Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,22
good cousin while I’ve suffered with my headaches? Have you met Floyd? Dear Floyd, such a rascal, isn’t he, Flossy? In a good way, of course. And what do you think of the hotel?”
Flossy laid a hand on her mother’s shoulder. Going by Aunt Lilian’s wince, she squeezed it quite hard.
I tried to answer all of my aunt’s questions while she listened. There wasn’t much to say about my life, but I gave her an account of the years since my parents’ deaths. Despite being a short retelling, my aunt seemed to lose concentration. Her gaze darted about the room and it took Flossy clearing her throat to bring her focus back to me.
Despite the too-thin figure and drawn features, she was a vibrant woman with considerable energy. She found it difficult to sit still, and when I finished speaking, she suddenly rose.
“Shall we go downstairs?” she said. “Or perhaps for a walk. Would you like to shop with us, Cleo? Flossy, don’t you think Cleo would like some new things?”
“The shops are closed,” Flossy reminded her. “It’s Christmas day.”
Aunt Lilian laughed. “Of course it is. Is it time for our feast yet?”
“Almost,” Flossy said. “But I’m not sure we ought to leave our rooms. There’s a murderer about.”
“Nobody will try to murder us, dear.” Aunt Lilian flashed a smile and in that moment, I saw the famous beauty she’d supposedly been her in youth. “I would very much like to go out before luncheon. Where are my gloves? Flossy, have you seen my tan gloves?”
Flossy fetched gloves and hat for her mother, and she and I fetched our own things while her mother waited in the corridor. When I emerged from my suite, Aunt Lilian was pacing the floor near the stairs.
“We’ll walk down,” she said. “The lift is too slow.”
Flossy sighed.
Outside, we walked for an hour at a brisk pace that had Flossy puffing heavily and me feeling nicely warm. All the shops were closed for Christmas Day, but Aunt Lilian pointed out their favorites, commenting on why such-and-such was the best for parasols, or so-and-so made the finest boots.
We walked through Hyde Park and returned to the hotel from the opposite direction from which we’d left. Although Aunt Lilian set the brisk pace, she seemed to deflate very quickly. By the time we reached the hotel, she claimed she had a headache and needed a rest. Without being asked, Flossy led her away. She mouthed an apology to me over her shoulder as the doorman greeted them and opened the door.
The doorman waited after they disappeared through it, staring straight ahead.
“Merry Christmas,” I said to him. “Do you remember me from yesterday?”
“Yes, Miss Fox.” His cheeks pinked, but still he did not look at me. “Merry Christmas to you too.”
The porter who’d taken my bags the day before smirked and rocked back on his heels. He was enjoying this. The doorman was not, if his increasingly reddening cheeks were anything to go by.
The doorman swallowed. “I’d like to apologize for my greeting last time we met. It was unforgiveable. Let me assure you, it won’t happen again.”
I sighed theatrically. “I will try to forgive you. That’s all I can promise at this point.”
He bowed stiffly. “You’re very generous. Very generous indeed.”
The porter made a snorting sound as he tried to cover his laugh. The doorman’s jaw hardened.
“It seems I’m at a disadvantage,” I went on.
“No, Miss Fox, I assure you there is no disadvantage intended,” the doorman said. “If there is some way I can make you feel less at a disadvantage, please allow me to perform the task.”
“There is, as it happens. You can tell me your name.”
He went quite still. “Why?” He must suspect I was going to inform the manager of his ill-mannered greeting yesterday.
“Because I didn’t catch it.”
“I, er…”
“He’s Frank, miss,” said the porter, stepping forward. “And I’m Gilbert, but everyone calls me Goliath.”
“I can see where the moniker comes from. I’ve never seen anyone as tall as you.”
He puffed out his chest, earning an eye-roll from Frank.
“May I say something that should have been said yesterday?” Goliath asked me.
“Of course. What is it?”
“Welcome to The Mayfair.” He bowed deeply.
Frank eyed the porter as if he’d stolen money right out of his pocket.
“Thank you, Goliath.” I strode past Frank, still holding the door open. “And thank you, Frank.”
“Me?” he blurted. “Why?”
“For holding the door. You do it with such aplomb. May I offer some advice, however?”