A Poisoning In Piccadilly Read online

  A Poisoning in Piccadilly

  The Lady Eleanor Mysteries, Volume 1

  Lynda Wilcox

  Published by Lynda Wilcox, 2019.

  A Poisoning in Piccadilly

  by

  Lynda Wilcox

  Copyright © 2019 by Lynda Wilcox. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or parts thereof, in any form.

  All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  The last day of December, and a frigid, biting wind blasted the streets of London, nipping at unprotected ears and ankles, as apparently anxious to see off 1923 as the many revellers it scurried on their way.

  In the back of the taxi taking her to the Rudolph Hotel, Lady Eleanor Bakewell snuggled into the fur collar of her wrap and tried to get into the party mood.

  Her Christmas sojourn at home, at the family’s country estate in Derbyshire, had been blighted by her mother’s constant attempts to match-make for her daughter. Eleanor had enjoyed two wonderful days with her father and brother, riding and walking with the dogs, before the county ‘set’ had descended on them on Boxing Day and peace and quiet had evaporated amid squeals of greeting and fatuous conversations.

  No doubt tonight would bring more of the same. In the darkness in the rear of the cab, Eleanor plastered a bright smile on her pretty features and hoped it would remain there all evening. At least she would be amongst friends and Lady Ann Carstairs, the party’s organiser, would not be forcing her to dance with a string of eligible bachelors as Eleanor’s mother had done.

  So what if she was twenty-four? She was hardly an old maid. Eleanor had no desire to be married, not yet awhile anyway, and certainly not to some chinless wonder — even if he was in possession of an earldom and a considerable fortune. Thankfully, she had money of her own, left to her by a childless great-aunt, and Eleanor’s father gave her a generous allowance, so marriage for financial security was as unnecessary as it was undesirable.

  “Blimey! It’s busy tonight.” The taxi driver spoke over his shoulder, interrupting his passenger’s thoughts. “I hope you aren’t in any rush to get to the Rudolph, ma’am.”

  “No, no. There’s no hurry. It’s bound to be busy on New Year’s Eve, especially here in the centre of town. Don’t worry.”

  Eleanor glanced at her small wristwatch — a Christmas present from her father — and saw it was nearly eight o’clock. She had promised Ann that she’d be at the party early, but had failed to make allowances for the number of cars and pedestrians out on the town to celebrate the New Year.

  She peered out of the grimy window, trying to see where they were and if she was close enough to walk from here. Her strappy shoes were not designed for pounding the streets, however, and she stayed where she was. Most of Ann’s guests would not arrive until at least nine, or even ten o’clock and she still had plenty of time.

  When they at last reached the Rudolph, she gave her driver a large tip, and wished him a happy New Year, then joined the crowd walking up the wide steps to the hotel’s front doors.

  Fortunately, the Rudolph had been spared a lot of the devastation that had rained down on London and the rest of the country during the war. A small incendiary device had caused damage to an exterior wall, but that had long since been repaired, and the hotel was back to providing all the comforts of a home-away-from-home to those who needed and could afford it.

  Eleanor made her way through the lobby towards the Rudolph’s famous ballroom, expecting to see some familiar faces at Lady Carstairs’ exclusive private party and looking forward to a pleasant evening.

  Inside the ballroom, crystal chandeliers glittered over her head, their light reflected in the large mirrors hanging on the elegant cream-painted panelling. Dancers could watch themselves as they twirled past, and the more insecure of the Rudolph’s female guests might unobtrusively check the state of their attire and make-up without the lengthy walk to the ladies’ room in the lobby.

  On a stage at the far end of the room, a jazz band was already in full swing, its syncopated rhythm tugging at Eleanor’s feet. Any minute now, she told herself, the tune will start, but this was jazz, so it never would.

  “Eleanor, darling. I’m so glad you’re here.” Ann Carstairs swept down on the newcomer in a waft of scent and a rattle of beads. “The cloakroom’s over there in the corner. Leave your coat, then come and join me at the bar. I’ve so much to tell you.” She pointed to an archway in the opposite wall. “It’s through there. You should be able to find it.”

  Eleanor grinned at her friend. “Of course. Whenever have I not been able to find a bar?”

  She took off her soft kid gloves and dropped them into her bag, then walked to the counter where she could leave her wrap. There was only one attendant, a swarthy-faced individual with insolent eyes that watched her as she slipped out of her coat, appraising the shapely figure thus revealed, and seeming to undress the rest of her. With a shudder, Eleanor passed the coat over, putting the ticket he gave her into her bag, and turned on her heel.

  She smiled inwardly at the audible gasp from behind that greeted the sight of her rear view. Her full length dress — eschewing the fashion for short with fringes on everything — hugged her body until it flared at the knees, but her back was naked to just below the waist.

  Eleanor’s entry into the bar drew admiring glances from almost everyone. She smiled and waved to those she knew and took the glass from Ann’s outstretched hand with relief.

  “Vodka martini, just how you like it.”

  “Thank you. You’re a star.”

  “I wish. I’m glad you got here early, before the main crush. There’s something I’d like you to do for me.”

  Eleanor took the cocktail stick from her glass and surveyed the three olives. “Anything,” she said.

  “Wait until you’ve heard what it is before you agree.”

  “Go on.” She nibbled delicately at an olive.

  “Well, you know I went to New York earlier in the year?”

  Eleanor nodded. “Yes, lucky you.”

  Until the outbreak of war, Lady Ann had been the spoilt youngest child of an ancient family, whose sole purpose in life had been to have fun and get her own way. With the loss of both her older brothers at the Battle of the Somme had come a change of heart and a new purpose. At the age of seventeen she had volunteered to help with the war effort, and met Eleanor at camp on the South Downs, where they were taught the rudiments of auto mechanics and repaired staff cars and field ambulances.

  With the cessation of hostilities, it seemed the world wanted to party and Ann, looking for a new direction, had set herself up in business as a party organiser. Business boomed in London, and in May she had crossed the Atlantic with a view to opening an office in New York.

  “Well, I
wasn’t so lucky in one respect,” said Ann, patting her dark shingled hair. “Still, that’s beside the point. You remember I told you that I met a rich man and his family, Henry T. Eisenbach, the steel magnate.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Well, they arrived in London a few days ago and are coming tonight. Please be a darling and keep the old man happy while I attempt to bag at least one dance with his son.”

  Eleanor raised a well-plucked eyebrow. “Ah ha! You sly dog. You made no mention of this before.”

  Ann blushed. “Oh, it’s nothing like that. This is strictly business, honestly.”

  “Hmm.” Eleanor took a sip of her martini, and surveyed her friend critically. “Won’t Mr Eisenbach have his daughter with him? He might not want company, nor a strange woman being foisted on him.”

  “Nonsense, dear. It’s New Year’s Eve, this is a party. Besides, Americans are gregarious and love to meet anyone with a title. He’ll be all over you.”

  “I sincerely hope he won’t.” Eleanor shivered at the prospect of being pawed by anyone, rich or poor, American or not.

  “No, silly! You know what I mean. Anyway, I’ve met him and he’s a really nice man. A gentleman. Please say you’ll do this for me, Ellie.”

  Eleanor sighed. “All right, but look, why don’t you introduce me to the family and we’ll take it from there.”

  Assuming this was acceptance, Ann flashed her bright smile and squeezed her friend’s hand.

  “Thanks, Eleanor, you’re a real pal. Now I must fly. It’s my party and I really ought to be near the door to greet my guests.”

  Ann shimmied away and Eleanor took another, longer, pull at her drink. Unhappy at the thought of being used as either a decoy or a babysitter, she wondered if that was the only reason she had been invited. If so, she foresaw a cooling in the otherwise warm friendship.

  “Eleanor, old girl! Absolutely topping to see you. How the deuce are you?”

  Eleanor looked up at the sound of the familiar braying voice, and smiled at the sight of Tommy Totteridge, the Viscount of Marchwold, known as Totters to his friends. Flanked by his two companions, his tall, lanky figure strode towards her.

  “Hello, Tommy, I’m well, thank you. Nice to see you, too.”

  “You remember Sophie Westlake and Ferret Fortescue, don’t you?

  The bar was beginning to fill up, the noise levels rising, so Eleanor wasn’t altogether sure that she had heard his introductions clearly. Nevertheless she smiled at the newcomers and accepted Tommy’s offer of another cocktail. The night was young, and a little more vodka shouldn’t leave her too tight to manage a steel magnate, unless he wanted to dance. She could spin her body with the best of them, but a spinning head was another matter entirely.

  “I hope I can last the night.” Sophie leant towards Eleanor. “This is my third party this week. How about you?”

  “No, I’ve been saving myself. Ann Carstairs throws wicked parties, and this is New Year’s Eve. Besides, my liver complains if I work it too hard.”

  “Really? Gosh, what rotten luck.” Sophie took her drink from Tommy and gulped down half of it. “I suppose I might get to that stage, but I say eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die. Cheers!”

  Eleanor gave a polite smile, though she considered the girl’s comment in poor taste. New Year was a time for celebration and for new beginnings.

  Yet, someone would die that night.

  Chapter 2

  Deciding it was time to mingle, Eleanor wandered into the ballroom, intent on chatting with friends. She had spied John and Esme Wainwright come in at the same time as she’d been collared by Ann, and hadn’t had chance to speak to them yet. They hadn’t met since Eleanor had attended their wedding the previous June and they had a lot of catching up to do. She especially wanted to hear about their honeymoon in Egypt, a place that was all the rage following the discovery, by Howard Carter and his patron Lord Carnarvon, of Tutankhamun's tomb in 1922.

  The spectacular finds in the Valley of the Kings had sparked a world-wide fascination with the land of the Pharaohs and its ancient culture. Egyptian motifs and designs now appeared on fabrics, furnishings, ornaments, and even wallpaper. Eleanor herself owned a leather writing case embossed with hieroglyphs.

  The Wainwrights were sitting at a table on the far side of the circular dance floor. As Eleanor made her way through the throng towards them the music suddenly stopped and the band leader approached the microphone.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the last, and greatest, party of 1923. I’m Derek Delaney. My band and I are happy and honoured to play for you this evening. We’re also delighted that we have with us, fresh from taking the West End by storm, the fabulous Dashing Dashwoods.”

  He threw out his right arm, then led the applause as a pair of almost identical blondes in heavily fringed short dresses ran onto the stage and began to sing a throaty rendition of My Man Done Me Wrong.

  The deep voices were unexpected when the pair looked so slight and fair, and Eleanor listened for a moment, appreciating the performance until a light tap on her arm distracted her.

  “Eleanor, these are the friends I was telling you about.” There was a suggestion of gritted teeth in the smile Ann gave her, and as a result Eleanor’s own normally warm greeting became a little more fixed in place. “May I present Mr Henry T. Eisenbach of Pittsburgh, along with his daughter Carolyne, and his son, Howard. Mr Eisenbach, this is Lady Eleanor Bakewell.”

  “Please, call me Eleanor. I hate to stand on ceremony, especially at a party.” She put out a hand to Eisenbach, while her smile encompassed them all. “I trust you are enjoying your visit to London.”

  “Indeed, thank you,” the elder American replied, as Ann steered them to a free table on the edge of the dance floor.

  “I still say we should buy that car, Dad.” Howard addressed his father as they took their seats. “We could ship it back home and race it there. It’s miles ahead of anything we’ve got Stateside.”

  “Oh, stow it, Howie,” muttered his sister. “This trip isn’t all about you, you know.”

  “Come on, Sis. Who went shopping to that couturier in Bond Street, yesterday, huh?” Howard turned his attention back to his father, who now bore a monumental scowl on his face. “The thing is, Dad —”

  “I said ‘no’, and there’s an end to it. I don’t want to hear another word about it this evening. Remember your manners. Whatever will Lady Eleanor think of us, whining like hillbillies?”

  Ann cast a despairing look at her friend. “I’ll organise some drinks. Sit tight.”

  She hurried away on her errand and, in the semi-darkness of the ballroom, Eleanor quietly studied the Eisenbach family .

  Carolyne wore a bored expression and a dress in the latest fashion, neither of which really suited her. Her eyes were shaded with kohl and around her wide brow and glossy black hair sat a feather-bearing headband studded with diamonds — real diamonds, if Eleanor was any judge.

  Eleanor also noted the small clutch bag, similar to her own that sat on the table in front of her, and how the girl fiddled at the clasp, opening and closing it, with hands that were never still. When she eventually extracted a monogrammed cigarette case and holder, she made no attempt to smoke, merely resting the case on the table in front of her and twirling the holder in her fingers.

  Her brother, on the other hand, had lit a small cigar after his outburst and now he leaned back and surveyed the room with interest and a bright eye. Eleanor wondered if he were looking for someone. Perhaps he had expected to be cornered by Ann and her business proposition, and now that she’d disappeared was hoping to spot someone more congenial to talk to.

  As if aware of her regard, Howard suddenly looked straight at her and flashed an impish smile.

  “My apologies, Lady Eleanor.”

  “That’s quite all right.” Intrigued by the mention of a racing car, Eleanor longed to know more, but held her tongue. She had no intention of being the catalyst of
a family argument.

  “Nice place, this,” he said, looking around him. “Perhaps we’ll stay here next time we’re in London.”

  “Where are you staying, Mr Eisenbach?”

  “Oh, we’re at the Ritz.” He grinned at his father across the table. “Only the best for Dad.”

  Eisenbach senior shook his head and looked disapproving. “It was a choice, that’s all. There are many excellent hotels in London.”

  “This isn’t your first trip to England, then?”

  “By no means. I came over once or twice before the war and then again early in ‘19, wanting to see what was what, and whether my company could do anything to restore the old place.”

  He made Britain sound like his ancestral home and Eleanor resented the inference. She had visions of a rambling wooden house out on the prairie with a stoop and a rocking chair, in need of repair and a lick of paint.

  It was no metaphor for the state of Britain in 1918. There were a lot of commodities the country had stood in need of at the end of the war, and steel was certainly among them, but Eleanor objected to what she thought was rank opportunism on the American’s part.

  “I’m delighted we could put a little business your way.”

  She smiled at him, but Eisenbach was nobody’s fool and picked up at the acerbic tone she had tried hard to mask.

  “Please, don’t think so badly of me, Lady Eleanor. Despite my name, I was actually born here on these shores. My parents were en route from Austria to America and I appeared a little earlier than expected.” He grinned. “I care as deeply about England as I do about the States, and I grieved for what this country and its people suffered. I was one of the first of my countrymen to offer what help I could.”

  Eleanor acknowledged and accepted the rebuke with a raised hand. “Forgive me, Mr Eisenbach, I meant no offence.”

  “None taken, your Ladyship.” The grey eyes in his lined face twinkled at her. “We’re on the same side, after all. So, do you live in London?”

  The two chatted amiably for a while, though neither Carolyne nor Howard joined the conversation. Eleanor was aware of them getting up to dance, but paid them little attention.