Page 70 of Murder at the Mayfair Hotel

She slammed it in my face.

I supposed I deserved that. I knocked again. “You can’t make me feel worse than I already do,” I called out through the door. With the rain starting to come down harder, she could certainly make me feel colder and wetter, however. “I’ll keep knocking until you open up! Your neighbors are already peering out of their windows, Mrs. Hobart.”

The door suddenly opened and I almost knocked her on the nose. She scowled at me, arms crossed.

“Haven’t you done enough damage, Miss Fox?”

“You’re right, I have done quite a lot of damage to your family, and I’m very sorry for it. I know nothing I can say will make it up to Mr. Armitage, but perhaps there’s something he can say to me that will help.”

She frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“Let him get some things off his chest. If there’s a small chance that it will help, I’d like to try.” She seemed to consider this, so I pressed on. “If nothing else, you’ll get to listen to him cut me down to size.”

“You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that.”

“Mr. Hobart calls me persistent.”

Her lips flattened. “My brother-in-law has always been too kind for his own good.” She retreated inside. She did not invite me across the threshold.

A few moments later, Mr. Armitage appeared at the door. He opened it wider, but also didn’t invite me in. He wore no jacket and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows. He held a spanner in a grease-stained hand and his hair looked as though it hadn’t been combed. He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, crossed his arms and glared at me.

“Let me begin by saying again how sorry I am for costing you your position at the hotel,” I said.

“You’ve already apologized.”

“I wasn’t sure you heard me yesterday.”

“I heard you.”

I cleared my throat. “What I did to you and your uncle was horrid, but I want you to know that I did it because I truly did think you were the murderer.”

His glare hardened. “I feel so much better knowing you think I’m capable of poisoning people.”

I adjusted my grip on the umbrella. Despite wearing gloves my fingers were going numb from the cold. “I’ve been told my imagination is too vivid sometimes. My grandmother warned me it would get me into trouble one day.”

“It’s not your imagination that’s the problem, it’s your eagerness to insert your nose into other people’s business.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“Is there anything else, Miss Fox? I’m very busy.”

I nodded at the spanner. “So I see.”

His eyes narrowed. “I was about to go out to look for work.”

I swallowed and lowered my gaze. “Oh. Yes, of course. If I hear of any opportunities, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“I don’t want your help.”

I bit my lower lip and the silence stretched. I ought to walk away, but I hated leaving with him still angry. “I could try speaking to my uncle again on your behalf.”

He barked a harsh laugh. “He could have re-hired me yesterday when he visited Uncle Alfred.” He pointed the spanner at the house next door. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something, even if I have to muck out stalls or join the army.”

“But there’s a war on!”

“I hear the weather’s pleasant in Africa at this time of year.”

I stared at him. “Don’t join the army. I’ll find you a position somewhere you won’t get shot at.”