by C. J. Archer
“Thank you, Flossy,” I said. “You’re very kind. Everyone here has been kind so far.” Except the doorman. The wicked part of me was quite looking forward to seeing his face when he learned I lived here now.
“You clearly haven’t met everyone then.” She wrinkled her nose. “The housekeeper, Mrs. Kettering, is the devil incarnate. I think even Father’s afraid of her. Obviously you met Mr. Hobart, the manager. If Father is the head of the hotel, Mr. Hobart is its heart. He’s been here from the beginning. The Mayfair couldn’t run without him at the helm. He knows everything there is to know about this place, and probably some things there aren’t to know.” She pulled a face. “That doesn’t make sense, but you know what I mean. Ah, our cake.”
Gregory handed us plates with slices of sponge and poured a cup of tea for Flossy before quietly melting away. There was no mention of room numbers.
Flossy murmured her approval of the cake as she took her first bite. “I adore the sponge here. I could eat a slice a day, but of course I mustn’t. Just on special occasions such as this.”
This was information I needed to know if I were to live here. “Is there a restriction on how often family can partake of the afternoon tea?”
She giggled into her hand. “No, silly. You can come in here and eat cake to your heart’s content. I only mean I can’t have a slice every day or I’ll get fat. You won’t have to worry, of course. You’re so slim! How do you manage such a tiny waist?”
“I don’t eat cake as good as this every day,” I said.
Flossy giggled again then finished the rest of her slice before setting the plate down and picking up her teacup. “Mr. Hobart mentioned you’d met his nephew.”
“Have I?”
“Harry Armitage.”
“I didn’t realize Mr. Armitage was his nephew. Neither of them mentioned it.”
“They would have eventually. They like to act professionally in the presence of guests, so they refer to each other as mister this and mister that, but all the staff know. Harry has worked here for years, not always as assistant to his uncle, though. He’s devilishly handsome, don’t you think? All the maids are in love with him.”
“Are they?”
She set down her teacup and clasped her hands. “Isn’t this lovely? I’ve always wanted a sister; someone to share all my secrets with, go shopping together… We’re going to have so much fun, Cleo. It’s wonderful that you made it in time for Christmas. Oh, and I can’t wait to show you off at the ball.”
“Ball?”
“Our New Year’s Eve ball.” She tilted her head to the side. “Mother didn’t tell you, did she?”
“Our correspondence has been very brief.”
“I’m sure it has.” Her ominous tone was the first sign of seriousness she’d displayed. The spark also briefly left her eyes, but it quickly returned again as she cast aside whatever bothered her. “I do hope you have something to wear to the ball. There isn’t enough time to get a proper gown made.”
“I don’t own any ball gowns,” I said with an apologetic shrug.
Her assessing gaze took in my simple dress and her nose wrinkled ever so slightly. She was probably wondering how someone so plainly clothed could have anything remotely pretty in her luggage. She would be right. I didn’t own anything as fine as the silk dress trimmed with white lace that she wore. Like all the ladies in the hotel sitting room, her clothes were in the latest style. My mourning outfit might be well made, but it was certainly not in the current fashion.
“I have several ball gowns,” she said. “You can wear one of mine. We’ll have one of the maids take it in to fit you. We’re a similar height but our figures are quite different.” She thrust out her considerable bosom, just in case I hadn’t noticed it.
“That’s kind of you, but unless it’s in black, I’ll have to decline.”
“Yes, of course, you’re in mourning.” She studied my outfit again. “I’m sure one night off from black won’t matter, will it? Ah, here’s Mr. Armitage, come to solve our dilemma.” She smiled up at the assistant manager as he approached.
“I’m happy to help in any way I can, Miss Bainbridge,” he said, using the formal politeness I thought he reserved just for guests. Despite having known one another for years, there was no casual familiarity between them.
“It’s all right for Cleo to take one night off from wearing mourning, isn’t it? Her grandmother died a month ago, and Cleo is quite young, after all. It ought to be a sin for someone so young to be in full mourning for anything longer than a week or two. You agree with me that she ought to wear something nice to the ball, don’t you?”
Mr. Armitage had a tightrope to walk. Disagreeing with Flossy would likely upset his employer’s daughter, but disagreeing with me would go against societal rules. I was rather looking forward to seeing him traverse it and gave him my full attention.
His gaze slid sideways to me before returning to Flossy. “I believe six to nine months is the usual mourning period for a woman for her grandparent, but you’re right, Miss Bainbridge. It would be unfortunate to see someone as young as Miss Fox in full black at a ball.”
Flossy beamed. “So you agree.”
“I think the decision should be left to Miss Fox.”
I felt like applauding him. He’d navigated the tightrope perfectly.
“The point is moot anyway,” I said. “I won’t be attending. It wouldn’t be right.”
“But she died a month ago!” Flossy declared.
Mr. Armitage gave the fleetest of winces.
Flossy didn’t seem to notice. Her cherry pink lips formed a pout and a crease connected her brows. “Do give it some thought, Cleo. Nobody will mind, certainly not your grandmother.”
I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile. I found it harder and harder to take Flossy seriously, although I didn’t think she was trying to be amusing. She was right in that Grandmama would have encouraged me to attend a ball, even one thrown by people she despised. She would also most likely be bellowing with laughter right now, listening to Flossy bumble her way through the conversation without realizing she was bumbling.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr. Armitage watching me with the most curious expression on his face. I couldn’t quite make out what it meant. It certainly wasn’t a negative one. Indeed, I quite liked it when he looked at me like that, with something akin to surprise.
“Your room is ready, Miss Fox,” he said when he realized I was watching him. “I’ll show you the way.”
“I’ll take her,” Flossy said, rising. “I’m sure you have lots of other tasks on your plate.”
Mr. Armitage bowed. “As you wish, Miss Bainbridge.” He handed me a key. “Room four eleven. I hope you like it, Miss Fox. All the rooms on that side have a nice view over Green Park.”
“He’s very efficient,” Flossy said as we walked out of the sitting room behind him. We both watched as Mr. Armitage joined a gentleman near the Christmas tree who appeared to be asking him something.
Flossy stopped alongside a sliding wooden door where a woman wearing a cloak trimmed with fur also stood. She didn’t appear to notice us as she peered in Mr. Armitage’s direction. After a moment, she lifted a pair of spectacles hanging around her neck and peered through the lenses.
“How odd,” she murmured, frowning. “So very strange to see him here.”
I waited for Flossy to say something, but it seemed she didn’t know the woman. Flossy pressed a button beside the door and a distant bell rang.
“He looks so different, so much older,” the woman went on. “It has been several years. Ten at least.” She shook her head and her frown deepened. “He shouldn’t be here.”
My curiosity almost got the better of me, but I refrained from asking her why Mr. Armitage shouldn’t be here. Indeed, she might not have been referring to him at all. There were another two gentlemen in the vicinity.
The door slid open before I gave in to curiosity, revealing a short man with a pencil-thin
moustache dressed in the same uniform as the porters. He stood inside a room no larger than a wardrobe. At the back was a bench seat upholstered in burgundy velvet with a large letter M inside a circle, embroidered in gold thread. Mirrors on all the walls made the tight space appear larger than it was. This was no ordinary room, I realized. This was a lift to take us up to the higher floors. I’d never been in one before and wanted to know how it worked, but I once again forced my curiosity down. I didn’t want to seem unworldly in front of my cousin.
“Good afternoon, Miss Bainbridge,” the lift operator said to Flossy. “Level four?”
“Yes please, John.” She introduced us as she ushered me into the lift.
John welcomed me with a friendly smile and rested his gloved hand on the door. “We have room for one more, madam.”
The woman lowered her spectacles and, still frowning, entered the lift. “Level three.”
He closed the door and pushed the lever attached to the circular device on the wall. The room rose and my stomach lurched, more from the anxiety of the strange sensation than the speed at which we ascended. The lift was so slow I could have climbed the stairs faster.
John eased off the lever and we stopped at level three, where the woman got out, then we continued up to the fourth floor. I expelled a breath once my feet were firmly set on the corridor’s carpet.
“Thank you, John,” I said.
“My pleasure, Miss Fox. And don’t worry. Everyone finds it a bit unnerving their first time.” He winked and closed the door.
Flossy had already moved off, and I rushed to catch up to her. “This level contains the hotel’s suites rather than single rooms,” she said with the direct manner of a tour guide at a historical monument. “Each suite has a bathroom as well as a sitting room. Some have more than one bedroom, to accommodate families, and dressing rooms. The entire floor is reserved for our family and distinguished guests. We don’t have any staying at the moment, but some should arrive shortly for the ball. Father has invited several important people.” She strode down the long corridor, pointing out the door to her parents’ suite, then her brother’s, her own and finally, mine. “Here we are, room four-eleven.”
I unlocked the door and entered. Despite the open curtains it was rather gloomy until Flossy flipped a brass switch on the wall by the door.
“Electric lighting!” I squinted up at the bulb but had to quickly avert my gaze away from the brightness. “How marvelous.”
“The entire hotel has been electrified.” She frowned at the word. “Electricalled? Electrically wired? Anyway, all the rooms have a little switch like this to turn on the central bulb. We had it installed a few years ago—at enormous cost, so my father likes to remind me whenever I ask him to increase my allowance.”
It would have indeed cost a fortune to install electricity throughout the hotel. Few homes had converted from gas lighting, although many streetlamps were now electric, as well as some underground trains, public spaces and buildings. I supposed the hotel had to modernize if it was going to tout itself as a luxurious place to stay.
“So, what do you think of your room?” Flossy asked.
The suite was as elegant as I expected it to be, based on what I’d seen of the hotel so far. Not only was the bedroom three times the size of the one I’d had in Cambridge, but the sitting room was enormous too, and the bathroom was very modern with a large bath.
The rooms contained everything I’d need, from a fully stocked writing desk, sofa, armchairs, dressing table, and a bed in which three people could comfortably sleep. More pink roses cheered the rooms in white vases edged with gold. My luggage, waiting beside the wardrobe doors, looked out of place amidst all the grandeur.
I passed a hand over the warm wood of the desk and looked out the window. Mr. Armitage had been wrong. The view wasn’t simply nice; it was spectacular. I could look through the window over Green Park all day, even with its winter-bare trees.
Flossy joined me. “There’s hot and cold running water in the bathroom, but I’m afraid that’s where the modern amenities begin and end.” She glanced at the lamp. “Well, that and the electric lights. I wish we could have telephones in our rooms. Father has one in his office, of course, as does the reception and Mr. Hobart’s office, but we’re quite behind the times here compared to newer hotels. I once asked Father when the family’s suites would get telephones and he ranted and raved for a full twenty minutes about my laziness. He said if I wanted to stay in touch with friends, I ought to write or visit.” She ran her fingers along the windowsill as if checking for dust. They came away clean. “He’s so miserly and quite the bear at times. Just wait and see. You’ll meet him soon. Anyway, you have to make do with the speaking tube.” She pointed at the brass mouthpiece on the wall. “It connects to the kitchen. If you want something sent up, just ask for it. Breakfast must be ordered the night before, but if you forget, you can simply go to the dining room in the morning.”
Again I wondered what I must pay for, but I would leave those questions for my uncle. I suspected Flossy wouldn’t have a clue.
She departed with a little wave of her fingers and closed the door, leaving me alone to freshen up and change after my day of travel. Cambridge wasn’t too far by rail, but I felt exhausted. It was probably the accumulation of a month’s worth of mourning for my grandmother and everything else that needed to be done afterwards—selling what I could to pay off debts, giving away her personal things to her friends as well as packing, and finally giving back the keys to the landlord for the house we’d moved into after my grandfather’s death three years ago. While it had never quite felt like home, I had fond memories of precious time spent there with my aging grandmother. Moving into that house had signaled a change in our relationship. The previous house had been the one my grandparents moved into as newlyweds. It had been full of warmth and love at a time when I desperately needed it. They’d taken care of me in that house, and made sure I’d had a good life despite the tragedy of losing Mother and Father when I’d been just ten.
But after Grandpapa died and we realized the two of us couldn’t afford to stay there, after the full extent of his debts were revealed, we’d rented a smaller place. His death and learning of his debts had been the beginning of the end for Grandmama. It were as if part of her had died with him. Our roles reversed in a matter of weeks, and for the last three years, I’d taken care of her as her body and mind became more fragile.
When she died, my Uncle and Aunt Bainbridge had written and offered me the opportunity to live in London with them. Despite not having seen them in years, and my very strong reservations, I took the opportunity. It was the only way to free myself of the last of Grandpapa’s debts. The only way to begin anew. Besides, I’d always wanted to see London.
I only wished I didn’t have to depend upon my mother’s family. Her own parents had criticized her, severed all contact with her, and cut her out of their will when she’d married my father. Her younger sister, my aunt, had inherited a vast fortune upon their deaths, and my mother had received nothing. Not even a personal token. Aside from the single appearance of my aunt and uncle at my parents’ funeral, I’d had no contact with them until I received the letter from my aunt after Grandmama died. And now I was utterly dependent on their goodwill. A goodwill I wasn’t entirely sure they possessed. They believed in duty, apparently, or I wouldn‘t have been invited here, but if they had a caring heart between them, we would never have become estranged in the first place.
A light knock on the door shook me from my melancholy thoughts. “Sir Ronald will see you now,” said the footman.
I bristled. I didn’t like to be summoned, and I almost told him I’d be five minutes, just to make my uncle wait. But I was here thanks to his charity and couldn’t afford to stand on principles. Besides, the footman might get into trouble too.
“Is Lady Bainbridge with him?” I asked.
“No.”
I grabbed my room key and locked the door. With a steadying bre
ath, I followed the stiff-backed footman along the corridor. I wished my aunt would be present. Not because I especially cared to meet her, but because I didn’t want to be alone when I faced the man who held my immediate future in the palm of his hand.
Chapter 2
Sir Ronald Bainbridge hadn’t changed in the thirteen years since my parents’ funeral. Aside from patches of gray amid the red-gold hair at either side of his temple, he was exactly as I remembered him—a short man with a pug nose and steely eyes that quickly took in my appearance. Whatever his assessment of me from that brief glance, his expression didn’t give it away. He greeted me with a benign smile and a handshake, as if I were a business partner.
That was how I preferred it. I didn’t want to be pecked on the cheek and fussed over. It had felt genuine from Flossy, but anything this man offered other than the simplest condolences would fall flat.
He indicated I should sit in the chair opposite and clasped his broad hands on the desk in front of him. “I was very sorry to hear about your grandmother. I expect it didn’t come as a shock to you, however.”
“No,” I said.
“I’m glad you accepted my offer to come and live here.” His offer? Not my aunt’s?
“Thank you for making it. I’m very grateful.” Despite going through this conversation dozens of times in my head, I still hesitated, unsure how to proceed.
“I expect this change in your situation is difficult for you, but I’d like to make it easier somewhat. You are family, after all.” He reached for a sheet of hotel stationery then picked up a pen and dipped it into the inkwell. “By my estimation, an extra five pounds should suffice. If you’d like to see how I reached this figure, I’d be happy to show you my calculations.”
I frowned. “Pardon?”
He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a book. He opened it to a page and handed it to me. “I’ve used Florence’s expenses as a guide, and taken into consideration the amount you’re already receiving.”