Murder at the Mayfair Hotel (Cleopatra Fox Mysteries #1)- C.J. Archer Page 0,43
her if she dispatched it.”
“Of course,” he said. “My office door is unlocked. Help yourself.”
I’d never used a telephone but I’d seen the staff at my local post office and some shops make and receive calls. Mr. Hobart’s handsome brass candlestick shaped telephone sat on the corner of his desk. I plucked the receiver off the hook and asked the switchboard operator to connect me to the exchange in Grantham, Lincolnshire. The Grantham switchboard operator then informed me that Hambly Hall had a telephone and she proceeded to connect me.
The call was answered moments later. “I have a message for Mr. Duffield of this address,” I said.
“The Duffields no longer live at Hambly Hall,” came the voice down the line.
I moved closer to the mouthpiece. “The message is for Mr. Maurice Duffield, grandson of the earl of Hambly. I was informed that this was his address.”
“The family sold the Hall two years ago. Mr. Maurice Duffield moved into a cottage in the village.”
Mr. Duffield had lied. He no longer lived on the family estate. Indeed, the estate had been sold. It confirmed my suspicions that he was experiencing reduced circumstances. He’d not wanted the hotel to know, however.
Did Mrs. Warrick know, and that’s why she noted that he ought not be here, because he couldn’t afford the expense of The Mayfair? The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that it was him she recognized that day in the foyer. They were both members of Lincolnshire society, after all.
I ate luncheon in the dining room with Flossy, Floyd and Aunt Lilian. My aunt looked a little pale, her eyes flat, as she waited for her food to arrive. Perhaps the previous night’s dinner had taken its toll.
“He was as dull as I remembered,” Flossy said when I asked her how it went.
I eyed her mother, but Aunt Lilian made no comment, and Flossy went on unchecked.
“All he wanted to talk about was a newly discovered Egyptian tomb.” She pulled a face. “What sort of gentleman thinks mummified remains make suitable dinnertime conversation with a lady he’s supposed to be courting?”
“The cad!” Floyd declared. “Want me to call him out for you?”
Flossy gave him a withering glare. “I don’t see why I have to marry and you don’t. You’re older.”
“I’m not a girl. I have plenty of time for my ideal wife to present herself.”
Flossy sniffed. “Your ideal woman is a figment of your imagination. And if she did exist, she’d run a mile when she met you, if she knew what was good for her. Honestly, the way you behave these days, no respectable lady would want to be associated with you.”
Floyd pinched her. She winced and rubbed her arm, then they both glanced at their mother. Aunt Lilian continued to stare out of the window, her gaze unfocused.
“So you are courting?” I asked Flossy.
“No. He’s not for me.”
Aunt Lilian turned to her daughter, proving she was listening after all. “He would be a very good match for you.”
“Why? Because his family is rich?”
“Don’t be vulgar.”
“Well, we’re rich, so I don’t need to marry him.” Flossy crossed her arms.
“The hotel could always use an injection of funds,” Floyd said. “Particularly now.”
Flossy lowered her arms and leaned in. “Are things very bad?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t think it’s dire, but the bad publicity surrounding the murder won’t help.”
“If it’s not dire, then it will all work out. It always does.”
“You could help by reining in your spending,” Floyd said.
She screwed up her nose. “You first.”
His gaze slid to his mother, but she seemed to have stopped listening again.
“And anyway,” Flossy went on, “we have to look our best for the ball. Not only do we have to surpass last year’s spectacle, but it’s the last ball of the century. We can’t ring in nineteen-hundred wearing last year’s gowns or jewels. Everyone will notice, and the gossip will only lead to speculation that the hotel is in difficulty and we can’t have that. It would be humiliating.”
Floyd snorted. “Spoken like the Flossy I know.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Aunt Lilian rubbed her temples. “Stop it, both of you. You know talk about financial matters gives me a headache.”
Brother and sister called a ceasefire over luncheon, but not all discussion of the ball ended. Both Flossy and Floyd begged me to attend.
“We simply have to show off our cousin,” Flossy declared.
“My friends are all dying to meet you,” Floyd added.