Chapter 7
When Harry awoke the next morning, it was to the ringing of the telephone.
At first, she thought it was her alarm clock, but that sat silently on her bedside table, the hands informing her it was seven thirty-seven.
By the time it had dawned on her befuddled brain that the shrill bell was coming from the living room, the sound had stopped.
She slumped back against the pillow, closing her eyes against the dull ache she knew had been brought on by an excess of champagne and it was little consolation that she had no one to blame but herself.
Had she not swallowed a full glass of the stuff in an effort to settle her nerves after her encounter with Percy Finchem, and had she not fallen into bed well after one o’clock the night before, she might feel less dreadful.
She had not been drunk but damage had been done all the same.
If she hadn’t already known that champagne on an empty stomach was a painful mistake, she did now.
A polite tapping on her bedroom door caused her eyes to fly open, before she remembered suggesting Beth spend the night on the settee rather than make the journey back to Camden in the early hours of the morning. ‘Hello?’ she called.
‘It’s the telephone.’ Beth sounded hesitant, as though she wasn’t sure whether she should wake Harry, or even whether she ought to have answered. ‘Mr Fortescue is asking to talk to you. He says it’s urgent.’
Harry groaned. She hadn’t thought to tell Oliver that she had taken the day off work – he probably imagined she was already up and getting ready to set off to Baker Street. ‘Could you ask him to wait?’ she said. ‘I’ll just be a minute.’
Yawning, she pulled on her dressing gown and padded through to the living room.
Beth was waiting, fully dressed in the clothes she had worn to arrive the day before and holding the receiver in one hand, an apprehensive look on her face.
A fire was burning in the hearth and the kettle sat gently steaming on the cooker.
The small table had been laid for tea. Harry gaped at her.
‘You – I…’ Gathering her thoughts together, she tried again.
‘You didn’t have to light the fire, or make tea. ’
Beth bobbed her head. ‘It was cold when I woke up and I’m parched.’ She held out the receiver. ‘Mr Fortescue is waiting.’
Stifling another yawn, Harry took the telephone. ‘Hello, Oliver.’
‘Who was that I spoke to just now?’ he asked, without preamble. ‘Have you taken on a maid?’
Harry rubbed a tired hand over her eyes. ‘No, that was Beth. It’s a long story. What can I help you with?’
‘You went to the Hot Spot last night,’ Oliver guessed. ‘That’s why you sound as though you’ve just been dug up.’
‘Yes, Seb arranged it,’ Harry said. ‘I should have told you, but it all happened fairly suddenly.’ She glanced across at Beth. ‘We haven’t even had time to discuss what we discovered yet.’
‘Which means you did uncover something,’ he said, sounding intrigued. ‘I look forward to hearing all about it.’
Harry felt her cheeks flush as she recalled how close she had come to kissing Percy Finchem. Perhaps there were one or two details Oliver didn’t need to know. ‘As I said, we haven’t compared notes yet.’
‘Of course. And I hope you’re not too exhausted because I’ve managed to secure entry to Berkeley Square. My contact suggested this morning, but I thought perhaps after work.’
Instantly, Harry’s weariness fell away. ‘I can do this morning if you can. I took the day off from the bank.’
‘I do have some free time around eleven o’clock,’ Oliver said. ‘Let me see what I can arrange. Obviously, we’ll need to wear our disguises.’
The thought of sticking glue to her overheated skin almost made Harry want to cry, but she had no intention of admitting such a thing. ‘Obviously.’
‘My outfit is in the carpet bag with yours,’ he went on. ‘Shall I aim to get to you for ten-thirty? We can get dressed up and make our way to Berkeley Square after that.’
‘That sounds like a good plan,’ she said. ‘Thank you. I’ll see you then.’
Hanging up the phone, she fixed Beth with a speculative look. ‘I can see you know how to lay a fire and fill a kettle. How are you at sticking on false beards?’
The other woman grinned, not in the least discomfited by the question. ‘I expect we’re about to find out.’
‘But before that, we both deserve tea,’ Harry said, touching her head and trying not to wince. ‘And perhaps a slice of toast.’
Over breakfast, they shared their experiences from the night before. Harry was able to offer relatively little, although Beth raised a questioning eyebrow when she heard about Louisa’s warning. ‘How well do you know this Percy?’
‘Not that well,’ Harry admitted. ‘The Finchem family is very well regarded, and extremely wealthy – his father sits in the House of Lords and his mother—’
‘Finchem,’ Beth interrupted, frowning thoughtfully. ‘Where have I heard that name before?’
‘That was the household where my friend Mildred worked as a maid, before she went to Lord Robertson’s.’ Harry paused. ‘It was also the last place Polly Spender was employed, that we know of. But I don’t see what any of that has to do with Percy.’
Beth pursed her lips. ‘Nothing, I shouldn’t think. It’s more likely he and Louisa had a fling, and she thought there was more to it. Happens all the time.’
‘He’s never been anything other than a perfect gentleman to me,’ Harry observed, feeling she should defend Percy.
‘Because you are a prize,’ Beth replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘And to men like that, the Louisas of this world are two a penny.’
Harry opened her mouth to object, and closed it again because Beth was quite right. Percy himself might be innocent of the behaviour she had levelled at him, but many more of his status and sex were not.
‘Don’t lose any sleep over it,’ Beth said kindly. ‘I expect Louisa was trying to stir up trouble. A woman scorned, and all that.’
‘Perhaps,’ Harry conceded, because that was a familiar story too. ‘Now, tell me more about your adventures. Did you learn anything more about Serafina?’
The other woman looked extremely pleased with herself. ‘I done more than that. I met her. And so did you, in a manner of speaking.’
Harry stared at her. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Beth grinned, evidently enjoying her moment of triumph. ‘When I passed you and Percy canoodling in the corridor, or whatever you was doing. The girl next to me was Serafina.’
She should have known, Harry thought – Beth’s companion had clearly been a hostess and she was uncommonly pretty. ‘How did you find her? More importantly, how did you get her to talk to you? Did she say anything about Rufus?’
‘Slow down,’ Beth said, holding up her hands.
‘Finding her was a doddle – it helped that I knew her real name. I got chatting to one of the bartenders, told him I was looking for work as a hostess and had been told Ida was moving on. He said she might be willing to vouch for me, for the right price, so I asked where to find her and he pointed me towards the dressing rooms.’
‘Which were at the top of that little staircase,’ Harry said, putting the pieces together.
Beth nodded. ‘I knocked on the door, asked for Ida and there she was, bold as brass and twice as glossy. It took a bit of fast talking for her to trust me but she decided to take a chance when she saw the coin I laid down.’
Harry did her best not to wince. Between Beth’s new outfit, the champagne and now this unanticipated expense, their visit to the Hot Spot had been a costly evening, although Seb had footed the bill for the drinks, at least. She had earmarked the money left over from Beth’s shopping trip as payment for the work she had done but it sounded as though that had been eaten into.
‘What did she tell you?’ she asked, hoping it was something useful.
‘She said I’d heard right, that she was planning on leaving the Hot Spot,’ Beth said. ‘Her young man had popped the question and, since he was a man of means, she didn’t expect to have to work no more.’
It was just as they had suspected, Harry thought, but it didn’t mean Serafina didn’t care for Rufus. ‘How did she seem when she talked about getting married? Happy? Excited?’
Beth cocked her head. ‘I’d say satisfied. Like she’d worked hard and been rewarded.’ She stopped, as though replaying the conversation. ‘But I wouldn’t say she was happy. If anything, she came over a bit blue when she mentioned the wedding. I got the idea she’d been let down before.’
It was interesting information, Harry thought, and certainly seemed to suggest Serafina might be swayed by money. ‘Did she happen to say when she expected to be married?’
‘Next week,’ Beth said. ‘By Thursday, it seems, since that’s when I’m due to take over her job.’
Harry gawped at her. ‘What? You can’t be serious.’
‘Why not?’ Beth replied, shrugging. ‘It’s good money and I ain’t been able to find work anywhere else.’
‘But—’ Harry broke off as the many reasons Beth should not take a job at the Hot Spot crowded into her mind. ‘But Oliver says it’s no place for a lady.’
The answering smile was thin. ‘I daresay it’s not. But I’m no lady, and a job is a job.’
‘Come and work for me,’ Harry blurted out. ‘I can’t offer accommodation, but I’ll pay a decent wage.’
‘For what?’ Beth asked doubtfully as she glanced around the neat apartment. ‘There’s not enough here to keep me busy.’
Harry thought fast. ‘As a personal assistant,’ she suggested. ‘A bit of light housekeeping mixed with digging around and investigating. What do you think?’
Beth still seemed unconvinced. ‘Forgive my bluntness, but how much investigating do you actually do? I know Mildred Longstaff was your friend, so you looked into that case, and obviously Rufus is your brother, but what else do you need me for?’