A Death in the Family (19 page)

‘Mrs Wilson, I asked you a question.’

‘Sit down,’ hissed Miss Richenda. ‘You’re making a spectacle of the evening.’ She turned her attention to the rest of the table. ‘Do carry on. My brother has been celebrating heartily on this …’

‘Shut up, Richenda. I’m not drunk. Mrs Wilson? I’m asking you for the last time.’

‘He is unavailable, sir.’ Her words were low, her voice as dry and brittle as one of Mrs Deighton’s sticks of cinnamon.

‘Damn you, woman, that’s no answer. If you value your position you will answer me.’

‘Richard, you’re making a scene,’ implored his sister.

‘Mrs Wilson!’

‘I regret to inform you, sir, that Mr Holdsworth has given in his notice. A family crisis, I believe. He left before dinner.’

I had no expectation of what happened next. Mr Richard turned and grabbed me roughly by the wrist. The serving dish tumbled from my hands and potatoes cascaded across the floor. He dragged me in front of him. ‘Someone call the police. Holdsworth is the murderer and this girl is his accomplice.’

Mr Bertram started forward, but the inspector laid a hand on his arm, preventing him. ‘Now, now, sir. Let’s you and I have a little chat outside, shall we?’

‘Inspector, I demand you arrest this girl!’

‘On what grounds, sir?’

‘She is the butler’s accomplice.’

‘So you’re saying the butler did it?’

‘Yes. Yes, man. For God’s sake get your men after him. He’ll flee the country.’

‘Er, why exactly, sir? Why did the butler murder your cousin and your father?’

‘Ask her! She knows it all! She told my sister all about it. Some nonsense about a maid. Richenda, tell them?’

Richenda’s gaze didn’t lift from her plate. ‘Sit down, Richard,’ she said softly. ‘This isn’t any good.’

‘For God’s sake, woman. Tell them!’

‘Richard, I will not repeat backstairs gossip in company.’

‘If you have information pertinent to my inquiry, miss, then I must ask you to speak up.’

Richenda finally looked up. She met the inspector’s glance square on and said clearly, ‘I know of nothing useful to you, inspector. I am afraid my brother has become carried away by the excitement of the night and his very natural grief over our father’s death.’

Richard still had me in his grip. At this he flung me from him. I managed to put out my hands to save myself, but I took a nasty bang on the hip. There was a collective intake of breath around the table. I sat up but stayed down, well out of his reach.

‘Richard!’ cried Mr Bertram. ‘That is not done!’

‘I should have known you’d be behind it. You and your fancy piece.’

The inspector took in the angry aspect of the brothers. ‘Now, sirs, I think this is best taken down to the station.’

‘Damn it, man. I will not go with you. This is election night. I am celebrating.’

‘I understand that, sir, but serious charges have been laid against you.’

‘By who?’

A red flush crept over the inspector’s face. ‘Your brother and your family’s lawyer.’

‘Peasbody! Peasbody thinks I murdered the Pater!’

The man in the well-worn evening dress slid lower in his seat as if contemplating vanishing under the table.

‘I didn’t say it was the murder we needed to talk to you about, sir.’

‘Well, is it or isn’t it, man? What are you wittering about? You’re making no sense.’

The inspector’s face grew redder. ‘For your sake, sir, I have refrained from naming the charges, but if you refuse to help us with our enquiries then I will be forced to arrest you.’

Richard picked up a goblet of wine and downed the contents. ‘You’re an imbecile, man. The chief constable is a friend of mine. Watch your mouth or you’ll find yourself back walking the beat.’

The inspector motioned to two policemen, who had quietly appeared by the door. ‘Lord Richard Stapleford, I am arresting you on suspicion of embezzlement, refusing to help the police with their enquires in a murder investigation …’ He looked at Mr Bertram, who nodded. ‘… and,’ continued the inspector, ‘on suspicion of murder of the late Lord Stapleford.’

For a tiny moment there was silence and stillness as everyone absorbed what the inspector had said. Every tongue in the room gave forth. Mr Richard did the worst thing possible. He bolted for the door. The two policemen caught him. ‘Curse you! I’ve important friends. You’ll not get away with this.’

‘And neither will you, sir,’ said the inspector with a sudden flash of wit.

As the police officers dragged the struggling man away, a hush fell over the room once more. I got gingerly to my feet.

‘Excuse me,’ piped up a voice. ‘Only I was told to bring the news direct.’ A small, ginger-haired child in rough clothes had crept into the room. He was clutching his little cloth cap in his hands and twisting it anxiously. ‘Me da’s the returning officer and he said how yous would want to know at once that Lord Richard’s won the seat.’

Miss Richenda rose gracefully from her seat. ‘Thank you, Tommy. That is welcome news. Mrs Wilson, take the lad to the kitchen for his supper and give him a shilling.’ Her eyes swept across the faces of her startled guests. ‘This has been a most eventful evening, but I trust it will all be righted in the end. Until my brother can rejoin us I suggest we move to the drawing room. Even the ladies deserve a brandy tonight!’

A polite ripple of amusement met her comment. The guests all now thinking once more of their stomachs moved as a bovine herd towards the other room. Mr Bertram came up to me.

‘He won’t get away with it, will he?’ I asked.

He smiled at me. ‘At the very least he will be charged with embezzlement. And the city takes that as seriously as murder – if not more so!’

I lowered my voice. ‘You didn’t say anything about Holdsworth.’

‘Apparently, he had already quit the house. A premonition, perhaps?’ I suddenly noticed a speck of dust on my shoe. Mr Bertram coughed and continued. ‘Now he is out of the family’s service I feel no compunction to do the police’s work for them.’

‘You’re letting him go?’

Mr Bertram sighed. ‘Why is it women can never let things be understood, but insist on making matters explicit?’

‘We have tidy minds?’ I ventured.

He laughed. ‘That’s one term for it.’

I felt the tension slipping away from my shoulders as I relaxed for the first time since I arrived. ‘I am so glad this is over.’

‘There’s going to be a bally mess to clear up,’ said Mr Bertram ruefully. He ran his hand through his hair. ‘There’s something I need to ask. I wasn’t that fair to you earlier. I don’t always handle my emotions well. I apologise for my anger. I blame myself for the danger – for Dickie,’ he broke off, shaking his head as he contemplated the actions of his half-brother. Then he took a resolute breath and continued. ‘You’ve been a great help. All fire and guts, as my father would have said.’

I felt the heat rush to my face.

‘Anyway, I feel I’ve got to know you pretty well during all of this. And whatever else you are, Euphemia, you’re smart and you’re honourable and you’re loyal.’

My heart gave a little lurch as I looked up into his earnest face.

‘So I have something to ask you.’ His face split into a grin and he looked suddenly very much younger. ‘I’m really hoping you’ll say yes.’

‘Well, ask me then and find out,’ I said. I could feel my own lips curling in response. Everything else faded away – the expression on his face wiping out the nightmare of the past few days.

‘Euphemia.’

‘Yes,’ I whispered.

‘Euphemia, you’re not meant to be a maid.’

‘No?’

‘No. I want you to stay on, but as my …’ He paused and suddenly I believed white knights did rush in to save the day.

‘I want you to stay on as my secretary.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’ll double – no, triple – your wages. I’ll see Richenda doesn’t bother you. I need you, Euphemia. I need someone smart in my corner.’

Of course he did. And I needed the money for Little Joe’s schooling. It didn’t matter that it felt as if there was a lead weight in my chest where my heart had once been.

‘Of course, sir. I’d be honoured.’

Mentally, I reminded myself that the match really would not have done. Socially, Mr Bertram Stapleford ranked much lower than the granddaughter of an earl. One day I would tell him who I really was, but only when my station was of no consequence to either of us.

I may have mentioned I am a romantic. I should add that despite my mother’s efforts to rid me of my whimsy, I remain my father’s daughter, and thus one who holds faith in the future.