No Clue at the Inn (Pennyfoot Hotel Mystery Book 13) (3 page)

Jeanette shook her head, while Cecily did her best to ignore Baxter's raised eyebrows. "No one liked him, m'm. Least, no one as I know. Had a big opinion of himself, he did. Talked to everyone like dirt. Like he was better'n
anybody else. You'd have thought he owned the place the way he carried on sometimes. I'm not surprised someone done him in."

Baxter cleared his throat. "Quite, quite. Well, run along now, girl. Mrs. Baxter will let you know if she needs you later on."

"Yes, sir." Jeanette bobbed an untidy curtsey and hurried out, pulling the door closed behind her.

Baxter muttered an oath under his breath. "That girl is entirely too familiar. Miss Bunkle will have to keep her in her place."

Cecily sank onto the bed and began easing off her elbow-length gloves. "I rather think we'll have to get used to some relaxation of customs. Things are changing so rapidly it's difficult to keep up with them."

"The world may be changing," Baxter said firmly, "but manners are not. As long as we are in charge of this establishment, I insist that the staff treat everyone with the proper decorum. Just as they did when we were here. It hasn't been that long since we left, and I refuse to allow the integrity and the reputation of the Pennyfoot Hotel to be besmirched by impertinent staff. I don't care who they are."

Cecily smiled as she watched him pace back and forth, his hands behind his back. "Bax, darling, as you yourself pointed out so adamantly, this is no longer our Pennyfoot Hotel. It's Edward's country club. Whether we like it or not, things have changed."

"That doesn't mean we have to put up with insubordinate staff. I certainly don't intend to, and I sincerely hope that you will not stand for it, either. Not only is the Pennyfoot's reputation at stake, but ours, as well. If Edward has allowed the standards to deteriorate, then it
will be in everyone's best interests to restore some sense of decorum." He paused in front of her, a scowl marring his handsome features. "And you promised you wouldn't call me Bax."

She rose. "Only when we are not alone. Calm down, dearest, it's not like you to become so agitated over something so trivial."

He started to say something, but she laid her fingers on his mouth. "Jeanette reminds me of Gertie when she first started at the Pennyfoot. You must remember how sullen and rebellious she was? Always cursing and complaining?"

To her relief a smile tugged at his lips. "I remember only too well. I despaired of her ever losing that stubborn insolence."

Cecily laughed. "To be perfectly honest with you, I don't think she ever did. She just tempered it somewhat when she was in our presence."

Baxter folded his arms around her. "No doubt you are right. I wonder if life is treating her well. And Mrs. Chubb, for that matter."

Cecily pulled back to look up at his face. "Well, we shall very soon find out. I've invited them all as guests for the Christmas Season and they have accepted. Gertie, Ross and the twins, and Mrs. Chubb. They should arrive tomorrow."

Baxter did his best to look unaffected by the news, but his eyes gleamed with pleasure. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did mention it, actually. You weren't listening to me. It will make our duties here much more pleasant when we're surrounded by old friends."

"I'm sure they will be ecstatic to find themselves
guests in the very establishment where they once waited on people. A refreshing turnabout of events, I would say."

Cecily hugged him. "Then you are pleased?"

He dropped a kiss on her nose. "I am pleased, my love. This was a good idea."

"Then you'll be even more happy to know that Samuel, Doris, and Daisy will also be here, though Doris might be a little late in arriving since she has theater engagements."

"Well, you have been busy." He moved away from her, and wandered over to the windows that overlooked the grounds. "Our former staff—all back as guests. It will be good to see everyone again. Though I hope they arrive soon. It looks as if it might snow."

She went to stand beside him. "Everything appears to be much the same out there."

"Yes, though the lawns seem a little ragged, and the topiaries need trimming."

Cecily sighed. "They never did do as well after poor John Thimble died. I wonder if the roof garden is still there. We need to take a tour of the place as soon as we've talked to Miss Bunkle."

Baxter sniffed. "Odd sort of woman, didn't you think? Looks like a good meal would do her good, and did you see that knitting needle stuck in her hair?"

"Yes, I did wonder about that myself." Cecily went back to the dressing table and sat down in front of the huge mirror. "I'll have to ask her what she thought of the late manager, Barry Wrotham."

"I was hoping you'd wait a day or two before concerning yourself about him."

"I'd intended to wait until tomorrow, at least." Cecily began pulling the long pins from her hat. "But that
was before Jeanette uttered that interesting comment about someone having 'done him in,' to use her quaint expression."

Baxter groaned. "I might have known you'd pounce on that. I shouldn't have to warn you about taking the word of a housemaid as fact."

"Quite right, darling. But since Edward, also, was under the impression that Barry Wrotham's death was not an accident, it does raise some questions, don't you think?"

"Questions that, no doubt, you will do your utmost to have answered," Baxter said dryly.

Cecily smiled. "As you would say, indubitably."

He came and stood behind her, looking gravely at her reflection in the mirror. "You promised me you would not do anything impulsive without consulting me."

She gazed at his image, marveling yet again at the circumstances that had granted her a second fulfilling love in her life. "I promised, my love, and I shall do my best to keep that promise."

"I wonder why that doesn't ease my mind."

"Because you are such a worrier." She removed her hat, then rose and moved into his arms again. "I am not about to do anything that would jeopardize my life right now. I'm far too happy. Besides, I would imagine that in a day or two we shall learn quite a bit about the Pennyfoot's previous manager without any real effort on my part."

"I am happy to hear that."

"Besides, it's Christmas. Church bells, Christmas carolers, sleigh rides, candles on the Christmas trees . . . how can one be preoccupied with dark thoughts at such a joyous
season of festivities?" She moved away from him. "I had messages sent to Phoebe and Madeline, informing them that we would be arriving today. I'm anxious to meet them again. I want to ask them if they'll assist me with the decorations and the pantomime."

"You plan to present a pantomime?" Baxter shook his head in wry amusement. You have a little over two weeks left before Christmas Day."

"All the more reason to begin preparations right away. I have decided to try our hand at
Aladdin
. I heard that Doris performed in the pantomime last year, so she can play Aladdin and she will be a tremendous help. If she gets here on time, that is."

"I trust you're not asking Phoebe to use that infernal dance troupe in your pantomime."

"It wouldn't be a Pennyfoot presentation without them."

"Of course. The tradition must go on. Even if it spells disaster."

She laughed. "I have to admit, poor Phoebe had her share of disasters. Fortune tended to work against her at every turn. I can only hope—" She broke off as a sharp tap sounded on the door.

"It's about time," Baxter muttered as he strode through the door into the sitting room. "I was wondering what that dratted lad had done with our luggage."

There was a pause while Baxter opened the door then, from the sitting room, Cecily heard Jeanette's clear voice announce, "I've brought some tea and scones, Mr. Baxter. Miss Bunkle says Mrs. Baxter must be dying for a cuppa."

Cecily hurried into the room as Jeanette carried the
heavy tray over to a low table in front of a settee. "How thoughtful of Miss Bunkle," she murmured, seating herself on the green sateen couch. "Thank you, Jeanette."

"Yes, m'm." The young girl turned to Baxter. "Raymond said to tell you that your luggage will be up in a short while. We've just had eight toffs arrive and he had to take care of them. He said to say he's sorry for the delay."

Baxter nodded, his expression clearly stating his displeasure.

Jeanette reached for the teapot, but Cecily raised her hand. "Thank you, but I can manage. I'm sure you have quite enough to do with guests arriving."

"Yes, m'm, that we do. All eight of them arrived at once, they did. Toffs from London with their wives. Raymond says the men are belchers from Lincoln's Inn, whatever that means."

"Not belchers," Baxter said shortly. "Benchers. They are barristers, the governing body of the Inns of the Court."

Jeanette appeared unimpressed. "Oh, well, anyway, the ladies are all dressed up really fancy—"

"Since everyone is far too busy to attend to our luggage," Baxter said, sounding pompous now, "perhaps your presence downstairs might be helpful."

Jeanette gave him a cheerful grin. "Yes, sir. I'm on my way." She scurried over to the door, then apparently remembering she'd omitted a curtsey, turned and dipped her knees. "Oh, I nearly forgot, m'm. Miss Bunkle said you had a visitor. Since you'd only just arrived and everything, she asked the lady to come back tomorrow."

Cecily uttered a small gasp of disappointment at the thought of missing one of her friends. "Oh, who was it, do
you know? Mrs. Carter-Holmes? No, she's Fortescue now, of course. Or was it Miss Pengrath, perhaps?"

Jeanette shook her head. "Neither, m'm. It were Mr. Wrotham's widow. Said it was urgent she speak to you. Miss Bunkle said to tell you she'd be back tomorrow afternoon."

"Thank you, Jeanette." Cecily waited until the girl had closed the door behind her before turning to Baxter. "Well, what do you suppose the widow of Edward's manager would want to talk to me about?"

"I hesitate to speculate." Baxter raised his chin and closed his eyes. "I can guarantee, however, that she's not coming to welcome us to her dead husband's position."

"My thoughts exactly," Cecily answered with a great deal of satisfaction. "It seems as if we shall learn more about the late Barry Wrotham than I anticipated. I can hardly wait."

CHAPTER

3

The meeting with Miss Bunkle and her staff went very well. Cecily was relieved to discover she hadn't forgotten any of the intricacies of managing a hotel, and according to Miss Bunkle's reports, there didn't seem that much difference in the general day-to-day procedures involved. A country club, as she had already pointed out to Baxter, really wasn't that much different from a hotel after all.

Baxter visibly relaxed as the meeting progressed. He seemed to approve of Miss Bunkle, in spite of her odd hair ornament. When he complimented the housekeeper on her firm control of the staff, the woman actually blushed, much to Cecily's amusement. It would seem that marriage had not robbed Baxter of any of his suave charm.

She said as much to him later, as they stood at the wall
of the roof garden looking down on the cove below. With his hair ruffled by the blustery wind blowing directly off the ocean, he seemed younger and more carefree than she'd seen him in many months.

This little interlude would be so good for both of them, she thought, as Baxter turned to face her with a quizzical expression.

"Charm? I wasn't attempting to charm the lady. I was simply trying to establish a working relationship. I have the impression that Miss Bunkle can be a bit of an old battleship when it comes to rules and regulations."

"A trait that I'm quite sure has earned your utmost admiration."

He tilted his head. "You're not just the tiniest bit jealous, by any chance?"

She laughed out loud. "Of course I am, darling. You happen to be an uncommonly handsome man."

"Who happens to be married to a very beautiful lady."

"You see? You can't help being charming. Even to your wife."

For answer he placed an arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. "So what do you think about the new rules? Not too confining, on the whole?"

"I thought most of them unnecessary. Particularly that ridiculous one about women being barred from the lounge bar and the card rooms."

"Ah, yes." Baxter heaved a heavy sigh. "I had a feeling you would raise some objections to that one. At least we can be thankful that since we are now a country club, the card rooms are no longer illegal. We do have to remember, however, that the new rules are tradition and have to be observed."

"They should be done away with, if you ask me. Positively Victorian. This will set the Women's Movement back five years. I find it utterly appalling that a man cannot take his wife into certain rooms of an establishment where they are both residing. Rooms into which, I might add, two years ago women were at least tolerated. It simply doesn't make sense."

"I do hope you are not going to make an issue of this, my love." Baxter tightened his hold on her shoulders. "We must remember that rules are set for a reason, and as temporary administrators, we have no right to question them."

"We might not have the right to change them," Cecily said crisply, "but I'll defend to my death the right to question them."

"Yes, I thought you might."

She shivered as a fresh gust of wind buffeted her body. "That wind is rather keen, don't you think? I had forgotten how cold it can be up here in the winter. I much preferred the summer, when we could linger in the warm breeze. I used to enjoy the scent of roses while we watched the fishing boats come home."

"Then we shall return to our suite." Baxter guided her toward the narrow door that led to the stairway. "I'm nursing the small hope that Raymond has by now delivered our luggage, and I can change into something a little more fitting for my position."

She eyed him as he paused to allow her to proceed him through the door. His best charcoal gray suit, worn with a light gray waistcoat and starched white shirt, fitted him perfectly. His silk gray and white striped tie was knotted precisely, and with perhaps the exception of his hair,
which remained ruffled despite his repeated attempts to smooth it down with his hand, he looked regal enough to be presented at the royal court without raising an eyebrow.