A Death in the Family (14 page)

Mr Bertram, who had been startled somewhat at my entrance, waited for me to draw breath. Then he said simply, ‘I know.’

Feeling as if all the wind had been sucked from my sails I sank down onto the settle, dropped my head in my hands and to my horror began to weep. Mr Bertram, like most gentlemen with a tearful woman, was immediately at a loss.

‘Euphemia! No. Please don’t, Euphemia. I was only trying to protect you!’

This appalling untruth stopped my tears as swiftly as if a valve had been shut off. ‘How dare you! How dare you say such a thing!’

At this Mr Bertram threw himself down onto his knees and grasped both my hands in his. ‘It’s the truth, Euphemia. I swear.’

For one heady moment I felt myself the heroine of some fantastical adventure. My heart lurched within my breast as I waited for Mr Bertram’s next inevitable words.

‘I think Richard killed them both.’

Whatever I had thought he might have uttered at this juncture, this was certainly not it. I snatched my hands from him and broke away. In my best Sunday voice I said, ‘I think you should rise, Mr Bertram. You look most ridiculous.’

‘This is not the reaction I expected, Euphemia,’ he retorted, levering himself to his feet.

‘I think, sir,’ I responded, still breathing hard, ‘that we both find ourselves somewhat at a disadvantage.’

‘You really aren’t what one would expect in a maid, Euphemia.’

‘You were about to tell me about your brother?’

‘I’m pretty certain that Richard had made some bad investments. My father had not only cut off his personal allowance, but was speaking of disinheriting him.’

‘But to kill your own father!’

‘I know,’ said Mr Bertram, seating himself on the settle. ‘It’s so impossible, but …’

‘But?’

Mr Bertram sighed. ‘Are you aware of the family business?’

I shook my head.

‘Father has a small bank, but the greater part of our fortune comes from arms trading.’

I digested this for a moment. ‘This is what that journalist meant when he said you traded in death.’

‘I’m afraid so. I don’t personally work in the business. Father allows this because I have issues with my heart. He prefers to let people think it is my physical infirmity rather than my strength of conscience that inclines me not to work with him.’

‘Which is it?’

‘I cannot wholly claim it is my conscience. While I have inherited an independence from my late godfather I still live under my father’s roof and eat at his table. All my life I have helped spend his blood money.’

I felt the unaccountable need to place more distance between us and moved from the settle to a nearby chair. For a servant to sit in her master’s presence is not acceptable, but I felt we were moving outwith the bounds of the normal servile relationship.

‘I do not think your actions as a child can be held to account. We do not choose our parents.’

He nodded. ‘But it changes you. Knowing your father is a party to murder on a horrific scale. If you knew one tenth of what is happening in Africa … I am only glad you do not.’

‘One could argue that it is not the weapon, but how it is used.’

‘It’s a weak argument at best,’ said Mr Bertram. ‘My family have been instrumental in the development of some of the most terrible of weapons. And we choose who we sell them to. Now, more than ever, we are shaping the future of the world.’

‘I know very little about politics.’

But Mr Bertram was no longer listening to me. It was as if a floodgate had opened within him. ‘Richard overindulged one night. He was boasting of what he and my cousin were doing. If he hadn’t been under the influence he would never have told me, but it made him less than coherent. I knew their mother was vaguely related to the Schnieders – despite the name, it’s a French company. There’s a new field gun, a vile thing that can mow men down like wheat before a scythe, and this company is planning on selling it to both the French and the Germans. The French are still bogged down in the Wadai War, but it’s more than that. They’re investing for the future. There are rumours of heavy artillery tractors. That would be an inhuman abomination. It would change warfare for ever. Of course everyone is saying it is all in aid of the defence of the Trans-Sahara trade routes, but I don’t believe it. I have nightmares of where the world is going – where it is going steered by those such as my father and brother. Our money is made from blood and we spend it to shed more.’

‘It might be vile, but of itself it is hardly illegal nor a motive for murder,’ I interjected.

‘Euphemia, many people – important people – believe war with Germany is coming. If it happens it will make the Boer Wars look like a brawl in a public house, the Wadai War a mere inconvenience. Russia is in chaos. We assume the French will stand our friends, but … But some of the men in the party favour Germany. Richard favours Germany. He told me that night it is because of his influence that the same technology is being offered to the Germans.’

‘Men often say things when drunk that are a little over-egged, do they not?’

‘You don’t understand. I come from a family of monsters. They are capable of anything.’

Mr Bertram’s exposition was arousing a number of conflicting circumstances in my breast. At the best of times these would have been difficult to deal with, but in this moment, in this conundrum of class differential that I had willingly entered upon and was now attempting to extricate myself from, I no longer knew which way was up and which was down. I was overwhelmingly aware of the man’s passion and his desire to do right. That he might know more than me about the state of the world was easy to accept. That the state of world affairs were relevant to these two murders less so. I did the only thing I could do. I doused his ardour with common sense.

‘There may be something in what you think, sir. But aside from the deaths of these two men the only circumstances of note I observe are that someone has broken into my room and that your brother’s reaction to me varies alarmingly for no cause I can suppose.’

‘You are moderately attractive and a maid in his father’s house. Trust me, that
is
enough for Richard.’

I bridled instinctively. I doubt anyone is at their best in a maid’s uniform with their hair suitably braided, but “moderately attractive”? It was little better than being compared to the kitchen cat.

‘I meant you need be no more than moderately attractive,’ added Mr Bertram lamely.

I blushed. It was inappropriate for me either as a maid or as the granddaughter of an earl to seek compliments. ‘If you will recall,’ I said sharply, ‘your brother had more than ample occasion to observe me prior to suddenly finding me an object worthy of his attention.’

Mr Bertram cocked his head on one side, rather like a raven surveying a worm. ‘You are implying some specific action caused his change in behaviour.’

‘I assure you it was nothing I did!’

Mr Bertram shook his head. ‘No, I was not suggesting that. You have more than enough sense to see my brother for what he is.’

‘And more to the point a strict moral code!’

‘Yes. Yes, Euphemia. But I think you’ve hit on something here. Obviously it was after Cousin George’s murder, but before my father’s?’

‘He tried to sneak a kiss in the pantry from me before your father’s murder. Afterwards he was, as you saw, keen to have me thrown from the house. But not one hour since he offered me a carte blanche.’

‘Good God!’ cried Bertram, rising to his feet in indignation.

‘I declined, of course, and this is what has set my heart on leaving your house.’

‘But you must not! You and I are the only ones who have some sense of this business. Neither man who died was of an estimable character, but this does not justify their killing! I thought you agreed this?’

I sighed. ‘I do. But my position is extremely difficult.’

‘What did Richard say to you?’

‘He offered me a carte blanche.’

‘I did understand that part. Did he say anything else?’

I thought for a moment. ‘He did ask me if I had known your cousin before.’

‘He thinks you know something.’

‘Or I have something?’ I countered.

‘You were the first person to come across George. Did you check his pockets?’

‘It didn’t occur to me at the time.’

‘That’s a pity,’ said Bertram, sitting again.

‘I can assure you, sir, the next time I come across an unfortunate murdered relative of yours I will not only search his pockets, but make a quick sketch of the scene.’

Mr Bertram smiled. ‘Don’t be cross, Euphemia. I’m only trying to make sense of this. I quite understand your desire to leave this house, but if someone – Richard, or anyone else – thinks you have something or know something that might help catch the killer you may not complete your journey home.’

A sensation of icy coldness washed over me as I acknowledged the truth of his words. ‘But I don’t know anything,’ I said weakly. Suddenly, Mr Bertram was at my side. ‘I did not mean to alarm you.’

I looked up at him. ‘I can’t see how anyone can think I know anything. It was dark in the corridor and your cousin was very dead. There were no last words. There was no one else there.’

‘Then it must be thought that you found something. Richard must think you have something.’

‘You imagine in all this if Richard did murder your father then his primary motive was to not be discovered in some shady business deal that involves the armament industry?’

Mr Bertram nodded.

‘If you are right your brother cannot possibly have murdered your cousin.’

‘How do you deduce that?’

‘If you are right the only possible explanation for Mr Richard’s behaviour is that he fears blackmail. You are right he must believe I found something on your cousin’s body or perhaps I was even involved in a blackmail attempt that went wrong. He may believe I turned up at this house prearranged to meet George and extort money. That I have acted in a manner outwith that of a normal maid will not have helped my case.’

‘My dear, you hardly behave like a woman,’ chuckled Mr Bertram. He flinched under the look this comment occasioned and added, ‘I meant only that you display not only a code of honour, but that ability to use logic. Neither of which attributes are customarily regarded as attributes of your sex.’

I smiled slightly at that. ‘I am a great trial to my mother.’

‘Who is she?’

I shook my head. ‘It doesn’t matter. I think you are right. I think George was being blackmailed and that it concerned some business dealing that he was involved in with Richard. I am very much afraid that Richard panicked and took your father’s life.’

‘You may be giving Richard credit for emotions he does not possess. I think he saw an opportunity to pass off a murder. The inspectors still favours the Bolsheviks, you know. My father’s death has assured his secret – given him a place in the commons where he will be able to use his influence to line his pockets and, of course, avoid my father disinheriting him.’

‘But this would mean he did not kill your cousin.’

‘No,’ Mr Bertram paused. ‘It also means it is not safe for you to leave this house.’

‘I could mention that people do seem to die here with alarming regularity.’

‘I know. But you have a greater chance of safety if you stay in sight of others than if you are alone wandering through the countryside on your way home.’

‘I would be with a carrier.’

‘Would you trust he had not been bought?’

‘Mr Bertram, you are becoming ridiculous! This is not some international conspiracy!’

‘Maybe not, but I would not be surprised if a carrier could not be bribed to drop you in the middle of the countryside. He might even be told it was a romantic rendezvous.’

‘You do have a devious mind – sir.’

‘Thank you.’

‘But what is to be done? We do not know enough to approach the police inspector. To be frank, I would prefer not to draw further attention to myself unless we had some definite evidence.’

‘I think you are right, Euphemia. He may still reckon you as the Russian revolutionary intent on taking down our bourgeois lifestyle.’ He paused a moment. ‘The family lawyer will be attending shortly to start the process of winding up my father’s affairs. I don’t think we can wait. I think you, and perhaps others, stand in considerable danger, until this knot can be untangled. I will go immediately to London to see him. I am my father’s executor, not Richard, so he can hardly object if I look over the accounts. I will also make discreet enquires into any business deals that may have been between Richard and George.’

My dismay must have shown on my face.

‘I will only be gone for two days at the most. You are right, we need evidence.’

‘What if we are wrong?’ I asked quietly.

‘Then we will have to think again. No harm will have been done. I will not voice our suspicions until we know everything.’

I nodded. It was a good plan. ‘We cannot be sure your brother murdered your father, but if he did then there are two murderers in this house.’

‘You must take great care.’

I lifted my chin. ‘I will avoid being alone with anyone. That strikes me as the best precaution.’

‘I thought …’

The door opened behind us. ‘Really, everything is getting very lax. You’d think with two murders in the house, Holdsworth would appreciate the necessity of cocktails.’

‘Honestly, Richenda, you’re a callous girl.’ It was Mr Richard and his twin. A thunderstruck look crossed his face as he saw Mr Bertram and me, chairs close, and obviously in deep and intimate conversation. ‘Good God!’

Mr Bertram rose. ‘I would have preferred to have communicated this to you privately, Richard, but Miss St John and I have an understanding.’

Miss Richenda screeched ‘You cannot marry the maid, Bertie!’

Mr Richard nudged her with his elbow. ‘I don’t think he is referring to marriage, sister. Perhaps you had better leave, so we can settle this like gentlemen.’

Miss Richenda turned to go then hesitated and walked back into the room. ‘Euphemia, is this what you want?’

‘No,’ I cried finally finding my voice. Her question released my tongue which had been struck dumb with surprise. ‘Of course, it isn’t. I don’t want to belong to any man!’