A Death in the Family (13 page)

Mr Bertram waved his hand dismissively. ‘Nothing political. A young woman, obviously educated above her station without visible means and,’ he lowered his voice and leaned in towards the inspector, but I could still hear him add, ‘and not unattractive.’

‘You mean?’ asked the inspector and I was sure he had little more idea than I did what Mr Bertram meant.

‘Come now, inspector. We’re both men of the world. I am sure I do not need to spell this out. I will only say that to such a woman a local tavern must have been a great temptation.’

I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but I was certain if I did I would not be pleased. But then whatever he was suggesting he was my only ally. I had the sense to keep my tongue between my teeth. I had no desire to discover the comforts of the local jail.

‘I see,’ said the inspector slowly. ‘You mean?’

‘Exactly,’ said Mr Bertram. ‘I have an idea, but no I do not want to trespass on your territory.’

‘I like to consider myself an open-minded man, sir,’ said the inspector. He remained neat and composed. There was no more collar tugging, but I thought I saw something resembling panic behind his eyes. Here was a man very much in awe of his betters. If only he knew what kind of people were before him!

‘My sister, Richenda, has had some success with young women.’

‘Sir?’

‘She runs or is an advocate for a centre in the city. She has, I believe, already taken a liking to Euphemia. Perhaps if the girl came to trust her she might be prepared to be more open with you.’

The inspector bridled. ‘Indeed, sir! This young miss is required by law to answer my questions.’

‘And I am sure she would if you had not been so austere, inspector. You must know that women in her position are notoriously wary of the law of which you are such a formidable specimen.’

I choked on a giggle and tried to look contrite. Mr Bertram flicked me a glance. ‘You see how discomposed your presence makes her? I have no doubt she has no direct involvement in this situation. For all her pretty words she is a woman and her intellect naturally limited.’

A retort flashed to my mind, but Mr Bertram caught my eye and I kept my mouth shut.

‘Well, I don’t know, sir. It is most irregular.’

‘C’mon, Bertie, let the man do his job! A night in the jail will do the girl no harm.’

‘Indeed, sir,’ piped up Mrs Wilson, ‘it is the only possible course of sensible action.’

Unexpectedly the inspector took offence. ‘Is it indeed, ma’am? I’ll ask you not to trouble yourself to do my job, Mrs Wilson. If you’ve no objection I think I’d like to go along with Mr Stapleford’s plan?’

Lord Richard shrugged. ‘As you wish. I would not want to interfere in a judicial process.’ He gave Mr Bertram a cool look. ‘What is your plan, Bertie?’

Mr Bertram did not flinch. ‘I suggest she is given into my sister’s custody in the function of lady’s maid. Richenda is currently without one and this girl’s background makes her suitably knowledgeable about such fripperies. It may be that my sister is able to gain her confidence and glean information from her such as she may not even know she has.’

‘As she may not even know she has, sir?’ enquired the baffled policeman.

‘Exactly, inspector.’

‘Well …’

‘What harm could it do and it might help a lot,’ said Mr Bertram mysteriously.

‘Euphemia, return to the linen room. There are some sheets that need mending,’ commanded Mrs Wilson. ‘The gentlemen can more properly discuss your fate without you present.’ She turned to the inspector. ‘If your man would care to take a dish of tea in the kitchen he can keep an eye on her and ensure she does not run.’

‘A very good idea, Mrs Wilson. I almost envy the man.’

‘I’ll escort her down and arrange for refreshments to be sent up, inspector.’

She hustled me out of the room. I had no doubt she would quickly return and argue against me. I would have to trust Mr Bertram. When we reached the linen room she opened the door and fairly pushed me inside. I stumbled forward. The door slammed behind me and, to my utter amazement, I heard the sound of a key in the lock turning.

To my shame my immediate reaction was to bang loudly on the door and shout. No one came to my rescue and although later I thought I could discern the sounds of movement within the kitchen, not even the kind Mrs Deighton, it appeared, was prepared to release me from my prison. The room was ill lit and smelled of damp. I was overcome by the uncharitable thought that I hoped every single fresh bed ever made up in this house would always be uncomfortably moist.

The devil may make work for idle hands, but industry stills the demons within. By the time I was released I had repaired six sheets and re-sewn one that had the appearance of being repaired by someone limited by ham-fisted trotters instead of fingers.

It was Merry who freed me. If she had found me on the base of her shoe she could not have looked more disdainful. ‘To think I was taken in by the likes of you,’ she spat. ‘You lording it over me when I was breaking my heart over Mr Georgie.’

She turned her back and walked off. I emerged blinking in the corridor. ‘Merry!’ I called after her. ‘Merry!’

There were good reasons for everyone to be in the kitchen, but it felt like they were waiting for me. Mr Holdsworth was frowning over the silver. Mrs Deighton was stirring a pot vigorously enough to splatter her apron and muttering to herself. Merry was setting out the dishes for serving in a manner I can only describe as aggressive and Mrs Wilson stood, obelisk like, in the corner, smugly surveying the scene.

‘I don’t understand,’ I blurted out.

‘What’s there to understand?’ demanded Merry smashing down an earthenware dish hard on the well-scrubbed wooden table. ‘You’re to wait on Miss Richenda. Maybe she’ll take you when she leaves. She’s experience of your sort. Good riddance. That’s what I say.’

‘My sort?’ I said blankly.

Mr Holdsworth paused in his polishing. ‘Mrs Wilson was kind enough to furnish us with the explanation Mr Bertram gave of your actions.’

‘Really,’ I said in what I hoped were freezing accents. ‘Would you care to explain it to me, Mrs Wilson? I confess I did not quite follow that part of the conversation.’

Mrs Wilson sneered at me. It was her usual expression, but she managed to deepen it for me. ‘Oh, I think you understood all too well. I think you can put two and two together if I inform you Miss Richenda supports a charity that runs a shelter for fallen women.’

‘What!’ I shrieked.

‘And you going on about Mr Georgie’s dishonourable intentions,’ added Merry.

‘Oh be quiet, Merry. A leopard does not change its spots,’ snapped Mrs Wilson.

‘Am I to understand that Mr Bertram has let it be known to staff and family that I am a fallen woman?’ For once I took no pains to modify my accent. I must have made an impression, because even Mrs Wilson seemed somewhat taken aback.

‘Do you dispute it?’ she enquired icily.

‘I most certainly do,’ I cried. ‘And I will not stay a moment longer in this house.’

I did not wait to see what effect my declaration had, but flung out of the room with as much dignity as the granddaughter of an earl wearing a maid’s uniform can muster.

I found the inspector in the upstairs hall. He was standing by the fire staring down into an open notebook in his hand. ‘Am I a suspect?’ I demanded.

He looked up in surprise. ‘Everyone is a suspect.’ I am sure he almost added “ma’am”. I was, after all, still very cross and at my most impressive.

‘If I furnish you with my direction, do you have any legal objection to my quitting this dreadful house?’

‘Well, no, but …’

I did not wait to hear the rest, but stormed off in the direction of my room.

I hate packing. It is a tedious and depressing task, but when one is very angry it can be quite satisfying to bang about and dismantle a room. It was because of this manner of completing my task that I did not realise I had been joined in the room until a hand was placed upon my shoulder. I whirled round and looked directly into the face of the new Lord Stapleford.

‘Sir!’ I cried in outrageous accents.

‘Leaving us, Euphemia?’ he said leaning his face close to mine. I could not help but notice his ginger moustache was twitching like a caterpillar. It was fascinating in the worst way. ‘I think you are making the right decision. A girl such as you is wasted as a maid.’

I attempted to put some distance between us, but the room was very small.

‘I will be running for parliament now. In my father’s place,’ he continued. ‘It is considered a safe seat. I will win. Then,’ he took a pace towards me, ‘I will be spending a lot of time in London. A lot of time on my own. I shall need a companion.’ He drew his eyebrows down and looked at me from beneath them. ‘You understand what I mean, Euphemia?’

I nodded. It was the wrong thing to do. His face relaxed and he smiled. ‘Now, the Pater is dead I shall be a rich man. A very rich man. I shall have the kind of wealth that knocks Bertie’s little inheritance into a cocked hat. My companion would have everything her heart desired. Do you understand?’

I nodded again. His large frame stood between me and the door.

He sat down on my bed and patted the place beside him. ‘So it is agreed we are to be friends?’

What else could I do but pretend? I nodded. I attempted to slip past him with the pretence of sitting on the other side – the side nearest the door – but he caught my wrist and pulled me down beside him.

‘I feel I should ask, not that it makes any real difference now, but did you know my Cousin George before you worked here? Perhaps in London?’

I found my voice. It sounded very small. ‘No, sir, I did not.’

He smiled and caressed my palm with his fingertips. I tried not to be sick. He still had my wrist in a tight grasp. I was overly aware of the strength that lingered beneath his fleshy frame. ‘It is no matter. But I am relieved. It would have been much worse when you discovered the body if you had known him.’

I swallowed and nodded again.

‘It must have been an awful experience?’

I nodded again.

‘I don’t suppose you noticed anything? Something you might not have mentioned to the police?’ he softened his voice. ‘Something that is preying on your mind? You can tell me, Euphemia. Now we are friends. I will be looking after you. You can tell me anything. Anything you might have found. It would be easier this way, much easier.’

I had the strong impression things would go better for me if I had something to tell him. Unfortunately, I did not have the faintest idea what he was talking about.

‘No, sir. I’m sorry.’

The fingers tightened painfully about my wrist. ‘Think, girl! Things can go well between us or they can go very badly. The choice is yours.’

He pulled me roughly towards him. That horrendous ginger caterpillar bore down towards my face. He was about to kiss me. I opened my mouth and screamed.

My courage failed me and I closed my eyes. I readied my knee for the most unladylike of actions, when there was a knock on the door. Lord Richard sprang away from me as if I were a rare contagion. The butler’s calm voice reached us. ‘Euphemia, I’ve arranged for the carrier to come and collect you tomorrow evening. If you could come down now and give directions to his boy it would be most helpful.’

‘Of course. I will come at once,’ I almost shouted with relief. I pushed roughly past my tormentor, opened the door and fairly fell into Mr Holdsworth’s arms.

He very properly set me back on my heels. He did not say a word, but began to walk quickly away. I had a strong impulse to burst into tears. I ran after him. ‘You must not believe what they are saying of me,’ I protested.

‘I am given to understand you are no longer a member of our staff and as such your actions and morals are no concern of mine.’

‘But it isn’t true,’ I cried. ‘None of it.’

‘I hope I am incorrect, but it seems to me as if you were not alone in your room.’

‘That wasn’t my fault! I never sought his attentions.’

‘That I can believe.’ The butler stopped at the top of the servants’ stair. ‘Dinner is over and I have further duties to attend to.’

‘The carrier’s boy? Is he in the kitchen?’

‘Neither the carrier nor his boy come today.’

I looked directly into his eyes. ‘I see.’

The butler nodded and headed off down the stairs. I followed once more, but more slowly. I had little idea of where to go, but I was afraid Lord Richard still waited for me in my room. His absence would eventually be noticed, so I was hopeful of being able to return later, but where for now? I had no desire to be caught alone, but neither had I any desire to meet any of the inmates of this house, above or below stairs. I had never felt so despised.

I reached the first floor landing and, without thinking, found my feet turning towards the library. I slipped quietly into the servants’ passage and made my way to the secret door. I do not know what I expected to find. The passageway was ill lit, but in my heart I knew all my misfortune in this house stemmed from the murder I had been unfortunate enough to stumble across. Perhaps, if a solution was found, my name could be cleared?

I leaned against the secret panel gently. It gave with a soft click. A stream of buttery light cut across the passageway floor. On the other side I could hear someone pacing. I pressed my eye to the crack and saw the figure of Mr Bertram. He had a glass of brandy in one hand and the other was holding a half-smoked cigar.

I do not know what came over me, but my heart which has always been the most reliable of organs for pumping blood around my body all at once switched to providing me with raw, fiery anger. I plunged through the door not even thinking to care if he was alone.

‘How could you do that to me? How could you blacken my virtue? You’ve cost me my position. You may have even cost my family their home. And for what? So no scandal attaches to your pure white family, because if that’s what you’re trying to do I have information for you. This precious family of yours is riddled with deception, vanity and sin!’