Chapter 9 #2
“I’m not sure she would have won,” Flossy said.
“Overall, the biography’s tone is positive.
Despite mentioning her outlandish behavior, he’s very kind about her.
It reads as though he liked her very much.
I don’t think it was out of sympathy for her dying career, either.
I think he genuinely admired her as a person.
She was bold and brash, but she was honest about her past and the hardships she had to endure.
She never shunned her family or old friends when she became successful.
He interviewed several for the book and they only had good things to say about her.
A few did mention their concern over her wild behavior, and worried for her future as an unwed, aging actress in an industry that employed mostly young, beautiful women, but they expressed it out of concern, not resentment.
” Flossy closed the book and regarded me through eyes bright with enthusiasm.
“Is she truly a suspect in the author’s death? ”
“She is, but the motive is a little weak. We thought she was upset at what Bradbury wrote in her biography, but when we spoke to her today, she mentioned there has been renewed interest in her career because of it. A well-known theater manager has hired her for a new play.”
“How wonderful. I’ll definitely attend a performance now that I’ve read her biography.” She folded the book against her chest. “What was she like? Was she beautiful?”
“Oh, yes. Vivacious, too. I can see why she easily attracted men, and why some women might dislike her soaking up all the male attention.”
“Sometimes women can be so cruel to other women. Why do we do that, Cleo? Why do we hate seeing other women succeed even when their success doesn’t mean our failure?”
“Not all women are like that.” I put my arms around her and hugged her. “You’re not, dearest Flossy.”
“Nor are you, Cleo.” She paused then sighed.
“Sometimes I am mean, when I see all the gentlemen clamoring for the attention of the prettiest girl in the room. It doesn’t upset me if she’s popular because of her wit or because she’s good company, but if all she has is her looks, it’s galling.
I suppose I’m to blame. Pretty women can’t help being pretty, just like intelligent girls can’t help being clever.
I’ll try to be kinder in future. Thank you, Cleo.
It’s a harsh lesson, but an important one. ”
I hadn’t said a word. Nor had I even thought the things she’d mentioned.
My cousin’s self-awareness was entirely of her own doing.
I gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting go.
“Do you want to dine in here tonight? You can read the rest of the book while I sew new ribbons on your pink ball gown to refresh it a little.”
She brightened. “Excellent idea. I’ll fetch the gown.” She returned moments later with the outfit. “How funny that we’re reversing our usual roles. I’m reading and you’re improving a dress. Most people would never guess that to be the case.”
“It doesn’t bother me what people think of me, but Flossy, if you don’t like assumptions made about you, you could read more books.”
“Oh, no. When I finish this biography, I need to take a long break before I pick up another. Reading is exhausting.”
I smiled as I took the gown from her, then sent her to fetch her sewing kit.
* * *
I tried speaking to Louis Arkwright that evening and again in the morning, but his nurse wouldn’t allow it. He was either too tired, or asleep. I was beginning to think he was avoiding me.
I met Harry at the Roma Café where we chatted about what I’d learned the previous evening over cups of Luigi’s strong coffee.
Although I mostly talked about Ida Gainsborough, he was more interested in the address for Archibald Mathers.
I told him what Floyd had told me, that Mathers stayed at his mother’s cousin’s house when he came to London, probably because he could no longer afford a luxury hotel.
“It is rather far from the city,” Harry said, reading the address. “I wonder why he’s not staying at his gentleman’s club.”
“For the same reason he doesn’t stay at hotels anymore. He can’t afford it. I presume their membership fees are high to ensure exclusivity.”
“His father’s rich. Presumably Archie has an allowance, but if he doesn’t, surely his father is paying for his son’s membership.
Belonging to the right club is important to men like him.
” Harry handed the piece of paper with Floyd’s barely legible handwritten scrawl back to me. “Shall we visit him now?”
“No need. Floyd secured me an invitation to the cousin’s ball tonight. I can question Mathers then.”
“You’re going to the ball, Cleo. Not me.”
“I can ask Floyd to get an invitation for you, too.”
“No, thank you.”
He drained his coffee then collected both our empty cups and returned them to the counter. He spoke a few broken words of Italian to the two elderly men on the stools, then rejoined me.
I handed him his hat, which he’d left on the table. “It bothers you that I’m invited to the ball and you’re not,” I said.
“No. Of course not.” He signaled that I should leave the café ahead of him.
I waved to Luigi and his two regulars, then exited. “Then why do you have an air of reticence about you?”
Harry frowned. “I don’t.”
He walked on, his strides lengthening with each step. By the time we reached the end of Broadwick Street, I was trotting simply to keep apace. I didn’t say anything. I knew what was bothering him, and I wanted him to say it without being prompted.
I’d have to wait, however. He didn’t tell me what troubled him, but he did apologize. “Sorry for not considering your shorter strides, Cleo. That was selfish of me.”
“That’s all right. The exercise does me good.” I looked up at him, taking in his strong profile, which was somewhat harder than usual. “Is there a reason you were walking so fast?”
“It looks like rain is coming.”
The sky was morbidly gray, but no more so than any other November day in London.
* * *
A combination of trains and walking took us to Stoneleigh House.
To call the abode a house was understating its grandeur.
The manor sat regally at the edge of Hampstead Heath, surrounded by smooth lawns and stands of majestic trees shielding the outbuildings and London’s encroaching sprawl from view.
It must have been built years ago when Hampstead was far enough from the city to be considered the countryside.
We moved out of the way of a passing cart heading to the house, its load covered by canvas.
Behind it rolled a wagon. As it passed, I caught a glimpse through the opening at the back of an abundance of pink, white and yellow flowers.
Preparations for the ball were well underway.
As the vehicles disappeared up ahead, I caught my first glimpse of Stoneleigh House at the end of the drive.
“I can see why Mr. Mathers chooses to stay here,” I said to Harry. “Who are his relatives?”
“His great-grandfather on his mother’s side was an earl.
This must be the current earl’s home.” Harry turned to look across the lawns at the shimmering lake fringed by trees in glorious shades of autumnal gold.
“I’m not sure Archie would appreciate all this.
He’d choose the Mayfair Hotel over this place for its proximity to the city bustle.
I think he’d even prefer to stay at my flat than out here. ”
“Then he must be short on funds. Hopefully he’s in and not carousing with working men in the city.”
Harry didn’t smile at my jibe. I would have thought he wasn’t listening, except that he did respond, albeit somewhat absently.
“It’s too early in the day for carousing.
Not that Archie got up to anything too wayward.
He just liked good conversation and often said the best conversations were had with the average man.
He would rather drink in a pub with me than with gentlemen at his club. ” Harry’s glum tone wasn’t like him.
“Are you all right?” I asked. “Are you still upset that I’m going to the ball tonight?”
He finally looked at me. “I’m not upset about you going, Cleo.
Not at all.” He turned back to the house.
“What does bother me at the moment is why Archie never responded to my letter after I left the Mayfair’s employ last year.
I know I dismissed it as unimportant the other day, but it worried me at the time.
Did he not write back because he didn’t want to associate with someone who’d been dismissed from work? Did he think less of me?”
I touched his fingers, wrapping my smallest one around his.
“I doubt that’s it. I think you were right when you said there’s probably no reason for it.
Sometimes friendships simply fade away when we no longer see one another regularly.
That happened to me with a few old friends from Cambridge.
It’s not personal. There simply wasn’t a strong enough connection in the first place for it to survive over a distance. ”
“You’re probably right.”
Whether I was or not, we’d soon find out.