Sophie nodded, and C went on: ‘Familiarise yourself with the contents of these folders. They include your instructions, and all the information you’ll need. Your train leaves from Victoria first thing tomorrow morning.’
The overture came to an end with three long notes, and Sophie realised she was being dismissed. She hastily scooped up the two folders, as he added:
‘Oh, one last thing. Miss Blaxland of course travels with a chaperone – normally, I believe, she has a lady’s maid to accompany her. You’ll need to arrange for someone to go with you in that capacity. I’m sure one of your quick-witted young ladies will do the job. Well, very best of luck. Farewell, or I suppose I ought to say au revoir.’
He smiled and turned away to fiddle with the gramophone, but Sophie paused at the door. She was still trying to make sense of all that C had told her, but in spite of that, she had to ask: ‘I . . . I don’t suppose there’s any news of Lil?’
She knew she wasn’t really supposed to ask. When they’d first agreed to work for the Bureau, they’d been told that their work would be top secret; and Lil’s current assignment was especially confidential. Even Sophie hadn’t been allowed to know where Lil was going or what she was doing. All she had been told was that Lil would be away for some weeks – perhaps months – and that she would have no way of keeping in touch. Sophie had sometimes imagined her sleeping in a tent in a desert; trekking through wild jungles; or even sunning herself on the deck of a steam-boat on a faraway ocean. Now she added, feeling rather foolish: ‘I just wondered if she was all right.’
C shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything.’ Her impatience must have showed on her face because he added more gently: ‘Not because I won’t, but because I can’t. I haven’t heard anything from her for a little while, you see. It’s not always easy for her to get reports through. Though last time I did hear from her, she was perfectly well and in high spirits as usual. Your friend is a very courageous young woman.’ He nodded her a brisk goodbye: ‘Bon voyage, Miss Taylor. Good hunting.’
Carruthers was typing very fast and very loudly when Sophie closed the office door behind her.
‘So we’re off to Paris, are we? How nice.’
‘It’s not a holiday,’ said Sophie tightly, wishing Carruthers didn’t always succeed in irritating her. ‘It’s an assignment.’
‘Oh, I know all about it. Someone has to prepare all those reports and dossiers, you know. Though I must admit I couldn’t quite believe it when I heard they were sending you undercover as Celia Blaxland.’ He snorted sarcastically. ‘Good luck!’
‘The Chief seemed to think I’d manage perfectly well. Good morning to you, Captain,’ and before he could say anything else, she swept out of the room.
She didn’t have time for Carruthers now. Her mind was whirling, and she knew she had to gather herself. She had a lot to do if she was to be on a train to Paris first thing tomorrow morning.
Paris! It was a daunting thought, but there was a spark of excitement too. Her mind darted at once to thoughts of artists and writers, the sumptuous outfits created by designer César Chevalier, grand boulevards, splendid architecture, delicious food . . . She’d never travelled abroad before, although she knew that her parents had been all over the world. Paris made her think especially of her mother, who had spent time there as a young girl: Sophie had read all about it in her mother’s old diaries, which she had inherited. She thought it would be rather wonderful to follow in her mother’s footsteps, although of course she wouldn’t have much time for sight-seeing. As she had told Carruthers, this would be no holiday: she had a murder to investigate.
The thought of that made her feel suddenly tight with nerves. She knew she was a good detective, but she’d never taken on a case like this before. If only Lil were here, she’d have made the assignment seem fun and exciting – an adventure in a foreign city. Lil was an actress, and the idea of going undercover in some extraordinary role never daunted her in the slightest. But now Lil was miles away – who-knew-where – and Sophie would have to manage this by herself.
For a moment, she saw Carruthers’ sneering face again, and then heard the Chief say: ‘Your friend is a very courageous young woman.’ Was the implication that she herself was not? But surely that wasn’t fair: her mind flashed at once through scenes of underground passageways and rooftops and standing in an empty office, face to face with the Baron himself. But that had been different, she realised. Then she’d always had Lil by her side.
As she came out into the street and flagged down a cab, she told herself she was being silly. There was no reason at all that she couldn’t handle this just as well as anyone else. She oughtn’t to let Carruthers rattle her; the Chief had faith in her, or he wouldn’t have given her the job.
‘Sinclair’s department store, please,’ she said to the cab driver as she clambered inside.
‘Off to do a spot of shopping, miss? And very nice too.’
Sophie didn’t bother to correct him. She was fairly certain that the cab driver wouldn’t believe her if she explained that she wasn’t going shopping at all, but that in fact the young girl with the blue parasol was the coproprietor of Taylor & Rose detective agency, and even now making arrangements to embark on a secret undercover mission.
A secret undercover mission! Well, there was no turning back now, she thought. She’d told the Chief she would do it, and after all, it was hardly likely that there were any other young ladies working for the Secret Service Bureau who could go undercover as Celia Blaxland.
Besides, it was not as though she’d be entirely alone, Sophie reminded herself. The Chief had said that Miss Blaxland was always accompanied by a lady’s maid. Before she did anything else, she should make sure that she would be too, and luckily she knew exactly the person she wanted to help her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Taylor & Rose Detective Agency Sinclair’s Department Store, London
‘No. No chance whatsoever. Absolutely not,’ declared Tilly at once. ‘Look around you! I’m far too busy!’
Sophie obediently glanced around Tilly’s workshop, though in fact, calling it a ‘workshop’ made it sound a good deal grander than it actually was. In reality, the little office that Tilly had claimed at Taylor & Rose was scarcely bigger than a large cupboard. But Tilly had been adamant that she must have a place of her own to work, no matter how small it might be. She was a student at University College London, and had a passion for all things mechanical and scientific. When she wasn’t studying, she provided Taylor & Rose with a good deal of technical help with everything from developing photographs to testing for fingerprints. She had even invented several useful and unusual devices to help them in their detective work.
Tilly was presently taking a course in chemistry, which went some way to explaining why the table in front of her was covered with a jumble of glass bottles, jars and test tubes. Behind her, shelves were crammed with thick books, stacks of papers and a framed photograph of Madame Curie, the French scientist who was Tilly’s greatest hero. In the midst of all this was Tilly herself – a tall, brown-skinned girl with a lot of curly black hair. She was wearing a large apron over her frock, and what looked like a pair of old motoring goggles on her head, and her hands were placed firmly on her hips.
‘I’ve got an examination in two weeks. I can’t just go haring off to Paris at the drop of a hat to be a lady’s maid !’ she insisted.
‘I know it’s rather a lot to ask. But this assignment is for the Secret Service Bureau. It’s jolly important – the Chief said it could be a matter of national security.’
‘Surely one of the others could go instead?’
‘But no one else would be nearly as good at this assignment as you. Miss Blaxland is a terribly wealthy young lady. You know exactly what someone like her would be like – you could help me to impersonate her. And you know you’d be able to play the role of her lady’s maid to perfection.’ It was true – though Tilly was now a London student, it was not long since she’d been working as a maid in a grand country house. What was more, Sophie knew that she was practical, sensible and extremely clever – exactly the person she needed to help her solve this case. ‘If you can’t come, I suppose I’ll have to ask one of the others. But I do wish you would come with me. It’s a very important assignment, and I’d really value your help.’
Tilly’s face softened a little. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to help, Sophie. You know I’d do anything for Taylor & Rose. It’s just . . . would I really have to be a lady’s maid? Honestly, I can’t bear the thought of going back to doing nothing but saying “yes, ma’am” and “no, ma’am” and fussing with hair and petticoats.’
‘I promise you wouldn’t have to think about so much as a single petticoat,’ said Sophie gravely. ‘You have my word on that. You’ll only need to pretend to be a lady’s maid when we’re in company. The rest of the time you’ll be working with me to solve the case.’
Tilly said nothing, but Sophie could see she was wavering. ‘Besides, it would give you the chance to see Paris, and the Sorbonne – isn’t that where Madame Curie studied?’ Remembering something she’d read in the morning newspaper, she added hurriedly: ‘And there’s that big air race too starting in a few days, isn’t there? The Grand Aerial Tour of Europe. You might be able to go and see all those new aeroplanes.’ Sophie knew that Tilly was fascinated by the new flying-machine technology, though personally she couldn’t think of anything worse than flying in an aeroplane. The thought of someone launching themselves into the air in a fragile-looking craft like those she’d seen in the newspapers made her feel queasy. But she knew Tilly would love to have the chance to see the latest aeroplanes up close.
‘Well, all right then,’ said Tilly at last. ‘I suppose I could manage, as long as it really is only a few days. And as long as I can bring my chemistry books so I can prepare for my examination,’ she added hastily.
Sophie grinned in relief. As far as she was concerned, Tilly could bring all the books she wanted, just as long as she’d be there to help her go undercover to investigate a murder in an unknown city.
After agreeing their plans for the following morning, she closed the door, leaving Tilly to finish her work. As she emerged into the small reception area of the Taylor & Rose office, Sophie felt a familiar glow of pride. This was their place – the place that she and Lil had built together. There were the pictures they’d chosen on the walls; a vase of Lil’s favourite roses on a table; the sound of voices and the cheerful trill of a telephone bell. Two or three people were sitting waiting for appointments, whilst at the reception desk, a business-like young lady, with glossy black hair and a blouse with a neat bow at the neck sat busily typing. Mei Lim was the youngest member of the Taylor & Rose team, and acted as their receptionist. She looked up at once and smiled as Sophie came in. ‘Oh, there you are. These letters have come for you.’
Sophie took the stack of letters then glanced quickly around at the people sitting fanning themselves or sipping tea. ‘Come into my office for a minute,’ she said in a low voice to Mei. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
Mei got up at once, looking most intrigued, and followed Sophie through into the room that she and Lil used as their office. It was a very comfortable place, with a big window looking down on to the street below, and two desks positioned companionably opposite each other – Lil’s currently rather bare and looking most unusually tidy.
‘Did everything go well today?’ asked Mei eagerly, the second that the door closed behind them.
‘It did,’ said Sophie, taking off her hat and hanging up the blue parasol beside it. ‘Everything went very well indeed. But the Chief has given me a new assignment. I’m going away tomorrow, and Tilly’s coming with me. We may be away for as much as a week.’
‘A week!’ exclaimed Mei, her eyes wide. ‘But . . . how will we manage without you?’
‘You’ll be fine,’ said Sophie, going over to her desk. ‘Billy and Joe will be here, and I know that between you, you’ll look after everything beautifully.’
‘But . . . but we’ve got our meeting of the Order on Thursday,’ Mei protested. ‘It won’t be right without you and Tilly, and without Lil.’
‘It can’t be helped. You’ll have to have the meeting without us,’ said Sophie, though she said it a little sadly. The members of the Loyal Order of Lions were all very busy, and without even the smallest glimpse of the Fraternitas Draconum to concern them their meetings had become increasingly few and far between. But Sophie always loved their friendly gatherings in the Lims’ cosy kitchen, sitting around the big table in the glow of the lamp-light, and she would be very sorry indeed to miss this one. The Pendletons would be back from their honeymoon in Italy, she remembered, and Mei’s brother Song had promised to bake a special cake to celebrate her seventeenth birthday.
But there was no time to dwell on missing the meeting now. If she was to be on the train to Paris the next morning, there were a great deal of preparations to be made. Very soon, Mei had hurried off with a long list of tasks, whilst Sophie settled down at her desk. There was plenty of urgent business to deal with – letters requiring replies, accounts to balance, and artwork to check for a new advertisement. Putting things in order was soothing, and once she’d attended to her work, and felt satisfied that everything was in place, she was ready to turn her attention to Paris.
She went in search of Billy, who she soon found at his own desk, busy with several important-looking ledgers. Like Joe, Billy Parker had been part of the Taylor & Rose team from the start, and now kept their office running in perfect order. She wasted no time in explaining her mission, and a short while later, the two of them were on their way to the Sinclair’s Ladies’ Fashions Department.
As usual, Sinclair’s was busy with shoppers: gentlemen in white flannels and striped jackets, ladies in summer frocks, and groups lingering to listen to the band in the Entrance Hall, who were playing one of the latest Ragtime tunes. As Sophie left the office, she noticed several shoppers pausing to look curiously at the gold sign for Taylor & Rose, or even trying to peep through the glass to see what was happening in the office within. That was quite usual, of course. After all a detective agency in a department store was rather an extraordinary thing, especially one run by young ladies. But then again, Sinclair’s was anything but an ordinary shop. It was a department store of dreams: a place that you could buy more or less anything, from the finest rose and violet creams, to the very latest Paris hat. You could dine on fashionable dishes like lobster a l’americaine or peach Melba ice-cream sundaes in the Marble Court Restaurant; you could visit the famous concierge, who would work his magic to secure you a suite at the city’s best hotel, or tickets to a new West End show; or you could have your hair perfectly Marcel-waved by London’s most elegant hairdresser. Was it any wonder that, if you wanted, you could hire a detective too?
Billy wasn’t paying any attention to the shoppers. He was busy adding things to his carefully organised list. He had a list for every occasion, and was never very far away from a well-sharpened pencil and a notebook. ‘Let’s see . . . magnifying glass . . . fan . . . eau de cologne . . .’ he muttered to himself, as Sophie contemplated a selection of gowns, reflecting, not for the first time, just how convenient it was to have the support and backing of the owner of Sinclair’s, Mr Edward Sinclair himself. If Sinclair’s was no ordinary store, then Mr Sinclair was certainly no ordinary store owner: he had himself worked undercover for both the British and American governments. He was one of the few people who knew about their work for the Secret Service Bureau, and had given them free rein to take whatever supplies they needed from Sinclair’s when they were working on Bureau business.
‘. . . pen-knife. Ball of string . . . oh, and mackintosh squares, of course,’ Billy murmured, scribbling them all down.
Sophie grinned. ‘Mackintosh squares?’ she repeated. ‘Don’t you think that’s going a bit far? We’re not going into the wilderness, you know.’
‘Well, it’s always good to be prepared,’ said Billy rather indignantly.
‘Look – what do you think of this for Miss Blaxland?’ asked Sophie, pointing to a grey tailor-made outfit. ‘And perhaps that hat with the roses?’
Billy screwed up his face. ‘No. That won’t do at all. It’s too plain, and besides it’s last year’s. Miss Blaxland is very well-off, isn’t she? She’s bound to have the very latest thing.’ He pointed to a sumptuous midnight-blue travelling suit, new in from Maison Chevalier. ‘That’s more like it. With the hat with the plumes and the net veil.’
Sophie took the hat and tried it on uncertainly. Her face in the mirror looked back at her, very small and rather doubtful. Even knowing that Tilly would be coming too, a fluttering feeling of nervousness was growing in her stomach about the new assignment.
Billy seemed to know how she felt. He gently tweaked the hat into the right position. ‘There. Perfect. You can do this, Sophie,’ he said quietly. ‘I know you can.’
An hour or two later, the things were all packed neatly into two large trunks from the store’s Luggage Department. Once Billy had checked the list twice, and then insisted on checking it just once more to be sure; and once Sophie had made certain he had everything he would need to take charge of Taylor & Rose while she was away, she was at last ready to go. It felt very peculiar to be saying goodbye to Billy and Mei, and to be closing the office door.
‘Well, I suppose I’ll see you next week, when you get back,’ said Billy casually. He grinned at her, but then suddenly looked anxious. ‘You will take care, won’t you?’ To Sophie’s surprise, he gave her a sudden hug. ‘Good luck. Be safe.’ he said in a gruff voice.
‘I will,’ she promised him.
But as she walked out of the great doors of Sinclair’s amongst the shoppers, Sophie reflected that she was not sure she really wished to be safe any longer. Safe made her think of the person she had been before – a china doll, dressed in finery and kept on the nursery shelf. Yes, she was nervous about the assignment, but there was no doubt about it, there was a smouldering feeling of excitement too.
In the carriage on the way to collect Tilly the next morning, she took out the first volume of her mother’s diaries – the notebook in which she had written about her travels in Europe, and especially her visit to Paris. She hadn’t been able to resist slipping it into her pocket as she left, and now her hand closed around the well-known, worn shape of it: she remembered something that her mother had written. I do believe I have a taste for adventure. There it was again – that thrill of recognition. A feeling that told her this was what she was meant to do.
Fewer than twenty-four hours after she’d tricked the grey man at the Left Luggage Office, Sophie once more crossed the concourse at Victoria station. But the girl with the frilly dress and parasol had vanished. Now she was Miss Celia Blaxland, an elegant, sophisticated young lady. Her dark blue skirts swished; beneath her large plumed hat, her hair was piled high, and pearl earrings dangled from her ears. Behind her came a smart lady’s maid, carefully carrying a little fur in case her mistress should feel chilly on the journey, and last of all a station porter, pushing a trolley piled high with trunks.
As she approached the first-class Pullman carriage, her heart was thumping. A uniformed attendant bowed low and extended a hand to help her inside, and Sophie was aboard the express train to Paris.
Although she didn’t know it, somewhere further down the platform, a thin grey man carrying papers bearing the name of Dr Frederick Muller was getting aboard the train too.
PART II
‘We have travelled by ship, by carriage, by donkey and even once on the backs of camels! But my favourite journeys of all are those by train. The very smell of the smoke, the rattling of the carriage, the chatter of our fellow passengers, all seem to promise romance and adventure.’
– From the diary of Alice Grayson
CHAPTER SIX
Wilderstein Castle, Arnovia
Anna held her breath as she crept along the hall, towards the governess’s bedroom. It was past midnight and the castle was whisper-quiet, the passageway made strange with shadows. In the dark, the antlers of the stuffed animal heads on the wall, the rusting suit of armour, even the painted shield with the arms of the Royal House of Wilderstein seemed to shift into new and sinister shapes.
A long, thin crack of yellow light was visible at the bedroom door and Anna moved towards it, her bare feet soft on the chilly stone flags. She felt excited. She knew that she was not supposed to be out of bed late at night, creeping around the castle, but it was rather thrilling to be slipping along the passageway in the dark in her nightgown, without even her bedroom slippers. It was absolutely the kind of thing that the heroines of the Fourth Form would do, even if it meant breaking the rules.
There were certainly plenty of rules at Wilderstein Castle. The Countess’s favourite words were discipline and decorum, and each day was the same, following an exact pattern. The day began with the ringing of the gong for breakfast at eight o’clock sharp, and ended with the chime of the bedtime bell, which meant that Alex and Anna must go to bed. Sometimes Anna felt that she was no more than a tiny cog in the Countess’s giant machine: a kind of musical box, where the Countess turned the handle, and spinning on top in time to the music was Alex. Not the real Alex she knew, but the Alex who would one day become King, shining out light like a golden star.
They all moved in time to the Countess’s tune: even the Count was bound by her strict timetable. Left to his own devices, Anna knew he would have been quite happy pottering about the castle, tinkering with his latest hobby – butterfly collecting, or motor cars, or more recently, his new-found passion for flying machines. Instead, the Countess insisted that each day at precisely the same time, the Count took Alex into the castle grounds for what they called ‘drills’ – a series of physical exercises inspired by his army training, which Alex simply loathed. This would be followed by a discussion of weapons and military strategy; the Count would give a detailed explanation of battle manoeuvres, or test Alex to see if he could correctly distinguish between a sabre and an épee. Alex, who couldn’t care less about broadswords and battle-axes, would return to the schoolroom pink-faced and wheezing, whilst the Count hurried back to his workshop to pore over the plans of aeroplanes.
Meanwhile, Anna’s morning always began with time at the back-board to improve her posture, whilst the Countess lectured her on royal etiquette and the importance of decorum. ‘As the Princess of Arnovia, you are an ambassador for your country and the House of Wilderstein wherever you go,’ she proclaimed. ‘You must never forget that.’ The Countess had many such maxims, most of which were about what princesses did and did not do: Princesses do not run. Princesses do not slam doors. A princess should not be inquisitive. Princesses do not lose their temper. A princess must never raise her voice. Now, Anna added in her head: A princess should not sneak about the castle at night in order to spy on her governess.