Page 43 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel
“And anyway,” Flossy went on, “we have to look our best for the ball. Not only do we have to surpass last year’s spectacle, but it’s the last ball of the century. We can’t ring in nineteen-hundred wearing last year’s gowns or jewels. Everyone will notice, and the gossip will only lead to speculation that the hotel is in difficulty and we can’t have that. It would be humiliating.”
Floyd snorted. “Spoken like the Flossy I know.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Aunt Lilian rubbed her temples. “Stop it, both of you. You know talk about financial matters gives me a headache.”
Brother and sister called a ceasefire over luncheon, but not all discussion of the ball ended. Both Flossy and Floyd begged me to attend.
“We simply have to show off our cousin,” Flossy declared.
“My friends are all dying to meet you,” Floyd added.
I blinked at him. “You told them about me?”
“You seem surprised that my bachelor friends would be interested in hearing about my attractive cousin from Cambridge.”
I laughed, despite myself. “Can I expect my dance card to be full or did you give a balanced picture and tell them my bad traits?”
“What bad traits?” he asked in mock seriousness.
“Floyd’s friends are very shallow,” Flossy said. “As long as you’re pretty and fun, they won’t care that you’re—” She stopped dead, her lips pursed to utter the P in poor. “That you’re educated,” she said quickly.
Floyd rolled his eyes.
Flossy tossed her red-gold curls. “Anyway, you have to go to the ball, Cleo. Mother thinks so too. Mother? Don’t you think Cleo should come to the ball?”
Aunt Lilian roused and smiled at me. “Of course. You’ll be most welcome.” Her smile turned wistful. “Your mother would approve.”
The sadness in her eyes brought a lump to my throat. It was easy to forget that I’d known my mother for only ten years, yet Aunt Lilian had known her much longer. The bond between sisters was strong, I’d been told, and it was natural she’d still think about her all these years later.
But if she’d been fond of my mother, why sever the connection? Had Uncle Ronald insisted? Or did Aunt Lilian come to regret their estrangement only after my mother’s death?
“I’ll think about it,” was all I said.
“But it’s in five days!” Flossy cried. “We’ll need time to have one of my gowns adjusted.”
“Surely it’ll only take a maid an afternoon,” Floyd said.
Flossy clicked her tongue. “Oh Floyd,honestly. You’re somale.”
He appealed to me. I shrugged. “It doesn’t seem right for me to go,” I told them both.
Flossy didn’t respond as she picked up her sandwich. She studied it for some time, turning it this way and that, a small frown connecting her brows. Then she suddenly put it down again. She turned bright eyes onto her mother.
“May we go shopping this afternoon?”
“I have a headache,” Aunt Lilian said. “In fact, I think I’ll retire to my rooms for a rest.” She rose, having hardly touched her sandwiches.
Flossy didn’t seem surprised by her mother’s response, or disappointed. “May I go if Cleo comes with me?”
“Very well,” Aunt Lilian said, walking off.
Flossy clapped her hands. “We’ll have such fun, Cleo.”
Floyd watched his mother leave, both hands on the chair arms as if he would spring up at any moment if she looked as though she would fall. While her progress was slow, she wasn’t unsteady.
“It’s Hobart,” he said as the manager appeared in the doorway to the dining room. He bowed to Aunt Lilian as she passed then scanned the room.
