Page 12 of The Locked Room

‘It’s short for Harriet,’ Harry said, smiling. ‘And I’m sorry I pretended to be someone else. It was necessary at the time.’

‘When you was nosing around Mrs Haverford’s Bureau of Excellence, you mean?’ Beth nodded. ‘I don’t think you’d have got through the door if you’d gone as yourself.’

Harry took a breath. ‘Exactly.’ She glanced around, making sure no one was within earshot, but the day was dull and grey and threatening sleet. They had the garden to themselves. ‘Shall we walk a little? There are quite a few things I need to explain and I don’t have very much time.’

To her credit, Beth did not interrupt as Harry laid out the reasons she had adopted the alias of Sarah Smith, nor did she raise an eyebrow when Harry explained in more detail the reason for her interest in Serafina Eccleston. She listened to everything, an inscrutable expression on her face, and continued to walk in silence for almost a minute once Harry finished speaking.

‘I wondered why you was interested in a dance hostess,’ she said eventually. ‘Thought maybe she was in the family way, like your friend in Brighton.’

Harry blanched. She meant Cecily Earnshaw, a young woman whom Simeon Pemberton had seduced and abandoned when she became pregnant, but the idea that there might be a time-pressing reason for Rufus to marry Serafina had not occurred to Harry. ‘I hope not.’

‘That’d put the cat among the canaries, wouldn’t it?’ Beth flashed a brief, humourless smile. ‘But it ain’t smart, not if she’s got the kind of ambitions you say. You get the ring first, see?’

Harry did see. Men had been denying responsibility for pregnancies outside of wedlock since the concept of marriage had first been invented. If Serafina really was a gold digger, she’d want to be assured of her reward before she took such a risk. ‘But what if she’s not ambitious? What if she loves him?’

Beth shrugged. ‘You won’t know until you meet her. And even then you might not be able to tell – not if she’s good. I knew a girl who’s as common as a crow, spent a bit of money on learning to talk nice and read a few books on manners. Now she’s married to some posh bloke and living in a big house and no one has any idea what a grubby-kneed kid she used to be.’

It was her mother’s worst fear, Harry thought gloomily, and sighed. ‘Rufus certainly seems to be smitten.’

‘I expect he is,’ Beth said evenly. ‘And maybe she’s sweet on him in return. But I’ll tell you something I bet he don’t know. Her name ain’t Serafina.’

Harry stopped walking. ‘How do you know that?’

Beth looked pleased with herself. ‘I chatted up one of the Hot Spot bottle boys,’ she replied, then caught sight of Harry’s puzzled expression. ‘The ones what clear out the empties each morning. Anyway, he’d never heard of her, but he asked the kid he was working with and he said, “Oh, you mean Ida. She works the late shift, Thursdays to Sundays.”’

The simplicity of Beth’s approach impressed Harry. Why hadn’t she thought of doing something like that? ‘Did you find out anything else?’

‘Not much,’ Beth admitted. ‘I told them I was looking for work and I’d been given Serafina’s name by a mutual friend. And here’s the interesting bit. The one who called her Ida said I shouldn’t hang about, on account of her not working there for much longer.’

Harry digested this. It certainly seemed to dovetail with the couple’s plan to elope. ‘Did he say why?’

‘He said she was due an inheritance,’ Beth answered. ‘But he sort of smirked when he said it, and tapped his nose as if it wasn’t really an inheritance at all.’

Not an inheritance, perhaps, but an allowance, Harry thought, alongside an expectation that anyone who married into the wealthy Abinger family need not trouble themselves with work. ‘Ida isn’t quite as glamorous as Serafina, is it?’ she said, making a mental note to pass this fresh information on to Oliver as soon as she could.

Beth snorted. ‘Serafina sounds like the kind of woman who spends all day floating around a butterfly house. I prefer Ida.’

But another thought had occurred to Harry. ‘Do you think either of the bottle boys would recognise you?’

She shook her head. ‘Nah. They don’t start work until the morning, so they never mix with the toffs.’

‘Very well,’ Harry said, taking the assurance at face value. ‘If my brother is to be believed, there will be several other guests who know me, which will make it impossible for me to be much more than a distraction while you do the real digging.’

Beth regarded her steadily. ‘There’s just one problem with that. I ain’t got nothing to wear.’

It was an objection Harry had been expecting. Beth was taller than her, and her feet looked to be at least one size bigger. She was broader across the shoulders too, meaning there was nothing in Harry’s own wardrobe that would hang well on her. She dug into her handbag for the money she’d added that morning. ‘Use this,’ she said, offering it to Beth. ‘You’ll need a dress, some shoes and a coat. I can lend you a handbag and some jewellery.’

The other woman did not take the notes. ‘I don’t need charity.’

‘But you do need to look the part and that costs money,’ Harry replied, with gentle but firm insistence. ‘Think of it as necessary expenses, no different to me paying for your train tickets when you were investigating Polly.’

This justification seemed to do the trick. The money disappeared into Beth’s pocket. ‘I don’t know what my old mum’s going to think when she sees me dressed up all fancy.’

Harry took a deep breath. ‘I thought about that. Would you prefer to change into your new clothes at my place?’

‘Your place?’ A frown creased Beth’s brow as she considered the offer. ‘I suppose it depends on where it is.’

‘Mayfair,’ Harry said. ‘Hamilton Square.’