Chapter 10
The footman who opened the door for us took Harry’s card, read it, then placed it on a silver salver balanced on the paw of a large carved wooden bear.
Not knowing what height bears could get, I didn’t know if it was life-sized, but it was taller than Harry.
When the footman disappeared with the salver, I gave the beast a thorough inspection.
A skillful hand had carved it. The fur looked almost real, and the bear’s expression was frightening as it looked down at me as if it wanted to sink its sharp teeth into me.
But not even a skilled hand could make it less ugly.
“It’s quite a statement,” I said.
Harry regarded the bear, too. “I’m not sure what that statement is. At least it’s made of wood and isn’t a hunter’s trophy.”
Footmen came and went, carrying vases of flowers up and down the stairs, until finally the front door footman returned.
He invited us through to a sitting room, which I was relieved to see furnished in an elegant, formal style that suited the old house, rather than more carved creatures.
The man with the receding hairline and scruffy whiskers standing to receive us smiled broadly upon seeing Harry.
His vigorous double-handed handshake was pleasing to see.
It meant there was no serious falling out on Mr. Mathers’s part.
“Harry! What a pleasant surprise this is. It’s been several months since I saw you.”
“A year,” Harry said.
“That long! So, what brings you all the way out here? Does the new hotel where you work send out its assistant manager to drum up business with his old chums?” He laughed.
Harry frowned. “So you did get my letter about leaving the Mayfair.”
Mr. Mathers’s face fell. “Yes. I did. Did I not respond?”
“No.”
“Apologies. I’ve been busy. You know how it is. So which hotel do you work for now?”
“I’m a private investigator.” Harry fished out a card from his pocket and gave it to him. “This is my associate, Miss Fox.”
“Associate? Ah. I thought…never mind. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Fox.
Please, do sit down. My apologies for meeting in here instead of the drawing room.
It’s currently off-limits while the staff get ready for an event tonight.
” Mr. Mathers flicked Harry’s card with his finger before pocketing it and taking a seat himself. “I presume this isn’t a social call.”
“It’s not, but it is good to see you, Archie. I wondered what happened to you.”
“I’m still here, going back and forth from the old family pile in Wiltshire to London.” He indicated the room with its opulent furnishings, painted plaster ceiling, and heirlooms everywhere one looked. “I stay in this stuffy old museum now when I come to the city. It’s not ideal.” He shrugged.
Harry nodded, as if that was a sufficient answer to explain the lack of communication.
It was not. Not for me, and I doubted for him, too.
But sometimes people don’t like to ask the difficult questions, even when it’s those questions that will get answers.
When investigating, Harry could press on a suspect’s sore point until they gave in, but when it came to personal matters, he was more reticent.
I was determined to clear the air, however. I also got the feeling Harry wasn’t at fault. Mr. Mathers seemed genuinely pleased to see him. If that were the case, the answer to my rather blunt question wouldn’t be painful to hear. “Why do you no longer stay at the Mayfair Hotel, Mr. Mathers?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry arch a brow at me. He didn’t look annoyed, however. He probably expected me to ask.
Mr. Mathers clearly didn’t. He blinked rapidly and stuttered through a few unintelligible words before finally muttering a response. “It no longer suited my needs.”
“You no longer enjoy the bustle of London? The theater and galleries, the coffee houses and pubs? The country air suits you more?”
He winced. “Not really.”
“That’s what Harry told me.”
Mr. Mathers’ gaze shifted to Harry.
“Are you staying at your cousin’s house because it’s more affordable?” I went on.
Another wince. I suspected I’d found the sore point. “That is the gist, Miss Fox.”
Now that we’d established that, it was time to press harder. “Was your acquaintance with Harry simply one of convenience for when you stayed at the Mayfair? With you no longer staying there, you didn’t bother to write back. Is that it?”
“No! That’s not how it is at all. I didn’t write because I was embarrassed.” To underline the point, he rubbed his palms down his thighs and didn’t meet either of our gazes.
I looked at Harry, but he was entirely focused on Mr. Mathers. I expected him to say something, but he remained silent.
I continued pressing on the sore point. “Embarrassed that you could no longer afford the Mayfair?”
“Not entirely,” Mr. Mathers said. “I don’t care that I can’t afford it.
I know Harry doesn’t care about that, either.
It’s the fact that having my allowance cut proved that I’m exactly the sort of man I can’t abide.
An idle man with a useless education that taught him no real skills, who is waiting for his father to die so he can inherit the title and estate he doesn’t particularly want.
” He finally looked up. “Harry has always been industrious. He’s my opposite in that regard, and I felt somewhat lacking in comparison.
So there you have it, Miss Fox. When he wrote to me, I was at a low point and was too embarrassed to tell him that I had no money and no purpose.
I was no better than a child, entirely reliant on my father.
I had to put my hand out if I wanted so much as a train fare.
Harry’s independence was a stark contrast to my helplessness. ”
“You were never helpless,” Harry told him.
“You may have been reliant on your father for money, but it never swayed your opinions. You’re a deep thinker about all manner of difficult topics—how the world got to be the way it is, the problems of society, the changing attitudes to class.
You had strong opinions that most men with your background don’t have. ”
Mr. Mathers grunted. “It’s voicing those socialist opinions to my father that was the final straw.
We had a blazing row, and that’s when he cut me off.
He said if I thought that way about the family’s position then I shouldn’t benefit from it.
The sudden loss of funds curtailed my visits to London considerably.
I don’t get away from home much anymore.
” He scratched his sideburns. “Sorry I never wrote back, Harry. As I said, I was embarrassed.”
“Think nothing of it,” Harry said. “I’m just glad you’re not ill.”
“I’ve told you more than I’ve told anyone who isn’t family.”
“Your secret is safe with us.”
“I know,” Mr. Mathers said with quiet earnest. Then he suddenly gave me a smile. “You must be a good detective, Miss Fox. You ask the difficult questions. Don’t let her go, Harry.
“I don’t intend to.” Harry’s voice was just as quietly earnest, earning him a nod of understanding from Mr. Mathers.
“Speaking of difficult questions,” I said. “I have it on good authority that the two of you went out carousing after Harry finished work. What exactly did that entail?”
Mr. Mathers tapped the side of his nose. “A fellow never informs on his comrade. Why did you tell her that much, Harry, when you know how tenacious she is?”
Harry put up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t.”
“I learned it from Mr. Hobart, Harry’s uncle,” I said. “I have a confession to make. I’m the niece of Sir Ronald and Lady Bainbridge. I moved into the Mayfair Hotel last December.”
Mr. Mathers’s gaze skimmed me anew. “I didn’t think Hobart would crack so easily. You are good, Miss Fox.”
I laughed. “He was in a mischievous mood, and probably didn’t think there was much truth to the stories he heard anyway.” I leaned forward. “So, what did the two of you get up to?”
He wagged his finger in the air. “You’re not getting a thing out of me.”
“Tell me later when Harry isn’t around. I’m attending your cousin’s ball tonight with my cousins. It was all arranged rather last minute, but I’m looking forward to it.”
“Capital! The evening promises to be better than I expected. Balls and soirees are not my thing, but my mother’s cousin insisted I attend, and I am their guest here, so…
” He shrugged. “They’ll be pleased more young people are attending.
They asked me to invite friends, but I don’t really mingle with the right sort.
I thought I might be the only one under forty. You should come, too, Harry.”
“I’m definitely not the right sort,” Harry said wryly.
Mr. Mathers smirked. “Even more reason to come.” He rose and tugged on the bellpull.
A footman entered and Mr. Mathers gave him Harry’s card.
“Please make out an invitation to my friend, Mr. Armitage, and see if the invitations for the Bainbridges and Miss Fox are ready. Lady Stoneleigh won’t mind. ”
Once the footman left and closed the door, Mr. Mathers regarded Harry levelly. “You said you weren’t here on a social call, and since you’re a private detective now, I’m going to assume you’re here regarding the murder of Chester Bradbury.”
I was surprised he’d pieced it together, but Harry wasn’t. “That’s correct. We’re working with the police to solve it.”
Mr. Mathers scrubbed a hand through his hair and down his face.
When it came away, he looked exhausted. “I read about it in the paper. I can’t believe he’s dead, and in such a violent manner, too.
It’s so shockingly awful. I presume you know we went to university together and that I called on him two days before his death. ”
Harry nodded. “Scotland Yard have a suspect in mind, but Cleo and I know him well. He didn’t do it.”
I was surprised by how much Harry divulged. Was that because he trusted Mr. Mathers implicitly? Or because he wanted Mr. Mathers to think he trusted him?