Page 52 of Murder at the Dinner Party
The doorman looked confused but shook Harry’s hand anyway, then placed his own hand in his pocket. I suspected Harry had just passed him some money. “How may I help you, sir?”
“Have there ever been any rumors about the gentleman who just entered, Lord Whitchurch?”
“Rumors, sir?”
“Amongst the staff here. Rumors about him or his brother, and a maid who was murdered in their kitchen.”
The doorman’s brows shot up. “There are no rumors about thecurrentLord Whitchurch. He’s a good man, pleasant to the staff. His brother was…not as well liked. He was rude and abrupt, like his father.” The doorman glanced at the closed door, then leaned toward Harry. His voice was so quiet, I hardly heard it. “At first, we all thoughthedone the girl in.”
“The late Lord Whitchurch?”
The doorman nodded. “He kept a room here at the club for when he came to London with his wife. Lady Whitchurch stayed at the house, but he loathed her, so he slept here. He brought his mistress here sometimes. Members are allowed to, as long as they’re discreet. His lordship’s mistress was the murdered maid.”
“Charlotte?” I blurted out.
“I didn’t know she was their maid until after she died. Nasty business, it was. Caused a real stir here, amongst the staff. Some wanted to tell the police that she was his lordship’s mistress, but the manager at the time forbade it. He said her death was nothing to do with Lord Whitchurch. When it came out that the eldest son ran away on the night of the murder, well, it was clearhewas guilty, not his father, so we all stopped worrying about going to the police.”
The shocking revelation sent my mind reeling. Had the late Lord Whitchurch killed Charlotte out of jealousy when he learned his son was also having a liaison with her? Had he taken his jealousy out on Rupert, too, by banishing him? This new information, coupled with Mr. Gannon’s statement that his lordship’s jacket had blood on it made for compelling evidence.
The revelation threw up other suspects, however. If Rupert discovered his father’s liaison with his mistress,hecould have killed her out of jealously. Lady Whitchurch may have been angered, too. Or perhaps Charlotte had tried to blackmail her ladyship and the dowager refused to pay, preferring to silence her once and for all.
How did this new information tie in with Arthur’s lie about where he was that night? Or did he have nothing to do with Charlotte’s murder, and was only guilty of Hardy’s—Rupert’s—after accidentally coming across his brother all these years later? We could be looking for two separate murderers.
Harry’s steadying hand on my lower back steered me down the steps. “I think this requires a large bowl of Luigi’s pasta before we return to the Whitchurches’ house,” he said.
I tugged my watch out of my waistcoat pocket. “I can’t. I have a picnic to attend in Regent’s Park. Perhaps I can think of an excuse…”
“No. Absolutely not. You told Sir Ronald you’d attend every social engagement if he allows you to continue investigating and this is no exception. You don’t want to give him a reason to change his mind.”
I sighed. He was right, but it didn’t make it any easier to pause our investigation now. We were on the cusp of another discovery, I was sure of it. All we needed to do was apply a little pressure on the family and hopefully one of them would crack. It wouldn’t be the dowager, of that I was certain. And I wasn’t entirely sure if Lady Whitchurch knew the answers we sought. We’d also already just confronted the current Lord Whitchurch, so he was unlikely to give us anything else just yet.
I was beginning to see why Harry had suggested lunch at Luigi’s to discuss our next steps before charging off to the Whitchurches’ house. His head was generally cooler than mine, and this time was no exception.
* * *
The picnic lasted a few hours,as picnics on pleasant afternoons tend to do. We would have been back at the hotel by four, giving me plenty of time to call on Harry to discuss the case, except that Flossy and her friends decided to go to the zoo since we were close by. Not only did they want to see every animal on display, but they wanted to stop for ice creams, too. None of my attempts to gently hurry them along worked. It only made Flossy suspicious.
When I suggested for the third time that it was getting late and we had a dinner party that evening to get ready for, she hooked her arm through mine and gave me one of her sly looks. “So, who is he?”
“Who is who?”
“The gentleman you want to look pretty for tonight. The dinner is hours away, yet you want to go home and get ready now. You never usually spend more than an hour to dress, so I assume he’s very special indeed.”
“Flossy, there is nothing in my preparations that couldn’t be done in one hour. I’m simply concerned that Harmony needs to prepare us both, and I know how longyoutake.”
We stopped at an intersection of paths behind her friends while an elephant carrying six children seated on the benches across its back, and another boy on its head, ambled past alongside the keeper.
“You have a point,” she murmured. “The dinner doesn’t begin until eight, but Harmony does take a long time to do my hair.”
“She wants it to be perfect.”
“And I do want a bath first.”
I didn’t have to say another word. She told her friends it was time to go. When I counted heads, I noticed we’d acquired another two somewhere. Flossy offered to drive them all home.
We found our carriage in the parking area with the Mayfair’s symbol of an M inside a circle painted on the door. Cobbit sat on the coachman’s seat with his arms crossed over his chest and his hat pulled low. A soft snore rose from beneath the hat brim.
Flossy woke him up and gave him instructions to drive each of the girls home before returning to the hotel. There were six of us now, too many to fit comfortably inside the cabin. I decided to sit beside Cobbit. Flossy and the girls made a show of telling me we’d all fit, but I declined.
