Page 14 of Murder at Hambledon Hall
After exchangingfarewells and promises to write, we were driven away from Hambledon Hall in Lord Kershaw’s carriages. The rail journey to London was mercifully quick, and not long after the locomotive steamed out of the station, Frank, the doorman of the Mayfair Hotel, welcomed us home as we alighted from carriages in front of the hotel.
He was all smiles for the Bainbridge family, who greeted him warmly. Even Aunt Lilian managed a polite smile, even though she’d been morosely silent since leaving Hambledon Hall.
I stopped to speak to him. “You’ll never believe what happened, Frank.”
Once the door closed behind my family, Frank abandoned his attempt at cheerfulness. His features settled into their regular downturned pattern. “Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than what happened here.”
My heart dropped. “Is everyone all right?”
“A maid has been dismissed, Goliath feels responsible, and several other staff are upset.”
“What did she do?”
“She was caught sneaking around the male staff quarters at the residence hall.”
“It is a dismissible offence,” I reminded him. “I’m quite sure the rule has existed since the hotel began.”
“It’s never beenenforcedbefore. No one has ever been let go for breaking it.”
Most of the younger staff lived nearby in a lodging house owned by the hotel. Without the accommodation, they wouldn’t have been able to afford to live so close to their place of work. London’s rents were unaffordable for workers on a low wage. The rent may be free, but it still came with a price. They had to maintain what my uncle deemed ‘a respectable character’ even after their shifts ended. For most, the rule didn’t pose a problem.
“I presume Goliath feels responsible because the dismissed maid was visiting his room,” I said.
Frank stepped away as the door opened and a guest emerged. He wished the gentleman a pleasant day by name.
Once he was out of earshot, I asked, “Are the other staff upset because they liked the maid?”
“She was liked well enough, but the reason they’re upset is because Mrs. Short has forbiddenallstaff from relationship entanglements, even respectable ones. Do you know how many couples there are? I can name at least seven, all of them serious. One couple is even married! What are they supposed to do? Get a divorce so they can keep their jobs?”
“Now you’re being silly.”
“There’s Harmony and Victor, Donny and the tall redheaded maid, Felicity and that waiter?—”
I put up my hand to stop him rattling off every couple. “Does Mrs. Short have the authority to make that decision?” As housekeeper, she managed the maids, but waitstaff were under the jurisdiction of Mr. Chapman, the steward, and the cooks were under thechef de cuisine, Mrs. Poole. Front of house staff reported directly to the assistant manager, Peter Leyland, while Mr. Hobart, the hotel manager, oversaw the entire cohort. Surely it was his decision to make a blanket rule of no fraternizing, not Mrs. Short’s.
Frank shrugged. “Mr. Hobart hasn’t overruled her yet. I reckon he was waiting for Sir Ronald to return to gauge his thoughts. If you ask me, Miss Fox, it’s bad. This is a new century, and the young folk don’t want to be restricted by old rules set by old people. We’ll lose staff over this, you just watch.”
I ventured inside, a little concerned that Frank might not be overreacting, for once.
The foyer was an inviting place, with its large displays of flowers filling enormous vases, and the potted palm trees adding a hint of the tropics. While not as densely packed as the fernery at Hambledon Hall, the greenery provided an exotic touch to an otherwise very English hotel.
There was no sign of Frank’s doom and gloom in the foyer. It was peaceful. September in London was empty of the sort of people who could afford a room at the Mayfair. According to Flossy, September was the month for spending time with family and friends at country manors. According to Floyd, it was when those who didn’t own a country estate took themselves off to Germany, Austria, or France for a rejuvenating holiday at a health spa. Apparently, Monaco was popular for those who liked to gamble, as well as for husband-hunting ladies whose reputations weren’t pristine enough for the ever-vigilant mothers of eligible bachelors back in England.
Mr. Hobart walked beside Uncle Ronald, heading to the corridor that housed the senior staff offices. Aunt Lilian and my cousins had already disappeared into the lift. I joined Peter at the check-in desk. He and the clerk appeared to be going over the reservations book, but I caught a snippet of their conversation, and it wasn’t about the guests.
“Frank tells me the sky is falling,” I said. “I hoped you could give me the more accurate picture.”
Peter smiled. “Welcome back, Miss Fox. How was Berkshire?”
“Lovely, until the…” I glanced at the check-in clerk. “Never mind. Is the situation here causing a problem?”
Peter rounded the counter and invited me to walk with him. “Frank isn’t overstating the tension for once. Mrs. Short’s new rule of no fraternizing is causing problems with some of the staff.”
“For just the seven couples already in relationships, or everyone?”
“All of the staff are agitated. They think the rule is grossly unfair.”
“Are they agitating to the point of going on strike?”
