An Urchin of Means by April White

Author:April White
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, historical, victorian, teen 11 and up, holmes mystery, action ya
Publisher: April White

Chapter 16 – Leighton House

We saw Conan Doyle and Stoddart into a hackney with promises to reveal more secrets of London another time, and then set off at a brisk walking pace in the direction of Kensington.

Along the way, Wilde regaled me with what he knew of Sir Frederic Leighton – fluent in French, German, and Italian from a youth spent on the Continent with his family, he studied art in Italy, and his wealth came both from his family and his own labors.

“I heard that one of his paintings sold recently for six thousand,” said Oscar in a droll tone. “Considering his house cost something close to five, I’d say he’s doing well for himself.”

“You sound as though you don’t care for the man,” I observed dryly.

“I admire his work with the whole of my being, but as I said before, he is impossible to truly know, as he leaves nothing of himself off the canvas.”

The walk from Grosvenor Hill to Holland Park took nearly an hour, but it was quite delightful to stroll through Hyde Park on a crisp night with few pedestrians. Oscar asked questions about my days as a thief, and I told him that I’d been nicknamed Keys because I could open any door by climbing through a window.

“Where did the name Ringo come from?” he asked.

“Saira called me that, and it stuck.”

“And Devereux? I believe that was the last name of Saira’s husband, Archer?” Oscar was fishing, and I’d allow him small bites to keep the larger questions at bay.

“Archer Devereux is the younger son of a duke who believes Archer is dead. When Charlie and I married, one of Archer’s wedding presents to us was his name, which he registered to a bank account at Rothschild’s. It’s as close a thing to a birth certificate as I have ever had, and Archer is my brother in all but blood, so it, too, stuck.”

And that was all I would say about that.

The houses of much of Holland Park were solidly middle class, and many had been built within the previous fifty years in classic Victorian style. Holland Park Circle, which we approached from Kensington High Street, was an enclave of successful artists; Leighton’s house at 2 Holland Park Road was among the largest. The house, constructed of red brick and vaguely Moorish in design, occupied a large lot that backed up to the park itself. It was past midnight and the street was deserted, but I crept down the side of the house to the open land behind it in order to draw as little attention as possible. Oscar followed my lead.

I tucked myself back against the trunk of a tree and bid Oscar to do the same. Then I rubbed coal dust on my hands and face to dim the brightness of my skin. A small part of me wished I’d brought Jess with me tonight, as it would have been good to have a skilled partner in crime, but she hadn’t shown

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