Page 51 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel

The vicar cringed. “My apologies, Miss…”

“Miss Smith.”

“My apologies for the noise, Miss Smith. The boys are moving between classes.” He extended his hand. “The Reverend Collin Belfour, at your service. I’m the vicar at St Andrew’s, and I work here most days to give the boys an ecclesiastical education. Teachers give them a more practical one, arming them with the skills they’ll need in service or industry.”

“That’s very commendable.”

He sat and I took the moment to quickly scan the contents of his desk to glean a clue as to what he and Mr. Armitage had been discussing. The desk was neat with a Bible opened to the book of Genesis. Beside it was a page of written notes. Beside that was a small pouch. The vicar picked up the pouch and dropped it into the top drawer of his desk. Coins jangled.

“Tell me about the donation,” the vicar said.

“Mr. Armitage recently did a good turn for some of the staff at the hotel and we want to thank him. He’s too proud to accept money, so we thought we could make a donation to a charity close to his heart. What could be closer than the orphanage that took care of him?”

The vicar clasped his hands and rubbed his thumbs together, frowning. Clearly he wanted the donation, but he didn’t want to break a confidence. “A donation would be very welcome,” he said. “Would you like to look around and see the good work we do here?”

“Only if Mr. Armitage was here as a boy.”

“Have you considered asking him?”

“You know how proud he is. He doesn’t like talking about his past.”

He chewed on the inside of his lip.

“Perhaps if you left the room for several minutes, I could look through the cabinet drawer labeled A, and if I happened to find Mr. Armitage’s details, I could discover what I need to know. You wouldn’t be breaking any rules yourself.”

“Miss Smith! I am shocked!”

I stumbled through an apology and rose quickly. My face heated beneath his scowl as I backed towards the door. “I feel awful for misreading the situation,” I said. I truly did feel awful, but I wasn’t sorry for making the suggestion. It had to be done while there was a slim chance that it would work.

I almost ran out of the office, however, unable to face the vicar’s scowl.

“I’ll still welcome your donation,” he called out when I reached the front door.

I fled into the street only to find it was raining. With no umbrella or coat, I got thoroughly wet as I hurried back to the hotel.

Frank gasped when he saw me. “Miss Fox! You’re half drowned.”

“It’s just a little water.”

“You really should have taken an umbrella.”

“Thank you,” I said wryly. “I’ll do so next time.”

He signaled to Goliath. The porter hurried over, frowning at me. “You went out without a coat?” He clicked his tongue.

I gave them both tight smiles. “Yes, I went out without a coat and umbrella.”

“And gloves,” Frank said.

“And hat,” Goliath added.

I glared at them. I wasn’t in the mood for their scowls and lectures. I just wanted to get inside and dry off.

“You should have a nice warm bath,” Frank said as I passed him. “Have one of the footmen bring up a cup of tea for you from the kitchen while it’s filling. There’s nothing quite as soothing as drinking tea while soaking in a warm bath.”

Goliath screwed his face up. “When’ve you done that? Our bathrooms are communal in the men’s staff quarters,” he told me. “No one’s going to bring this idiot a cup of tea while he takes a bath.”

Frank bristled. I thought it was because Goliath called him an idiot, but it turned out he was offended for other reasons. “I’ve worked places other than here. Places where I can sneak off for a long bath when the master and mistress aren’t home.”