“Oh,” I said.
I looked back again, but Henry Darlington had disappeared. So his father was the monster I’d inadvertently ended up protesting against a few days ago. Still, I couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across my face. If it really was Henry Darlington’s phone I had in my pocket, it was worth far more than I’d initially thought.
4
Richard Darlington Denies Accusations: “This Is a Smear Campaign Against Me and The Darlington!”
Guardianheadline
Henry
Journalists loitered outside The Darlington, eager to snatch up the next sensational headline. They chatted idly, but the moment they saw me coming, they leapt to their feet. Less than a minute later, I had four microphones and a camera shoved in my face. I ignored the journalists tussling for a statement about the protest that had taken place earlier that week, walking past with my head held high. Stanley swung open the double doors, their golden handles gleaming. He was a second-generation concierge, and it was his job to prevent unwanted guests from entering the hotel.
The press had been stationed outside The Darlington, trying to get statements from the family and staff, ever since the first allegations against my dad had been made eight months ago. Every employee had been asked to sign a confidentiality agreement. No one was allowed to talk to the press without permission, not even me, even though I ran the hotel now.
After consulting with my dad’s lawyers and crisis manager, we had decided it would be best if he took a step back from actively managing the hotel, so he couldn’t further harm its reputation. Were The Darlington just any hotel, public interest would probably have died down quickly. But it wasn’t just any hotel. It wasthehotel, a landmark of London. It was just as integral a part of the skyline as Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, or Buckingham Palace. There probably wasn’t a London travel guide in existence who didn’t mention The Darlington.
My dad hadn’t been happy about stepping down, but he’d reluctantly followed the advice of the consulting team and handed over control to me. Unfortunately for me, he’d kept enough shares in the hotel to still hold sway behind the scenes. If it had been up to me, he wouldn’t have any authority at all. Even if nothing came of the accusations against him, the rumours would linger for years, casting a shadow over the family name like a storm cloud. Not to mention that being in the same room as my dad disgusted me. What these women had accused him of was despicable, and I didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that they were telling the truth. If I loved the hotel just a little less, I would have thrown in the towel and spared myself the stress.
I felt an immediate calm settle over me as I stepped into the foyer, despite the hustle and bustle. The hotel exuded an inviting warmth. The beige-and-golden wallpaper, the sage-and-terracotta carpets, the cosy bergères and récamiers, the fireplace with a piano in front of it: All of it encouraged guests to linger in the foyer with a cup of tea. By day, Theodore, the hotel’s pianist, filled the room with soothing music. Golden chandeliers hung from the stucco ceiling, which was supported by marble columns. A gold statue oftwo smiling women stood in the middle of the foyer, welcoming the guests.
For me, The Darlington was so much more than this obvious beauty. It was my heart, my soul, and above all, my home. Everything about it was familiar. Even blindfolded, I’d easily be able to weave my way through the corridors without bumping into anything. As children, Logan and I had used every spare minute to explore the hotel. We had drawn maps, wonky floor plans we marked with crosses that represented not treasures, but the best hiding places. The Darlington had hardly changed since then, so I still knew them all.
“Hello, Philippa,” I greeted the receptionist behind the marble front desk. She was wearing a trouser suit with the hotel’s logo embroidered on it: aDframed in golden flourishes, surrounded by a circle decorated with leaves and the hotel’s five stars.
Philippa smiled at me. “Hello, Mr. Darlington. How are you?”
“Good. And you?”
“Same. My boyfriend and I finally found an apartment. Thanks again for the tip.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said with a nod and walked past the reception to a door with a sign that said “Staff only.” Mr. Boyd, one of my dad’s three lawyers, had requested an urgent meeting, but I decided to first make a detour to Rakesh’s office to pick up the latest crisis report in person. I stopped at the door with a “Management” plaque and knocked.
“Come in!”
I pushed open the door to find Rakesh hunched over the desk. He had been working at The Darlington for years before being promoted to hotel manager. Together, we ensured that the hotelran smoothly. Although he was only forty, today he looked a decade older. His black hair was dishevelled, the dark circles under his eyes rivalled mine, and I could smell the acrid stench of cigarettes underneath the floral room spray. Smoking was banned in the hotel, but Rakesh had always been a stress smoker.
“Hello, Henry,” he greeted me in surprise, although he should have grown accustomed to my visits by now. My dad had never visited Rakesh; he’d always had his assistant summon him. I’d never forget the look of astonishment on Rakesh’s face the first time I turned up at his office.
“Have you been out?”
“I went for a walk around the park to clear my head,” I answered. “Do you have a moment?”
“For my favourite Darlington brother? Always.”
I snorted. With Logan’s absence and Ethan’s antics, which caused Rakesh more of a headache than anything else, it wasn’t a hard accolade to win. I wordlessly opened a window before sitting down in the chair opposite him. His desk was buried beneath a mountain of documents, but the rest of his office was immaculate.
“Shoot,” I said and steeled myself for the worst.
“Do you want the good or the bad news first?”
I raised my eyebrows. “There’s good news?”
“Not really,” Rakesh said, wringing his fingers nervously. He was probably craving a cigarette. “There’s bad news, andverybad news. I just wanted to make it sound more palatable.”
“I feared as much. Give me the very bad news first.”
“The BBC has withdrawn its request.”
