Chapter Twenty-two

My modesty is once again endangered

The luxury of bathing is much underrated. I lay deep in a hot bath in the hotel where Richenda and I had been staying. As I had hoped, Hans had kept the suite on. Though when I turned up in a hackney cab in my dishevelled state it was rather touch and go as to whether they would let be back into the hotel at all. Fortunately, I had summoned the image of my mother at her haughtiest to mind and treated the reception staff with such contempt they doubtless thought I was a duchess travelling incognito. Or perhaps even minor royalty, I mused, dipping my head under the water and moving my head from side to side so my long locks flowed like a mermaid.³⁸

I sat up smoothing my hair, heavy with water, from my face. I could almost imagine those nights in the cell had been nothing but a bad dream. Then I heard the door of the suite open.

My heart, usually a most reliable organ, jumped into my mouth. It is only the maid, I told myself, but I was already looking around for whatever in a hotel bathroom might be used as a weapon.³⁹ My fingers reached for the bath plug. My modesty warred with my desire not to be drowned in my own bathwater. I heard footsteps outside the door.

‘Euphemia?’ called a familiar voice.

‘Oh, good heavens, Bertram. I am bathing!’

Then came the strangled sound of a gentleman in an unconscionable position. It was as if Bertram had swallowed his tongue and his neck tie all at once. After this came a gargling noise and that distinctive cough the well-educated male gives to show that he has realised he has committed a fatal breach of etiquette and is about to pretend it has not happened. ‘I will await you in the coffee room downstairs,’ he said in uneven tones. Then I heard the sound of footsteps fleeing.

Every maidenly bone in my body should have been shocked, but I could not help it. Laughter bubbled inside me and within moments I was laughing so hard tears were streaming down my face. After the horrors of the cell, to be back in a position where one had to consider niceties once more struck me as both delightful and ridiculous.⁴⁰

Eventually when I felt I was edging close to hysteria, I did something my mother would have approved of and stuck my head under the cold water tap. The sudden sensation of coolness sobered me. I dried myself and dressed, but then came a real problem – one gentlemen do not have to consider. My long hair was still very wet and would take some time in front of the fire to dry. There was no way I could venture downstairs with wet hair. Even I would not go that far! I rang for a maid to light the fire and also to convey a message for Bertram to attend me. I described him as my brother, a ruse we had used to effect before, and ordered that coffee be brought up for us both. I also added a small brandy to the order for Bertram. From the sound of him earlier, he would need it if he were to face it.

Bertram was, after all, a man and would have been unable to resist imagining me in the bath. He would doubtless be acutely aware that when he saw me again the image he had been imagining was still present, though now under clothing. I suppose it is a measure of those I have associated with of late that I even entertained such thoughts.

Bertram and the coffee arrived together. The maid placed the tray on a little table and gave a little bob before retreating. Bertram opened his mouth to speak, but nothing happened. I passed him the brandy. He downed it in one and gave a little splutter. ‘Ah, thank you, Euphemia.’

‘I have told the staff we are brother and sister,’ I said. ‘I hope you have not done anything to counter this idea. This is, after all, a suite and the two bedrooms are separated by our private saloon.’

‘Good God! I can’t stay here!’

‘Indeed,’ I countered passing him a cup and saucer, ‘then I assume I will have to find Wilks and Maisie’s killer alone. I had rather hoped you were going to help me. Fitzroy gave me this.’ I passed him the list of names and addresses the spy had given me. ‘Only one is missing. A Martha Lake. I assume she is at this moment being followed and we will receive the information in due course.’

Bertram, now forced to hold his cup and saucer and the document, admitted defeat and sat down. ‘Have we been officially, unofficially, asked to do this?’ he asked in a defeated voice.

I avoided the question. ‘Surely you wish to see justice done?’

I passed him another page that I had written on the hotel stationery. ‘These are the names that Hans managed to find of men who are associated with Wilks. Below that is the boarding house where the dead suffragette in the railway carriage was resident. Richenda managed to discover that she received a letter on the morning of the attack that changed all her plans.’

‘Never tell me the Mullers are working for Fitzroy!’ exclaimed Bertram.

I shook my head and poured myself a coffee. ‘No, they were doing their best to aid me.’ I gave him a level look.

Bertram flushed slightly. ‘Of course I won’t let you down,’ said Bertram. ‘I realise the killer must be caught for your name to be cleared.’

‘Which is why we need to go to the Gilded Lily. Have you heard of such a place, Bertram?’

The question was redundant. I could see from the puce colour that had suffused his face he knew exactly what the Gilded Lily was. ‘Bertram,’ I said in a reproving tone.

‘Clubs. Men talk in clubs,’ replied Bertram in a strangled voice. Then he resorted to bluster. ‘What the devil does Fitzroy mean telling you about such places.’

‘This whole affair started with the firebombing and as no one seems to have witnessed anything, we must begin with the victims. Wilks was a known frequenter of this place.’

‘But damn it, Euphemia, such places don’t go about giving information out. They are used for their discretion.’

‘Which is why while you are unsuccessfully talking to the owners of the establishment, I will be talking to the girls.’

³⁸ Ahabit I had begun to enjoy since joining the Muller estate. My mother had frowned heavily on indulgent bathing. She felt it weakened one’s moral fortitude.

³⁹ The answer, in case you were wondering, is not very much. Unless you are particularly lethal with a sponge.

⁴⁰ My mother would never consider being caught in the bath a nicety of social etiquette, but in my defence she has never had to urinate in a bucket.