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I did know better. Flossy made sure of that. She reminded me on several occasions that an invitation to the duchess’s ball was first prize and an invitation to Lady Trefusis’s was the consolation. The only people in attendance at the latter would be those who didn’t get invited to the former. In Flossy’s mind, the snub was a disaster.
The success, or not, of her social season was in the hands of whichever lady was hosting the latest ball, dinner, party, breakfast, afternoon tea, exhibition, concert or other event. The polo was a welcome variation on the usual round that I’d endured of late. It wasn’t that I found socializing tiring but, rather,tiresome. I craved stimulation of a different kind. The two weeks since the end of my investigation into the murder of a businessman at a dockside tavern had dragged, even though I’d been busy every day doing the rounds with my cousin and aunt. I was looking forward to spending the day watching a sport I’d never seen before. I enjoyed learning new things.
“I don’t know why we didn’t get an invitation to the duchess’s ball this year,” Flossy went on. “We went last year.”
“I’m afraid it’s most likely my fault,” I said. “I hear she’s old-fashioned, and the fact that I’m the bluestocking daughter of a Cambridge academic doesn’t sit well with ladies like her.”
Ever since my aunt’s social circle learned I was better educated than their sons, some had given us a wide berth. Fortunately, those who did weren’t close friends, so it mattered little to Flossy and Aunt Lilian, and not at all to me. Missing out on the duchess’s ball was different, however. It cut Flossy deeply.
She looked pained by my apology. It hadn’t occurred to her that I was to blame. She stumbled over herself to assure me that wasn’t the case. “Don’t be silly, Cleo, it’s not you. That business was forgotten weeks ago. No, no, I’m quite sure it was simply a matter of numbers. Too many ladies and not enough gentlemen. Don’t you agree, Floyd?”
“For once, my sister is right,” Floyd said with too much bluster to be convincing. “It’s either because of the numbers, or the fact that our family are in trade. You said so yourself—she’s an old-fashioned snob.”
It was kind of him to try, but we all knew that wasn’t the reason, since they’d been invited to the ball last year. Aunt Lilian’s father—my maternal grandfather—may have been in trade, but he’d been wealthy and, these days, wealth mattered. It helped that Uncle Ronald was the son of minor nobility, so his wife’s connections were overlooked, as was the fact he owned a hotel. Well, they wereusuallyoverlooked.
The conversation had taken an awkward turn, one that had the three of us seeking a distraction. Flossy flapped her fan in an attempt to hide her embarrassment, while Floyd strode outside again to look for the automobile. I was about to send one of the porters to the stables to see what was holding up the mechanic when Peter entered the foyer from the direction of the senior staff offices. He craned his neck to peer over the heads of the guests milling about and, spotting us, made his way towards us, smiling and greeting guests as he went.
The smile slipped when he joined us. “I’ve been sent by Mr. Hobart to tell you that your driver has been delayed.”
“Mechanic, not driver,” Flossy said.
Frank opened the door again and Floyd returned to the foyer. Peter repeated the announcement for his sake. “The automobile will be here as soon as Mr. Hobart resolves the dispute between the, er, mechanic and the coachmen and grooms. Hopefully that won’t be long.” He didn’t look entirely confident, however.
“What dispute?” Floyd asked.
“The grooms and coachmen say the smell of the automobile is unbearable and that it should be stabled elsewhere.”
“They’re complaining about the smell?” Floyd scoffed. “They work with horses all day!”
“The noise also makes the horses jittery. I’m sure Mr. Hobart will resolve the issue quickly and without fuss.”
Not even Mr. Hobart’s diplomatic efforts could resolve it in a brief space of time, if at all. Lord Dunmere, a guest at the hotel, had arrived in his automobile two days ago. The only place to house it had been in the hotel stables in the nearby mews. He was the first of our guests to bring his own automobile, but I doubted he would be the last. The vehicles were becoming quite popular with those who could afford them. Although few were seen in London, I suspected it was only a matter of time before the streets were clogged with them, pushing out the slower, more cumbersome horse-drawn carriages. It didn’t bode well for the future livelihoods of coachmen and grooms.
“Bloody hell,” Floyd muttered. “I’ll sort it out.” He walked off, his purposeful strides getting him to the door before Frank.
Frank attempted to atone for his laxness by doffing his cap and wishing Floyd a “very pleasant day at the polo.”
Floyd ignored him. Flossy followed her brother out, while I turned to Peter.
“I’d better go, too. Thank you for passing on the message.”
“My pleasure, Miss Fox. You can exit the back way if you want to get there faster.”
“It’s all right, I’ll go with my cousins.”
I slipped past Frank, still holding open the door, albeit with a scowl on his face for me instead of the smile he sported for my cousins. He never bothered to butter me up like he did them. I preferred his real grumpiness to his false courtesy, anyway.
“You look a little warm, Frank. Perhaps you should go inside and rest in the staff parlor for a while.”
He bristled. “I can manage. Don’t go replacing me with a machine yet.” Clearly he sided with the coachman and grooms when it came to the question of progress.
“No machine could replace you, Frank. It could never capture your attitude.”
He puffed out his chest. “Thank you, Miss Fox.”
I trotted to catch up to Flossy, some distance behind Floyd. We passed the hotel’s new restaurant, opened a mere two weeks ago with a triumphant dinner. It had been a roaring success ever since. The reservation book was full until the end of July.
Just past the restaurant was the arched entrance to the mews that contained stables and coach houses, some of which belonged to the Mayfair Hotel. Unlike most London hotels, the Mayfair had its own stables where it kept two carriages and four horses for the use of our family and special guests. Where other luxury London hotels were purpose-built, the Mayfair had once been a private mansion home. After my uncle inherited it, he poured my aunt’s money into renovations after their marriage. The building’s past as a home afforded the benefit of the equine accommodations. Accommodation that was now doubling as a stable for Lord Dunmere’s motor vehicle.
