Hotel du Barry (7 page)

The evening before Jam Sunday, Mary found Cat curled up in foetal position and dozing behind the sofa in Daniel's study. Mary touched her gently. ‘What's wrong, kid?'

Cat woke up. ‘I can't do it. I'll muck it up and it'll be a disaster. There'll be no marmalade in the maids' kitchen for a year. I'll let them down and they won't have an entry for the Hotel du Barry Jam Awards.'

Mary hoisted up her elegant pencil skirt, sat on the floor and crossed her long legs.

‘You've got stage fright, that's all. Bertha wouldn't have chosen you if she didn't think you were up to it. I was never chosen because Bertha reckoned I didn't give a toss about tradition. She was right.' ‘Mary, anything could go wrong. This job is too big for me. I was happy just chopping up the oranges.'

‘You'll do great. You've been helping out with the marmalade for six years, right?'

Cat nodded and sniffled.

Mary gently stroked her hair. ‘It's not a life and death matter, kid. Worse things happen at sea. It's just a bit of a lark to mark the changing of the seasons.'

‘I guess so.'

‘What did I teach you about vanquishing the terrors? What's our credo?'

Cat grinned. ‘I am Cat du Barry and I have no fear. I am mistress of my own destiny.'

Mary stood up and smoothed down her skirt. ‘That's more like it. And don't forget, Sean is taking us out to dinner – just you and I. Tonight. Seven sharp. Somewhere glamorous.'

‘I haven't forgotten, Mary. And I will get an invitation to your engagement party won't I? It won't just be for grown-ups?'

Mary raised her eyebrows. ‘So who told you I was getting engaged?'

‘Sean.'

‘That man has more front than Harrods. Listen, I love Sean to bits but there's no way I'm going to marry him unless he cleans up his act. He needs to pull up and fly straight. And he knows it.'

‘Sean reckons he's “looking at other career options”.'

‘Sean's not truthing. See you tonight, kid. Damn. Nearly forgot, I've got a tip for you from Jim Blade.'

‘What's that?'

‘On Sunday go down to the maids' kitchen early and hide all the cooking sherry and port wine. It's kept in the pantry. And don't forget to hide Daniel's best cognac too. Bertha's got a few bottles stashed in her special Christmas cupboard.'

‘What's this about?'

‘Irene Brewster's going through a rough patch. She got half-cut a few days ago and went after that gobshite room service manager. With a meat cleaver.'

‘Gosh. I didn't hear about that.'

‘But don't worry about what can go wrong. All right? You'll do good.'

Mary could still feel Sean on her skin. She'd spent lunchtime in a hotel room at the Ritz with him and returned to work with roses in her cheeks and a spring in her step. Mary often called Sean up when she felt like having sex. Money had long since stopped changing hands. Sean was proficient in the art of pleasing women and she liked to put him through his paces. After all, he was a professional and very discreet. Or that's what she told him. The
real reason was that despite her best efforts she still loved the slippery little bastard.

Jam Sunday went off without a hitch. Irene Brewster managed to stay sober and the maids' marmalade won the coveted Hotel du Barry Jam Award. In a blind tasting the esteemed judges – Henri Dupont, Sebastian, Bertha Brown, Jim Blade and three staff members from the Hotel du Barry Brighton – rated it the overall winner in all categories.

Jim's eyes rolled backwards and he licked the spoon clean. ‘My God, it's sensational. I just want to go snout down into the pot. Lick it right out.'

When Henri tasted Cat's marmalade he murmured, ‘Sublime. Exquisite. Full-bodied flavour with something indefinably mellow lurking underneath. I don't know what the hell the chef put in it, but this is the best marmalade I've tasted. Ever.'

When the winner was announced, the chefs from the other Hotel du Barrys were poleaxed. How on earth had those trollops pulled off such a coup?

Little did they know that Cat had secretly added a few extra ingredients to the original recipe. Including five bottles of Daniel's premium twenty-year-old French cognac.

Whenever Cat had to spend time with Edwina, the urge to fall asleep was overwhelming. Edwina couldn't stand her incessant yawning but had to hold her tongue in public. While the two of them shopped in Harrods, many of the better dressed ladies paused to engage them in conversation. One of London's most formidable hostesses turned to Edwina. ‘Here's my card, Mrs du Barry. You simply must bring your delightful daughter along to my musical soirees. Every Thursday afternoon at three, during the season.'

Edwina was so chuffed that there was an awkward pause before she responded. ‘How lovely. We'd be delighted to attend, Lady Ascot.'

Edwina kept smiling until Lady Ascot disappeared and then murmured, ‘And don't you think you're getting out of this, young lady.'

Cat grimaced. It was hard work getting along with Edwina but Daniel had made it clear to Cat that she needed to lift her game. ‘Cat, it's not a huge ask. I just want you to stop stonewalling Eddie. She's never really gotten over the death of her brother. Perhaps you could show Eddie some compassion and help out at some of her charity events?'

‘I can do that. But did you know that most of the girls my age at these things are spoilt brats?'

Daniel nodded. ‘That's the point of the exercise. I don't want you growing up with a false sense of entitlement. You will have the opportunity to observe their behaviour and learn how
not
to behave.'

Edwina was delighted when Cat became more amenable. Having an attractive daughter in tow was an advantage, and would help facilitate her transformation into a lady who lunched with other ladies. Edwina would then be invited to participate in gossip at the beauty parlour. Knowledge was power. What bliss.

Being Mrs Daniel du Barry opened many doors. But she wanted to be successful in her own right and envisaged establishing her own salon populated by Europe's finest artists, musicians, writers and intellectuals. Edwina confided to her latest hairdresser, ‘I shall become London's answer to Elsie de Wolfe. Admittedly she wrote the bible on interior decoration but I know how to do much more than marry well. To hell with Elsie's beige. It's so dreary, just another version of putty. Clearly she's chosen the safe option. I intend to be much bolder.'

To this end Edwina trawled Daniel's private library, selecting some choice intellectual phrases and
bons mots
to work into her conversation. And when she dined alone in the hotel's restaurants, Edwina ensured she always had a leather-bound book open on the table. Something the size and status of
War and Peace.

Daniel told his secretary, ‘They're at the theatre today. My wife took Cat to see the latest Noël Coward play. Edwina's mellowing as she gets older. I think they'll get on better now that Cat's making more of an effort.'

Mary sniffed but remained silent. Daniel was losing his scepticism and it was dangerous. She could only protect him from so much. Mary picked up Daniel's bank deposit books. ‘Back
soon. I'm off to Lloyd's. I'll order your new cheque books while I'm there'.

Mary left. She was surprised when Sebastian brushed past her on the stairs without even acknowledging her greeting. How odd. But then Sebastian had become increasingly cold in his attitude towards her. The higher she rose in Daniel's estimation, the colder Sebastian became.
Perhaps he's jealous? Maybe he thinks I'm replacing him in Daniel's esteem. Gawd. And to think women are supposed to be the bitchy ones.

Daniel stared hard at Sebastian. ‘Mary presented me with an official birth certificate and full legal documentation. Are you sure you've got your facts right?'

‘Absolutely, Sir. You were given forged documents. Miss Maguire has deliberately pulled the wool over your eyes on several occasions. It's probably not her fault. One has no choice but to toughen up if one is an orphan. Look what happened to Oliver Twist.'

Daniel frowned. ‘I take it that several of my staff were involved in this bizarre deception?'

‘Yes, Sir. Primarily Mr Jim Blade, Mrs Bertha Brown, Mr Henri Dupont and Mr Sean Kelly.' Sebastian's lip curled. ‘The lowlier staff were not privy to the finer details but many suspected something was afoot.'

‘I see. I didn't know the labyrinth was such a den of iniquity. Who would have thought that the Hotel du Barry was harbouring London's best criminal minds? Tell me, what was Mrs Brown's role in all this?'

‘She was the mastermind behind the baby's new identity. It was a ballot.'

‘A fucking ballot!'

‘Yes, Sir. The staff wrote their favourite names on scraps of paper. And
Joybelle Hortense Maguire
was pulled out of Mr Blade's hat.'

‘Good Lord. And Jim Blade's contribution to the intrigue?'

‘He arranged for his criminal connections to forge the legal papers.'

Daniel made a strange sound. Sebastian wasn't sure if he was choking or merely aghast.

Daniel walked to the window and stood with his back to Sebastian. ‘Dammit, I've seriously underestimated my own people.'

He appeared to be overwhelmed. Sebastian hovered on the hearth rug. He didn't know what to do next. The mantelpiece clock chimed the passing of another hour.

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably. ‘I'd best get back to my duties, Sir. Mrs du Barry will be requiring her afternoon tea soon.'

Unlikely. After five pm Edwina would be demanding a martini.

When Daniel made no response, Sebastian decided he should leave. As he was quietly closing the door, Daniel said, ‘Sebastian, get Room Service to send up my drinks trolley. And fix me a shot of that ghastly liver tonic, I'm feeling a tad ordinary.'

‘Right away, Mr du Barry.'

When Mary Maguire returned to the Hotel du Barry she found Daniel sitting in his study.

‘Aren't you supposed to be meeting with the accountants right now? I made the appointment last week.'

‘I rang and cancelled. Something important has come up. And it's imperative I clarify it with you.'

‘Oh?'
Gawd, what has Edwina done now?

‘It's about Cat's adoption. I've just been privy to some startling allegations about your role in the matter. And frankly I'm shocked that I was so easily deceived. But rather than leap to conclusions, I think we should sit down and discuss the matter. Sherry?'

‘Yes, please.'

The jig is up. That little fucker has blabbed. The photograph of me in
Tatler
last week must have been the nail in my coffin. Sebastian would kill to
be in
Tatler
. My wonderful life at the Hotel du Barry is over. But there's no need for everyone else to go down with me.

Daniel picked up a crystal decanter and poured them both a sherry. Mary took her glass from his hand and bit the bullet. ‘Daniel, what you were told is probably more or less true and I take full responsibility for what happened. It was my decision entirely. I talked the others into deceiving you. But they are essentially blameless and should be allowed to keep their jobs. It's not fair that they should pay for my deception.'

She drained her glass and looked him straight in the eye. Daniel removed the empty glass from her hand and reached for the sherry decanter.

Mary repressed the urge to throw herself on the hearth rug and howl. She'd worked so hard to be a credit to Daniel and the Hotel du Barry, and now it was all over. Finished. She might never get to see Cat again. As that old bag at the orphanage had often stated, ‘Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive.'

It was too much to bear. Mary's mind was a trapped rat in a cage. She bowed her head and tried to think straight.
I am Mary Maguire and I have no fear. I am mistress of my own destiny.

When she glanced up, Daniel was standing in front of her and holding out her refilled sherry glass. Smiling. ‘You need another drink, Mary. You look like death warmed up.'

‘Daniel, I don't have any words.'

‘You don't need to say anything. And for fuck's sake don't give me any more rot about the rest of the staff being entirely innocent. It was an ensemble piece of phenomenal cunning and clever deception. And I'm eternally grateful to each and every one of you.'

Mary gaped at him. ‘What?'

‘The whole business is quite marvellous. It's like a delicious farce written by Molière. Your role, especially. Such ingenuity. It's a great
pity that you weren't here when Sebastian was denouncing your co-conspirators. It would have easily been worth the price of a theatre ticket.'

Mary collapsed backwards onto the sofa. ‘Bloody hell.'

‘You did the right thing, Mary. Let's face it, you gave the kid a chance in life and you put others before yourself. Altruism is exceptionally rare these days. And if you'd acted in accordance with the rules of self-interest, I'd never have had the privilege of raising such a marvellous child.' He paused. ‘I assume Cat knows all this?'

Mary nodded. ‘To be sure.'

‘She's got more maturity than any of us. But Mary, we must ensure Edwina never finds out.'

‘Won't Sebastian blab to her as well?'

‘No. Sebastian is loyal to me. Eddie drives him nuts. I'm surprised he didn't crack much earlier. Holding onto this secret would have been killing him. He must have felt like a traitor. At heart Sebastian is a man of integrity or should I say, misplaced integrity.'

‘Sebastian's never been particularly keen on me but lately he's been abrupt to the point of rudeness.'

Daniel sighed heavily. ‘Sebastian's getting crankier as he gets older. I'm not making excuses for his snobbery, Mary. But I admit to finding his pretensions comedic. Michael does a wicked impersonation of him.'

‘Daniel, Sebastian adores Cat but he's often snappy with her. It worries me.'

‘He's a confirmed bachelor and females perplex him. Leave him to me and don't give the matter any further thought.'

He turned away so Mary couldn't see the expression in his eyes. Daniel had been taught never to show vulnerability. His father had been a big believer in hitting naughty boys with a thick leather strap, and if they cried, he'd give them another few whacks. Daniel
was adept at concealing his emotions but Mary could read him even when his back was turned, and the depth of his love for his daughter never failed to move her.

Daniel had become such a large part of Mary's life. It wasn't just that he'd significantly changed her world for the better; she felt inextricably bound to him. His fate was hers. Mary had rejected a few offers of marriage from eligible, charming men. There was nothing wrong with her admirers but Sean Kelly was the only man for her and she'd never been able to give him up. Also marriage would probably mean having to give up her job, and the idea of leaving Daniel alone in Edwina's clutches kept her awake at night. Even when he was liquored up and being difficult she felt for him. And these days he was drinking plenty. Mary also wanted to remain in Cat's life at least until she could fend for herself. Daniel and Cat were family and she just couldn't walk away from them.

Later, when Mary was getting ready to leave for the day, Daniel said, ‘It's your birthday soon – what can I get you? Would you like to choose a piece of jewellery or a painting for your apartment perhaps?'

‘Thank you but no. I'd much prefer it if you took me on another tour of the Tate Gallery and then perhaps we could have a drink somewhere posh.'

‘But why the Tate?'

‘Remember that time you showed me the work by the Renaissance masters? It was awe-inspiring. I loved the way you talked about the painters, their ideas and what went on behind the scenes. I can't get enough of that sort of stuff.'

Daniel grinned. ‘You should have said something earlier. I was worried you'd found me pedantic. I'm happy to go to the Tate but only on the condition that we also have dinner afterwards. Why not invite Sean along to dinner? My treat, of course. I know that the chef at the Jacques Deville Restaurant does a delectable lobster thermidor.'

‘That would be spiffing.'

‘Spiffing?'

‘It's a word I'm trying out. I'm determined to become more ladylike.'

Daniel held the door open for her. ‘Mary, a woman like you doesn't need to speak like a society hostess. You're unique. They're not. Personally I don't think you need deportment or speech lessons. You've got more style than most women I know. Think about it.'

Mary smiled as she headed towards the hydraulic lift. ‘Good night, Daniel.'

The next day, when Edwina came looking for her, Cat hid in a wardrobe in Daniel's bedroom. Through the crack she could see Edwina pacing the room. ‘Caterina, come out from wherever you are. I mean it. Just wait till your father gets home, young lady!'

Cat fought the urge to sleep but already her eyelids were closing. She retreated further into the deep wardrobe and lay down. As the sound of Edwina's heels receded, Cat fell asleep.

She woke up about twenty minutes later. At first she couldn't think where she was, then she realised she was lying against a brown leather Gladstone bag. It had strange hieroglyphics embossed on its side and several small holes on both sides. Cat tried to open it but she couldn't release the lock, so she turned her attention to a long, flat attaché case that had been hidden under a pile of dusty old sports shoes.

Cat pulled the attaché case out of the wardrobe, placed it on the bed and opened it. Inside she found a life-size, fold-out painting of a handsome blond man. His limbs were cunningly hinged and his glittering sapphire eyes were staring straight at her. Cat tried him out in several stylish poses, then propped him up for a chat. He seemed to be listening and his glittering blue eyes followed her around the room. It was most satisfactory.

That evening after Edwina had gone out, Cat said to her father, ‘Who is he?'