“So what will you do next?”
“I still have the keys to Pearl’s flat. There were some letters from Lord Rumford in her dressing table that I didn’t read the first time. I’ll go back and look through them for an insight into their relationship over these last few weeks.”
She pinned up sections of my hair in silence, seemingly lost in thought. It was only once she’d finished, and I was admiring her handiwork in the mirror, that she revealed what she was thinking. And it was nothing to do with our investigation.
“Were the girls whores?”
I turned to look at her properly. She was utterly serious. Indeed, she looked somewhat concerned. “I don’t know, but they certainly weren’t well-bred ladies who’d escaped their chaperones for the evening.”
She shook her head. “Sir Ronald won’t like it. It’s one thing for the guests to bring their mistresses here, but it’s quite another for a family member to do it. This is the Bainbridge family home.”
“I suspect Floyd doesn’t plan on my uncle or aunt finding out.” I opened the dressing table drawer and looked for my tan leather gloves. “Has my cousin done this sort of thing before?”
“Not that I’m aware. You’d have to ask the footmen and doormen. They know more about what goes on here at night than anyone.”
Harmony left and I followed soon after with the keys to Pearl’s flat in my purse. Just as I locked my door, Floyd emerged from his room. In a repeat performance of last night, we both froze.
Floyd was the first to move. He pocketed his key and joined me. He glanced around and, seeing no one in the corridor, leaned closer. “About last night.”
I suddenly felt hot and cold all at once. Floyd may havehad whores in his room, but he was a young man, and young men were allowed their indiscretions. I was in a guest’s room with one of the cooks beside me. My predicament was much worse, particularly if seen through the eyes of my uncle.
“Yes?” I whispered.
“I will agree to mind my business if you agree to mind yours.”
I let out a long breath. “I think it serves both our interests not to mention what we saw to anyone.”
He looked relieved. “Good, good. So do I need to get all cousinly and worry about what you were up to in Rumford’s room with that fellow?”
So he hadn’t recognized Victor as a hotel employee. That was a relief. I didn’t want to get him into trouble. “It’s part of my investigation into Pearl Westwood’s death.”
He frowned. “Your what?”
I put my finger to my lips and shushed him, just as he had shushed the girls last night. With a little wave, I hurried off to the stairwell, leaving him staring after me.
Pearl’s flatwas as cold as ice. I wondered what Lord Rumford would do with it now. Did it have too many memories of happy times spent with Pearl and he wanted to sell it because he could never step foot in it again? Or would he keep it for his next mistress?
I sat at the escritoire with the stack of letters in front of me and huddled into my coat for warmth. I set aside the ones I’d already read and steeled myself for some very personal reading.
By the time I reached the end of the stack, my face was hot. Some of the things the couple had written to each other made me feel as naive as a school girl for never having even contemplated such things, let alone read about them. Lord Rumford certainly hadn’t been shy in voicing his desires to his lover.
The letters talked mostly of what he wanted to do to Pearl when they next met, and very little about their plans for the future. There was one mention of the holiday in aletter dated December fifth, with Lord Rumford saying he couldn’t wait to see Pearl living as carefree as the local French ladies in Nice. I had no idea what that meant.
I bundled up the letters and slipped them back into the drawer. I was glad there was no evidence in them of their relationship cooling. I didn’t want to think that Lord Rumford might be responsible for Pearl’s death, even inadvertently by making her want to end it all. It meant I was no better off than before, however.
I closed the drawer a little too hard and the escritoire shook. A pen fell out of the holder and rolled onto the floor before I could catch it. I bent to pick it up and was about to straighten when I spotted a piece of paper under the glass display cabinet filled with ceramic knick-knacks.
Down on hands and knees, I reached underneath and pulled it out. It wasn’t a piece of paper but a photograph. The table full of framed photographs was nearby. Pearl must have dropped this one when she’d removed it from a frame and never retrieved it. It was quite dusty and must have been under the cabinet for some time.
I blew off the dust and held it to the window to get a better look. A couple stared back at me. I recognized Pearl instantly. She was dressed in evening clothes and sported a large necklace at her throat. She rested her hand on the shoulder of the gentleman beside her in a pose that was almost identical to the photograph on display where she stood beside Lord Rumford. But this man wasn’t Rumford. At first I thought I didn’t know him, but on closer inspection, I recognized the man from the cemetery. He had no warts on his face, however. Indeed, he was handsome, although somewhat older than Pearl.
I tucked the photograph into my purse and locked up the flat. When I reached the hotel, Frank, standing on the pavement, greeted me with a smile.
“How was your morning, Miss Fox?”
“Somewhat productive. And yours?”
He seemed surprised that I would ask. “Very good, miss, very good. I can’t complain.” He looked past me as a carriage pulled up. “Sir Lawrence Caldicott. Excuse me, Miss Fox.”
