Chapter 11 #3
Jonathon helped me into my coat. “He’s not a friend of Floyd’s, or I’d know. Armitage, Armitage…” He shook his head. “Who is he?”
“He was assistant manager at the hotel until recently.”
His hand paused at my collar. “I see.” It was spoken darkly, as if Mr. Armitage were an ominous cloud one had to keep an eye on at a picnic.
Jonathon led me outside. There was no sign of Mr. Armitage but the Bainbridge carriage waited for me. It would seem I wouldn’t have to murder Flossy after all.
There was only one thing to do at this juncture of the case, only one course of action. Just because I didn’t want to take it didn’t mean I wouldn’t. I steeled my nerves and forged ahead to Belgravia to call on Lord and Lady Wrexham.
I was so nervous that I couldn’t eat breakfast. I managed to escape Harmony’s ire for not finishing everything and headed out to Belgravia mid-morning.
A lad had set up a shoe-shine stand across the way and was polishing the shoe of a gentleman who sat on the stool, newspaper in hand and cigar in his mouth as if he were in the hotel’s smoking room. The lad must be Peter’s brother.
Instead of trying my luck and knocking at the Wrexham’s townhouse, I waited not far away.
I’d brought a newspaper with me as a disguise, of sorts, and pretended to read it, all the while watching the house.
I decided not to declare myself to Peter’s brother when his customer departed.
If I were seen by the household, I didn’t want the boy to be chased off as well.
Thankfully the rain stayed away. I waited for hours, but my patience was finally rewarded when the carriage with the green doors pulled up outside the house. I waited for the townhouse door to open and Lord Wrexham to emerge then crossed the road. He swore upon seeing me.
“A word before you leave, please, my lord.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“I think you will when you hear what I have to say.”
He thrust his walking stick into my chest, stopping me. “Get out of my way.”
The door opened again and the butler emerged. “You! Leave or I’ll summon the constables.”
“Do it,” I said to Lord Wrexham. “Call the police. I’d be happy to inform them that you are the father of Pearl Westwood’s child.”
Lord Wrexham slowly lowered the walking stick. His gaze did not leave mine, but his expression gave nothing away. I couldn’t tell if he was shocked by the news Pearl had a child or that I knew he was the father.
“Sir! Do you want me to summon a constable?” the butler asked.
Lord Wrexham shook his head. “Leave us.”
The butler seemed reluctant to go, but he didn’t need to be told twice.
Lord Wrexham waited for the door to close before speaking. “What do you want, Miss Fox?”
“The same thing I wanted last time. Answers.”
He stretched his neck out of his collar. “You seem to think I have them. I assure you, I don’t. For instance, I don’t even know if the child is mine.”
“Why would Pearl lie to you?”
“Money.” It was said without pause, but with a great deal of bitterness.
“Is that why she came to you that day after Christmas? She wanted money from you for Millie?”
He stamped the end of the walking stick on the pavement and folded both hands over the head. “Yes. It was the first I’d heard of a child. She said it was born almost four years ago. Her sister has been raising the child.”
“Did she say why she needed the money now?”
“No.”
“Was she intending to take the child back and raise her as her own?”
He picked up the walking stick. “I don’t know. She didn’t offer an explanation, and I didn’t ask. She told me the child was mine and I had an obligation to finance its upbringing. But she could bring no proof, so I refused.”
A rage swelled within me. It wasn’t for his arrogance, although that was certainly galling.
It was for his callous disregard for a woman he’d once cared about and who needed his help.
But I was even angrier on Millie’s behalf.
She was his child, his responsibility. By refusing to believe Pearl, he was denying Millie the opportunity to live a comfortable life. He was pathetic and mean.
I gritted my teeth. “She’s a girl, my lord, not a thing. Please refer to her as she, not it.”
He climbed into the carriage and grabbed the door handle. “If you don’t mind, I have an appointment.”
I positioned myself so that he could not close the door. “Where were you on the afternoon Pearl died?”
“I was not at the theater. That answer will have to suffice.”
“It does not suffice. Where were you?”
He pulled on the door, but I didn’t move. “Drive on!”
The coachman peered around from the driver’s seat and saw me standing there. “But sir—”
“I said drive on!”
The coachman gave me an apologetic look then urged the horses forward. I jumped back to avoid the wheel, tripped over the gutter and landed on my backside. If the coach had started off at a faster clip, I would have been run over. The coachman had spared me that.
The door to the townhouse opened and the butler stood there. He peered down his nose at me. “Lady Wrexham wishes to see you.”
I glanced up at the second story window where I knew the drawing room to be. She must have been watching. I dusted off my skirts, picked up my umbrella and newspaper from where they’d fallen, and headed up the steps. I handed the butler my umbrella and newspaper with a smile.
He passed them on to Mr. Adams, the footman, as if they were dirty rags.
“Are you injured, Miss Fox?” Mr. Adams asked.
“Thank you, no. Very kind of you to ask.” Rather surprising too, admittedly. I didn’t think he liked me much, but it appeared he liked me somewhat more than the butler.
Going by the elderly fellow’s disdainful turn of his mouth, that wasn’t setting the bar very high.
He led the way up to the drawing room and announced me at the door before leaving us. Her ladyship did not ask him to bring tea, so I assumed this was not going to be treated as a social call. I prepared myself for a few rounds of parries and strikes.
But this time, I expected success. I’d come armed with information.