Chapter 6 #3
I crossed the road to the small garden square opposite.
It was a private garden, not for public use, and fenced off with the only access through the locked gates.
I watched the townhouse from a safe distance for an hour before my fingers and toes grew numb from the cold.
The only reward I’d had for my efforts was when a maid climbed the steps from the basement service rooms and headed along the street, a basket over her arm.
Fifteen minutes later, the rain started and I gave up. Whoever had watched me from the front window wasn’t going to come out, and there was no sign of Lord Wrexham. I headed off, only to stop as a carriage with green doors pulled up outside the townhouse. Lord Wrexham must be arriving home.
Thrilled with my good fortune, I hurried back the way I’d come.
But no one alighted from the carriage. Instead, the townhouse door opened and a gentleman emerged.
He trotted with a springy step down the stairs and quickly climbed into the cabin.
His face had been hidden behind his turned-up coat collar, but I was quite sure it was Lord Wrexham. He’d been home after all.
The carriage took off before I could so much as call his name.
I headed back to the hotel. Frank greeted me with a nod as he opened the door. “You’ve got a visitor, Miss Fox.”
“Who?”
He didn’t answer as he moved off to greet a new arrival.
Goliath, standing beside a trolley loaded with luggage near the check-in desk, signaled me with a jerk of his head. “There’s someone waiting to see you in Mr. Hobart’s office.”
“Who?”
He didn’t have an opportunity to answer, however, as the guests whose luggage he carried collected their key from Peter and headed in the direction of the lift.
“Room five-twenty,” Peter told Goliath.
The porter pushed the trolley towards the service lift.
“Who is waiting for me in Mr. Hobart’s office?
” I asked Peter. “Is it Lord Wrexham?” Hopefully he’d been intrigued by my calling card.
But why wait for me in Mr. Hobart’s office when he could have enjoyed a cup of tea in the sitting room?
Perhaps his disfigurement made him shy away from public spaces.
“Finally,” said a familiar deep voice behind me.
I turned to see Mr. Armitage striding towards me. “You’ve been waiting for me? Why?”
“To see how you fared with Wrexham.”
“Is that a suspect?” Peter asked, leaning on the counter in a most uncharacteristic casual pose. “Are you getting closer to solving the case?”
“I’m afraid not,” I said. “Progress has been slow.”
Mr. Armitage joined us. “Were you with Wrexham all this time?”
“I was watching his townhouse.”
His lips curved into a smile. “He wouldn’t see you?”
“Given I’m a stranger, that’s understandable.” I eyed Terrence, manning the post desk. “When I saw him depart, I left too. Perhaps he came here and left a message for me.”
“He didn’t,” Mr. Armitage said.
“How do you know?”
“Terence told me.”
I bristled. “You made him give you my messages?”
“No, I simply asked if you had any and he said no. That’s not the same thing.”
“It almost is.”
“But it’s not.”
We both looked to Peter. He straightened, hands in the air in surrender. “Don’t expect me to referee your match.”
Mr. Armitage’s gaze suddenly lifted to a point behind me and he stiffened. His lips pressed together.
I turned to see Uncle Ronald striding towards us.
My heartbeat quickened. The last time these two men had met, Mr. Armitage had just helped arrest a murderer, but not even that service was enough for my uncle to forgive him for lying about his criminal record.
My uncle felt he’d been betrayed. He’d forgiven Mr. Hobart, in a fashion, but he couldn’t bring himself to forgive Mr. Armitage.
Mr. Armitage had never once begged to be reinstated to his former position of assistant manager, and I suspected that was part of my uncle’s problem with him.
He now knew Mr. Armitage was a formidable character, someone who stood up for himself on principle, and that was something my uncle didn’t like in an employee.
He marched up to me, eyes flashing, his jaw set just as hard as Mr. Armitage’s. “Cleo. A word.” He moved into the center of the foyer, expecting me to follow.
With a glance at Mr. Armitage and Peter, I did. “Yes, Uncle?”
“What’s he doing here?”
“Calling on me.”
“Why?”
I didn’t want to tell him about the investigation, but if I didn’t, I would have to come up with an excuse as to why Mr. Armitage was visiting me.
And I could think of nothing that would meet with Uncle Ronald’s approval.
“He’s assisting me with an investigation I’m conducting on behalf of Lord Rumford. ”
His nostrils flared. “Why wasn’t I informed about this?”
“It has nothing to do with you. Sir,” I added for good measure.
“It has everything to do with me! Rumford is a guest in my hotel.”
This was going to require all the patience I possessed and as much diplomacy as I could muster.
But at least I was prepared with an answer.
“I heard his lordship express his doubts about the verdict into Miss Westwood’s death.
He didn’t believe she killed herself and suspects she was murdered.
He wanted someone to look into it so I offered since I have experience in such matters. ”
“Experience! Stumbling over some clues and almost getting yourself killed does not give you experience in investigative techniques.” He’d expelled a considerable breath along with his words so by the time he finished, his face was quite red.
His chest expanded like a bellows as he refilled his lungs.
I chose to ignore his insult and focus on something that would get him to calm down rather than anger him further. “Lord Rumford was very grateful that someone was prepared to take on the case.”
Uncle Ronald drew in another deep breath, somewhat mollified.
Lord Rumford was a very important guest and my uncle would never deny a guest anything.
The Mayfair’s reputation for servicing the needs of guests was legendary.
He couldn’t very well order me to stop investigating if Lord Rumford had expressly asked me to.
I was immensely glad I was able to keep Mr. Hobart’s name out of it—and Harmony’s.
“I promised his lordship I’d be discreet, of course,” I assured him. “Neither his name nor mine will be attached to any scandal or to the solving of the case, if I am able to solve it.”
“See that it doesn’t.” He jutted his chin towards Mr. Armitage. “Why do you need his help?”
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”
He glanced sharply at me.
“The promise I made Lord Rumford about discretion means I can’t tell even you what paths I’m pursuing. I am sorry, Uncle. If it weren’t for his lordship, I would have told you everything from the beginning.”
He grunted but seemed to believe me. “He can’t stay out here.”
“We were just about to go into the sitting room.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Cleo, I know you have a kind heart and feel sorry for him, but you must remember he’s a former employee.
There are lines that cannot be crossed, particularly in front of the guests.
Imagine how it would look if that man was sipping tea with my niece in the sitting room of the hotel where he used to work. ”
I bit my tongue. How things looked to the guests mattered to my uncle. I’d learned that very quickly. But I couldn’t bring myself to give verbal acquiescence to his order so I simply gave a curt nod. “Is that all, Uncle?”
He eyed Mr. Armitage, who eyed him right back, unperturbed. “For now.”
He slapped his hat on his head and strode off, his footsteps loud on the tiles.
I rejoined Mr. Armitage and Peter. “Now, where were we?” I said cheerfully.
Mr. Armitage frowned. “You don’t have to order Goliath to throw me out?”
“Of course not. My uncle is perfectly fine with your presence here in the hotel.”
He smiled. “Excellent. Shall we talk over tea in the sitting room?”
My face fell.
Mr. Armitage’s smile turned cynical. “I didn’t think so.”
I looked to Peter for help, but he simply stood there, listening and watching as if he was front row at the theater. “We’ll talk in Mr. Hobart’s office,” I said.
“No need. What I have to say won’t take long. I came to offer you some advice if you failed to secure a meeting with Lord Wrexham.”
“Good, I could do with some advice. I suspect he’s sensitive about his disfigurement and doesn’t wish to see people, particularly women. Will you call on him instead? He might be prepared to face another man.”
Mr. Armitage shook his head. “I doubt he’d be prepared to see me, either. I think you should return, but knock on the door to the staff entrance this time. Someone will talk for a few coins.”
Peter agreed. “You can find out all sorts of things from staff. Trust me, we’ve had some tattlers work here, haven’t we, sir?”
“Call me Harry. And yes, we have. Once I learned who spoke to the journalists, they were quickly dismissed. Go back to Wrexham’s house tomorrow with a full purse and see what you find. I suggest trying the stables too. Coachmen have a wealth of knowledge about their master’s movements.”
“Thank you,” I said. “That’s a good suggestion. But you could have given me this advice when we spoke earlier.”
“And miss my opportunity to see Peter again?”
Peter suddenly straightened. “Nice to see you too, sir. I mean Harry.”
Mr. Armitage picked his hat up from the counter where he’d left it. “I’ll leave you to your sleuthing, Miss Fox.” He gave me a nod and headed for the door.
I raced after him. “Just a moment, Mr. Armitage. There’s one more thing.”
He stopped. “Yes?”
“Will you accompany me?” The idea had occurred to me while we were talking. It was an excellent way to involve him. Even better, if he learned something useful, he’d have to accept part payment. I was determined to share this case with him, whether he agreed or not.
“You want me to talk to the coachman and stable hands?” he asked.
“I thought I’d speak to them while you question the maids. You have a way with women that I suspect will encourage them to say more than they would to me.”
“Is that so?”
“There’s no need to look so surprised. You know very well how most of the hotel maids act coy in your presence.”
With a small smile, he placed his hat on his head and tilted it at an angle that oozed arrogance. “Just the maids?” He turned and walked off. “I’ll be back at ten tomorrow morning,” he tossed over his shoulder.
I watched him go, not sure whether I wanted to laugh or roll my eyes.