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Updated: May 5, 2025
All their lives they had lived in a country village, fussing happily over church work; but an uncle, who had made jam and lots of money, died, leaving everything to his nieces. Part of that "everything" was a large house in Fitzjohn's Avenue, Hampstead, in which, by the uncle's will, the Miss Splatchleys were obliged to live for nine months of the year.
Indeed, she seemed to have forgotten the episode, quite taking it for granted that I was disposed of with the Miss Splatchleys for some time to come. "Kitty and I will motor out to see you the first day we have a chance," she said, "if we can find Fitzjohn's Avenue. I never heard of it.
There are lots of things in it I can spare for our Belgian women." "Very well, as you like," said Di. "That white velvet was quite nice, and will be all right if it is not full of beggar's creases. You can have the little trunk put on the luggage carrier of the car to-morrow night when we send you back to Fitzjohn's Avenue.
Seated in her cosy, well furnished drawing-room, with its silken curtains and bright chintzes in the English style, I told her exactly what Rasputin and Anna had instructed me to say. "The Father wishes you to lose no time in becoming acquainted with the financier Yakowleff," I said. "He has offices in Old Broad Street, and he lives in Fitzjohn's Avenue, Hampstead, when in London."
Cecily did not speak to him as they walked towards the Spaniards' Road, nor did he speak to her. The angry look on her face deterred him. He hailed a taxi, and they got into it and were driven down Fitzjohn's Avenue and homewards.
Poor Vivie, whom even FitzJohn's Avenue at Hampstead had rejected, who had long since been dropped no doubt on account of rumours concerning her mother by the few acquaintances she had made at Cambridge, who had parents living in South Kensington, Bayswater, and Bloomsbury. Here was Portland Place receiving her in her guise as David Williams with open arms.
He turned to a page who was standing near. "Boy," he said sharply, "what address did that gentleman who has just gone tell you to give to his driver?" "He told the driver himself, sir," the boy answered, "but I heard the address he gave, sir." "What was it?" "Three forty, Maresfield Gardens, sir. It's near Swiss Cottage up Fitzjohn's Avenue on the right." Osborne turned to me quickly.
When he was in London he several times came to our house in Fitzjohn's Avenue." "And your husband knows him?" I asked, looking her straight in the face. "Please tell me the truth," I urged. "No. Jack has never met him not to my knowledge." I was silent for a few seconds. I had established a fact which I had all along suspected.
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