He opened the door to the sitting room of the Chinese Suite, where the light was better, so he could examine Alecia for injuries.
Instead of peace, he heard a shriek and rushing feet. He turned his back to absorb a blow. “Mrs. Marvin!”
She stepped back, wild-eyed. “Ravisher!”
“No, ma’am. That would be your husband.” Keeping his gaze on Mrs. Marvin, he went to the sofa and gently deposited Alecia there.
The older woman walked unsteadily on her high-heeled slippers. She’d obviously been drinking alone, and the room reeked of stale perfume, cigarettes, and spilled champagne. “W-what are you talking about?”
“Look at her dress,” Ivan said grimly. “Mr. Marvin tore it. He dragged her by her hair, nearly choked her. I found them just in time.”
“W-what were you doing there?”
“I had a note.” Ivan patted the breast of his jacket, then reached in and pulled out the envelope. “From Mr. Eyre.”
Mrs. Marvin’s eyes crossed before she blinked and took the envelope. “For me?”
“Your husband.”
She dropped the envelope like it burned her. It fell on the carpet and she stepped on it as she turned to Alecia. “I told you not to bother about him.”
Alecia pulled the edges of her torn collar together. Her voice was hoarse. “He attacked me, Sybil.”
“He claimed he was rehearsing the scene where Macduff drags Macbeth’s body,” Ivan said.
Alecia put her fingers to her eyes. “It was a lie. He wasn’t rehearsing at all.”
“What were you doing there?” Sybil demanded.
“He claimed he needed help moving scenery,” Alecia said.
Mrs. Marvin collapsed ungracefully onto the sofa next to her employee. “You’ll both lose your jobs over this. I can’t protect either of you.”
“Why are you here?” Alecia rasped. “I thought you were at rehearsals for your new part.”
“They sacked me,” Mrs. Marvin said.
“What?”
“I’m sure Richard will tell you to go, because we can’t afford a secretary now,” she said, slurring slightly. “You won’t say anything, will you? I’ll give you an extra week’s pay. You can go as soon as Richard gets around to making the speech.”
Alecia shuddered. “You can’t think I want to be anywhere near him after what he did.”
“They will ask us to leave the hotel as soon as the performance is done,” Mrs. Marvin said. “So much unpleasantness. Why couldn’t you stay away from him? I thought you were smart. I trusted you.”
“If I understand you correctly, you’ve always known your husband would attempt to assault Miss Loudon?” Ivan asked. “And you thought she would be able to avoid this situation?”
“Yes.”
“A naïve vicar’s granddaughter? With his wife almost never around and a major performance about to happen? How could you possibly have thought she could avoid him?” Ivan demanded.
Alecia shook her head. “Don’t fight. I’d like to go to my room.”
“You should have a doctor,” he said.
“Who would pay?” Alecia asked. “And what could they tell me? I just need to rest. It hurts to talk and my scalp is aching.”
Sybil stared at her dispassionately. “You aren’t bleeding, but bruises are coming up on your neck.”
“Has he ever done this to you?” Ivan asked.
Sybil’s eyes were bottomless pools when she turned her gaze to him. “What does that matter?”
“You won’t leave him? Divorce these days isn’t such an issue.”
“We’re the Marvins.” Her eyes lost focus again.
How he wished Alecia had been savvier and had understood the risks she had taken when she accepted this position. It was so obvious now why they’d hired such an inexperienced person. She was ripe for abuse. But if she hadn’t been so foolish, he’d never have met her. Or been about to lose his own position.
He bent down and picked up the envelope, then set it on the table. “Please don’t lose this. Is there anything I can do for either of you?”
“Keep your little Russians away from my husband,” Mrs. Marvin said. “I know all about that mistress of his.”
Vera. He’d almost forgotten. When had his sister decided to betray Sergei? He bent forward and grabbed Mrs. Marvin’s arm, then put his face right into hers. “What do you know?”
“She’s trouble,” the actress said. “And she must not be enough for Richard or he’d have left Alecia alone.”
Ivan dropped her arm, fuming, and went to the desk. He took a piece of writing paper and a pen, then handed them to Mrs. Marvin. “Write Miss Loudon a character now, please. I’ll keep it safe for her.”
“You won’t get one from the hotel, not after this.”
As if he cared. “I’m concerned for Miss Loudon. I won’t have her turned out without a character.”
“Fine.”
Ivan stood over her as she composed a brief note. “Fix the date,” he demanded, when he saw she’d written 1924 instead of 1925.
When Mrs. Marvin was finished, the note was sloppy but positive. He tucked it into an envelope he found in the writing table, then put it in his pocket. “I have to see Mr. Eyre now. Are you certain you don’t want a doctor?”
Alecia shook her head. “I’ll go to bed, if Sybil thinks I’ll be allowed to use the room.”
Mrs. Marvin stared steadily ahead. “It’s yours until Richard sacks you. I don’t care.”
“Will he hurt you when he discovers you’ve lost your role?” Ivan asked.
“I’ve called our agent, Max. He’ll share the news when Richard is sober.” She poured the last ounce of champagne into her glass. “It’s back to the cheap stuff, I’m afraid.”
“Lock yourself in,” Ivan told Alecia, then helped her rise. He walked her into the corridor without a backward glance at the other woman. “I wish I could take you home with me.”
“The longer I can stay, the more hope I have of receiving my pay.”
“I wonder if Mrs. Marvin will remember any of this in the morning.”
“She isn’t that drunk,” Alecia said. “But she’s shattered. I wonder how she lost the part?”
“It doesn’t matter. You’d have been out the door either way.”
“What was that about Richard’s mistress?” she asked.
Ivan shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. Just make sure, however it goes, that you are on your way out of the Grand Russe before the command performance. They will probably be forced to leave right after that. You don’t want to be mixed up in it, especially when you’ll be lucky to get your wages.”
“I’ll be due my full week’s wages by tomorrow day’s end,” she reflected.
“Take what you can get and go,” he advised.
“What about you?” Her voice was creaking again and he could see it was painful for her to swallow. “When will you be sacked?”
“Might be in five minutes,” Ivan admitted. “I hit a guest.”
“There is my side of the story,” she said.
“If I had handled it without violence, there might have been some hope,” he said. “But I didn’t.”
Alecia’s lips flattened over her teeth. “I’m glad you hit him.” She touched his cheek, then unlocked her bedroom door and went in without a backward glance.
The vicar’s granddaughter had some less than Christian thoughts, and he couldn’t blame her. Unfortunately, the flapper’s life had a dark side, and that didn’t just mean jazz and revealing clothes.
Since she hadn’t closed the door behind her, he followed her in and closed it. He wanted to be gone before Mr. Marvin came this way, but also needed to be convinced the adjoining door was locked.
While Alecia sat down on her narrow bed, he went to the door and tested it. “I wish it had a deadbolt, too.”
“He’s never come in.”
“After what he did downstairs, you should not trust him in any fashion.”
&
nbsp; “He and Sybil will argue before they come to me again.” Her voice went from hoarse to a dead whisper during the course of her sentence.
“You must not speak anymore. Rest your throat.”
“I should pack.”
“No, rest, please. I’ll call for a doctor if you don’t.”
She sighed and leaned her head against the wall. He found her tooth mug and poured water into it, then gave it to her.
“Is there anything I can do for you? Should I stand guard?”
“You must defend yourself,” she said. “Important.”
“I’ll bring Mr. Eyre up to see your neck. Is your scalp bleeding?” He touched her head delicately. Blood caked a small portion of her roots, but the wound was small. He felt a sympathetic twinge in his own scalp.
She nodded and drank a sip, then coughed.
I’ll let Mr. Eyre decide about the doctor. He forced a smile. “We’ll be back soon. Don’t open the door unless you hear my voice, or Mr. Eyre’s.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I’ll make it his responsibility. This happened in his hotel.” He leaned over her and kissed her gently on her forehead, then went out the door, testing the doorknob to make sure it had locked.
As he walked down the hall, he heard the grandfather clock near the guest lift strike midnight. With each gong, he heard doom. He’d only managed to hold this position for five weeks. What would happen to him, Vera, and Sergei now? He’d have to ask Boris to take him into the pawnshop business, something he’d always refrained from doing. It was the only quick fix he had, if he left here without a good reference. At least he’d secured one for Alecia.
He wanted to take the steps downstairs, to delay the penultimate moment, but for fear of Alecia’s health, he had the lift operator take him directly to the ground floor. The Coffee Room had emptied and Mr. Eyre was no longer on site, but the night staff knew what the day staff probably didn’t. Mr. Eyre lived in apartments behind his office, with a secret, private entrance not unlike something out of an American speakeasy.
“I’ve got to see Mr. Eyre,” he told Lionel Dew, at his place behind the desk.
“What about?” Dew’s eyes were heavy lidded. He didn’t look like he’d survive the night without falling asleep.
Under other circumstances Ivan would have offered to fetch some coffee. “Mr. Marvin attacked and injured Miss Loudon. I pulled him off her.”
Dew’s eyelids lifted. “Crikey. Go on through. You know how to open the door?”
“Yes, sir.” Ivan lifted up the hinged part of the desk and passed the key box and guest letter slots, through to the inner workings of the business office.
Mr. Eyre’s office door was locked, but Ivan had the hotel master key, so he went through, then found the eye socket on a piece of fake Egyptian Isis statuary that was really a door knocker. Not ten seconds later a relief panel slid back and Mr. Eyre stood in the inky entryway, still in a suit and tie.
“What?” he asked.
“Mr. Marvin attacked Miss Loudon on his stage.”
Eyre’s expression didn’t change. “And?”
“She’s mildly injured, visibly bruised, will have lost her position.”
“And?”
“I punched Mr. Marvin,” Ivan admitted. “After I pulled him off her. I discovered them. Then Swankle discovered me on Marvin.”
“Is he mildly injured and visibly bruised as well?” Eyre asked sardonically.
“I expect I bruised some part of his face. He’s intoxicated,” Ivan added.
“Where are they?” Eyre picked up a cigarette from a table and put it to his lips.
“Miss Loudon is in her room. I told her to open the door only to one of us. Swankle still has Marvin upstairs. We told Mrs. Marvin. She didn’t seem surprised.”
He lit the cigarette. “The Marvins are our guests. The situation is a difficult one.”
Ivan heard footsteps rushing behind him. Mr. Dew was at his back in a moment.
“The Russians are here, sir.”
Eyre slowly took the cigarette out of his mouth. He had yet to inhale. “When it rains it pours, gentlemen. Ivan, go into my office and phone the doctor on call. Have him see to Mr. Marvin, then Miss Loudon. He’ll tell us if we need to bring in the police, but it must be done quietly.”
The two managers walked out of the office together. Ivan picked up the telephone and asked the hotel switchboard to connect him to whichever doctor was on duty and explained the matter. Grumbling emanated from the man when Ivan had to admit he didn’t know where one of the patients presently was, but, ignoring orders, he told the man to attend Miss Loudon first and then he would find Mr. Marvin.
Unwilling to see his family’s nemesis in the flesh—or even worse, allow Ovolensky to see him—he went into a rear corridor and from there went out onto the street from the exit closest to the service lift to wait for the doctor. The mid-January, middle-of-the-night weather did not suit his indoors-acclimated body well, and he was shivering despite his heavy coat by the time the doctor pulled up in a taxicab.
The man was unshaven and smelled of wine, but his walk was purposeful and his voice clipped. Ivan took him to Alecia’s room and announced the doctor, and then went to look for Marvin.
Downstairs, he walked slowly through the corridor to the meeting rooms. He could hear men’s voices and became suspicious immediately. What could Marvin and Swankle be speaking about? They had nothing in common.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t hear actual words through the thick walls. He opened the door as slowly as he could, hoping he might save his position if he heard something incriminating, but they had stopped speaking, and Swankle stepped away from Marvin as the doorway widened.
He didn’t see bloodstained handkerchiefs or any other reason the night watchman might be attending the actor so closely. They looked like coconspirators. Ivan wondered if he was being paranoid or realistic. It was hard to know.
“Well?” Swankle demanded.
How differently he behaved now that his star seemed ascendant. “I spoke to Mr. Eyre, but he is occupied with Mr. Ovolensky’s arrival.” He stepped forward.
Marvin moved back into the shadows with an exaggerated cringe.
“Come now, Mr. Marvin,” Ivan jeered. “You aren’t playing Richard III. You and I both know I was saving Miss Loudon from rape or worse.”
Marvin’s posture changed. He stepped into the spotlight created by a chandelier. “You brutalized me and I will have your position for it.”
“As long as Miss Loudon is safe, that is all I care about,” Ivan responded.
The actor scoffed. “You’ll trade your job for hers?”
“We’ve both lost our positions, I expect.”
“I haven’t decided that.”
“Your wife has. She lost her new role tonight.”
“What?” Marvin shrieked. He put his hands into his hair and made fists. “That blasted woman! If she’s going to spread her knees for every director, it at least needs to count!”
He stomped off toward the door. Ivan could see he had indeed bruised the man’s face. He had a swollen cheekbone on one side, but other than that, he seemed in fine fettle.
The door slammed, and he was left alone with Swankle.
“I don’t think they are in the first ranks any longer, those Marvins,” Ivan said.
“No,” Swankle agreed. “But then, neither are you. It is Miss Loudon who loses on both counts, I believe.”
Ivan noticed that even Swankle’s accent had changed. He sounded educated now. “Who are you?”
Swankle shrugged, and he smiled that fatuous, young man’s grin. “Don’t matter to you. You’ll be lucky to finish out your shift.”
“Won’t you defend me? You know what was happening. You heard Marvin not deny what I said about his attempted rape.”
“You did more than just pull him off the girl. You and I both know that. You lost your sense of purpose here.”
“You mean my sense of class di
stinction? Doesn’t a vicar’s granddaughter rate more highly than an actor?”
Swankle shrugged. “These days? Celebrity rates higher than anything below the titled classes.”
Ivan saw no purpose in arguing. “I’m going to go back to my rounds. Mr. Eyre has his plate full. He can find me and sack me when he has time. But for now, I know my duty.”
“As you wish,” Swankle said. “It’s nothing to me.”
Ivan did just that, though he did stop by Alecia’s room to check on her. She answered the door in her dressing gown, visibly surprised to see him still in the hotel.
“I’m sorry, were you asleep? It’s after one A.M.”
“The doctor told me to rest. But I’m fine.”
“I’ll leave you be, then. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here.”
“Have you spoken to Mr. Eyre?”
“We were interrupted by Ovolensky’s arrival.”
Alecia swallowed hard and made a pained face. “Oh dear.”
“Rest. Mr. Marvin indicated he might not sack you over what he did to you, but—”
“They can’t afford to keep me, and I can’t risk staying,” she said. “They’ve been arguing. I could hear it through the walls. If I wasn’t so tired I’d have already packed.”
“Then rest as long as you can in your room. I’ll bring you breakfast at eight if I’m still here.” He paused. “If I haven’t come to your door by eight thirty in the morning, then I’ve been sacked.”
She reached out, and he clasped her hand, then bent forward and kissed it like a Frenchman.
“Lock the door,” he told her, then went back to work.
At eight A.M., he hadn’t seen the hotel manager. He’d heard that several staff spent much of the night in the Piano Suite, bringing in everything Ovolensky had requested for himself and his staff. Two bedrooms had been locked away from other suites and opened for the Russians, making it a three-bedroom unit. Rumor had it that the rooms now overflowed with ice and caviar, prostitutes and smoked salmon. He had no idea if any of it was true and he didn’t care.
If I Had You Page 20
