped Florence and me into the carriage in a mad tumble of crinolines and petticoats. Granny had already taken a seat. She scrunched down, shielding her face from view.

  “Do you have a hansom cab?” I called to Roger as Moon closed the carriage door.

  “No. I came by foot.”

  That would not do at all. Harley would most certainly catch and question him. Motioning Roger to get into our carriage—fast, I gave Moon an apologetic look recalling the bad blood between the two young men. “We will be taking Mr. Broadribbs with us! Hurry away from the curb!”

  We were off down the road before Mr. Harley could recover from Roger’s punch. I doubted it was the strength of the blow but more the surprise that knocked the gorilla to his knees. Either way, I was impressed although I tried not to show it. No need to encourage Roger.

  “Mr. Broadribbs where are you staying? We will bring you to your quarters,” Florence said.

  Poor Roger looked both pleased with himself and dazed. “Who was that lug I just walloped?”

  “Never you mind!” Florence said. “It was a good effort, well done. But now we must return you to your hotel for I fear we might be followed. I recommend that you lay low during your visit to the City for Harley has no reason to welcome the sight of you.”

  Roger held his top hat in his left hand, while he scratched his ear with his right. “Mrs. Throckmorten said you were staying at Brown’s. I have heard it is a fine hotel. Let me come with you for I deserve to see the interior after socking that bully. You can consider it my reward.”

  Florence shook her head, half smiling at his naiveté. “That you cannot do, Mr. Broadribbs. Now that you mention it, how did you happen upon us at the fashion shop? It seems to be more than a coincidence.”

  He didn’t dare look me in the eyes but directed his answer to Florence. “On a recent visit to Evensong, Mrs. Throckmorten…” he nodded at Granny, “the other Mrs. Throckmorten, mentioned her concern for Poppy—Miss Throckmorten being invited to Buckingham Palace on some sort of mysterious business. She requested I look in on her and see to her safety.”

  “Roger we have only been gone from Derbyshire for less than three days. You could not have met with my parents and responded to their request in such a short time.” I locked my eyes on his. “Mr. Broadribbs, you are following me. Stop it!” I tried not to raise my voice for fear Moon would hear me.

  “You think I did not notice the footman?” Roger looked pleased with himself. “What would your parents say if they discovered you are flirting with a servant?”

  I cringed as his words struck home. What was I to do?

  Chapter 17

  We dropped Roger at a small hotel, just off Charing Cross, where he had rented a room. Stepping from the carriage my would-be hero lingered while holding the door open. Moon asserted his footman’s authority and pushed the carriage door closed, then jumped to the top of the coach.

  Roger continued to plead his case as he leaned in the open window, even as the coach began to roll away. Granny could tolerate no more. “Mr. Broadribbs, go to your hotel room, immediately. Stay there or return to Derbyshire. You place yourself in danger by being seen with us.”

  That was the wrong thing to say to a young man in search of a damsel in distress. I cut Granny a look that clearly said hush! But it was too late. The cat was out of the bag.

  “What danger is that?” Roger asked, now trotting alongside the carriage, fixing his bouncing eyes on me as if I had kept a secret from him. Okay. I did hold out, but that was beside the point.

  I saw a smile play around the corners of Florence’s mouth. It was clear she enjoyed watching Granny take charge, for my Grams acted like a tough little terrier, not to be swayed by a knight in a not so shiny top hat. Florence also knew Roger well enough to sense he would only be stimulated by Granny’s words.

  Finally, he could not keep up and dropped away, waving at us as the carriage picked up speed. Although he might suspect we were headed for Buckingham Palace because of Moon’s presence, he wouldn’t know for sure.

  Taking Athena from her pocket, Florence stroked her head and cooed to her. “You have been very patient little girl. We will soon have you watered and fed. You may sit on my finger for the rest of the ride.”

  “Should I make a list for the Queen and Lord Melbourne of the things we have learned this day? I have made notes for myself,” I said.

  “Yes, do prepare a schedule of suspicious words and deeds for there are a number of things that overlap. If we separate them and then bring them together in groups of actions rather than chronological order it will help us understand what we have seen and heard.” Florence leaned over poking her finger at me as I withdrew my journal and penlet and began to write.

  “Wait! Wait!” Granny said. “Am I not due felicitations for my acting? Did I not keep that nitwit so off balance he paid no attention to what you were both about?”

  I leaned over, put my arm around my dear grandmother and thanked her. “You are worth your weight in pretty ribbons. Forgive us for not acknowledging that we could not have done our sleuthing had you not kept Mr. Harley and Miss Nancy occupied. You were utterly obnoxious.”

  Nodding in agreement, Florence continued. “If ever there were awards for distractions you, Mrs. Throckmorten would take the cake. Now let us begin collecting our thoughts and impressions for we shall report to the Queen the moment she grants us an
audience.”

  She indicated for me to begin writing, which I did.

  “I shall dictate them in order of importance. Number one —Mrs. Dupree has gone missing. Number two—her staff is being held captive,” Florence paused, nibbling on her lower lip. “I believe these two things have a bearing on what Lady Julia may have heard. Do you agree?”

  Granny pumped her hand up and down in the air. “I do! I do!”

  Without raising my hand, I said, “I do, too.”

  “Do we think the Chartists are behind a plan to assassinate the Queen?” I asked. Just speaking the words gave me the shivers.

  “There is no doubt in my mind that the Queen is in danger,” Florence said. “Lady Julia died trying to warn Her Majesty of something she heard at the dress shop. It had to be about a death threat.”

  A deep sigh escaped Florence’s lips. “I am afraid my first intuits were right. Discarding the physical evidence of the blood on her hands, my sense of things is that it all circles back to Lady Beryl. It seems too stupid, too ill-timed that she would murder Lady Julia on the Queen’s doorstep on impulse or anger. She had to be aware of what the victim heard and she had to be the killer.” Again she paused to nibble her lip, shaking her head as if arguing with her own thoughts. “If it were a Chartist’s plot then that would make Lady Beryl a Chartist.”

  Florence sat back in the carriage unhappy with her own conclusion. “Why would a lady with Lady Beryl’s background support the working classes? She has done nothing more than lift a hairpin for her entire life; she could no more identify with the plight of the workers than she could with the ants beneath her feet.” She shook her head again and muttered something to herself, then spoke aloud. “I can’t see her killing over the rights of the poor. It just does not add up.”