CHAPTER 15
A stretch of warm weather brought spring to the South Kensington Museum’s grounds.
The sun had coaxed shy buds into bloom, and color-drenched beds bounded the carriage drive.
Waves of yellow and purple crocuses surged to meet swaths of creamy primroses like foam at a tide’s edge.
Overhead, the fleeting green of early spring filled the trees, a hue that would soon give way to darker shades as the season matured.
On an afternoon in late April, Julia breathed the scented air, grateful Dr. Barnes was on duty at the clinic.
She’d awakened that morning feeling buoyant, eager for the day.
Her Saturday off was lovely, and it was a shame to go inside.
But Mrs. Davies and Mister Lloyd had invited her to attend the Pleasure Gardens opening, and she was curious to view the collection of Chinese art.
The invitation had included her grandfather and great-aunt.
The walk and unaccustomed warmth had fatigued Dr. Lewis, so he and Aunt Caroline availed themselves of a South Kensington innovation: a museum tearoom.
They would join Julia at the gallery for the exhibit’s opening.
She hadn’t spotted Mary or Louisa Allingham, but they would surely be there.
The exhibition’s program included a warm tribute to Charles Allingham and his role in assembling the collection.
Julia expected to see someone else as well, and she looked around for him.
Inspector Tennant planned to attend the opening to observe.
When he said he’d be less conspicuous among a party, Julia suggested he write to Mister Lloyd asking to join them.
She leaned forward on her bench, scanning the garden’s new arrivals, wondering if he’d taken her advice.
Fifteen minutes before the gallery show’s opening, Inspector Tennant strode up the carriage pathway.
Julia followed the progress of his head above the crowd, his polite sidestep and tip-of-his-hat to a pair of ladies.
One glanced back as she passed him. Why not?
Julia was aware of his dark good looks, aware, too, about how glad she was to see him.
Words from the Sunday service sprung to mind: Lift up your hearts.
The invitation had always seemed a figure of speech, not a physical state.
She was changing her mind about that. Perhaps her heart hadn’t shifted, but its beat sped up.
When he reached the end of the main walkway, Julia rose from her bench, smiling a greeting, thinking he’d spotted her.
But he turned left and touched his hat to Mary and Louisa. “Have I arrived too late?” Julia heard him say.
Louisa Allingham smiled, dimpling. “Not at all, Richard.” She took his arm. “Shall we go in?”
Julia hung back. Then she followed, feeling like the sun had passed behind the clouds.
* * *
An arch of hothouse flowers entwined with greenery curved over the closed doors of the Pleasure Gardens gallery.
A lectern and three chairs waited at the entrance for the ceremony to begin.
Julia’s grandfather, her Aunt Caroline, and Mrs. Davies had found a bench along the wall.
Mr. Lloyd caught her eye and nodded an invitation to join them.
At two o’clock, doors at the opposite end of the hall opened, and two gentlemen escorted Louisa and Mary into the room and handed them to their seats. William Quain and Inspector Tennant followed the party and stood behind the ladies’ chairs.
Mr. Lloyd leaned in. “The older gentleman is the museum director, Mister Cole. I don’t know the stout fellow next to him.”
Mister Cole adjusted his glasses at the lectern and cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Allingham asked me to thank you all for attending and say a few words about the exhibit.” He smiled.
“And not wanting to delay your enjoyment, my remarks will be brief. Charles Allingham created this collection. It exists because of his vision and his passionate conviction that a great civilization’s art deserves space in British galleries.
An afternoon wandering through this garden of pleasure will prove how right he was.
Now, Mrs. Allingham, will you do the honors? ”
Louisa stood, and the director presented a key to the widow. With Tennant’s assistance, Mrs. Allingham opened the doors to the patter of polite applause.
As the gathering shuffled into the gallery, Tennant spotted Julia and walked over.
“I see you procured an invitation after all,” she said.
“Miss Allingham and Louisa kindly included me.”
“Front row seats, to be sure. But what are you expecting to find?”
“I’m not sure.... Sometimes police work is just turning up at the right time and place.”
“Who is the fellow bursting his buttons? The twitchy gentleman who came in with you.”
“Mister Sidney Allen.”
“Charles’s partner?”
“Yes.” Tennant looked around. “I asked the director to be on the lookout for members of the Topkapi Club who lent works to the exhibit. I’ll ask Cole when I get him on his own.”
“Here’s your chance. Mary and Louisa just left his side and are heading our way, followed by Mister Quain.”
Tennant excused himself, and Julia introduced the ladies and the artist to her grandfather and aunt.
“This is a fine exhibit,” Lady Aldridge said. “Mister Allingham had a discerning eye.”
“They’re glorious pictures, aren’t they?
” Mary said. “I adore that first landscape with its ghostly mountains in the misty distance. It’s a miniature world, marvelous and magical, hidden on the craggy cliff amid the twisty pines.
I only wish . . .” Her voice caught. “I wish Charles were here to share the day with us.” Her eyes shone, and Quain took her arm protectively.
Julia’s grandfather said, “Mister Allingham shared a gift with the nation. A wonderful legacy.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” a composed Louisa said gravely. “Many of the paintings are new to me. My husband’s last surprise.”
Louisa made “widow’s weeds” look exquisite, and Julia noted the perfect harmony of hat and frock. It gave her an idea. She would pursue it on Monday morning, enlisting her Aunt Caroline in the scheme.
“Thank you all for coming,” Louisa said. “If you’ll excuse us?”
William Quain escorted the ladies back to the pictures.
Mrs. Davies touched Julia’s elbow. “May I speak with you and the inspector? It’s about Jin. Yesterday, something happened that jogged her memory.”
Tennant had finished his conversation with the museum director, but Julia tried and failed to catch his eye.
He walked across the gallery and joined the Allingham party where Will Quain held forth.
When he pointed to a detail in the picture, Louisa turned, commented to Inspector Tennant, and the company laughed.
“Come with me,” Julia said to Mrs. Davies. They caught up with him as Mary and Louisa moved on to another picture.
Mrs. Davies said, “Inspector, I have something to tell you about Jin.”
“She’s remembered something?”
She nodded. “Yesterday, my brother took Jin and my daughters to see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. The Coldstream Guards’ band played that day in their kilts.
Jin became agitated, but when Owen asked her what was wrong, she shook her head and refused to say.
He cut the outing short and took her home. ”
“Where she confided in you?” Tennant said.
“Yes. About the man who raped her. A man who continued his assaults for the first weeks of her captivity. She remembered his kilt and the colors. Red and green with thin yellow and white crisscross stripes.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Davies. Could she describe the man—his face?”
“I asked her about that. We were having tea, and she touched the jug. She said the man’s face was like milk, and his eyes had no color. His hair, she said, was the shade of a bamboo mat.”
“Thank you,” Tennant said. “Anything she remembers helps the investigation.”
“I’ll continue to encourage her, but . . .”
“Without pressing her,” Tennant said. “I understand.”
“I know you do, Inspector. And we’re grateful.” She looked around. “Now, where is that brother of mine?” She spotted him and excused herself.
Julia said, “Your expression tells me that Jin’s information is helpful.”
Tennant nodded. “I saw a portrait of the Topkapi’s chairman in full Highland dress, wearing a kilt of exactly those colors.”
“Did her description of him fit as well?”
“Spot-on. The chairman’s costume was far more colorful than the man.”
Julia tilted her head, considering. “The Topkapi Club . . . Its member list must be stocked with the wealthy and powerful.”
“Its chairman is particularly well connected, the cousin of an earl,” Tennant said. “We’re thinking along the same lines—perhaps Margot Miller extorted the Topkapi members to feather her nest.”
“And paid the price.”
* * *
On Monday morning, Julia and her Aunt Caroline pulled up in a carriage to Annie O’Neill’s house on Aldgate High Street. But instead of descending to her flat, they walked upstairs to the dress shop above it.
A lean gentleman with thinning white hair, pince-nez clipped to his nose, and a buttonhole sprig of lily-of-the-valley hurried to meet them at the door.
“Good morning, ladies. A beautiful spring morning it is. I am the proprietor, Mister Smythe.” He made a slight blow.
Julia smiled. “Good morning, sir. My name is Julia Lewis, and this is Lady Aldridge, my aunt.”
His eyes popped behind his lenses. “Delighted, madame. Delighted, my lady.” He bowed a little deeper the second time. “How may I assist you today, Mrs. Lewis?”
Julia let the form of address pass. “You have a delightful shop, Mister Smythe.”
“You are too kind,’ he said, beaming.
Lady Aldridge removed Annie’s bowler from its countertop hat stand. “Charming. But a little too youthful for me, I think.” She put it aside. “This paisley shawl is lovely. Will you wrap it up, Mister Smythe?”
He unfurled tissue paper with a flourish and folded it around the shawl.
Meanwhile, Julia eyed the shop floor, happy to see plenty of room for her plan.