MISS FLORENCE CUSACK
Created by LT Meade (1844-1914) and Robert Eustace (1854-1943)
The glamorous Florence Cusack – ‘this handsome girl with her slender figure, her eyes of the darkest blue, her raven black hair and clear complexion’ – appeared in a series of six short stories first published in The Harmsworth Magazine between 1899 and 1901. She is obviously wealthy, lives alone in a large house in Kensington and is at home in the upper reaches of society. Yet she is also ‘a power in the police courts’ and ‘highly respected by every detective in Scotland Yard’. Much of the legwork in the stories is done by the narrator, Dr Lonsdale, who is clearly more than a little in love with Miss Cusack, but it is she who provides the final insights and solves the crimes. She was the creation of a writing partnership which also produced several other series characters for the big-name periodicals of the day, including the palmist Diana Marburg (see page 192) LT Meade was the pseudonym of Elizabeth Thomasina Meade Smith, a very busy author in the late Victorian and Edwardian eras who was best known at the time as the author of stories for girls, often with a school setting, but is now mostly remembered for her crime stories. She collaborated regularly with Robert Eustace (real name Eustace Robert Barton), a doctor and part-time writer. Meade and Eustace may have intended to write more Florence Cusack stories than they did. There are certainly indications that the series remains unfinished. However, the stories that we have are ingenious and entertaining and their heroine often shows herself to be, as she says herself, ‘the most acute and, I believe, successful lady detective in the whole of London’.
MR BOVEY’S UNEXPECTED WILL
Amongst all my patients there were none who excited my sense of curiosity like Miss Florence Cusack. I never thought of her without a sense of baffled inquiry taking possession of me, and I never visited her without the hope that some day I should get to the bottom of the mystery which surrounded her.
Miss Cusack was a young and handsome woman. She possessed to all appearance superabundant health, her energies were extraordinary, and her life completely out of the common. She lived alone in a large house in Kensington Court Gardens, kept a good staff of servants, and went much into society. Her beauty, her sprightliness, her wealth, and, above all, her extraordinary life, caused her to be much talked about. As one glanced at this handsome girl with her slender figure, her eyes of the darkest blue, her raven black hair and clear complexion it was almost impossible to believe that she was a power in the police courts and highly respected by every detective in Scotland Yard.
I shall never forget my first visit to Miss Cusack. I had been asked by a brother doctor to see her in his absence. Strong as she was, she was subject to periodical and very acute nervous attacks. When I entered her house she came up to me eagerly.
‘Pray do not ask me too many questions or look too curious, Dr Lonsdale,’ she said; ‘I know well that my whole condition is abnormal; but, believe me, I am forced to do what I do.’
‘What is that?’ I inquired.
‘You see before you,’ she continued, with emphasis, ‘the most acute and, I believe, successful lady detective in the whole of London.’
‘Why do you lead such an extraordinary life?’ I asked.
‘To me the life is fraught with the very deepest interest,’ she answered. ‘In any case,’ and now the colour faded from her cheeks and her eyes grew full of emotion, ‘I have no choice; I am under a promise, which I must fulfil. There are times, however, when I need help – such help as you, for instance, can give me. I have never seen you before, but I like your face. If the time should ever come, will you give me your assistance?’
I asked her a few more questions, and finally agreed to do what she wished.
From that hour Miss Cusack and I became the staunchest friends. She constantly invited me to her house, introduced me to her friends, and gave me her confidence to a marvellous extent.
On my first visit I noticed in her study two enormous brazen bulldogs. They were splendidly cast, and made a striking feature in the arrangements of the room; but I did not pay them any special attention until she happened to mention that there was a story, and a strange one, in connection with them.
‘But for these dogs,’ she said, ‘and the mystery attached to them, I should not be the woman I am, nor would my life be set apart for the performance of duties at once herculean and ghastly.’
When she said these words her face once more turned pale, and her eyes flashed with an ominous fire.
On a certain afternoon in November 1894, I received a telegram from Miss Cusack, asking me to put aside all other work and go to her at once. Handing my patients over to the care of my partner, I started for her house. I found her in her study and alone. She came up to me holding a newspaper in her hand.
‘Do you see this?’ she asked. As she spoke she pointed to the agony column. The following words met my eyes:
Send more sand and charcoal dust. Core and mould ready for casting. – JOSHUA LINKLATER.
I read these curious words twice, then glanced at the eager face of the young girl.
‘I have been waiting for this,’ she said, in a tone of triumph.
‘But what can it mean?’ I said. ‘Core and mould ready for casting?’
She folded up the paper, and laid it deliberately on the table.
‘I thought that Joshua Linklater would say something of the kind,’ she continued. ‘I have been watching for a similar advertisement in all the dailies for the last three weeks. This may be of the utmost importance.’
‘Will you explain?’
