Chapter 4 #2
“I’ll see that the footman adds water before delivering them to you, Miss Fox.”
“Thank you, but that’s not the only reason I’m here. Mr. Hobart, do you recall a former guest by the name of Archibald Mathers?”
He stopped fussing with the flowers and met my gaze. “I do. Why?”
“Harry and I are working on an investigation together and his name came up.” I didn’t want to tell him about Goliath’s predicament.
Not yet. If I did, I’d have to mention where he was now, and the fewer people who knew Harry was harboring him, the better.
“Harry said he used to be friends with Mr. Mathers when he worked here, but their friendship ended when he left.”
“Harry told me at the time that Mathers didn’t answer his letter.
Such a shame. He and Harry were alike. They’re both intelligent, have a similar sense of humor, and good hearts.
Mathers was a gentleman, in every sense of the word.
” His eyes sparkled with his smile. “Even though they spent many a late night carousing around the city, they never really did anything too wicked. Not like some young men.”
“Carousing?”
Mr. Hobart fussed with the bunch of flowers in the vase, even though they were perfectly arranged already. “Nothing terribly exciting, I’m sure. Not that I know what they did. Harry was hardly going to confide in his uncle and manager.” He laughed nervously.
Now I was even more curious. My questions would have to wait until I saw Harry, however. “Do you know why Mr. Mathers stopped staying at the Mayfair when he came to London?”
“I don’t. I tried finding out where he goes now, but haven’t had any success. You could ask Mr. Bainbridge.”
“Floyd? Are they friends?”
“Acquaintances. I believe they attend the same functions, or used to, both being eligible bachelors of a particular quality.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d call Floyd ‘quality’, but I understood Mr. Hobart’s point. “Have you met Mr. Arkwright?” I asked.
The sudden change of topic had him looking up sharply. “I welcomed him when he checked in. Why?”
“Did he seem ill to you?”
“He’s dying.”
“So he says.”
“You don’t believe him?” At my shrug, he frowned. “Does Mr. Arkwright have something to do with your investigation?”
“In a way. How did he look to you? Is he bedridden?”
“He looked pale and drawn, but isn’t bedridden. He’s quite thin and uses a walking stick, but now that I think about it, that may be more of an accessory than a necessity. Do we have any reason to be concerned about his involvement in your investigation?”
“Not at the moment. I’ll let you and my uncle know if that changes.”
“If you can’t tell me what it’s about, you should still consider informing Sir Ronald now. You know he doesn’t like things kept from him. If he found out you knew something about a guest that might cause the hotel problems, he’d be most upset.”
“He would, but I’d rather involve as few people as possible. I have one more question before I go. Do Peter, Frank or Victor have the day off tomorrow?” I already knew Harmony wouldn’t. Her presence was required at the hotel all week in preparation for the important secret dinner on Saturday.
“Peter and Frank don’t, but I’m not privy to the kitchen roster. That’s Mrs. Poole’s domain.”
I thanked him and made to leave, only to stop as I thought of another question. “Have you read the biography about Ida Gainsborough?”
“The actress? No. I believe Miss Bainbridge was given a copy for her birthday by a friend. You should ask her.”
“You really do know everything that goes on here, Mr. Hobart. Thank you.”
I crossed the foyer, my strides purposeful so as not to encourage idle chatter with any guests I knew.
I trotted down the service stairs to the basement where the heat and smells from the kitchen greeted me before the junior cook nearest the entrance.
He reluctantly left his station to go in search of Victor when I informed him I could write down the orders that came via the speaking tubes connected to the guest suites in his absence.
He hurried off into the depths of the kitchen where cooks dressed in all white stood dicing, slicing, stirring and tasting.
He returned moments later with Mrs. Poole, the chef de cuisine.
She scowled at me as I stepped away from the desk and the junior cook resumed his position. “May I be of assistance, Miss Fox?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Poole, and I know everyone is busy, but I need to ask Victor a quick question. It’s very—”
“He’s not rostered on for the dinner shift. Your question will have to wait until tomorrow. He’ll be here all day.”
I backed away, smiling my thanks, grateful and relieved that Mrs. Poole wasn’t as terrifying as her predecessor.
He would have threatened to inform my uncle that I was intruding, then shouted at the hapless junior cook, whereas Mrs. Poole directed all her displeasure at me with merely a frosty look.
She’d inadvertently answered my question, so I didn’t need to speak to Victor. He did not have the day off and couldn’t work through the list of Mr. Symond’s clients.
There was nothing for it. I’d have to speak to my uncle.
First, I went in search of Flossy. I found my cousin seated at her dressing table, brushing her long strawberry-blonde hair with a silver brush.
She wore a pale pink silk gown with white lace trim at the collar and three-quarter sleeves, with seed pearls on the bodice arranged in a way that amplified her already ample bosom.
The latest copy of The Queen magazine lay open on the table to a page showing colored pictures of elegantly dressed ladies standing in what appeared to be a ballroom.
They all wore gowns and accessories of the latest fashion.
“That dress is very pretty,” I told her. “Are you going somewhere special tonight?”
“Just the hotel restaurant for a family dinner. Are you joining us?”
“I don’t have any other plans, so I suppose I am. Isn’t it a little early to be getting ready?”
“I’m trying to arrange my hair in this style.” She pointed to one of the women in the magazine whose hair was arranged in an even more puffed style than Flossy usually wore with the added touch of two delicate curls at the front. “I’m not having any luck. It’s too hard on my own.”
“Why don’t you wait for Jane?” Usually Flossy and I shared Harmony between us when we were getting ready to go out, but when she stepped into the role of Floyd’s assistant, the task usually fell to Jane, one of the other maids.
Flossy sighed. “She isn’t as good at hair as Harmony. Harmony could take one look at that picture and get it right first try.” She sighed again. “Could you do it, Cleo?”
“I’m afraid I can’t stay. I need to speak to your father. Anyway, I’m terrible at doing my own hair, let alone someone else’s.” I studied the picture again, and decided it was much too complicated for me. “Why this style?”
“The most elegant Frenchwoman I’ve ever seen is staying here, and she told me it would suit me.”
“Perhaps you should borrow her maid and ask her to teach Jane.”
She gasped. “What a marvelous idea, Cleo. I will.” She sprang to her feet.
“I didn’t mean now. Wait until tomorrow. The Frenchwoman’s maid is probably busy getting her mistress ready for an evening out.”
“Yes, you’re right. Tomorrow then.” She closed the magazine and sat at the table again. “Is something the matter, Cleo? You look troubled.”
“Not at all,” I assured her.
“Then why do you want to speak to my father? People don’t usually want to talk to him unless they have to.”
“That’s a little harsh. Have you two argued?”
“He cut my allowance,” she said with a pout in her voice as well as on her lips.
“He says I’ve been too frivolous lately.
But honestly, Cleo, I haven’t been. I tried telling him I need to look nice to find myself a good husband and looking nice means wearing the latest fashions.
Otherwise I’m in danger of ending up with a dull banker! ”
I pulled a comical face at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. “How ghastly.”
She broke into a grin. “The only thing worse than a banker would be a lawyer.”
“Your father wouldn’t see either of those professions as a negative as long as they owned the bank or law firm. What would worry him is if you ended up with an actor.”
She gave it some thought. “I’d quite like to be courted by a famous actor.
Someone with a commanding presence who is exceedingly dashing, like Lewis Waller, although not already married, of course.
You’re right; Father wouldn’t like it.” Her grin turned to a wicked smile as she regarded herself in the mirror.
“Perhaps I should find one just to annoy him.”
“That wouldn’t be wise. Speaking of actors…” I looked around her bedchamber. “Flossy, where do you keep your books? There aren’t any bookshelves in your sitting room or in here.”
She pointed the hairbrush at a trunk at the end of the bed. “Why?”
“Have you read the biography about Ida Gainsborough, the actress?”
“I received a copy for my birthday, but I haven’t read it yet. I’ve been meaning to. Apparently it contains some interesting details about her past that she didn’t want included, but the biographer kept them in.”
I opened the trunk and found the book with a small collection of others that Flossy had not read either, going by their pristine condition.
I was about to ask her if I could borrow it when I changed my mind.
She seemed bored and giving her something to do might perk her up a little.
“I’m currently working on an investigation and Miss Gainsborough’s name came up. ”
“How is she involved?”
“I can’t say too much without evidence. Flossy, can you do me a favor and read the book? It would help me enormously if you could give me a report on all the salacious details mentioned in it.”