25
MITCHELL WAS SEATED in the far corner of the waiting room, reading the Bristol Evening Post when Hugo walked across and sat down beside him. It was so draughty that Hugo kept his hands in his pockets.
‘The subject,’ said Mitchell, still looking at his newspaper, ‘is trying to raise five hundred pounds for a business venture.’
‘What sort of business venture could she possibly be interested in?’
‘Tilly’s tea shop,’ replied Mitchell. ‘It seems the subject worked there before she moved to the Palm Court room at the Royal. Miss Tilly has recently had an offer of five hundred pounds for the business from a Mr Edward Atkins. Miss Tilly doesn’t care for Atkins and has made it clear to the subject that if she were able to raise the same amount, she would prefer her to take over the business.’
‘Where could she possibly hope to get hold of that much money?’
‘Perhaps from someone who wished to have financial control over her, which might at a later date prove advantageous?’
Hugo remained silent. Mitchell’s eyes never left his paper.
‘Has she approached anyone to try and raise the money?’ Hugo eventually asked.
‘She’s currently taking advice from a Mr Patrick Casey, who represents Dillon and Co., a finance company based in Dublin. They specialize in raising loans for private clients.’
‘How do I get in touch with Casey?’
‘I wouldn’t advise that,’ said Mitchell.
‘Why not?’
‘He visits Bristol about once a month, and always stays at the Royal.’
‘We wouldn’t have to meet at the Royal.’
‘He has struck up a close personal relationship with the subject. Whenever he’s in town he takes her to dinner or the theatre, and recently she’s been seen returning with him to the hotel, where they spend the night together in room 371.’
‘Fascinating,’ said Hugo. ‘Anything else?’
‘It may also interest you to know that the subject banks with the National Provincial, 49 Corn Street. The manager is a Mr Prendergast. Her current account is showing a balance of twelve pounds and nine shillings.’
Hugo would like to have asked how Mitchell had come across that particular piece of information, but satisfied himself with saying, ‘Excellent. The moment you come up with anything else, however insignificant, ring me.’ He took a bulky envelope from his overcoat pocket and slipped it across to Mitchell.
‘The train now arriving at platform nine is the seven twenty-two from Taunton.’
Mitchell pocketed the envelope, folded his newspaper and walked out of the waiting room. He’d never once looked at his employer.
Hugo had been unable to hide his anger when he discovered the real reason Giles had failed to be offered a place at Eton. He’d phoned the headmaster, who refused to take his calls, his prospective housemaster, who sympathized but offered no hope of redemption, and even the provost, who said he’d call back, but didn’t. Although Elizabeth and the girls had no idea what had caused Hugo to so regularly lose his temper of late, and for no apparent reason, they continued to bear the brunt of Giles’s misdemeanours with equanimity.
Hugo reluctantly accompanied Giles to Bristol Grammar School on his first day of term, although he wouldn’t allow either Emma or Grace to join them, despite Emma bursting into tears and sulking.
When Hugo brought the car to a halt in College Street, the first person he saw standing outside the school gates was Harry Clifton. Even before he pulled on the brake, Giles had leapt out and run across to greet his friend.
Hugo avoided mingling with the other parents, whom Elizabeth seemed quite happy to chat to, and when he inadvertently came across Clifton, he made a point of not shaking hands with him.
On the journey back to the Manor House, Elizabeth asked her husband why he treated Giles’s best friend with such disdain. Hugo reminded his wife that their son should have gone to Eton, where he would have mixed with other gentlemen and not with the sons of local tradesmen and, in Clifton’s case, far worse. Elizabeth retreated into the comparative safety of silence, as she had so often done recently.