Page 62 of Murder on the Brighton Express
“We have a proposition for you, Miss Fox,” Lady Pridhurst went on. “Could you ask your investigator friend to act as a go-between for us?” Lady Pridhurst opened her reticule and removed a banknote. She palmed it and, like Harry paying a bribe to the hotel porter, slipped it across the table to me. “Have him give this to Mrs. Scoop. Tell her it’s for her continued silence.”
I stared at her gloved hand and blew out a breath. “I doubt she would accept it. I’m not sure why she hasn’t printed the story yet, but it will appear soon, I’m sure.”
“When my husband confronted her, she told him she was verifying some details. No doubtThe Evening Bulletindoesn’t want to be sued.” She tapped her finger on the tablecloth. “Take it, Miss Fox.”
I did. “I’ll use this to tempt her to forget the story, and return it if I can’t. I mean, I’ll ask Mr. Armitage to do it.”
That seemed to satisfy her. She rose. “Come along, Odette.”
Odette and I both stood. We bobbed small curtsies in farewell. But I couldn’t let them walk away without offering the poor girl some advice. Advice that her parents ought to give her, but I wasn’t sure they would. Denial seemed to be their response to a crisis. “You should tell Mr. Holland your situation as soon as possible. Marriages should be based on honesty. Beginning your marriage with a lie that is exposed later will destroy any chance of happiness.”
“And if he ends our courtship?” Odette asked in a trembling voice.
“Then you will know that he never loved you. He only wanted to marry you for what your father’s business could offer.”
Odette’s eyes filled with tears again. She bit her lower lip as it began to quiver.
Lady Pridhurst took her daughter’s arm. “Thank you for your assistance, Miss Fox, but my husband and I can manage the situation with Mr. Holland, if you and your friend manage Mrs. Scoop.”
As they walked away, Lady Pridhurst bent her head to her daughter’s. I could just make out her quietly telling Odette that marriages for people like them were undertaken for different reasons than for ordinary people, and the sooner she understood that the more content she’d be.
With a sigh, I followed some distance behind. Odette’s shoulders slumped as they passed a smiling Mr. Chapman. I believed her when she claimed she left Ruth alive in her compartment. For one thing, Odette didn’t look strong enough to bundle anyone out of a window.
I tucked the banknote up my sleeve. I doubted Mrs. Scoop would drop the story about Lord Pridhurst, no matter how much anyone offered her, or pleaded for mercy. She’d shown no sorrow over the death of her assistant, so it was unlikely she’d have any sympathy for a stranger.
It wasdifficult to keep secrets in the hotel, so it wasn’t surprising when Flossy asked me why I’d had afternoon tea with Lady Pridhurst and Odette without her. She was rather put out not to be invited. I assumed Mr. Chapman tattled.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to completely lie to her. “They discovered I’m a private detective and hired me to run an errand for them. I’m afraid I can’t divulge its nature to you, Flossy. I must maintain discretion.”
“Can you give me a hint?”
“No.”
She sank into the corner of the sofa with a pout. “Let’s talk about our outfits for the wedding.”
We sat in her suite, waiting for the meals we’d ordered to be sent up from the kitchen. With no social engagements scheduled, we were able to enjoy a peaceful night at home. I was relieved, but Flossy seemed bored.
“We’ve already told each other what we’re wearing,” I said. “And we’ve discussed hairstyles and jewelry.”
She plucked at the piping on the sofa cushion. “Then we’ll talk about gentlemen. That blond guest with the gold-topped walking stick checked out yesterday and didn’t even say goodbye.”
“Had you been introduced?”
“No, but according to the fortune-telling machine at the Palace Pier’s arcade, he could be my husband one day.”
“Perhaps the machine was wrong.”
“Then my future husband could be anyone! How will I identify the man I’m supposed to marry if I don’t know what he looks like?”
She sank even further into the sofa. She didn’t rise to answer the knock on the door, so I got up, preparing to let in the waiter with our meals.
Instead, Floyd greeted me. “I’ve been looking for you, Cleo.”
I stepped aside to let him in, but he remained in the corridor. “Why have you been looking for me?”
“I’m about to go out and expect to be home very late.” He wore evening wear of a tailcoat with silk lapels and a top hat, but the black tie and waistcoat, instead of white, meant he wasn’t going somewhere too formal. Most likely he was meeting his chums at a party or club, rather than attending a ball or dinner.
“Is that wise, this close to the wedding? It’s only two days away.”
