A Monstrous Regiment of Women - Laurie R. King [71]
“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