Foxden Hotel (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 5) by Madalyn Morgan (ebook reader ink txt) 📕

‘We were.’ Claire looked at the door. ‘I can’t go into it now, there isn’t time, but when he goes away again I’ll come up,’ she said quietly. ‘And if it’s a school day, too bad! What the eye doesn’t see…’ Bess put her arms around her younger sister and held her tightly. ‘Don’t Bess, you’ll have me crying.’

‘Just remember, I’m always here,’ Bess said, walking with Claire to the door. ‘We both have telephones, so ring me anytime, day or night.’

In a flurry of hugs and calls of goodbye the family left, leaving Ena behind with Bess.

‘I feel like a drink,’ Bess said.

‘Me too. I’ll put the kettle on.’ Ena said, going into Bess’s office.

‘I mean a real drink,’ Bess called after her. Ena said something that sounded like I was joking and the door closed behind her.

‘How are you coping, Mrs Donnelly?’ Maeve asked, when Bess approached the reception desk.

‘I’m worried to death, Maeve, as you can imagine. But worrying won’t help Frank. Keeping on top of things here will. Later, would you fill me in with what’s been going on; bookings, arrivals and departures?’ Bess stretched. ‘I know I’ve been sitting down for the last couple of hours, but I feel as if I’ve done a night shift. I’m going to put my feet up and have something to dull the anxiety I’m feeling. Oh,’ she said, turning back to Maeve from the office door, ‘if Frank, or Henry telephone--’

‘I’ll put them straight through to your desk extension.’

Bess pressed her lips into a straight line and nodded her thanks. She was too close to tears to speak.

It was two in the morning when Frank got home. He found Bess in a hunched, half-sitting, half-lying position in her chair. ‘You’re freezing, darling. Let’s get you up to bed.’

Bess squinted at him and grimaced. ‘Got a crick in my neck,’ she said, in a voice thick with sleep.

‘It’s no wonder, falling asleep down here in the chair.’ Frank gently massaged his wife’s shoulders.

‘What happened?’ she asked, still not fully awake.

‘I’ll tell you in the morning.’

‘But--’

‘No buts, Bess. For once you are going to do as you’re told.’

There was a knock on the door. Bess turned over and groaned. Frank jumped out of bed, pulled on his trousers and opened it. ‘Maeve?’

 ‘When I read your note saying you were late getting back last night, and asking for an alarm call at seven, I thought it might be nice for Mrs Donnelly - and for you too of course - if I brought your tea and toast up, instead of putting it in the office.’

‘Room service with a smile,’ Frank joked. ‘Thank you, Maeve.’

‘Thank you, Maeve,’ Bess mumbled into her pillow.

‘I’ll be down shortly,’ Frank said, taking the tray.

‘I’m sure there’s no rush. None of the guests are down yet, the kitchen is in full swing - Mrs Green is looking after things there - and the waitresses are preparing the dining room for breakfast. The post hasn’t come, but the newspapers have. I’ve taken one to the smoking lounge, one to the library, and put one on Mrs Donnelly’s chair in the office.’

‘Thank you, Maeve. Well,’ Frank said, ‘as you have everything under control, I shall stay up here for another ten minutes and have breakfast with my wife. Oh, Maeve?’ Frank said, when the receptionist turned to leave, ‘would you ask Mrs Bramley’s son, Davey, to clean the ashes from the grate in the office. Ask him to lay a fire, will you, but not to light it. We’ll do that later, if we need to.’

‘I’ve already asked him, sir. I noticed the ashes hadn’t been cleared when I took the newspaper in. Young Davey’s a good boy, but he can be forgetful.’ With that Maeve left.

Frank poured the tea, putting Bess’s cup on her bedside table. He drank his while he finished dressing. Bess sat up and yawned. ‘Thank you.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘Now, pass me my dressing gown and come and sit on the bed. I want to know what you meant yesterday when you told Sergeant McGann you had proof that David Sutherland was alive on the second of January.’

‘Because I had a letter from him on that day.’

‘Why would David Sutherland write to you?’ Frank draped his wife’s dressing gown round her shoulders and looked into her eyes. ‘Frank?’

‘Because he was blackmailing me.’

‘What?’ Fear, like a hot blade, stabbed at Bess’s heart. ‘I don’t understand. What could David Sutherland possibly know about you that was so bad you needed to pay him to keep quiet?’ Frank put Bess’s cup back on the bedside table, sat on the bed, and took her hands in his. She gasped when the realisation hit her. ‘It wasn’t you he was blackmailing, was it?’

‘No,’ Frank confessed. Bess slumped back against the headboard and closed her eyes. ‘Your name isn’t on the letters, so McGann doesn’t know they’re anything to do with you.’

‘He isn’t stupid, Frank. He knows I knew Sutherland in London. He’ll put two and two together.’

‘He won’t, darling, not now.’ Bess looked questioningly at her husband. He lifted a stray curl of auburn hair from her face and put his finger to her lips. ‘Don’t shout at me.’ Bess rolled her eyes, as if to say what now. ‘I told him that I’d had a brief affair with a woman, a fling, and that Sutherland had found out about it and was threatening to tell you unless I paid him to keep quiet.’

‘Frank what have you done? You’ve lied to the police. If McGann finds out, he’ll put you in prison for perverting the course of justice.’ Bess turned away and, as if every ounce of strength in her body had suddenly left her, fell