Six
I was grateful my great-aunt had completed her morning exercises, including standing on her head.
While I had long ago encouraged her to remain active and exercises were an excellent way to accomplish that, attempting to carry on a conversation while she was on her head was a bit distracting.
Aunt Antonia and her guests, I was informed, were in the small parlor.
At tea perhaps, I assumed, although my great-aunt’s definition of ‘tea’ most often included a bit of Old Lodge whisky.
It was distilled at her estate in the north of Scotland and had become quite a successful enterprise.
I had visions of my great-aunt’s guests becoming quite foxed after a session of head standing. However, I was not prepared for the sight that greeted me.
The small parlor had been darkened with the floor-to-ceiling drapes closed over the windows. Only a single light glowed from a side table and illuminated a larger round table and the silhouettes of six people, all ladies it appeared, who were seated around it. Cards were spread before one of them.
It did seem that my great-aunt was indulging one of her favorite pastimes—card reading.
It was quite popular among her circle of friends; however, my good friend Templeton had dismissed it as, of all things—theatrics.
A figure rose from the table and I recognized my great-aunt, dressed in a flowing robe she had made after visiting India some years before.
“So good to see you, dear,” she exclaimed as she reached me and then looped her arm through mine.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” I commented.
“Madame Orzcy is reading the cards for my lady friends. Agnes Vandemere is quite fascinated by it all. She’s never had it done, and she’s having some difficulty with her son.
The man is over sixty years old, for heaven’s sake.
Who cares whom he keeps company with? Or she might learn about a tall, dark-haired man. ” She leaned in and winked at me.
“What brings you here the middle of the day, dear?” She looked past me. “Mr. Brodie is not with you?”
“No, he is off on another matter.” I frowned. “He has been gone since yesterday, something that he cannot discuss.” And then on a thought, “Is Munro about?”
He might be able to get word to Brodie. They always seemed to know precisely where to find the other. It was part of that shared history from their days as boys on the streets of Edinburgh.
“Not since yesterday. He is off on some matter regarding a shipment,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “I do leave those matters to him.”
A shipment. Not unusual in consideration of her various business interests.
She patted my arm. “No need to worry about Mr. Brodie,” she assured me. “I know all too well that he is most capable in whatever he is about.”
“One day you must tell me how you came to need the services of a private investigator,” I replied. It was one of those great mysteries.
She smiled. “He was referred to me by someone—I cannot remember who it was. You must admit that it has turned out to be quite interesting, has it not? And now, tell me the reason you are here.”
It was always best to explain as few details as possible when inquiring on some matter with my great-aunt. She had already inserted herself into more than one case.
It wasn’t that I did not want her assistance. It was my concern that she might be injured or worse. And at her age ...
We walked together to the solarium. She ordered coffee for me and a dram for herself.
“Now, tell me. How may I assist?”
I explained the inquiry I was making on behalf of a ‘friend,’ then casually asked if she was acquainted with Harold E. Davies.
“That would be Harold Emerson Davies,” she replied. “Undersecretary to Sir Donald MacPherson, Foreign Secretary for Great Britain. A most capable man, Mr. Davies, and quite a boon to be appointed to the position as he is not a peer. New blood is always a good thing.
“I’ve met both him and Elizabeth Davies,” she continued. “He is a bit reserved, as I remember. She is quite charming, from a titled family, though her father fell into some financial ruin. I presume there is a connection to your latest inquiry.”
Sly like a fox, I thought.
“The name was mentioned in passing and I thought that I recognized it,” I replied, but did not mention that the name had been in that police report.
“And that naturally required a trip to Sussex Square. Not that I am not pleased to see you, dear.”
She was quite clever when she wanted to know something.
“It was something that I came across for the person I’m making inquiries for.”
“Of course, dear. Now, about Mr. Brodie. You must tell me everything you know about this secret work he’s doing for the Agency.
“Sir Avery Stanton has been known to do whatever it takes to get the job done. I suppose that is the reason the Queen set him up for the task. However, Madame Orzcy might make inquiries on his behalf if you would like.”
I would like very much to know what Brodie was involved with. Not that I was worried for him. I knew that he was very capable of taking care of himself. Still…?
I remained at Sussex Square. It gave me the opportunity to spend time with Lily and my great-aunt, as well as an invitation to remain for supper.
The ladies eventually emerged from the small parlor, always somewhat of a misnomer, I thought, since the room was quite large. Mr. Hastings brought the coach around to take them to their various residences. As they were leaving, my great-aunt drew Madame Orzcy aside.
“Another reading if you please. You might be able to tell my niece something of interest.”
“Of course,” Madame commented as she retrieved her cards and we returned to the parlor.
“Most fascinating,” she commented as she selected the usual number of cards from those spread before her on the table.
“I have never before seen such an interesting arrangement.” She dealt another row of four cards and laid them beneath the original seven cards that she had drawn, then studied them.
“These two cards indicate a problem that needs to be resolved. This one beside them indicates there could be some challenge. Let us see what the cards tell us about it.” She turned over another card.
“Ah, the chariot and the warrior, very powerful. The one this card represents is forceful, determined, a man who can be trusted. He is always there when he is needed.” She turned over another card, and looked over at me.
“The High Priestess—you possess wisdom and strong intuition.” She turned over another card and laid it beside the High Priestess. The Devil.” She quickly gathered all of the cards and returned them to the deck.
“That is all I see,” she announced.
I laid my hand over hers. “What about the last card? What does it mean?”
“I am tired. It is sometimes like that; a random card appears …”
I sensed by her reaction that it was not without meaning.
“What does it mean?” I insisted.
She looked from me to my great-aunt.
“The Devil can mean many things, dear,” Aunt Antonia replied. “A sudden change, possible danger … not unusual for you.”
“There is more,” Madame explained. “The Devil can signify destructive behavior, being trapped, danger from a person you do not expect it from.”
She took my hand. “You must guard against unseen dangers.” Then she gathered her cards and rose from the table.
“Perhaps the tall man with the dark beard will provide a wagon or carriage, and I will leave.”
“That would be Mr. Munro,” Aunt Antonia replied.
She stood as well and requested one of the footmen to inform him. I could imagine his reaction to delivering Madame back to her residence somewhere across London.
“Most entertaining, wouldn’t you say, dear?” my great-aunt commented when she returned. “Of course, it all depends on what one is prepared to believe.”
Of course.
“Is the woman gone?” Lily asked, finally making an appearance.
“Yes, dear. And quite harmless,” Aunt Antonia assured her.
“Have you checked the silver and other valuables?” Lily then asked.
“You are far too suspicious,” my great-aunt chided her. “There was no opportunity.”
“I’ve seen others like her, in Edinburgh. They make their own opportunities and quick about it. You’d never see them take anything but it would be gone just the same.”
“I believe that I can spare a piece or two of silver,” Aunt Antonia assured her. “However, I will have one of the girls make certain that all pieces are still present.” She turned to me.
“And you must stay for supper,” she suggested after Madame had departed.
During supper I did inquire about Esme DeLonge Blandford. Mr. Burke had mentioned Sir Lionel Blandford, who had once been with the Foreign Service Office.
“I heard that she had recently returned with her husband,” Aunt Antonia continued. “They have been abroad for some time on the Continent.”
Most interesting. That might mean anything. Still, it could be important to pass it along to Brodie. He had mentioned that his work was finding someone of position with the Foreign Service Office. Sir Blandford perhaps? And was Brodie aware?
When supper concluded, I made my excuse to leave.
“I know that you’re quite involved with your new inquiry case,” Aunt Antonia said as we parted.
“However, do remember the art exhibit that is opening tomorrow night at the Grosvenor. It seems that your sister met the artist when in Paris for her exhibition.”
Admittedly, I had forgotten about it.
“What of Catherine?” I inquired about my sister’s infant daughter.
“Mrs. Albrooke, the nanny they have taken on, will be in charge and Lenore will be able to escape for a few hours. I must say that she appears to have taken to motherhood like a goose to water. I would not be at all surprised if there is another Warren offspring on the way by year’s end.”
As I have often said, my sister and I are quite different in many ways. She is very artistic, with that recent showing in Paris from which we barely returned in time before she gave birth to Catherine.