Chapter 4
The first thing Oliver did after greeting Harry at Gordon’s Wine Bar that evening was to present her with an envelope.
It was addressed to Sarah Smith – another alias Harry had adopted for her undercover work – and had been sent to Oliver’s chambers on Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
Harry recognised Beth’s handwriting immediately, although she hadn’t expected a reply by return.
‘Trouble?’ Oliver asked, as she scanned the letter inside.
‘Information,’ Harry replied absently, frowning as she read. Reaching the end, she looked up. ‘Tell me, did you have time to contact anyone at Scotland Yard about Polly Spender?’
Oliver poured her a glass of ruby-red wine from the bottle already on the table. ‘I did, but they haven’t come back to me yet. A lot of their resources are being used at Berkeley Square. Why?’
Folding the letter, Harry returned it to the envelope. ‘Beth took a trip to Southwark this afternoon and she says Polly Spender hasn’t been home for almost a week. No one seems to know where she is. The rumour is she’s working.’
Oliver lifted an eyebrow. ‘I assume you don’t mean as a maid.’
‘Beth wasn’t able to find out,’ Harry said. ‘But that’s not the most interesting part. Mr Spender is also away from home at the moment.’
‘Ah,’ Oliver said. ‘Did Beth manage to find out where he is?’
Harry nodded. ‘He was found guilty of petty theft last November. He’s been in Wandsworth Prison ever since.’
He stared at her. ‘That is interesting. So who exactly did Mr Longstaff meet on the train?’
‘A very good question. But it wasn’t the father of our Polly Spender. It would be helpful to establish whether there are two girls with the same name.’
‘Of course,’ Oliver said. ‘I’ll pursue it in the morning.’
Sitting back in her chair, Harry took a moment to absorb their surroundings.
The wine bar was below ground, occupying what she assumed had once been the cellar.
Low vaulted ceilings stretched over their heads, lit only by the amber glow of candlelight.
The tables had been spaced far enough apart to give those seated at them a little privacy as they talked, although the alcoves cut into the walls were the most secluded.
These were draped with crimson velvet curtains and Harry could only catch glimpses of those sitting behind.
She could see why her brother had described the atmosphere as romantic – the lighting alone was designed to encourage a multitude of sins – and she couldn’t help wondering how many scandalous liaisons the waiters turned a blind eye towards every night.
But she was here to discuss Rufus and his unfortunate attachment to Serafina Eccleston, not pass judgement on the love affairs of strangers. She would leave that to Seb.
‘Investigating Polly’s whereabouts wasn’t the only task I asked Beth to undertake,’ she said, turning her attention back to Oliver. ‘There’s no easy way to say this. I’m afraid Rufus has got himself into something of a situation – one that requires delicate handling.’
He did not look surprised. ‘Again?’
Harry dipped her head. ‘He does have a talent for it. Regrettably, his actions are a little more far-reaching this time. It began the evening you rescued him from the police station.’
He listened as she relayed everything Seb had told her two nights previously. When she had finished, Oliver was quiet for a moment. ‘I can certainly check whether Miss Eccleston is known to the police. I assume Beth’s second task was something similar.’
‘Yes, although I confess I have no idea how she will manage it. Investigating Polly was simpler – Beth was already acquainted with her and knew something of her background.’ She paused. ‘I did wonder if I should meet Serafina for myself.’
The look he gave her was measured. ‘By visiting the Hot Spot, you mean? I’m not sure it’s your scene.’
If even half of the lurid stories featured in the newspapers were true, then Harry had to agree that a Soho nightclub was no place for a respectable young woman.
But it wasn’t the first time Oliver had suggested there were places she shouldn’t visit.
She thought he might know better by now.
‘Maybe not but I can’t think of another way to get the measure of her. ’
For a moment, she thought he might argue, but he appeared to notice the mulish set of her jaw. ‘I don’t recommend you go alone.’
Harry raised her chin. ‘I won’t. I thought Beth and I might go together – two fashionable young things looking to let their hair down a little.’
‘I meant you ought to take a man with you,’ he said. ‘Obviously, I can’t go, for professional reasons, but I’m sure Seb would be amenable, if you asked him. I expect you know he’s no stranger to such places.’
Harry had always preferred not to enquire too deeply into the details of her brother’s social life, on the grounds that what she didn’t know couldn’t worry her.
And it went without saying that she would not dream of asking Oliver to take such a risk.
His standing as a lawyer had to remain beyond reproach.
‘Seb is the obvious choice,’ she said. ‘But how would I find out anything important with him there? He’d simply get in the way. ’
Oliver eyed her solemnly. ‘You can’t go alone, Harry.
I’m well aware that you can handle yourself, and I imagine your friend Beth knows a thing or two about the seedier side of London nightlife, but you’re going to have to trust me.
Going somewhere like the Hot Spot without a male chaperone would be a mistake. ’
Indignation fired in her belly and it took a monumental effort of will to quell it.
His use of the word ‘chaperone’ did not help – it harkened back to the Victorian era, when women could be considered ruined for even entering the places men were free to go whenever they pleased.
But it was also possible – even likely – that she and Beth might attract some unwanted attention.
Perhaps Oliver had a point. ‘I suppose Seb can’t very well refuse to take me, since it’s for the good of our baby brother.
Perhaps Beth can do the digging while I distract him with drink. ’
Oliver’s mouth twitched. ‘I imagine that would work. But I agree that it complicates things. How will you explain her to him, and vice versa, without giving your secrets away to both?’
It was another excellent point. Beth had worked out for herself that Harry was not who she pretended to be, but she had no idea of her true identity.
And presenting Beth to Seb as a new friend would raise more questions than it answered.
Oliver was right – it was a complication. ‘I’ll think of something.’
‘I have no doubt you will,’ he replied, evidently resigning himself to the inevitable. ‘When will you go? I assume time is of the essence.’
Harry considered the temperament of her youngest brother, whose plans had already been thwarted once.
No doubt he was feverishly plotting another way to escape from Abinger Hall to elope with his beloved.
‘It rather depends on whether I can persuade Seb,’ she said.
‘Tomorrow night, if he agrees, or perhaps Friday.’
Oliver eyed her across the table. ‘I’d like you to promise you won’t go without him.
I know you’re worried about Rufus but there are other ways to investigate Miss Eccleston that don’t put your safety and reputation in danger.
’ Harry opened her mouth to speak but he held up a hand.
‘And I know you think I’m too cautious and monstrously dull, but I’ve prosecuted several proprietors of these places and believe me, some of the things that go on behind the scenes would shock you.
If you must go, at least be sensible about it. ’
She stared at him in silent frustration.
Of course he had guessed that she would visit the Hot Spot with or without her brother.
Nor was he wrong that his careful approach had driven her to distraction on more than one occasion during their adventures.
But she had also come to respect his opinion and she had to concede that his experience of London’s nightlife was greater than her own, even if he’d never actually set foot in an illegal club.
‘I don’t think you’re monstrously dull.’
His lips quirked. ‘Thank you. But do I have your word?’
Harry sighed. ‘Yes, Oliver, you have my word.’
‘Good,’ he said, and hesitated. ‘And I hope you know that I’m not trying to hold you back. I only have your best interests at heart.’
His dark eyes appeared fathomless in the shadows cast by the candles, fixed upon her.
Harry fought the urge to fall into their depths, reminding herself yet again that his intentions towards her were those of a trusted family friend.
In protecting her, he was guarding the Abinger name and reputation.
‘Of course I do,’ she said, and reached for her wine glass.
‘And I’d like to point out that I do listen to you.
I haven’t poked my nose into the Berkeley Square theft, have I? ’
Oliver shook his head. ‘You forget that I’m a lawyer, Harry. I’m trained to notice the things my clients aren’t saying. And the word missing from that sentence is yet.’
She took a sip of her drink, galled that he’d divined her intentions again. ‘Have the police made any progress? I don’t imagine Prince Rupert is a patient man and he has friends in high places.’
‘The highest,’ Oliver agreed. ‘Scotland Yard is under immense pressure to crack the case but it doesn’t appear they have much to go on. No one went into the room and no one came out, and yet the diamond is gone.’
‘An impossible crime,’ Harry observed, her tone studiously innocent.
He contemplated her for a long moment, then sighed. ‘This is going to involve another madcap disguise, isn’t it?’
‘What a capital suggestion,’ she replied, and checked the time. ‘How do you feel about a visit to the Garston Club?’