Room With a Clue (Pennyfoot Hotel Mystery) (2 page)

She knew she should ignore the remark. But something inside her prodded her into saying, “I traveled half the world with my husband, Baxter, rearing two sons, occasionally in conditions that would horrify the hardiest of men. I hardly think this compares, do you?”

She could see the glint of displeasure in his eyes. Baxter had the kind of light gray eyes that could freeze the icing on a hot cross bun.

“It is not your place, madam.”

“But it is my hotel.”

“And as owner of this establishment, you should observe a certain level of decorum.”

“Piffle!”

She saw his jaw tense but he refrained from answering. Feeling remorse for offending him, she softened her tone. “Baxter, I appreciate your concern, you know that. And I’m not trying to interfere with your duties. But I am used to
running a household and a family. Now that the house is sold and I am living here in the hotel, I find myself with too much time on my hands. Too much time to think.”

She paused to control the quiver of pain she always felt at the thought of her dead husband. “And I am perfectly capable of manual labor. I might be past forty, but I still have my health and strength.”

“I apologize, madam. It’s none of my business. I didn’t mean to infer—”

“It’s all right, Baxter.” She summoned a smile. “Was there a particular reason you followed me up here?”

“Yes, madam.” He hesitated, as if reluctant to tell her more.

Wondering what new problem awaited her, she braced herself for bad news.

CHAPTER

2

Baxter stared out at the shimmering coastline, looking uncomfortable. “It’s Gertie. I’m afraid she’s in a spot of bother. I thought that you should be made aware of what’s happened.”

Cecily shook her head in despair. The housemaid was a diligent employee, but constantly in hot water. “Who has she upset now?”

“It appears that Lady Eleanor Danbury has mislaid a brooch. She has accused Gertie of stealing it and is insisting on sending for the constable.”

“Oh, Lord. Have you talked to Gertie?”

“Gertie swears she didn’t take the brooch. When I left her in the kitchen, she was extremely upset.”

“I can imagine. What about Lady Eleanor?”

“I have not discussed it with her yet. I thought of asking Mrs. Chubb to have a word with her, but I doubt that milady would condescend to speak with the housekeeper.”

With a hint of mischief, Cecily murmured, “Why, Baxter, are you suggesting I should confront the dragon in its lair?”

He ran a finger under his stiff, white collar. “I just thought that milady might be more inclined to listen to someone of your standing.”

She uttered a short laugh at that. “If Lady Eleanor had the slightest inkling of my financial woes, she would no doubt brush me off as if I were nothing more than a tiresome gnat. But I daresay she’ll agree to receive me, so I’ll pay her a visit later.”

Baxter looked vastly relieved. “Thank you, madam.”

“I’m sure the situation will turn out to be a simple misunderstanding. Gertie might have her problems, but I simply can’t imagine her stealing. I’ll have a word with her, too.”

“It’s her afternoon off. She won’t return until half past six.”

“Very well, it will have to be then.” Cecily reached out and touched a silky rose petal. “Lady Eleanor can be so difficult. James was always so good at smoothing out these little problems.”

“Yes, madam.”

Her smile felt a little bleak. “Thank you for your help, Baxter.”

He looked at her for a moment longer, then said quietly, “I miss him, too, madam.” He dipped his head and turned smartly on his heel to head for the narrow door to the stairway.

Her smile fading, Cecily took a last look around. The fragrance of roses, a mass of dark red blooms planted in the huge wooden tubs, mingled with the scent of honeysuckle, carefully trained to climb the trellis on each side of the garden.

From where she stood she could see beyond the Point to the lighthouse on one side and the gentle slope of cliffs that formed the curve on the other.

The windows of the shops along the Esplanade sparkled in the reflection from the water, and a nanny slowly pushed a baby in a perambulator close by the railings, the ribbons of her white cap streaming behind her.

Beyond the pair, the morning mist had thinned to a haze across the shining ripples of the ocean, and sunlight turned the
sand to silver. The panorama looked serene for the moment, though the thick band of gray at the horizon posed the threat of a storm later.

Cecily watched a sea gull swoop low across the water, its cry carrying clearly on the summer breeze. At times like these, she thought, it was easy to imagine how peaceful Badgers End must have been before its quaint charms had been discovered by the pleasure-seeking members of London’s aristocracy.

A dull buzz in the distance grew to a roar as a red motor car crested the hill and began its tortuous climb down toward the cove. Although the sight of a car was becoming more familiar, it still seemed out of place, a symbol of the new world invading the old.

Cecily watched the noisy vehicle until it disappeared from view, then after a last, concerned glance at the damaged wall, she turned to follow Baxter through the doorway.

Cecily had to wait until late afternoon before Lady Eleanor would receive her. Milady was taking a nap, her paid companion, Daphne Morris, informed Cecily.

Miss Morris was also tall, but had the kind of frail bone structure for which Cecily would gladly have traded once upon a time. Happily she was long past such wishful thinking, or so she told herself as she exchanged pleasantries with milady’s companion.

Daphne Morris had a much coveted position in an affluent household. As a lady’s companion, she enjoyed many privileges, traveling with milady wherever she went, staying in establishments the like of which she could never have afforded otherwise.

The companion was responsible for milady’s wardrobe, her hair, and her general comfort. In exchange, she had her own quarters in the family section of the house, a generous salary, and more than adequate free time to pursue her own interests.

It would seem an enviable vocation to many, though Cecily was quite certain that had she not had the good fortune to marry James at an early age, a position as a lady’s companion would have been the last resort.

The idea of dancing attendance night and day on a petulant,
bored aristocrat whose main goal in life was to outshine her acquaintances in fripperies and finery was not Cecily’s cup of tea at all. In fact, she had no doubt that in very short order she would have been dismissed for insubordination.

Which is why she felt a certain sympathy toward Gertie and her never-ending disputes with the upper crust. Unfortunately Baxter was not as charitable, and had it not been for Cecily’s tactful intervention, the belligerent housemaid would have been let go on more than one occasion.

Deciding that it couldn’t hurt to have another champion in her corner, Cecily invited Miss Morris up to her suite on the second floor for afternoon tea.

If the companion was surprised by this unexpected honor, she showed no sign of it when she readily agreed.

The Pennyfoot had once been the country home of the Earl of Saltchester, until ten years earlier, when the family fortune had been lost and they were forced to sell.

The seaside holiday was just beginning to come into vogue, and James Sinclair, retired from the army, had envisioned a comfortable, respectable establishment for his investment. He intended to provide a holiday resort for the more affluent families who could afford to escape the summer heat of the city.

It hadn’t quite turned out that way. Discovered by Society, word spread quickly, and the secluded Pennyfoot had soon become a favorite weekend retreat of the upper class.

Quick to realize the potential, James had refurbished the hotel accordingly, running up huge debts to do so, and raised the rates. Assured of privacy and a guarantee of a discreet staff, the patrons had been happy to pay for the privileges.

There were six suites on the third floor of the Pennyfoot Hotel, one in each corner of the building and one on either side of the stairway.

Cecily occupied the only suite on the second floor. The remainder of the rooms on that floor were sumptuous, but not as spacious as the suites, though they offered more privacy and were in great demand.

The rooms on the first floor were usually occupied by the
less influential visitors, such as Daphne Morris. There were thirty-five guest rooms in all.

The staff, those of whom lived at the hotel, occupied rooms below stairs at the basement level, together with the kitchens and laundries. Above them, the ground floor consisted of the ballroom cum dining room, library, main lounge, and bar. Beneath them lay the cellars.

Cecily had become accustomed to her suite, though she still missed the privacy and freedom of the house she and James had shared until his death.

Daphne Morris seemed suitably impressed when Cecily invited her in. She sat on the edge of an elegant brocade Queen Anne chair as if she were afraid it would break. Her eyes wandered around the spacious sitting room with a shrewd expression that made Cecily wonder if she were calculating the value of everything she saw.

“That is a magnificent elephant tusk,” Miss Morris commented.

Cecily glanced up to where the huge ivory horn hung above the fireplace. “Thank you. It was a gift to my late husband from an African chief.”

Miss Morris shifted uncomfortably on the edge of her chair. “I—everyone was so very sorry to learn of Major Sinclair’s death. He will be sorely missed by many people.”

Cecily nodded, feeling her throat grow tight. “You are most kind. He will indeed.” In an effort to change the subject, she added, “Tell me, Miss Morris, have you seen many foreign places during your employment with Lady Eleanor?”

The companion’s expression altered slightly, becoming almost wary. “Yes, indeed I have. It has all been most interesting.”

“I am sure that working for Lady Eleanor must be quite rewarding.”

Cecily could see loyalty struggling with honesty on Miss Morris’s face.

Finally giving Cecily the opening she needed, the younger woman said quietly, “She is a very fair employer and can be quite generous at times.”

A tap on the door interrupted the conversation, and Cecily
rose to answer it. A housemaid stood in the doorway with a loaded tray. “Your tea, madam,” she said, her gaze going past Cecily to stare curiously at the unusual visitor.

“Thank you, Ethel.” Cecily stood back to allow the young girl to carry the tray over to the low table in the middle of the room. Setting it down carefully, the maid straightened.

“That will be all, Ethel,” Cecily said, smiling.

“Yes, madam.” Ethel bobbed her head, then scurried out the door, no doubt anxious to relate the titillating news that Mrs. Sinclair was actually entertaining a paid companion for tea.

Pouring tea from the silver teapot into a bone china cup, Cecily remarked casually, “I’m glad to know that Lady Eleanor is a fair person. I understand there is a problem with one of my maids, something about a lost brooch?”

“Yes, I am afraid so.”

Cecily put down the teapot and picked up the small jug of milk. “That is the matter I wish to discuss later with Lady Eleanor.” She poured the milk into the cups and put down the jug. Picking up the sugar bowl, she inquired, “One lump or two?”

“One, thank you.”

“I hope milady will be reasonable about this,” Cecily said, plopping a sugar lump into the cup. “Gertie is a trifle too quick with her tongue at times, but I have known her for five years. I feel certain I can vouch for her honesty.”

Daphne Morris accepted the cup and saucer Cecily handed her with murmured thanks. “Well, I don’t wish to be indiscreet, but milady has been known to mislay things from time to time.”

Cecily picked up a dish laden with triangular cheese and cucumber sandwiches, the crusts neatly sliced from the bread. Another dish held egg and cress sandwiches, and she picked up that one, too, offering both to Miss Morris.

“That is what I thought might be the case,” she said. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to hunt for the brooch, just in case it has been dropped somewhere?”

The other woman took one sandwich from each dish and put them on the small plate Cecily had placed with a serviette on
the table in front of her. “I will be happy to, though I should mention that I have already searched quite thoroughly.”

“I’m quite sure you have. But I would consider it a personal favor if you would do so again. I would be most unhappy if Gertie were to be accused of such a serious offense without justification.”

Miss Morris promised to do what she could, and Cecily had to be content with that for the time being. She did her best to make the rest of the younger woman’s visit enjoyable, but Daphne Morris seemed ill at ease and kept glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece.

Realizing that she was most likely worried about milady waking from her nap, Cecily felt a twinge of remorse for causing the companion such anxiety, and hoped that the poor woman would not be chastised for her pains.

A member of the Pennyfoot staff had been threatened, however. She had only done her duty. She was quite relieved when she could bring the visit to an end.

Phoebe Carter-Holmes loved her job at the Pennyfoot. Being the local vicar’s mother, she was constantly on call for various charities and good deeds, most of which she obliged with good grace. But the Pennyfoot actually paid her for her services, and although some would look upon it as demeaning for a woman of her background, Phoebe certainly wasn’t too proud to take what she felt was her due.

Not that she was treated like an employee. Oh, no, that would never do. For one thing, when dear Sedgely was alive and she was still a legitimate member of the Carter-Holmes family, she had twice visited the Pennyfoot when it was still Saltchester Manor. She had very fond memories of the place.

Besides, she and Cecily were friends, and Phoebe accommodated her just to help out. The job took up no more than a couple of days a week and involved a great deal of what she did best—organizing.

Phoebe chose the themes, the orchestra, and the entertainment for each weekly extravaganza at the Pennyfoot. The python was one of her more ambitious ideas, hired at great
expense to form the centerpiece of the Arabian Nights tableau at midnight.

She could hardly contain her excitement at the prospect that evening. The masterpiece promised to be her best effort yet, and already she was savoring the accolades from the delighted audience.

She had installed the python, coiled in his basket, in a corner of the laundry room until his debut. The laundry room was an annex to the main building and faced the yard that had been dug out next to the kitchens at the back of the hotel. It made an ideal place to store the various props that Phoebe used in creating her spectacular presentations.

Although it was still an hour or two before the start of the ball, Phoebe couldn’t resist peeking in on Henry just to make sure he was comfortable. After all, as Mr. Sims, Henry’s quaint little owner had told her, a comfortable snake was a happy snake. And it made perfect sense to Phoebe that a happy snake was not likely to strike out at anyone.

In spite of Mr. Sims’s assurance that Henry was docile, she was still a little apprehensive and intended to make sure that Henry was positively delirious with all the attention bestowed upon him.

Holding up the hem of her mauve silk frock to avoid the puddles left from the midweek storm, she bustled across the yard to the laundry room. Several feet from the building she pulled up short.