Page 28 of Murder at the Dinner Party
“The Dowager Lady Whitchurch is still alive?” I asked.
“Oh, yes. She’s a recluse now. Her health is failing and she doesn’t leave the estate.”
“Yes, she does,” said another. “I heard she’s currently in London to see her physician.”
I already knew the address of the Whitchurches’ London house from D.I. Hobart’s file. It was just around the corner from the Campbells.
Although my dance card was quite full for the rest of the evening, I didn’t have the opportunity to dance again. Uncle Ronald rounded up Flossy and me and told us it was time to leave, as Aunt Lilian wasn’t well.
“But I want to stay.” Flossy cast a longing glance toward the maharaja’s son.
“If Floyd were here, I’d leave you both in his care, but he isn’t.” Uncle Ronald walked off before either of us could protest again.
Flossy pouted all the way home, while Aunt Lilian sat like a wilting flower in the corner of the carriage, her eyes closed. Uncle Ronald stared out of the window at the passing lights.
I wasn’t ready to retire, so I looked in on the diners in the restaurant instead of going upstairs with my family. Mr. Chapman stood near the entrance, his hands clasped behind him, overseeing proceedings like a headmaster. He would remain there until the last guest left. From the raucous behavior of the furthest group, they wouldn’t be leaving for some time.
I retraced my steps and paused near the corridor that led to the offices of Mr. Chapman and Mrs. Short. A handful of guests in the foyer ahead paid me no mind. I was alone.
I ducked into the corridor and tried the handle on Mr. Chapman’s office door. To my surprise, it wasn’t locked. I switched on the light and went straight to the filing cabinet. I knew he kept a file for the regular diners in it. If Lady Campbell had afternoon tea often at the hotel, she would have a file. I found it quickly, but a scan of the neatly handwritten notes told me nothing of importance. She preferred cucumber sandwiches and was polite to the staff. She and Sir Ian had once dined in the old restaurant two years ago, but not since.
I put back the Campbells’ card and searched for the Whitchurches’ file. Again, the notes were brief. They’d dined a few times in the old restaurant, but not since the same night as the Campbells had dined there. The two couples must have dined together. Apparently, Lord Whitchurch liked French food and wine. There was no other note on the card.
I returned it to the cabinet and pushed the drawer closed. As the drawer clicked into place, the office door opened. I spun around to see Mr. Chapman standing there, looking smug.
“Sneaking around again, Miss Fox? What will Sir Ronald say this time?”
CHAPTER6
Mr. Chapman and I didn’t get along and never had. He was a busybody who listened at doors. Perhaps he’d learned that I was also a busybody who listened at doors, but at least I’d given him a chance at the beginning of our acquaintance. He’d looked down his nose at me ever since my arrival at the hotel.
I’d thought his attitude toward me would soften after I didn’t tell anyone that he had intimate relations with men, but it appeared it hadn’t. Perhaps it was time to remind him that I knew something about him that would damage his reputation and get him thrown into prison.
“I thought you and I had an understanding, Mr. Chapman.”
His eyes widened with alarm. “Are you threatening to tell Sir Ronald about me if I tell him about this?”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all. Your secret is safe with me and always will be, no matter what you say about me to him. But I thought you’d be more inclined to forgive this since I’ve not told a soul.”
He passed a hand over his mouth and jaw. When it came away, he was visibly more relaxed. “What else am I supposed to do, Miss Fox? You clearly have no regard for my privacy. Would asking you not to break in have made a difference?”
“I didn’t break in. The door was unlocked.”
He gave me an icy glare.
“I do have regard for your privacy, Mr. Chapman. I simply came in here to find out why you wanted to speak to Lady Campbell at afternoon tea.”
“You could have asked.”
I waited. When he did not go on, I said, “I’m asking now.”
“I can’t tell you. It’s hotel business.”
I sucked in a breath in an attempt to ease my frustration. It didn’t work. “I am a member of the Bainbridge family and therefore as much a part of the hotel as my aunt. You can tell me since you told her.”
“You have no authority here.”
He would never give in, out of sheer spite and stubbornness. Unless I offered him something in return, something that would help him make a good impression on one of our best guests and therefore my uncle. “I spoke to Miss Hessing at the ball tonight. She gave me a friendly warning about her mother’s plans for the wedding. Unfortunately, she doesn’t think we’re capable of putting on a reception grand enough, so she’s considering the Savoy.”
