My first instinct was to pretend I needed to be somewhere else, but my uncle bore down on us so quickly that he cut off all escape routes. My second instinct was to protect Harry. I would receive nothing more than a lecture, but Uncle Ronald might be angry enough to remind Harry of his thieving past, and thereby inform everyone within earshot. So far, the reason for Harry’s dismissal from the hotel had been kept quiet, and I wanted to keep it that way for his sake.
I stepped in front of Harry, but Harry immediately moved out of my shadow and intercepted my uncle.
“If this is about Trickelbank, then the fault is entirely mine,” he said. “He’s trying to blackmail my client, and I wanted to gain a confession from him. He became irate and Cleo stepped in to calm the situation. She did everything she could, but he was having none of it. She had no choice but to ask him to leave.”
At the mention of my first name, something flashed in Uncle Ronald’s eyes and his lips thinned. I suspected he was too angry to hear the rest of Harry’s words. “Get out of my hotel,” he snarled.
“Not until you assure me you won’t blame her. Trickelbank is—”
“I said get out. Don’t come back here and don’t speak to my niece again. I know what you’re trying to do, and she’s far too good for the likes of you.”
Something exploded inside me. It took a great deal for me to anger, but in that moment, I was so furious I couldn’t form words. I could barely manage to think over the pounding of the blood in my veins.
Beside me, Harry stiffened. Perhaps he was too angry to speak too, because he remained silent, although the tension emanating from him thickened the air.
Guests pretended not to notice us as they passed. Mrs. Short had not remained to hear the confrontation, but Mr. Chapman hovered at a nearby vase as he pretended to re-arrange the flowers. He would be relishing seeing me get into trouble.
Beside me, Harry’s intake of breath was loud in the silence. Mr. Hobart shook his head at his nephew and whatever Harry had been going to say was left unspoken.
If he was forced into surrender, then it was up to me to go into battle. “You don’t have a say in who I keep as friends, Uncle.” My voice shook and didn’t sound like my own.
He bared his teeth. “I do have a say if you want to stay here, under my roof, receiving an allowance from me.”
My heart jumped into my throat and my skin suddenly felt cold, clammy. To say that in front of others was cruel. “Guests are watching. If you wish to continue this conversation further, I suggest we do it elsewhere.”
“My office. Now.” He did not move, however, but glared at Harry. “And you must go.”
“I’m not leaving until I have your assurance that you won’t blame Cleo for what happened with Trickelbank.”
My uncle took a step towards him.
I quickly moved between them. “Harry, please, I can handle this.”
I didn’t expect to reach him through the icy wall of his fury but he blinked at me and some of the ice melted. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He gave a single nod and walked off.
I walked off too, heading in the opposite direction, my skirts snapping at my heels. I bunched them into my fists so I wouldn’t trip over the hem as I raced up the stairs. It wasn’t so much anger that fueled me now, but humiliation. Uncle Ronald had firmly reminded me of my place, and he’d made sure others knew too.
If he’d known how contrary I could truly be, he would never have tried to dictate to me. I was more determined than ever that I should keep the friends I’d made.
His office door was unlocked and I entered. I paced in front of the desk, too agitated to sit or to be still. When he finally arrived, he did not close the door. He didn’t even enter.
“I don’t think there’s any more to say to one another,” he said. He was calmer now, that initial anger having dissolved with the exertion of climbing four flights of stairs.
“I agree, there is very little to say. You’ve made your position clear. I’ll pack my things and leave in the morning.”
He scoffed. “Don’t act the hysterical female, Cleo. You’re better than that. No one wants you to leave, least of all me.”
“You have made it impossible for me to stay. If the choice is to keep my friends or to be at the mercy of your whims then it’s an easy decision. I’ll leave in the morning. Kindly stop your allowance payments from tomorrow. I don’t want to owe you anything.”
“You don’t owe me; I am your uncle.”
I could think of so many things to say to that, but all of them were hurtful and somehow, despite the fog of anger returning again, I knew I’d regret saying them in the morning. I merely shook my head and approached the door to leave.
But he blocked the exit. “I am not asking you to stop having friends, merely choose them more wisely. That boy is—”
“He is not a boy. He is my friend and I will continue to see him when I feel like it.”
“Friend? Ha! Don’t be so naïve, Cleo. He wants one thing from you—to use you to shackle himself to this family and gain all the benefits that come with our name for himself.”
“Do you honestly think so little of me that you believe I don’t know when a man is trying to seduce me for his own gain?”
His features softened and the look he gave me was one of sympathy. I was taken aback by it. “You forget how well I know him, Cleo. He was a lad when he came here. He grew up in this hotel. The fact is, I know him better than you. He has a silver tongue and a way with women. To say anything more would be beneath both of us.”
“I am not like other women, and Harry and I are merely friends.”
“If you think he’ll be satisfied with that, you’re more naïve than I thought.”
I threw my hands in the air. “Why wouldn’t he be satisfied with that? Why would he want to marry me if he is after a woman with a fortune? As you just informed everyone within earshot, I am poor. Everything I have was given to me out of charity.” Tears burned my eyes and clogged my throat. I hated that I was close to breaking down. He would see my tears as weakness, and not the angry tears they were.
“Not charity,” he said gently.
I scoffed. “Obligation, then.”
“Nor that.”
“Move aside, please.”
He did but caught my elbow as I passed him. “I spoke out of turn earlier. Don’t move out of the hotel, Cleo. Your aunt will never forgive me. Your cousins, too. Please stay.”
I pulled free and stormed off along the corridor. Tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision, and I fumbled with the key as I unlocked the door to my suite. Once inside, I strode into the bedroom and threw myself on the bed. The pillow muffled my shout of frustration.
Later, after a warm bath and a large glass of sherry, I felt somewhat calmer. My head cleared and I was able to think without emotions getting in the way.
My uncle had not apologized. Nor had he given in and agreed to allow me to be friends with Harry. What he had done was beg me to stay.
I would stay, but not because of him. I would stay for my aunt and my cousins, and for me. Where would I go, anyway?
The following morning, after stewing over the confrontation with my uncle for much of the night, I opened the door to an excited Harmony holding my breakfast tray.
“I have news,” she said, moving past me into the sitting room.
I padded after her in my slippers, yawning.
She placed the tray on the table and frowned at me. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”
“Of course. What happened?”
Her frown deepened. “Are you all right?”
It would seem she hadn’t heard about the confrontation. “I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep. The case kept me awake. Tell me your news.”
“It’s Mr. Trickelbank.”
I groaned. “What has he said now?”
“Nothing. He left.”
“Left for the funeral already?” I glanced at the clock on the mantel, suddenly worried it was later than I thought. But it was only eight.
“No, he left the hotel. He ran off in the middle of the night, taking his luggage with him.”
“Without paying for his stay?”
She nodded as she poured coffee into the cups. “Goliath saw him and tried to stop him, but Mr. Trickelbank jumped into a waiting cab and fled. He must have organized it beforehand with the driver.”
“How extraordinary,” I said as I sat.
“Sir Ronald is furious. He says he’s going to call the police on him, so Goliath told me. Mr. Trickelbank won’t be hard to find. Even if he gave a false address when he checked in, Mr. Warrington will know where he lives.”
“Unless Mr. Trickelbank has gone into hiding, which he may well do if he’s guilty of murder.”
Her mouth formed an O. “Do you think he killed his sister?”
I accepted the cup from her and put it to my lips. “He’s high on our suspect list. If he felt wronged for not getting his inheritance, then he might have done it. Perhaps not deliberately, but accidentally, out of anger.”
She nodded. “People often do things they regret in the heat of the moment.”
“And things they say,” I added wryly.
She narrowed her gaze at me. “Are you sure you’re all right, Cleo?” she asked, slipping into the familiarity of my given name now that we were alone.
I smiled. “Perfectly. Now, I have a funeral to attend today. Help me choose something to wear.”
I checked the notices in the newspaper for the time and place of Mrs. Warrington’s funeral, then went in search of Mr. Hobart. I met him as he was about to leave his office behind Mrs. Short and Mr. Chapman. The housekeeper and steward returned to their own offices, while Mr. Hobart invited me inside.
“I hoped to see you this morning,” he said as he closed the door behind us. “Harry was worried about you. He thought you might move out of the hotel, and he would be devastated if you had done so because of him.”
I hadn’t thought of that. It wasn’t fair that Harry should feel guilty if I moved out, but I knew he would. If the positions were reversed, I would too. “I’m not leaving. Not today, anyway. About that encounter…I’m sorry you had to witness it.”
He signaled for me to sit. “You don’t have to apologize. It was a difficult situation and you handled it well. I’m sure Sir Ronald will come to see it that way. His anger is quick to ignite, but just as quick to extinguish.”
“Indeed. But he was unfair to Harry.”
He sighed. “He has certainly made up his mind about him and won’t change it.”
“Is Harry all right?”
“Harry is Harry.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant and was about to ask when he added, “He’s fine. His temper should have cooled by now, although as I said, he was worried about you.”
“He shouldn’t be.”
“He was…taken by surprise.”
I frowned. “In what way?”
“I’ll let him explain.” He clasped his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “That is, if you are going to see him again.”
“Of course.”
“Is that wise?”
“Wisdom has nothing to do with it. It’s about what is right and wrong, and seeing my friend is right. At least, it is to me.”
The smile he gave me was both sympathetic and pleased. “Harry might see it differently.”
“I hope this doesn’t affect your relationship with my uncle.”
“We have a professional working relationship. That won’t need to change. This is a family matter, between you and him. Speaking of work, I suppose it’s out of the question for you to step into the role of assistant manager now, considering the way things are.”
I blinked rapidly. “Me? Assistant manager? What makes you think it was a consideration?”
“Harry told me how well you handled Trickelbank yesterday, and how you stood up for Peter and the hotel. He thought you’d make an excellent assistant manager. But your uncle wouldn’t stand for it. Before last night, I thought he might consider it, but now I don’t think it’s worth bringing up. For the sake of peace, you understand.”
Despite everything, I couldn’t help chuckling. “I don’t want to be assistant manager.”
“Harry thinks you’d be excellent. And so do I. It’s a shame your uncle won’t allow a family member to take a more active role.”
“A female family member.” I shook my head. “Thank you for your confidence in me, but I’m not interested. Anyway, there is another candidate you should consider.”
“Is this about Peter again?”
“Don’t dismiss him yet, Mr. Hobart. I think he’d be very good.”
“I’ll think about it.” He checked his pocket watch and rose. “I must go. I have a meeting.”
We approached the door together, only for it to open from the other side. My uncle entered. “There you are, Cleo. I’ve been looking for you.” He was cheerful today, but it sounded forced, as if he were trying too hard. He turned to Mr. Hobart and Mr. Hobart offered us the use of his office for privacy.
My uncle waited for him to leave before turning to me. “I wanted to apologize. I should have taken your side and not his.”
I felt as though we were reading a different book. “Pardon?”
“Trickelbank. He fled overnight without paying. I should have trusted your instincts yesterday and not accepted his version of events.” He placed his hands at his back and stood to attention like a soldier on parade. “I shouldn’t have taken the word of a guest over that of family, and I want you to know I’m sorry.”
I opened my mouth to remind him that our disagreement wasn’t about Mr. Trickelbank, but about my friendships, and Harry in particular. But perhaps it was wise not to. Perhaps his apology was all-encompassing, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Part of me didn’t want to let him off the hook so easily. But that was being petulant, not smart. In truth, my uncle probably wasn’t capable of offering a full apology. His pride wouldn’t let him.
And I had more sense than to allow this to come between me and the only family I had. While it didn’t change my ultimate goal to save up enough to move out of the hotel, I could bide my time until I was ready and not cut off my nose to spite my face.
“Thank you for saying so,” I said.
He cleared his throat. “There’s no need for your aunt or cousins to know about our little disagreement. I’ve asked Hobart not to mention it to anyone.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“About you leaving… I hope I made it clear that I don’t want you to go. You’re family and Bainbridges must stand together.”
I opened the door. “I’m a Fox. But I will stay. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a funeral to go to.”
Christ Church in Kensington was full by the time I arrived. I sat near the back with the Warringtons’ servants and watched the mourners, looking for any gentlemen who matched the description of Xavier. There were a number of people crammed into the small church and being seated near the back made it difficult to see their faces until it was time to leave. Even then, I couldn’t see any gentlemen who looked distraught. Except for Mr. Henderson the butler. As her coffin was carried out, he burst into tears.
Mr. Warrington followed close behind the coffin, looking somber but not upset. Behind him came Mr. Drummond, then the other mourners followed. Mr. Trickelbank was notable by his absence.
I made sure to be one of the last to leave and checked the faces of each of the men as they passed me up the aisle. While all were grave, only one appeared to be on the verge of breaking down. He also happened to have reddish-blond hair and thick sideburns, and he wasn’t wearing gloves. The small brown birthmark on the back of his hand was the confirmation I needed.
“Xavier,” I said quietly as he passed.
He looked up and blinked watery eyes at me. Realizing he didn’t know me, and thinking he’d misheard, he continued on the slow procession behind the coffin.
I joined the line of mourners at the end. Harry stepped in beside me. I’d noticed him earlier, seated in the pew in front of me and on the other side, and wasn’t surprised to see him in the church. He seemed surprised to see me, however.
“What are you doing here?” he whispered.
“Investigating. I think I’ve found the lover.” I nodded at the man a few paces ahead, dressed in a dark gray coat and black hat.
“You shouldn’t have come. Not after your uncle’s threats. If he makes you leave the hotel because of me…”
“Don’t worry, he asked me to stay this morning. Come on, we have to speak to Xavier.”
We emerged from the church into weak sunshine and scanned the faces of the mourners for the gentleman. I couldn’t see him. “He’s gone.”
“There he is.” From his higher vantage point, Harry could see more clearly.
I followed him down the stone steps and hurried in his wake as he caught up to the man named Xavier. I suddenly wished I’d thought more about what to do next. I’d been so intent on simply finding him that I didn’t know what to say. Introduce ourselves and tell him we were investigating Mrs. Warrington’s murder? Or make something up?
Harry had no such difficulty making a decision. When Xavier stopped upon being hailed, Harry immediately slipped into a smooth, friendly tone designed to win our quarry over. He introduced us and said we were attempting to solve the murder of Mrs. Warrington.
“We don’t believe a vagrant with a bad arm could have climbed through the first floor window,” he finished.
The man named Xavier looked past Harry to me. I smiled sympathetically. I liked to think it was the icing on the cake that won him over although it was likely more to do with his desire to find the killer. Still, he was wary.
“Who is paying you?”
“No one has paid us,” Harry said. While it wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t the entire truth either. Mr. Warrington hadn’t paid us yet. Whether it was right to let Xavier think we were amateur detectives investigating in our spare time was debatable. “Let me begin by saying we’re deeply sorry for your loss. We know Mrs. Warrington was important to you.”
Xavier swallowed heavily and his gaze became unfocused. “Thank you.”
“Are you up to answering questions?” Harry asked.
“I suppose, but I don’t see how I can help you.” He was softly spoken, but that could have been his grief making it difficult for him to speak. “I didn’t know there was any doubt about the vagrant. Why haven’t the police come to ask me questions?”
“Because they’re not looking elsewhere.”
“They also don’t know of your existence,” I added.
“Then how do you?”
I wasn’t willing to admit that I’d seen the photographs of he and Mrs. Warrington so I didn’t answer at all.
“When was the last time you saw Isobel Warrington?” Harry asked.
“The day before she died. We were supposed to meet up on the night of her death, but…” He swallowed. “She never arrived.”
“What time should your meeting have taken place?” I asked.
“Ten.”
“And how far away do you live?”
“A fifteen minute walk.”
I exchanged glances with Harry. If Mrs. Warrington only lived fifteen minutes away from her lover, she should have left by nine forty-five. But she was still in the house at ten when she ordered tea. Had she changed her mind? Had the argument with her husband earlier given her reason to change it?
“How long were you two together?” Harry asked.
“Almost six years.”
“Did her husband know?”
“He knew of me, but not my name or anything to identify me. According to Isobel, he didn’t want to know. It was probably best that way, for everyone.”
“Did you know he wanted to divorce her?” I asked.
His mouth dropped open. “My god. No, I didn’t. She didn’t tell me.”
“She only found out on the morning of her death. If you didn’t see her that day, or had no communication from her—”
“I did. I received a brief message from her in the late afternoon, asking if she could see me that night.”
“What did it say?”
He shrugged. “Just that she needed to speak to me and she was worried. It must have been because she learned he wanted to divorce her. At the time, I thought it was about her half-brother. She was going to meet him that afternoon and hadn’t been looking forward to it.”
“There was nothing in the note about how the meeting went?”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe Warrington wanted to divorce her,” he said quietly. “They had an agreement.”
“What sort of agreement?” Harry asked.
Xavier glanced towards the small crowd lingering near the church door. “Their marriage has never been consummated because he…isn’t interested.”
“We know Mr. Drummond is more than just a friend,” I added. “Is that what you’re referring to?”
He inclined his head in a nod. “That’s why I never felt any guilt over being with Isobel. Why couldn’t we be together when it was all right by her husband? No one was harmed by our arrangement. Indeed, everyone was happy. Or so I thought. Now you’re telling me he wanted a divorce. I don’t understand. Why now, after all this time? Why attract attention to himself and risk exposing his proclivities?”
It was a very good question.
“You must have been jealous of Warrington,” Harry said.
“A little, in the beginning. I would have liked to marry Isobel in those days, but I came to accept the way things were. As I said, the arrangement suited everyone and that includes me. I quite like the bachelor’s life, you see.” His thumb absently stroked the birthmark on his other hand and his mouth drooped at the corners. “She was so full of life and spirit. I can’t believe she’s gone. I can’t believe someone would want to kill her.”
Neither Harry nor I informed him that we suspected Mr. Warrington was the intended target. If Xavier knew we suspected Isobel’s death had been an accident, he might be less inclined to help because it would make him the prime suspect.
I glanced towards Mr. Warrington as he climbed into the carriage to transport him to the cemetery. Mr. Drummond followed, but not before he lifted his gaze and met mine. It wasn’t clear from this distance if he knew that the man we spoke to was Mrs. Warrington’s lover. The carriage drove off with the curtains wide open, which I thought was a little dangerous considering someone wanted Mr. Warrington dead. Perhaps he assumed no one would attack in broad daylight. I hoped he was right.
“Have you considered the possibility that the killer didn’t come through the window?” Xavier suddenly asked.
“We’re considering all possibilities,” Harry said. “Is there something you’d like to tell us?”
“I…I don’t know if it’s relevant.”
“Tell us anyway and we’ll decide,” I said.
Xavier’s thumb continued its stroking as he took his time answering. “I went to the house once, last year. I had to give Isobel an urgent message so delivered it myself. I spoke to the butler, and he must have realized who I was. He was rude to me. Quite nasty, in fact. He warned me off, telling me he’d make my life difficult if I didn’t stop my harassment of his mistress. That was the word he used—harassment. There was no reasoning with him. It was obvious to me that he was jealous of our relationship, and that he was in love with her.”
“Are you suggesting he killed the woman he loved so no one else could have her?” Harry asked. “It seems a little extreme.”
Xavier shrugged. “One reads about these things happening in the newspapers. Or perhaps it was an accident and the butler didn’t mean to kill her.”
It was so close to the truth that I wondered if he’d reached the same conclusion as us, that Mr. Warrington was the intended target.
Harry thanked Xavier and asked for an address where we could find him if we had further questions. The smile he gave us upon departing was a sad one.
“What do you think?” I asked as we walked off in the other direction.
“I think he’s devastated over the loss of his lover,” Harry said. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t kill her, accidentally mistaking her for Warrington.”
“True. I found it interesting that he tried to implicate Mr. Henderson.”
“Very interesting indeed. But of all our suspects, the butler knew it was Mrs. Warrington in that chair, not her husband. Our theory that he was the intended victim doesn’t hold water if Henderson is guilty.”
We walked on in silence. The late morning sunshine tried valiantly to stay out, but the clouds soon closed in and smothered it. The air chilled and a brisk wind picked up. Harry suggested we attempt to speak to the butler to get his version of the confrontation between he and Xavier a year ago. I agreed and we changed our course, heading towards the townhouse. The servants had not followed the carriages going to the cemetery but had headed off on foot in the direction of the Kensington residence.
“You have a theory?” Harry asked.
I looked up at him. “Why do you think that?”
“Your brows draw together when you’re lost in thought and a small dent appears between them.”
I pressed a finger to my forehead to iron out the dent. “Do we agree that the timing of the murder has something to do with the divorce?”
“I think so, yes. It’s too much of a coincidence for Mrs. Warrington to learn about the divorce on the day someone tries to kill her husband, only to accidentally murder her instead.”
“So the murderer is someone who believes being a widow is better for her than being a divorcee. They are trying to save her reputation, which would be ruined after a divorce.”
“There are only two people who love her enough to commit murder for her. Xavier and Henderson.”
“Xavier is pointing the finger at Henderson,” Harry said, “and Henderson knew his master was out. So it must be Xavier.”
I agreed. “We’ll see what we can learn from Mr. Henderson about that confrontation.”
Our visit to the Warrington house was a waste of time. Mr. Henderson slammed the door in our faces and refused to reopen it, despite our continued knocking. Our questions would have to wait for a time when Mr. Warrington was home and could order his butler to speak to us.
We caught an omnibus back to Harry’s office so we could discuss the investigation further without being overheard. He was quiet on the journey, but I got the distinct feeling he wanted to speak.
“Is something the matter?” I asked, as we walked from the omnibus stop to his office.
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug and shook his head.
I ought to leave it there, but my interest was piqued and I couldn’t. “Is it something to do with the case or the confrontation I had with my uncle?”
He waved to Luigi through the window of the café and removed the key to the door from his pocket. He inserted the key into the lock and frowned.
The door wasn’t locked.
He put up a hand to order me to stay back then entered. He crept up the stairs and paused on the landing. I followed, taking pains to be as quiet as possible, and withdrew the small knife I kept in my bag. Harry wasn’t armed. His gun was inside the office.
I pressed the knife into the palm of his hand and received a scowl in return. He jerked his head, ordering me back down the stairs. I complied, but only for three steps.
He gently turned the office door-handle then, drawing a deep breath, shoved it open.
He stopped in the doorway and swore loudly.
I pushed past him and stopped too. A gasp caught in my throat.
We had a visitor. An unwilling one going by the way he was tied to the chair with a cloth covering his mouth.