Murder at the Mayfair Hotel

by C. J. Archer

  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 breath, 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.”

  I stared at the page with its neat columns of figures. Every possible item a woman of my age could need was written down with an amount beside it. Indeed, there was far more than I would need. A new hat every month and new gown every three was excessive, but if he’d used Flossy as a guide, it was clear how he’d reached the figure. I suspected economizing was a foreign notion to her.

  Neither the items nor the amount was what confused me the most, however. I put down the ledger and fixed my uncle with a glare. “How do you know the amount I’m already receiving?” It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d bullied his way into my banker’s good graces and coerced the knowledge from the poor fellow. My uncle’s ruthlessness was legendary.

  He tilted his head to the side. “I pay your allowance, Cleopatra.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No,” I murmured. He paid my allowance?

  “They kept that from you?” He leaned back in the chair, moving his clasped hands from the desk to the top of his stomach. He stared at me, and I suspected I stared back with the same confused expression.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “How long have you been paying my allowance?”

  “Ever since you were born.”

  My jaw dropped again. Any more surprises and it was in danger of unhinging altogether. “For twenty-three years! But…why did no one tell me?”

  “That is a good question, but one I suspect I know the answer to. Your family didn’t like me. Or, more specifically, they didn’t like your mother’s parents. Not telling you the source of your allowance was one small way they could obliterate them—us—from your life.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said again, rather stupidly. “My maternal grandparents died before I was born. They were never in my life. Why withhold information from me about the allowance? What did it matter?”

  My uncle flattened his moustache with his thumb and forefinger. His shoulders heaved with his sigh as he sat forward again. “I suspect there’s much you don’t know, Cleopatra, and hearing the truth might cast some of your family in a poor light. Are you prepared to hear it?”

  I gripped the chair arm to steady myself. I suddenly felt as if the chair were floating away, taking me with it. I had never shied away from the truth. Indeed, I believed the truth, however hurtful, should always be revealed. I’d witnessed my parents’ deaths; I’d heard their arguing voices moments before our gig veered off the road. Knowing that fact about the accident helped me move on.

  On the reverse side, there was Grandpapa’s secret debts. Grandmama had been deeply hurt when she’d learned of them. Nothing good came of deceit.

  But I wasn’t convinced that my uncle was speaking the truth. I would hear his version, however. “Go on,” I prompted.

  “Do you know that your mother’s parents left their entire fortune to her sister, your Aunt Lilian, when they died?”

  “Yes. They didn’t like that she married my father against their wishes, so they removed my mother from their will, and their lives.”

  “That’s a fair
summary. I married your Aunt Lilian shortly afterwards, and her inheritance allowed me to turn my ancestral home into this hotel.” He spread out his hands. At least he admitted that his wife’s money had led him to become the wealthy hotelier he now was. I hadn’t expected him to, and I gave him credit for it.

  “Soon after our marriage, I wrote to your parents and offered them an allowance. It never felt right to me that Lilian should inherit it all. Your parents refused my offer.”

  He offered no reason, thankfully. I suspected stubbornness and pride played large parts, but that didn’t mean I wanted this man to point it out.

  “When you were born, I offered again,” he went on. “The granddaughter of a gentleman who’d been one of the nation’s wealthiest merchants shouldn’t be brought up in…reduced circumstances.”

  I bristled. “We weren’t poor.”

  He held up his hands. “My apologies. No, you weren’t poor by the average man’s standards. But you were by ours.” He indicated the walls surrounding us, with the rich wood paneling and the paintings in gilded frames. “Academia doesn’t pay well, unfortunately. Your father was a very clever man. The cleverest I’ve ever known. But sadly, our maker doesn’t distribute money along with brains. I knew there’d be little left over from his wages after the necessities had been paid for. Your parents agreed to a lesser amount than I offered—for your education and future dowry, so their letter stated. I’ve been paying that amount into a bank account in Cambridge ever since, but I am well aware that it isn’t enough for a young lady entering London society.” He tapped the ledger with a blunt finger. “Shall we agree to an extra five pounds a month?”

  He was wrong, surely. It must be a lie to make himself look generous. There was an easy way to find out. “What amount was paid monthly?”

  “Four pounds.”

  “Which bank was it paid into?”

  “The National Commercial on the first day of every month unless the first was a weekend or bank holiday then it was paid on the next business day. The manager’s name at the Cambridge branch is Mr. Arnold. I never met him, so I cannot describe him to you, but he has been the manager the entire time, so is likely my age or older.”

  The allowance went into my account on the first of every month and it was indeed four pounds. Prior to my grandfather’s death, I had not been allowed to access it without his signature, but after his death, I was given full access. I’d always assumed my father set up the allowance in the event of his death; an event that had unfortunately come to pass. If Uncle Ronald were to be believed, it had been paid by him and from the day I was born.

  “It will be easy enough for me to check,” I told him.

  “Yes, it would.” He smiled, but there was a hint of sadness tugging at the corners of his eyes. “You remind me so much of your mother. You have her spirit.” He cleared his throat and reached for the pen again. “You have your father’s practical common sense, however, so I suspect you will accept the raise to your allowance without objection.”

  It wasn’t a question, yet he didn’t immediately sign the letter. Reading it upside down, it was indeed a letter addressed to Mr. Arnold at the National Commercial bank, stipulating my allowance should be raised by the amount of five pounds a month and that I would henceforth be drawing on the funds from London.

  “I have already informed Mr. Arnold of my relocation to London,” I said. “I met him for the first time prior to my departure. He’s older than you, has poor eyesight, and no hair on his head but an abundance on his face in the form of long gray whiskers.”

  My uncle’s smile returned. He set the paper aside. “I’ll draft another and remove that paragraph. It’ll be sent by the last post of the day.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “No, I don’t want an additional allowance. Not from you. I mean, not from anyone,” I added quickly. “Thank you, I appreciate the offer but the four pounds I already receive will suffice.”

  “But…are you sure?”

  If I was to make my own way here, I couldn’t rely on his money. Not more than I already was, anyway. Discovering that he had been paying my allowance all these years made me feel somewhat sick; I couldn’t stomach it if he more than doubled it.

  “I’m sure, sir.”

  He picked up the letter to the bank manager and appeared to be re-reading it when he suddenly screwed it up into a ball. “Call me Uncle Ronald.” He tossed the ball into a rubbish basket. “If you change your mind about the extra allowance, just come and see me.” He indicated the photograph of a newlywed couple in the oval frame on the corner of his desk. The man was a younger version of Uncle Ronald. “I want to assure you that your Aunt Lilian and I are very happy to have you with us. We hope you’ll be a steadying influence on Florence.”

  “She has been very kind to me today,” I said.

  “She’s a kind-hearted girl, if a little flighty at times. But you seem sensible, steady, Cleopatra.”

  “Call me Cleo. Everyone does.”

  “There, you see? Sensible.”

  His reasoning was lost on me, but I went along with it and nodded. “May I ask you some questions about my stay here?”

  “Of course. I imagine you have several.”

  I cleared my throat. “I don’t want you to think me ungrateful for the offer.” I indicated the rubbish basket. “I am very grateful. However, I need to know what things cost here. Are there menus with prices on them?”

  He frowned. “You’re not expected to pay for anything. All hotel amenities are free for family.”

  He couldn’t possibly understand me. “What about tea and cake in the sitting room? And breakfast and dinner?”

  He smiled. “All free.”

  “What?” I blurted out. “All of it?”

  He chuckled, producing a fan of wrinkles from the corners of his eyes. “Even dessert. I don’t expect you to pay for food, Cleo. As your uncle, I’m supporting you.”

  “So…it’s not coming out of my allowance?”

  “Your allowance is yours to do with as you wish. Spend it on hats and shoes, or save it. I don’t care. As I said earlier, the inheritance ought to have been shared between your mother and your aunt upon their parents’ deaths. It never sat well with me that your mother received nothing. While I can’t afford to give you her entire half, I can give you a little every month. I think that fair, don’t you?”

  I blinked hard. This conversation was not going as I expected. Ever since I could recall, my grandparents had told me that my Uncle Ronald was greedy, that he’d married my aunt for her inheritance. To be honest, they didn’t really know him. After all, they knew him about as well as I did—and that was not at all.

  “Thank you.” It sounded rather weak, so I said it again, just to be sure he understood I was truly grateful. “I don’t wish to be a burden on you for long, however. I want to be useful.”

  “Useful?”

  “I’d like to find a role for myself within the hotel.”

  He waved off the suggestion. “You don’t have to work, Cleo. Work is for those who need the money. You don’t. Not anymore.”

  “Is there nothing I can do? Some task, no matter how small? I’m good with mathematics, but I quite like people too and am happy to help the manager. Or the steward, perhaps, although I know very little about restaurants.”

  He gave a stiff shake of his head. “Bainbridge women don’t work.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from retorting that I was a Fox not a Bainbridge. My uncle’s thinking was no different to my father’s or that of most other men and many women too, and I shouldn’t let it rankle. Yet it did.

  “Well then, let me assure you I won’t be a burden on you for longer than necessary,” I said. “I plan to move out of the hotel one day.”

  “Of course. When you marry, you’ll want to make your own home. That’s only natural.”

  “I don’t plan to marry.”

  He made a scoffing sound in the back of his thro
at. “Of course you will, my dear. A pretty girl such as yourself will find a husband. There are many eligible bachelors coming through the hotel. You will have your pick of gentlemen, both English and foreign.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek again. I was going to have quite the sore spot there soon. “Thank you, but I really don’t intend to marry.”

  “But—”

  “I will work. If not here in the hotel, then elsewhere. I don’t yet know what I will do, but I’m sure something will crop up. Perhaps I’ll be an authoress or teacher, or a private secretary to a lady. Perhaps all three,” I added with more cheerfulness than I felt. He was looking at me as if I had grown horns so I found myself wanting to drive the point home. “I’m an independent woman, Uncle, and I plan to stay that way. As I see it, there is only one way to remain independent and that is to find work. I can’t accept your allowance forever.”

  He continued to stare at me with the same look on his face that was part horrified, part fascinated.

  “Of course I will honor your rules while I live here,” I went on. “I hope you won’t find me to be a burden or come to regret your decision to allow me to stay.”

  He quickly got to his feet as I rose, and rounded the desk. “No, no, I don’t think I will. Indeed, I think we shall get along quite well.” He took my hand and gave it a shake and a pat, as if he couldn’t decide whether to treat me as a business associate or a niece.

  “Do you know when my aunt will be available to see me?” I asked.

  He glanced at the clock on the low bookshelf. “My wife suffers from headaches. I believe she is suffering from one today. If she feels better, she’ll summon you.”

  I waited in my rooms for the summons, but it never came. Flossy arrived, bearing a verbal invitation to dine with the family at eight, then left to get ready even though it was only five.

  I sat at the desk and wrote letters, both to Mr. Arnold the banker and a friend in Cambridge with whom I’d stored another trunk of clothes. I’d only brought black outfits with me and my underthings. The second trunk I’d left behind, assuming I wouldn’t need other clothes for some time. But Flossy’s reasoning had taken root, and there might come a day in the not too distant future when I’d want to wear colors again. I had a gray dress with white trim that looked fetching. Gray would be acceptable to wear soon. As Flossy said, young women weren’t expected to wear full black for long.