wall in making improvements, or rerouted the electricity and cut one off? It was soporific and pleasant, and it was interrupted by a voice in my inner ear that came with the clarity of a divine pronouncement, the remembrance of the gentle remark made at parting by my solicitor, Mr Arbuthnot senior.
“You are now a very wealthy young lady, Miss Russell, who unfortunately has had little practical preparation for the experience. Please, if there is anything I or my partners can do to assist you, we should consider it an honour. We all had a great deal of respect for your parents.” He had added, with a less official tone to his voice, “I was very fond of my cousin, your mother.”
Precisely at ten o’clock, I was on the telephone to his offices. The haughty secretary immediately gave way to the senior partner.
“Miss Russell, how very good to hear from you,” he asked politely.
“Mr Arbuthnot, I hadn’t intended to disturb you with my enquiries, but you generously offered assistance the other day, and I need some help.”
“Yes, Miss Russell?”
“I need a flat and a maid, and I don’t want to spend days looking and interviewing. It occurred to me that someone in your offices—I shouldn’t want to disturb you personally, but a junior member, even a secretary?—might guide me to some responsible agents.”
“But of course,” he said, relieved that my demands were no more outlandish than this. “Perhaps I might research the matter a bit and telephone you shortly?”
I gave him the number of the telephone I was speaking from, thanked him, and rang off. In ten minutes, the instrument rang, and I was listening to Mr Arbuthnot’s smooth tones.
“Miss Russell, I believe I have just the man for you. His name is Mr Bell. Shall I put him on the line?”
I agreed, thanked him, and his voice gave way to a brisk young East End voice.
“Miss Russell?” he began. “The name’s Freddy Bell. You’re looking for a flat and a maid, Mr Arbuthnot said? Can you give me an idea of precisely what you’ll be wanting, where, and how much you want to spend on it, so I can help you?”
“Yes, certainly. I don’t need anything terribly large, five or six rooms. Plus quarters for servants, of course. The location is important, though. Not Bloomsbury necessarily, but not far away, if you take my meaning.”
He caught it immediately, and my opinion of Gibson, Arbuthnot, Meyer, and Perowne went up a notch.
“A place where you can take anyone, no matter their station, without them feeling out of place, that the thing?”
“Precisely. Impressive, but not depressing.”
“Right you are, miss. And the servants?”
“I had thought a maid who can cook the occasional poached egg.”
“A housekeeper who does hair,” he noted. “And a driver.”
“I prefer to drive myself,” I said firmly.
“For those occasional times when you need a butler, or chauffeur?” he persisted. There was a short silence.
“Are these relatives of yours?” There was a longer silence.
“Miss, I value my position in the firm. I hope to go far. I would not care to jeopardise it for the world.”
“My apologies, Mr Bell. I shall consider it. And keeping in mind the fact that you value your position, I shall open myself up to being taken advantage of and say that at the moment, price matters much less than speed. I may not retain the flat for long, or the servants, but I require a working establishment quickly, practically overnight, in fact, and I realise that I must pay for that. Now, about the flat. Can you recommend an agency?”
“I am your agent, Miss Russell. Mr Arbuthnot asked me to do it for you. I shall make some telephone calls now, and if I might call for you this afternoon, I hope to have some flats to show you by then.”
“So soon? That’s very good. Three o’clock, shall we say? At my club?”
“The Vicissitude, isn’t it? At three o’clock. Until then, Miss Russell.”
What an unlikely conversation. Most “very wealthy young ladies” might have been offended at being fobbed off on the firm’s Cockney, and indeed most partnerships kept a pleasant young man with a school tie for the purpose. Gibson, Arbuthnot, et cetera, was more imaginative than I had thought, and, I slowly realised, my mother’s cousin had trusted me not to be misled by the accent. I looked forward to three o’clock.
The externals, for the moment, I could leave to our Freddy ; Closer to home, I should have to take my own appearance in hand; however, I was not exactly certain where to begin. The elves had only four hands between them, and, too, I did not think their hallmark of subtle quality was precisely what I wanted here. An image a shade more brash perhaps; flagrantly expensive, instead of incidentally so—off-the-rack clothing, but top of the line. I went down to interrogate the concierge and manager, but those earnest and sensible ladies had even less of an idea where that sort of clothing was sold than I did. The other guests, however, were more helpful, and I soon set off to conquer the world of London fashion with a list of names and streets in one hand and a chequebook in the other.
The limitations of time were a disadvantage, but I and the shops struggled through. I arrived back at the Vicissitude, to find the entrance hallway stacked high with dressmakers’ boxes, the concierge’s desk buried under hatboxes, parcels of stockings and silk undergarments spilling into the next room, the corridor lined with boxes of shoes and boots, and the stairs blocked by a small escritoire, a silk carpet, and a lacquer birdcage. (The bird was to be delivered later, to the flat. I did not want it to die of neglect.) A delivery man in green livery was just leaving, and the concierge stood aghast, a large box in her arms which bore the august name of the most expensive furrier I could think of. Her face was pink with astonishment. I don’t suppose anything quite like it had happened to that right-thinking club in its entire history.
“Miss Russell!” she squeaked. “Miss Russell, I really must—I must ask you what this is all about. We haven’t room for these all, and really, for safekeeping…” She waved her hand and nearly dropped the heavy box. ”
“I know, Miss Corcoran, I do truly appreciate the trouble you’ve taken, and I promise to have everything out of the way before dinner.” Freddy Bell would just have to cope. Prove his worth. “But just now I must go and change; I’m flat hunting,” and snatching up a few boxes at random, I fled with them up the stairs, bruising my hip on my new escritoire.
Freddy Bell arrived punctually at three in a Daimler complete with liveried chauffeur. He blinked when he saw me— not perhaps what Mr Arbuthnot had led him to expect—and the club’s concierge blinked when she saw the automobile. I smiled graciously all around and allowed myself to be handed into the car. However, I did not allow young Mr Bell to sit up with the driver; shouting through the window becomes tiresome.
“Miss Russell, good afternoon,” said the young man as he settled himself beside me.
“Mr Bell,” I greeted him.
“I have a list of seven possible flats. If you’d like to look at them, perhaps you might tell me what you like or don’t like about each one. I’ve also set interviews with three maids and two married couples, beginning at seven o’clock at the firm’s offices. Does this meet with your approval?”
“Very much,” I said, and with a tap on the window, we eased sedately out into traffic.
The third flat on the list was ideal. It actually was in Bloomsbury, just off Great Ormond Street, a sleek and spanking-new building built on a piece of land cleared by a bomb from a Zeppelin in 1917. The flat was on the fourth storey, six large rooms and a kitchen. The owners were on an extended tour of the Americas, and they had furnished their possession in the latest brittle style, all angles and tubes, metal and mirrors and unnecessary drama, expanses of fawn carpeting and pale primrose walls and draperies. The bedroom contained a bed the size of a small luxury liner and a plethora of exotic fabrics draped across the walls, windows, and every surface. Perfect—horrible, but perfect.
“I’ll take it.”
“You will? That is to say, I’m glad you like it. There are also servants’ quarters available, in the basement.”
“I’ll take them, too. You said this relative of yours can cook?”
“Oh yes, mum. Miss.”
Glutinous puds and watery vegetables. Well, no doubt I should be taking my meals in restaurants a great deal.
“Fine. I’ll sign the lease papers now, if you can find the representative, and then perhaps you’d send someone to the Vicissitude for my things.”
