Murder in the Drawing Room

by C. J. Archer

  “Because it was too late by the time I got there, and Mr. Trickelbank was rude to you when you had done nothing to deserve it. His rudeness was uncalled for, and I wasn’t going to allow it to stain the Mayfair’s reputation. Perhaps my uncle would have seen it differently, and wouldn’t have liked how I spoke to a guest, but in his absence, I had to do what I thought was right. And I don’t think behavior like that is acceptable from anyone, guest or not.”

  “I wish I had your bravery.”

  “Bravery comes with authority. If you remember you are the senior front-of-house staff member in Mr. Hobart’s absence, then you will feel brave. Trust me on that.”

  I was taken aback somewhat to realize that I had felt enough like a member of the Bainbridge family, and therefore a part of the hotel, to speak to Mr. Trickelbank in that manner. It probably helped that I knew him to be the villain who’d tried to blackmail Mr. Warrington.

  Peter rounded the counter and joined me. “When Mr. Armitage worked here, either he or Mr. Hobart were almost always in the foyer or within earshot. They both had a sense for when an issue was about to escalate and would intervene before it did. I don’t know how they do that.”

  “Experience and a natural affinity for reading people. You have that affinity too, Peter. You’re very good with the guests. They think you’re wonderful.”

  He blushed. “That’s very kind of you to say, Miss Fox.”

  “You also have experience. And if you remembered that you have the authority to make the sort of decision that I just made, you’d be an excellent assistant manager.”

  His jaw dropped and he stared at me.

  I smiled. “Now, has Mr. Hobart truly left for the day? It seems a little early. Goliath hasn’t started his night porter duties yet.”

  “He’s in a meeting with Sir Ronald, Mrs. Short and Mr. Chapman.” He glanced at the clock on the wall behind the front desk. “He assured me he’d be back by now. It’s my mother’s birthday and we have a surprise for her. We’re having an early dinner then we’re taking her to a show at the Hippodrome.”

  “How wonderful! Then you must go or you’ll be late. I’ll stay here until either Mr. Hobart returns or Goliath’s shift starts.”

  He chewed his lower lip.

  “Go, Peter. I can take care of things here for a few minutes.”

  He left, bypassing Harry who was still in conversation with the doorman. It was mostly quiet in the foyer, being the time of day after guests had returned from their outings and before they came down to dine or go to the theater or opera. I found it rather peaceful, and it gave me time to think.

  Indeed, an idea struck me and I stopped in the middle of the foyer under the central chandelier and smiled to myself. Mr. Trickelbank’s tirade hadn’t been entirely pointless.

  I needed to speak to Mr. Hobart, and was glad to see him emerge from the lift as it arrived on the ground floor. He did not emerge alone, however. He was followed by Mr. Chapman, Mrs. Short and Uncle Ronald. Not a single one of them smiled. But my uncle’s fury was palpable, even from a distance.

  Harry spotted them too. He excused himself, but instead of leaving the hotel, he headed towards me, directly into the path of my wrathful uncle.

  Chapter 11

  My first instinct was to pretend I needed to be somewhere else, but my uncle bore down on us so quickly that he cut off all escape routes. My second instinct was to protect Harry. I would receive nothing more than a lecture, but Uncle Ronald might be angry enough to remind Harry of his thieving past, and thereby inform everyone within earshot. So far, the reason for Harry’s dismissal from the hotel had been kept quiet, and I wanted to keep it that way for his sake.

  I stepped in front of Harry, but Harry immediately moved out of my shadow and intercepted my uncle.

  “If this is about Trickelbank, then the fault is entirely mine,” he said. “He’s trying to blackmail my client, and I wanted to gain a confession from him. He became irate and Cleo stepped in to calm the situation. She did everything she could, but he was having none of it. She had no choice but to ask him to leave.”

  At the mention of my first name, something flashed in Uncle Ronald’s eyes and his lips thinned. I suspected he was too angry to hear the rest of Harry’s words. “Get out of my hotel,” he snarled.

  “Not until you assure me you won’t blame her. Trickelbank is—”

  “I said get out. Don’t come back here and don’t speak to my niece again. I know what you’re trying to do, and she’s far too good for the likes of you.”

  Something exploded inside me. It took a great deal for me to anger, but in that moment, I was so furious I couldn’t form words. I could barely manage to think over the pounding of the blood in my veins.

  Beside me, Harry stiffened. Perhaps he was too angry to speak too, because he remained silent, although the tension emanating from him thickened the air.

  Guests pretended not to notice us as they passed. Mrs. Short had not remained to hear the confrontation, but Mr. Chapman hovered at a nearby vase as he pretended to re-arrange the flowers. He would be relishing seeing me get into trouble.

  Beside me, Harry’s intake of breath was loud in the silence. Mr. Hobart shook his head at his nephew and whatever Harry had been going to say was left unspoken.

  If he was forced into surrender, then it was up to me to go into battle. “You don’t have a say in who I keep as friends, Uncle.” My voice shook and didn’t sound like my own.

  He bared his teeth. “I do have a say if you want to stay here, under my roof, receiving an allowance from me.”

  My heart jumped into my throat and my skin suddenly felt cold, clammy. To say that in front of others was cruel. “Guests are watching. If you wish to continue this conversation further, I suggest we do it elsewhere.”

  “My office. Now.” He did not move, however, but glared at Harry. “And you must go.”

  “I’m not leaving until I have your assurance that you won’t blame Cleo for what happened with Trickelbank.”

  My uncle took a step towards him.

  I quickly moved between them. “Harry, please, I can handle this.”

  I didn’t expect to reach him through the icy wall of his fury but he blinked at me and some of the ice melted. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He gave a single nod and walked off.

  I walked off too, heading in the opposite direction, my skirts snapping at my heels. I bunched them into my fists so I wouldn’t trip over the hem as I raced up the stairs. It wasn’t so much anger that fueled me now, but humiliation. Uncle Ronald had firmly reminded me of my place, and he’d made sure others knew too.

  If he’d known how contrary I could truly be, he would never have tried to dictate to me. I was more determined than ever that I should keep the friends I’d made.

  His office door was unlocked and I entered. I paced in front of the desk, too agitated to sit or to be still. When he finally arrived, he did not close the door. He didn’t even enter.

  “I don’t think there’s any more to say to one another,” he said. He was calmer now, that initial anger having dissolved with the exertion of climbing four flights of stairs.

  “I agree, there is very little to say. You’ve made your position clear. I’ll pack my things and leave in the morning.”

  He scoffed. “Don’t act the hysterical female, Cleo. You’re better than that. No one wants you to leave, least of all me.”

  “You have made it impossible for me to stay. If the choice is to keep my friends or to be at the mercy of your whims then it’s an easy decision. I’ll leave in the morning. Kindly stop your allowance payments from tomorrow. I don’t want to owe you anything.”

  “You don’t owe me; I am your uncle.”

  I could think of so many things to say to that, but all of them were hurtful and somehow, despite the fog of anger returning again, I knew I’d regret saying them in the morning. I merely shook my head and approached the door to leave.

  B
ut he blocked the exit. “I am not asking you to stop having friends, merely choose them more wisely. That boy is—”

  “He is not a boy. He is my friend and I will continue to see him when I feel like it.”

  “Friend? Ha! Don’t be so naïve, Cleo. He wants one thing from you—to use you to shackle himself to this family and gain all the benefits that come with our name for himself.”

  “Do you honestly think so little of me that you believe I don’t know when a man is trying to seduce me for his own gain?”

  His features softened and the look he gave me was one of sympathy. I was taken aback by it. “You forget how well I know him, Cleo. He was a lad when he came here. He grew up in this hotel. The fact is, I know him better than you. He has a silver tongue and a way with women. To say anything more would be beneath both of us.”

  “I am not like other women, and Harry and I are merely friends.”

  “If you think he’ll be satisfied with that, you’re more naïve than I thought.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “Why wouldn’t he be satisfied with that? Why would he want to marry me if he is after a woman with a fortune? As you just informed everyone within earshot, I am poor. Everything I have was given to me out of charity.” Tears burned my eyes and clogged my throat. I hated that I was close to breaking down. He would see my tears as weakness, and not the angry tears they were.

  “Not charity,” he said gently.

  I scoffed. “Obligation, then.”

  “Nor that.”

  “Move aside, please.”

  He did but caught my elbow as I passed him. “I spoke out of turn earlier. Don’t move out of the hotel, Cleo. Your aunt will never forgive me. Your cousins, too. Please stay.”

  I pulled free and stormed off along the corridor. Tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision, and I fumbled with the key as I unlocked the door to my suite. Once inside, I strode into the bedroom and threw myself on the bed. The pillow muffled my shout of frustration.

  Later, after a warm bath and a large glass of sherry, I felt somewhat calmer. My head cleared and I was able to think without emotions getting in the way.

  My uncle had not apologized. Nor had he given in and agreed to allow me to be friends with Harry. What he had done was beg me to stay.

  I would stay, but not because of him. I would stay for my aunt and my cousins, and for me. Where would I go, anyway?

  The following morning, after stewing over the confrontation with my uncle for much of the night, I opened the door to an excited Harmony holding my breakfast tray.

  “I have news,” she said, moving past me into the sitting room.

  I padded after her in my slippers, yawning.

  She placed the tray on the table and frowned at me. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

  “Of course. What happened?”

  Her frown deepened. “Are you all right?”

  It would seem she hadn’t heard about the confrontation. “I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep. The case kept me awake. Tell me your news.”

  “It’s Mr. Trickelbank.”

  I groaned. “What has he said now?”

  “Nothing. He left.”

  “Left for the funeral already?” I glanced at the clock on the mantel, suddenly worried it was later than I thought. But it was only eight.

  “No, he left the hotel. He ran off in the middle of the night, taking his luggage with him.”

  “Without paying for his stay?”

  She nodded as she poured coffee into the cups. “Goliath saw him and tried to stop him, but Mr. Trickelbank jumped into a waiting cab and fled. He must have organized it beforehand with the driver.”

  “How extraordinary,” I said as I sat.

  “Sir Ronald is furious. He says he’s going to call the police on him, so Goliath told me. Mr. Trickelbank won’t be hard to find. Even if he gave a false address when he checked in, Mr. Warrington will know where he lives.”

  “Unless Mr. Trickelbank has gone into hiding, which he may well do if he’s guilty of murder.”

  Her mouth formed an O. “Do you think he killed his sister?”

  I accepted the cup from her and put it to my lips. “He’s high on our suspect list. If he felt wronged for not getting his inheritance, then he might have done it. Perhaps not deliberately, but accidentally, out of anger.”

  She nodded. “People often do things they regret in the heat of the moment.”

  “And things they say,” I added wryly.

  She narrowed her gaze at me. “Are you sure you’re all right, Cleo?” she asked, slipping into the familiarity of my given name now that we were alone.

  I smiled. “Perfectly. Now, I have a funeral to attend today. Help me choose something to wear.”

  I checked the notices in the newspaper for the time and place of Mrs. Warrington’s funeral, then went in search of Mr. Hobart. I met him as he was about to leave his office behind Mrs. Short and Mr. Chapman. The housekeeper and steward returned to their own offices, while Mr. Hobart invited me inside.

  “I hoped to see you this morning,” he said as he closed the door behind us. “Harry was worried about you. He thought you might move out of the hotel, and he would be devastated if you had done so because of him.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. It wasn’t fair that Harry should feel guilty if I moved out, but I knew he would. If the positions were reversed, I would too. “I’m not leaving. Not today, anyway. About that encounter…I’m sorry you had to witness it.”

  He signaled for me to sit. “You don’t have to apologize. It was a difficult situation and you handled it well. I’m sure Sir Ronald will come to see it that way. His anger is quick to ignite, but just as quick to extinguish.”

  “Indeed. But he was unfair to Harry.”

  He sighed. “He has certainly made up his mind about him and won’t change it.”

  “Is Harry all right?”

  “Harry is Harry.”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant and was about to ask when he added, “He’s fine. His temper should have cooled by now, although as I said, he was worried about you.”

  “He shouldn’t be.”

  “He was…taken by surprise.”

  I frowned. “In what way?”

  “I’ll let him explain.” He clasped his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “That is, if you are going to see him again.”

  “Of course.”

  “Is that wise?”

  “Wisdom has nothing to do with it. It’s about what is right and wrong, and seeing my friend is right. At least, it is to me.”

  The smile he gave me was both sympathetic and pleased. “Harry might see it differently.”

  “I hope this doesn’t affect your relationship with my uncle.”

  “We have a professional working relationship. That won’t need to change. This is a family matter, between you and him. Speaking of work, I suppose it’s out of the question for you to step into the role of assistant manager now, considering the way things are.”

  I blinked rapidly. “Me? Assistant manager? What makes you think it was a consideration?”

  “Harry told me how well you handled Trickelbank yesterday, and how you stood up for Peter and the hotel. He thought you’d make an excellent assistant manager. But your uncle wouldn’t stand for it. Before last night, I thought he might consider it, but now I don’t think it’s worth bringing up. For the sake of peace, you understand.”

  Despite everything, I couldn’t help chuckling. “I don’t want to be assistant manager.”

  “Harry thinks you’d be excellent. And so do I. It’s a shame your uncle won’t allow a family member to take a more active role.”

  “A female family member.” I shook my head. “Thank you for your confidence in me, but I’m not interested. Anyway, there is another candidate you should consider.”

  “Is this about Peter again?”

  “Don’t dismiss him yet, Mr. Hobart. I think he’d be very good.”

  “I’ll think a
bout it.” He checked his pocket watch and rose. “I must go. I have a meeting.”

  We approached the door together, only for it to open from the other side. My uncle entered. “There you are, Cleo. I’ve been looking for you.” He was cheerful today, but it sounded forced, as if he were trying too hard. He turned to Mr. Hobart and Mr. Hobart offered us the use of his office for privacy.

  My uncle waited for him to leave before turning to me. “I wanted to apologize. I should have taken your side and not his.”

  I felt as though we were reading a different book. “Pardon?”

  “Trickelbank. He fled overnight without paying. I should have trusted your instincts yesterday and not accepted his version of events.” He placed his hands at his back and stood to attention like a soldier on parade. “I shouldn’t have taken the word of a guest over that of family, and I want you to know I’m sorry.”

  I opened my mouth to remind him that our disagreement wasn’t about Mr. Trickelbank, but about my friendships, and Harry in particular. But perhaps it was wise not to. Perhaps his apology was all-encompassing, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

  Part of me didn’t want to let him off the hook so easily. But that was being petulant, not smart. In truth, my uncle probably wasn’t capable of offering a full apology. His pride wouldn’t let him.

  And I had more sense than to allow this to come between me and the only family I had. While it didn’t change my ultimate goal to save up enough to move out of the hotel, I could bide my time until I was ready and not cut off my nose to spite my face.

  “Thank you for saying so,” I said.

  He cleared his throat. “There’s no need for your aunt or cousins to know about our little disagreement. I’ve asked Hobart not to mention it to anyone.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “About you leaving… I hope I made it clear that I don’t want you to go. You’re family and Bainbridges must stand together.”

  I opened the door. “I’m a Fox. But I will stay. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a funeral to go to.”