Page 4 of Murder on Harley Street
Once he was out of earshot, Uncle Ronald asked if everything was all right.
“We need to talk,” I said.
“Is it your aunt? I was with Mr. Lombardi when she entered the hotel and couldn’t ask how the appointment with the new doctor went, but she didn’t seem unhappy.” He gazed in the direction of the lift where John the operator bade two departing occupants a good day.
“The appointment went well. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it when you have a moment.” I pulled out the bottle of tonic from my handbag, checked the vicinity to make sure no one was watching, and showed him the label.
“He prescribed the same stuff that made her ill?” he whispered loudly.
“No. He prescribed a powder. I purchased this to show you something. Look at the manufacturer name.”
Uncle Ronald snatched the bottle off me and squinted at the label. His face drained of color. “Lombardi makes this?”
I nodded.
“That bloody scoundrel. I ought to chase after him and tell him what I think of his blasted tonic.” He didn’t move, however.
“Or you could cancel the presentation.”
“I could…”
I waited for more, but he stopped there. “Uncle?”
“Damn and blast. We need the presentation to be held here.”
“Weneedfor Aunt Lilian to get well.”
“Hosting the presentation won’t make her ill again. She’s on the mend and will be back to her old self in no time.” I wasn’t sure if he was truly optimistic about the outlook for her health or if he was trying to convince himself. His outlook may be heartening, but it wasn’t the point.
“Uncle, you can’t let him present here. It would be condoning the manufacture of this…” I took the bottle of tonic back and dropped it into my bag. “…this quackery.”
“It’s not as simple as that, Cleopatra. There are other considerations.”
“Such as?”
“Mr. Lombardi’s presentation is the only important event on the horizon. We need more.”
“Isn’t October typically quiet anyway?”
“October is, but the rest of the year is looking lean, too.” He tugged on his shirt cuffs as he peered around. “I don’t want to trouble you with the details, but suffice it to say, I expected the ballroom we created from the old restaurant to be more in demand after the Hessing-Liddicoat wedding.”
“I am sorry it’s not, but even so?—"
“Even so, I won’t make a rash decision about something so important. Hobart!” he called out. “Do you wish to speak to me?”
The hotel manager had been hovering nearby. He now approached and greeted us both warmly. “Actually, I wanted to speak to Miss Fox.”
Uncle Ronald looked relieved. “Good, good. I’ll leave you to it. I have to see Lady Bainbridge.” He went to walk off, only to stop. “Have either of you spoken to Harry Armitage about my proposal?”
Mr. Hobart glanced at me. “Um…”
“He won’t be interested, Uncle,” I said.
“You don’t know if you don’t ask.” Before I could respond, he strode in the direction of the lift.
Mr. Hobart blew out a breath. “He asked you to ask Harry to return to his former position here, too?”
“Not quite the same position, but yes he did. I keep forgetting to mention it to Harry.”
