by Emily Organ
An Unwelcome Guest
Penny Green Mystery Book 7
Emily Organ
Contents
An Unwelcome Guest
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
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
The End
Historical Note
Thank you
Get a free short mystery
The Runaway Girl Series
An Unwelcome Guest
Emily Organ
Books in the Penny Green Series:
Limelight
The Rookery
The Maid’s Secret
The Inventor
Curse of the Poppy
The Bermondsey Poisoner
An Unwelcome Guest
Chapter 1
All I could see of the Hotel Tempesta that foggy evening were the two flickering gas lamps marking the hotel’s entrance. In clear light, the building was a cream-and-red-brick structure with decorative tiles surrounding each arched window. Countless chimneys and spires rose from the steeply pitched roof, as if to defy the hotel’s tragic past.
A doorman wearing a black and gold uniform greeted me.
“May I take your case, ma’am?”
“Thank you.”
I caught my breath as I stepped inside the magnificent foyer, the contrast with the cold November streets felt quite startling. I wiped the grime from my spectacles with a gloved hand and took in the enormous chandelier with its glittering light reflecting in numerous mirrors. A fountain at the centre of the room babbled soothingly, and beyond it lay a grand staircase with red-carpeted stairs. I breathed in the scent of lilies, and my boots echoed on the tiled floor as I approached the reception desk.
“Miss Green, isn’t it?” said a slightly built man in an evening suit. He bowed his sparsely-haired head in a servile manner. “Allow me to take your overcoat for you. Miss Milly here will escort you to your room.” He handed my coat to a young maid in a stiff white apron, who gave an unnecessary curtsy. “It’s on the second storey, so you may travel there via the newly installed elevator.”
The gentle tinkle of a piano accompanied our walk along the corridor, which was lined with portraits of proud-faced men and ladies with hair as glossy as their satin dresses. The light from a row of cut-glass lamps was dimmed by the dark wallpaper, and I felt a slight chill, having been relieved of my overcoat.
“How do you get on with ghosts, Miss Green?” my colleague Edgar Fish had asked me earlier that day in the cluttered newsroom of the Morning Express newspaper. “The Hotel Tempesta is haunted,” he had added with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. He was a young man with heavy features and small, glinting eyes.
“And cursed!” added my corpulent colleague Frederick Potter.
“That is nothing but hearsay,” I replied. “Anyhow, I don’t believe in ghosts, based on the fact that I have never seen one.”
“But that doesn’t prove that they don’t exist,” said Edgar. “You just haven’t encountered one yet. Have you ever visited a place as reputedly haunted as the Tempesta?”
“Probably.”
“You are aware of its history, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“That fire completely destroyed it four years ago, back when it was the Corinthian. How many guests perished, Potter?”
“About thirty, I think.”
“Then that chap who owned the Regency rebuilt it, didn’t he?” said Edgar.
“And did a pretty marvellous job,” added Frederick.
“Until he went bankrupt and hanged himself in his suite, that is.” Edgar shook his head. “Terribly sad.”
“That’s the curse for you,” said Frederick.
“There is no curse,” I scoffed. “Mr Gallo wouldn’t have bought it if he believed the place was cursed.”
“Ah, but he’s American,” said Edgar. “He doesn’t know the full history.”
“Of course he does,” I retorted. “Besides, he’s an extremely experienced hotelier. I’m sure he’ll do an excellent job with it, just as he has with the Hotel Maganza in New York.”
“In fairness to the American, he has changed the name from the Corinthian to the Tempesta,” said Frederick. “Perhaps the name change will lift the curse.”
“I doubt it,” said Edgar. “Sleep well, Miss Green.”
I sighed. “You know that I’m being forced into this because both you and Frederick have refused to go. I can’t say that I wish to spend any time there at all, but Mr Gallo seems to believe that inviting a journalist to stay the night will result in something flattering being written about his hotel in our newspaper.”
My bedchamber was a dark, wood-panelled room furnished in blue and gold. Thick curtains hung around the four-poster bed and two easy chairs covered in gold velvet sat either side of an occasional table. A lady in a large hat looked down on me from a painting above the fireplace, and although the fire was lit it seemed to emit little warmth.
“Drinks will be served in the Turkish Salon at six o’clock,” said Milly, who proceeded to give me directions on how to find it as she hung my overcoat in the wardrobe. “Before I take my leave, Miss Green, is there anything else you need me to assist you with?”
I glanced at the bed, where my suitcase had been carefully placed. “No, thank you.”
“Very good, Miss Green.” She gave another curtsy and stepped backwards through the door, so as not to turn her back on me.
I smiled at her obsequious nature once the door was closed, then glanced around the bedchamber once again. I gave a shiver and yearned for the comfort of my humble garret room, ruing the day I had agreed to stay the night in this accursed place. I pushed aside one of the heavy curtains at the window to see thick, dark tendrils of fog pressing up against the pane. Being unable to see anything beyond it left me with a stifling, smothering sensation in my chest. I returned the curtain to its original position and looked up at the lady in the picture, who was steadily watching me. Edgar’s talk of ghosts seemed less frivolous now.
I seated myself in one of the easy chairs and took a deep breath.
If only James were here.
I wondered what he would make of this place. Would he share my sense of discomfort?
Chapter 2
James had shown me a solicitor’s letter when we had met outside the Royal Aquarium the previous week.
“I suppose it
was to be expected that Charlotte would not accept my offer,” he said sourly.
“She plans to take legal action against you?” I skimmed my eyes over the convoluted wording of the document and tried to make sense of it.
“Yes, she and her father wish to have this sorry business discussed in a courtroom. I told you they would, didn’t I?”
James shook his head and scowled all around him, as if searching among the passers-by for his former fiancée, Charlotte Jenkins, and her father. There was a bitter chill in the air and his bowler hat sat low on his brow, a woollen scarf was tied tightly beneath his chin.
“I offered them three hundred pounds,” he continued. “That’s all the money I have saved. Yet they have instructed their solicitor to present a case that suggests it is insufficient!”
“I shouldn’t think they would need more than three hundred pounds,” I said. “The real reason behind the legal action is to punish you as much as possible.”
“You’re right, Penny, and I deserve it. After all, I abandoned a bride on her wedding day.”
“You did the right thing,” I said softly.
He turned back to face me. “I know that I did.”
The sparkle in his blue eyes prompted me to smile. “Once this silly court case is over there’ll be no need for you to feel guilty about your actions any longer,” I said. “You’ll have more than paid your dues. Then Charlotte will seek another husband and leave you well alone.”
“I hope so, although I have no idea when my own family will forgive me. I find myself either being scolded or treated with an ill-humoured silence. I don’t think my father has said more than five words to me since the day of the wedding.”
“He’ll forgive you in time.”
“I don’t think you know my father very well.”
It had been almost two months since James had cancelled his wedding, and the joy I had initially felt was now tempered with caution. There had been widespread criticism and disapproval of our conduct, and the news of Charlotte’s legal action made me feel that James’ obligation to her was not yet over. Our courtship was proceeding tentatively as a result. We were both aware that being seen too often together provoked incessant whispering and gossip. Although I had no desire to wish the time away, I longed for the day when James’ engagement was far enough in the past to be quite forgotten about.
“The fellows at the Yard still find it rather amusing,” he said. “I don’t suppose many bridegrooms have changed their minds just two hours before the big event. It’s quite despicable what I did to her when you think about it. And she had long suspected that I held an affection for you. That can’t have been easy for her to live with. In fact, I know that it wasn’t. I can only imagine how I would feel if you were to treat me that way, Penny, and it’s an awful thought.”
Although it was natural for James to express remorse for the way he had treated Charlotte, I took no pleasure in hearing it. I wished to forget that they had ever been betrothed.
“You’ll need to employ a decent solicitor to defend you,” I said.
“Yes, I’ll do that.” He rubbed at his brow. “The alternative is that I offer them a larger sum and try to keep this case out of the courts.”
“It doesn’t matter how much you offer them; they’ll still sue you for breach of promise. They’re punishing you, remember?”
“But it doesn’t bode well for my reputation, does it? A police inspector appearing as a defendant in a court of law.”
“You have done nothing wrong,” I replied. “You simply realised that you and Charlotte weren’t well suited. Imagine if you had proceeded with the wedding. You’d have been married to her for almost two months now!”
“Ugh, what a thought.”
“So the situation could have been far worse.”
He laughed. “Yes, it could, but I wish there happened to be a better way of managing this; a way in which I don’t feel as though I have behaved like a complete fool. Although I am certain that I made the right decision, I still feel as though I have done something wrong. I don’t like being wrong, Penny. I don’t like making mistakes.”
“We all make mistakes, James.”
“I like to think that I have always tried my best not to, but now there’s to be a court case. My father will be horrified! I suppose I should be relieved that my grandfather is no longer alive, or he would also be greatly disappointed in me.”
“Surely he wouldn’t. He was always very fond of you, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, but he wouldn’t have understood my current predicament. He was a hard-working police officer who joined the Metropolitan Police only eleven years after its inception. Officers back then had to wear uniform even when off-duty, and they had to seek formal permission to marry. Those were very different times, and I think he would have struggled to understand how his grandson had got himself into this scrape.”
“Good afternoon!” trilled my sister, Eliza.
I had just been about to tell James that he needn’t be too hard on himself, and that I shared responsibility for what had happened, but instead I turned to greet her.
She narrowed her eyes. “Did the two of you arrange to meet earlier than the time you gave your trusty chaperone?”
“Not at all,” I said. “I think you must be a little late, Ellie.”
James checked his pocket watch. “Perhaps we were five minutes early in meeting.”
“I see,” replied Eliza with a wry smile. She was similar in appearance to me, with fair hair and brown eyes, though she stood a little taller. She wore a thick woollen cape over her jacket and a practical divided skirt. “And whose idea was it to visit the Royal Aquarium?” she asked, glancing up at the billboards fixed to the wall. “It’s rather tawdry, isn’t it?”
“The tawdry idea was all mine,” replied James. “I thought it might prove to be a useful distraction on a cold November afternoon. We’re just in time for Beckwith’s Great Swimming Entertainment.”
“What’s that?”
“Have you never heard of Agnes Beckwith, who swam twenty miles in the Thames?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s right. I remember now,” replied Eliza. “She was only seventeen or so at the time, wasn’t she? A remarkable girl. And what about the girl whose job it is to be fired out of the cannon? Is she here today?”
“No but prepare to be amazed by Professor Roche and his pack of fifteen Russian wolves,” said James. “And if we’re lucky we might catch sight of Madame De Burgh, the Beautiful American Tattooed Lady.”
“I shall need a warming cup of tea before we embark on all this adventure,” replied Eliza. “Let’s step inside before we become too cold to move.”
Chapter 3
I wandered down to the Hotel Tempesta’s Turkish Salon wearing an evening gown which had once belonged to my sister. The bodice was turquoise and gold brocade, and the green satin skirt gathered into a high bustle at my lower back. The corset felt tight and I found the skirts more cumbersome than my usual attire.
The thin-haired servant greeted me, and I was met with the sound of polite chatter as I stepped into a fantastical room of golden arches with swathes of velvet and silk. The ceiling and friezes were gold, red and blue, as was the thick oriental carpet beneath my feet. The paintings on the walls depicted men in turbans and long robes riding horses and playing chess. I felt as though I had stepped onto a theatre stage set.
“Am I in Constantinople?” I asked a waiter with a smile as he presented me with a glass of champagne. He gave a polite nod before announcing my name to the room.
The faces of ten or so people turned toward me, and a jovial man of around forty stepped forward.
“Miss Green! What an honour!” He raised his glass and smiled widely to reveal parallel rows of neat white teeth, rendered even more impressive by a strong jawline. His handsome blue eyes were close-set, and he had fair, wavy hair, which was parted in the centre. He wore a double-breasted jacket that was buttoned up, and a purple cravat made from silk was
tied around his high collar.
“Mr Gallo?” I said expectantly.
“The very same! Thank you for joining us here at the Hotel Tempesta. I’m so delighted that you could make it.”
The extended vowels of his American accent gave his words a pleasing flow. My eye was drawn to a small white and brown dog by his side.
“This is Captain, my fox terrier,” he added. “He also welcomes you.”
“Thank you for inviting me, Mr Gallo. And congratulations on the opening of your new hotel.”
He glanced around the room proudly. “Well, we’re nearly there with it. We’ll be welcoming our first official guests next week. In the meantime,” he gestured toward the other guests, “there will just be a select few of you, along with my staff, and I am very much looking forward to entertaining you here tonight. Let me introduce you to some of these people.”
I sipped my champagne and made polite conversation with Mrs Mortimer, a lady of around fifty with a double chin, sharp green eyes and grey hair that had been pinned into tight curls. She was a writer for a travel periodical.
