The Address(3)

“You were spectacular, Sara. I mean, Mrs. Smythe,” said Mabel.

Sara wanted more than anything to crumple onto the floor, but she couldn’t allow her staff to see that.

“That’s more than enough excitement for one day. Back to work. And, Mabel, please remember to address me properly.”

“Of course, Mrs. Smythe.”

Sara turned away and strode down the hallway, grateful her quaking knees were hidden under multiple layers of petticoats and skirts.



The rest of the day, whenever Sara’s mind returned to the events in room 510, her heart thumped wildly in her rib cage. What if she hadn’t grabbed the child in time? What if she’d had to peer over the edge and see the lifeless body splayed on the hard ground of the courtyard below? Sleep tonight, in the damp heat of her Bayswater bedsit, would be impossible.

But there was enough to keep her busy until then. She finished updating the ledgers and was about to head out to inspect the turndown of the guests’ rooms when a man rapped on her office door. She knew it was a man from its hard, hollow sound. Maids’ knuckles were barely audible, already apologizing for disturbing her, but the men, whether Mr. Birmingham or the janitor, had no such qualms.

She stood and opened the door, expecting Mr. Birmingham to have made a special trip upstairs to upbraid her for causing a scene with the guests. Instead, a stranger’s face peered down at her. As if he sensed her discomfort, he stepped back a pace. “Mrs. Smythe?”

“Yes. May I help you, sir?” He was clearly a hotel guest, dressed in a fitted, bespoke suit with a Broadway silk hat tucked under one arm.

“I apologize for intruding.” He wiped his brow with an enormous hand. “How do you manage up here, with this insufferable heat?”

“It’s a rare occurrence, luckily.”

“I believe you saved my daughter Lula today. I wanted to thank you in person. My name is Mr. Theodore Camden.” His accent was American, his voice a warm tenor.

Sara gestured to a chair opposite her desk, offering him a seat. He moved with an unexpected grace, given his large build. Nothing about him was handsome, by standard measures. His head was small in contrast to his broad shoulders, his eyes close-set to an irregular nose. But when put all together, he was magnetic. She sat, looked down, and closed the ledger in order to stop herself from staring.

“I’m glad she’s safe. She is all right, isn’t she?” The image of the wailing girl came to mind.

“Yes. We offered her a slice of Battenberg cake and she’s completely forgotten the incident.” He chuckled before a brief look of pain crossed his face. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t gotten there in time. The twins, Lula and Luther, are constantly getting into trouble.”

“Best not to think of it.”

Sara was unsure how to proceed. She’d never had a hotel guest in her small office, and he was so tall he took up much of the space.

“How did you know what was happening?” Mr. Camden leaned back in his chair, his hat in his lap. He didn’t seem to realize how indecorous it was to be sitting together like this, even if the door was open, so nothing could be construed as irregular. It was almost as if he enjoyed it, while most guests wouldn’t dream of mingling with the staff.

“I can see your hotel room from my window. I stood to get some air and saw her climb up.”

“The girl was supposed to be watching the twins while Mrs. Camden was out. Needless to say, she was fired immediately.”

“Well, luckily all turned out well.” Other than for the nanny, of course.

“What is the ratio of staff to guests here?”

Such an odd question. “We have three hundred rooms and a staff of approximately four hundred.”

“How long have you been head housekeeper?”

“This is my first month.” He hadn’t come up here just to say thank you, she was sure. Something else was driving his line of inquiry. She squared her shoulders and leaned slightly forward, as if into a wind, curious to figure him out. “But I’ve been working here in some capacity for the past eleven years.”

“You know the place well.”

“I do.”

“Mr. Birmingham says you’re highly efficient.”

Mr. Camden had inquired after her. “That’s kind of him to say.”

“It’s a grand building, the Langham. Beautifully built.”

“Yes.” Americans were very strange indeed. He didn’t seem to be in any rush to get back to his family. What if Mr. Birmingham had sent him up here as some kind of a test? “I’m happy to be employed here.”

“This hotel featured the first hydraulic lifts in England. Did you know that?”

Perhaps he was the type of man who collected facts and loved to show off how much he knew. She nodded.

Mr. Camden smiled. “I’m going on and on, sorry about that. I simply want to figure out a way to thank you.”

“There is no need. The hotel staff does everything it can for its guests.”

“You did more than that. I hope you didn’t injure yourself in the process.”

“Not at all.”

One of the laundry girls popped her head into the room and then jumped back, startled when she caught sight of Mr. Camden.

“Sorry, Mrs. Smythe. I’ll come back later.”