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“I think we did a little more than help, Detective Fanning.”
“And I’ll be sure you get the credit you deserve.”
Somehow I doubted that. At least the murderer was caught, and Vernon Rigg-Lyon would receive justice. Even he deserved it.
Cobbit saton the driver’s perch of the black carriage parked out the front of the hotel, his shoulders back and his gaze direct. He touched the brim of his hat as the guests climbed into the cabin and held the reins steady while Goliath strapped luggage to the roof. The coachman had never looked prouder to be in charge of one of the hotel’s official vehicles.
I patted the nearest horse’s flank. “I’m so glad you’ve ended your strike.”
“We got our point across.” From his smile, I suspected he’d achieved more than that.
“And?”
“And Sir Ronald agreed to our terms an hour ago.”
I wasn’t aware Cobbit had terms, just grievances.
“We wrote ‘em up and presented ‘em to him, and he agreed to employ us until such time as automobiles replace carriages here at the Mayfair. Then he’ll pay to retrain the grooms and other coachmen as mechanics, and I’ll be given a payment to tide me over while I find work elsewhere. Or maybe I’ll retire.”
“You won’t retrain as a mechanic, too?”
“I’m too old, Miss Fox, too set in my ways. A retirement fund will do me just fine, I reckon.”
“That seems like a good compromise to me.” One he’d not entertained when I suggested it to him, yet now he thought it a good idea. “What made you decide to take that course?”
“Someone gave us good advice. Someone with no irons in this fire, just our interests at heart.”
“Who?”
He tapped the side of his nose. “A friend of both the hotel and the staff, but not the Bainbridge family.”
I stood there trying to work it out as Frank stepped closer. He wiped his gloved thumb over one of the points of the capital M inside the circle, painted on the carriage door. Goliath thumped the back of the carriage to signal the luggage was secure, and Cobbit drove off.
“Do either of you know who helped the mews staff with their negotiation?” I asked.
“Can you not guess?” Goliath asked with an arch of his brows. “A friend of the staff, but not the family. Who has had run-ins with Sir Ronald, but used to work here?”
“It was Armitage,” Frank said, in case I couldn’t work it out. “I s’pose he’s not a bad sort, after all.”
I smiled. “I suppose not. I see your voice came back.”
“Louder than ever. A very good afternoon to you, Miss Fox.”
Inside, the relief was palpable. There was a calmness in the foyer that had been absent recently. Guests engaged in amiable conversation with one another, Mr. Hobart was smiling again, and Peter was an enthusiastic tour guide as he gave directions to an American couple wanting to know where the best shopping could be found.
My mood improved even further when I met Mrs. and Miss Hessing as they stepped out of the lift into the foyer. Miss Hessing greeted me by clasping both my hands and firmly squeezing. She could barely contain her smile.
“You look lovely,” I said. “Are you dining in the restaurant this evening?”
“We have an early reservation. We’re dining with Mr. Liddicoat.” She bounced on her toes, as if she couldn’t stand still. “Mother has given her approval.”
Mrs. Hessing was near enough to overhear, but her daughter didn’t seem to care. “Clare, see if we have any mail, will you?”
Miss Hessing gave my hands one last squeeze, then crossed the foyer to the post desk, none the wiser to her mother’s reason for sending her away.
Mrs. Hessing watched her daughter go. She looked odd to me, but then I realized it was because I’d never seen her give a genuine smile before. “I’ve never seen her so happy.”
“I’m pleased everything has worked out,” I said.
