Page 13 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel
“No, Mrs. Kettering. I mean, yes, I can, I just got confused.”
Silence, then, “I know your kind, Edith,” Mrs. Kettering went on, her voice a guttural snarl. “If I catch you somewhere you ought not to be again, you will be dismissed. Is that clear?”
I imagined the girl named Edith cowering beneath the housekeeper’s glare as she muttered something I couldn’t hear.
“Go and turn down the beds on level two,” Mrs. Kettering snapped. “It’s getting late.”
Blazes! They were coming my way and we would pass one another on the stairs. I stepped heavily to warn them I was there and gave a smile and a nod as I passed the maid named Edith and then Mrs. Kettering, some steps behind. One set of footsteps continued on but the second set stopped. I could feel Mrs. Kettering’s glare on my back, but I kept going. I preferred to meet her officially another time, when she wasn’t so riled and I wasn’t feeling guilty for eavesdropping.
I exited the staircase on level four. There was no sign of Flossy as I headed along the corridor. I stopped abruptly outside my door. It was ajar. Who would enter my room while I was at dinner? Indeed, who had a key, for I was quite certain I’d locked it?
I pushed the door open wider. A woman hummed, the sound coming from the bedroom. I tiptoed through the sitting room to the bedroom door and let out a pent-up breath. A maid plumped up a pillow. She stopped humming when she spotted me.
She smiled broadly. “Good evening, Miss Fox. I wasn’t sure if you wanted your bed turned down, since I haven’t received your instructions yet, so I took the liberty of doing so anyway. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind, but there’s no need.”
Her large black eyes blinked back at me. “Are you sure? It’s no trouble. I do all the rooms on this floor when it’s my evening. All of the family want their beds turned down.”
“Then by all means you should do mine too. Thank you…”
“Harmony.” She beamed again and continued plumping. “How has your first day at The Mayfair been?”
“Very pleasant, thank you. All the staff seem nice.”
“So you haven’t met Mrs. Kettering yet.”
I laughed and she smiled back, although looked confused by my reaction. “I overheard her scolding a maid just now in the stairwell,” I said. “She was supposed to be turning down beds on the second floor but had met Mrs. Kettering on the fifth.”
“That would be Edith on level two tonight. If she was on level five, she probably deserved a scolding.” Harmony frowned. “What was she doing all the way up there? And what was Mrs. Kettering doing, I wonder?” She smoothed down the turned edge of the bed cover then straightened. She was tall, probably about my age, with a slender figure and black hair pulled severely into an arrangement beneath her white cap. A few springy curls had escaped and brushed her forehead. From time to time, she pushed them away with the back of her hand.
I wasn’t sure what to do while Harmony went about her work of turning down the bed so I sat at the desk and pretended to write a letter. After a few minutes, the maid cleared her throat. I turned to see her standing in the doorway to the bedroom.
“Would you like me to unpack your things?” she asked.
“I’ve already unpacked.”
“Then I’ll put your bag away for you.”
“That’s all right. It needs to go up high. I’ll ask one of the men to do it.”
Instead of returning to the bedroom, she headed for the front door. “We don’t need men.”
She left the suite and returned a moment later with a step ladder. She opened the door of the floor-to-ceiling wardrobe and set the ladder in place then hefted my empty bag and hat box up to the top shelf.
“The trunk can be stored elsewhere in the hotel,” she said, stepping down. “You won’t be needing it.” She dusted off her hands and folded up the ladder. “Anything else? Do you require something to eat?”
“I just ate.”
“A cup of chocolate? Our chefs make the most delicious hot chocolate.” Her eyes half-closed in pleasure. “I’ve tried it twice when there was some left over.”
“Perhaps later. Flossy told me I can use the speaking tube and order what I want and a footman will deliver it from the kitchen.” I pointed at the brass mouthpiece.
“You can, but I thought since I’m here I might as well be useful.” She carried the ladder through to the sitting room and looked around. After a moment, she leaned the ladder against the edge of the desk and assembled the papers I’d left scattered about. She set them down in a neat stack and flipped the lid closed on the inkwell.
She turned to me and smiled. “Anything else?”
“All is in order, thank you, Harmony.”
