The Affinity Bridge

Chapter Fourteen

In their haste to get across town, Veronica had allowed herself to be subjected to the noise and bluster of one of the steam-powered carriages that Newbury appeared so heartily to enjoy. It had proved as uncomfortable as ever, and now, on the doorstep of the Orleans Club, she found herself rearranging her dress and trying to put herself hastily back in order. It was cold, and the fog was beginning to settle over the streets in wispy tendrils, slowly encroaching upon the city like ivy creeping across an old brick wall.

The Orleans Club, Newbury had informed her on the way over, was the offshoot of a gentleman's club based in Twickenham, the town dwelling for members of the latter who, it seemed, were welcome to invite guests to the establishment so long as they were of the male variety. Any women were referred directly to the ladies room and kept well out of earshot of the banter that took place in the main lounge. Veronica found the whole idea ridiculous, but she also knew that she wasn't about to overturn hundreds of years of tradition by simply complaining about it. She was aware that Newbury attended a club, and that he found it a worthwhile pursuit, in terms of both business and pleasure. Not only that, but it was important that they got to speak with Morgan, one way or another. She supposed she'd just have to live with it, for now.

The building itself was typical of this type of establishment; a Georgian townhouse that sat mid-terrace between what appeared to be private dwellings on either side. Sash windows revealed little about the activities inside, covered by heavy drapes, and there were no signs or indicators that they had even come to the correct address, other than the number '27' on the door, as suggested in Morgan's letter. Clearly the members of the Orleans Club liked to carry out their business behind closed doors.

Newbury stepped up to the blue panelled door and rapped loudly with the knocker. Almost immediately it creaked open and a butler appeared in the opening. Light spilled out onto the steps around their feet. Newbury presented his letter and informed the man that they had come for a private conference with one of the club's members, Mr. Christopher Morgan.

The man studied Newbury and Veronica with what seemed to be a measure of disdain. "I'm afraid we have yet to enjoy the pleasure of Mr. Morgan's company today, sir."

Newbury pulled his watch from his pocket, popping open the engraved case and glancing at the ivory face inside. "I see we're a little early. Perhaps Mr. Morgan intends to meet us here at four, as his letter suggests, or perhaps he is running a little late. Either way, I do believe that we'd like to wait."

The butler nodded, opening the door a fraction wider to allow them to pass. "Sir can wait in the lounge, and I'll be sure to inform Mr. Morgan of your presence when he arrives. I'm afraid your companion will have to wait in the ladies room."

Newbury put his hand on Veronica's arm. "As I suspected, my dear. I'll try not to be too long about it. Why don't you ask around in there and see if you can get a measure of this fellow from the other ladies? It may be that you can find out something useful while you're waiting."

Veronica nodded. "Of course." She allowed the butler to escort her to the door of the ladies room, whilst Newbury disappeared down the hallway in the direction of the main lounge. The butler held the door open for her and she stepped through.

The ladies room was clearly an underused commodity. The room itself was small, and whilst lavishly furnished, bore the musty odour of under use; Veronica had the sense that the place was more of a showroom than a location where ladies actually went to pass the time, at least by choice. She suspected that the room was provided as a service to those unlucky men who didn't seem able to go about their business without their wives following on behind them, limpet-like. That or it was listed as a benefit in the member's book, and as such had to be upheld for those rare occasions when a lady actually found herself in the unenviable position of needing somewhere to wait for her companion whilst he went about his business inside. Whatever the case, there were only two other ladies present in the room when Veronica entered, and both looked up, startled, to see a newcomer whom they might endeavour to coerce into a discussion of some sort. They both stood, placing the books they had been reading on the chairs where they had been sitting. Veronica smiled warmly. "Good afternoon, ladies."

The two women looked at each other, and then turned back to Veronica. The one on the left, who was wearing a long dress cut in pale yellow silk, returned Veronica's smile. "Likewise, I'm sure." She indicated the chair beside her. "Please, won't you join us for tea?"

"I'd be delighted." Veronica walked over to the table and the two ladies returned to their seats.

The woman in the yellow dress poured Veronica a cup of tea from the silver pot on the stand beside her chair. "My name is Mrs. Isabella Marriott, and this," she glanced up, "is Miss Evelyn Blackwood."

Veronica took the proffered cup and saucer. "Thank you. My name is Miss Veronica Hobbes. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Evelyn Blackwood, a young, dark-haired woman in a red jacket and matching skirt, looked Veronica up-and-down. "Is this your first time at the Orleans Club, Miss Hobbes? I haven't seen you here before."

Veronica nodded. "Yes, indeed. My associate is here to meet one of the members. I thought it wise to wait for him in here."

Isabella Marriott gave her a conspiratorial wink. "So, dear, who exactly is this mysterious 'associate'? You can be sure that your secret is safe with us."

Veronica almost laughed out loud. She had no reason to hide her association with Newbury, and it was clear that the two ladies, so starved for company, were fishing for gossip and intrigue to keep them amused. It would do no harm to let them think what they would. In fact, it may help to draw them out on their thoughts about Morgan. "I'm here with Sir Maurice Newbury, the academic and anthropologist."

Isabella and Evelyn exchanged glances. "A sir? Well, didn't you do well for yourself, Miss Hobbes?" Both of them began to giggle like schoolchildren. Veronica was finding the whole experience incredibly trying. "So tell, us, Miss Hobbes. Is he devilishly handsome?"

Veronica took a sip of her tea, wishing for a moment that it was something stronger. "Well, I suppose he is, rather." She tried to look coy, playing along with the conversation.

Evelyn clapped her hands together. "How exciting! A new romance in the Orleans Club. Just wait until we tell Juliana!"

"Now, now, Evelyn, don't get carried away." Isabella placed a hand on her friend's knee. "Miss Hobbes is only just getting started." She looked at Veronica expectantly.

Veronica saw her chance to turn the conversation in a different direction. "Well, Sir Maurice is here for an important meeting with Mr. Christopher Morgan. I've heard a lot about the man, but I've never had occasion to meet him. Is he a fine fellow?"

Isabella looked impressed. "Oh, Miss Hobbes, one of the finest. Mr. Morgan is a pillar of our community, both here and in Twickenham. He owns an art gallery in town, and all the ladies who've been lucky enough to visit the place say it's full of the most wonderful paintings. Mr. Morgan is a true gentleman. I'm sure that if your Sir Maurice is having any dealings with Mr. Morgan it is a good reflection on them both."

Veronica smiled. "I'm delighted to hear it, Miss Marriott. I appreciate your candour."

Evelyn leaned forward, clutching her empty teacup to her knee. "Do you think Sir Maurice might decide to become a member of the Orleans Club? I'm sure the other gentlemen would make him most welcome, and I'd love to introduce you to Juliana."

Isabella cut in before Veronica had chance to answer. "Juliana is Evelyn's elder sister. She recently married an industrialist named Greene. She has pretensions of becoming a novelist."

"Really?"

Evelyn looked uncomfortable. "Actually, I believe she's really rather good. She gives Margaret Oliphant a run for her money, anyway." She patted the book beside her on the chair, and smiled.

Veronica tried to look engaged by the idea. "I'm sure that she's very talented indeed, Miss Blackwood." She placed her cup and saucer on the table. There was a rap at the door. The three women looked up to see Newbury framed in the doorway.

"Miss Hobbes. I'm sorry to disturb your conversation, but I believe our business here is done."

Veronica tried to hide the relief on her face. As she stood, Isabella leaned in and whispered surreptitiously. "You're right dear, he's terribly dashing."

Veronica smiled knowingly and turned to face both of the ladies. "Good afternoon, ladies. It's been a pleasure."

Evelyn glanced from Newbury to Veronica. "You must come and see us again, Miss Hobbes. Sir Maurice, do say you'll bring her again."

Newbury coughed to cover his laughter. "All in good time, I'm sure."

Evelyn smiled triumphantly. "That's settled then. Next time Juliana may be here. I am sure she'd be delighted to tell you about her writing."

"I'll look forward to it." And with that Veronica turned on her heel and joined Newbury in the hallway, before the two of them took their leave of the Orleans Club and headed out into the cold afternoon.

"So, how did you find Morgan?"

They were waiting for a cab by the side of the road. The fog had settled even lower during the time they had passed inside the Orleans Club, and the street seemed deserted, wreathed in a thick smog. Veronica was standing close to Newbury, partly in an effort to fight off the penetrating chill, but partly for the comfort of having him nearby. The fog made her uncomfortable these days, what with all the talk of 'revenants' and glowing policemen. She had resolved to spend as little time out in it as possible, for the time being, at least.

"I'm afraid I didn't find Morgan at all. He didn't keep our appointment. Either he was detained elsewhere, or simply decided that his information wasn't so inflammatory after all."

Veronica frowned. "That sounds unlikely, especially after hearing about him from the ladies inside the club."

Newbury chuckled. "Yes, you did seem to ingratiate yourself with them rather."

Veronica sighed. "I admit that I find that sort of woman most difficult to engage. I think it was their sheer desperation at seeing another female face that led them to embrace me so quickly."

Newbury shrugged. "Did they reveal anything useful, other than recommendations for the latest romance novel or the usual society gossip?"

"Not as such. Although they did go on at length about Morgan, ensuring me he was an excellent fellow, a perfect gentleman and a 'pillar of their community'. Doesn't sound to me like the sort of chap not to keep his appointments."

"Indeed." Newbury paused at the sound of horse's hooves. He stepped into the road for a moment, catching the attention of a cab driver. He came back to stand beside Veronica as the cab drew up before them, coming to rest beside the curb. "Well, it's been a difficult day for us both, Miss Hobbes, and I suspect, with the dark drawing in, that it's a little too late to go searching for Morgan now. What do you say that I drop you at home and we set out again first thing tomorrow morning for Morgan's gallery? We shouldn't allow the trail to go cold, no matter how tenuous it actually is."

Veronica nodded her assent. After the day she'd had, she'd be glad for a hot bath and an early night. "Will you be alright, Sir Maurice?"

He caught the meaning behind her words as he opened the door of the cab for her. "I'll be fine, Miss Hobbes. Absolutely fine."

"In that case I think it is an excellent plan. I'm sure we could both do with the rest."

They mounted the cab and gave the driver directions. Then, falling into a casual silence, each of them watching the fog roll by the windows of the cab, they set out for Kensington, and home.