A Death in the Family (17 page)

‘Nothing,’ said Miss Richenda in a loud, clear voice. ‘I’ve overfilled it as usual. Now, Merry, I think I should do this bit. Those hairpins are very sharp. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.’ The last two words were said with unnecessary emphasis. I hesitated.

‘No, miss. But they’re just hairpins.’

‘One of the girls who came to the shelter claimed she had killed her, er, owner with one.’

‘No, miss! Really! Is that possible?’

‘I imagine there is only one way one could find out.’

I froze. I couldn’t quite believe she would do it, but then if someone had told me I would be embroiled in murder within minutes of entering service I would never have believed that either.

‘Well I never, miss. In that case I’ll let you finish. Would you like me to tidy up your room while you’re at the party? It does need a bit of straightening.’

‘Rubbish,’ snapped Miss Richenda. ‘It’s homey. Just how I like it. Besides Mrs Wilson would skin me alive if I didn’t get you back downstairs quick sharp. That must be the fifth automobile I’ve heard pull up in as many minutes.’

‘As you wish, miss.’

With a sinking heart I listened to them both leave.

I had no options left. I kicked hard at the wardrobe door. I succeeded only in making a loud noise and bruising my foot. But then what is a little pain when you think your life is in mortal peril? I struck again and again, but sadly the wardrobe was of excellent craftsmanship.

When it was clear nothing more than my own exhaustion could be accomplished I stopped. Everyone was downstairs now. No one would hear. I needed a plan for when they came to get me. I guessed it would be late this evening – possibly even into the early hours of the morrow, when all the celebrants would be the worse for wear.

The twins were large and powerful. Surprise would be my only advantage. They would be expecting a timid, frightened girl. I might be feeling exactly that inside, but I determined they would never suspect my fear. I had my pride. Unfortunately, that appeared to be all I had. I began to scrabble around on the floor of the wardrobe, feeling the dresses as best I could with my bound hands. Even a stray pin plunged into a fleshy part of one of my captors might give me those few moments of shock that could mean the difference between life and death.

Then the bedroom door opened. The thought that they might attempt to dispose of my while the party was in full swing crept terrifyingly into my mind. At that moment my hands closed on the smooth coldness of a pin. Quickly, I pried it free with my nails. It wasn’t much, but it was a chance.

The wardrobe swung open. I blinked, momentarily dazzled by the gaslight. ‘Merry!’ I grunted in astonishment through my gag. ‘Merry!’

‘Just what are you doing in there?’ chided my rescuer. ‘You’re going to get her dresses all … Is that a gag?’

Her swift fingers had it off me in a thrice. Then she was helping me out and tutting over my bonds. She fetched a pair of scissors from Miss Richenda’s dressing table and with difficulty began to cut through the curtain cord. ‘I’m not sure I want to know what’s happening here.’

‘How did you know I was in there?’ I gasped. I pulled my hands apart and rubbed my sore wrists.

‘You smell of onions.’

‘Mrs Wilson made me chop …’

‘Yes, I know,’ interrupted Merry. ‘But Miss Richenda’s room doesn’t or shouldn’t.’

‘You are clever, Merry,’ I said with heartfelt sincerity.

‘I’m clever enough to know I don’t want to know what you’re up to.’

‘It’s nothing terrible! I–’

Merry held up her hand. ‘Sssh! Whatever’s going on I don’t want to know. Is there anyone who can get you out of this pickle? The police inspector?’

I shook my head. ‘Mr Bertram.’

Merry placed her hands on my shoulders. ‘Look, we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but after what happened to Lucy – I’ll always blame myself for that.’

‘What happened?’

‘She never said who it was. It’s all water under the bridge now. But I don’t want to see another maid harmed by this family. My own family’s not far from here. They’ve not got much, but I’m sure Ma would take you in for a bit while you got on your feet if I asked her.’

Tears stung my eyes. ‘That’s really kind of you. But no, I need to speak to Mr Bertram – only speak. I’m not what the rest of you think. I’ve never been … but I know too much of what’s going on here. He’s the only one of the family I can trust.’

Merry watched me appraisingly. ‘I reckon you’ve got that right. He’s the only apple in the barrel that’s not rotten through.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Tell you what, my sister’s husband runs the inn down at the village. If you say you’ve come from me he’ll let you stay there. You’ve got some coin, right?’

I nodded. ‘Good, ’cos he’s a stingy sod. You’ll have to get your stuff too. I can’t ask him to take someone that don’t seem …’ She let the sentence trail off.

‘You’re right,’ I said though I knew it would cost me precious time. ‘Will you let him know where I am?’

‘Of course. Though I’m not sure I should.’

I placed a hand over one of hers. ‘Merry, this is serious,’ I said. ‘It’s a matter of life and death.’

We stood there for a moment. Between us I felt a silent understanding, a comradeship of servants. My heart turned over. Now, when I had to go, I had finally found how to fit in. Then Merry shrugged. ‘It’ll be my life if Mrs Wilson catches me skiving off. She’s never as narky as when she’s coming out of one of her little tea-drinking phases.’ I walked quickly to the door.

‘’Ang on! Let me check the coast is clear.’

She pushed past me and pulled open the door, stuck out her head and then frantically waved me through. I ran down the corridor towards the servants’ stair. Once on it I felt a modicum of safety.

I fairly flew up to my room. The upper reaches of the house were silent. Far below I could hear the sounds of merriment. I stuck my sole rickety chair under the door handle and began to pack like a woman possessed.

I was in the process of closing the lid when the chair suddenly shot across the room as the door swung violently open.

‘I warn you. I am armed!’

I raised the candlestick above my head. I did my best to think valiant thoughts, but my legs trembled under my long skirts. Hot wax dripped onto my sleeve and there was a smell of burning.

‘Euphemia! Are you safe? Merry has just told me the most outlandish story about you being shut in a cupboard.’ Mr Bertram burst into the room. His eyes travelled to the flame above my head. ‘Put that down before you set the whole place on fire.’

‘Oh thank the Lord,’ I begun. Mr Bertram removed the implement from my slackened grasp before I managed to do more than mildly singe my hair.

‘Why didn’t you blow it out?’ he demanded.

‘How could I have seen my assailant otherwise?’

‘That is ridiculous.’

I bridled under his scorn. ‘Where were you when they locked me in the wardrobe?’

‘London.’

‘No, you weren’t. You were arguing with your brother in the hallway.’

‘Then I was just back from London!’

‘You should have been looking for me!’

Mr Bertram gritted his teeth. ‘I do not believe there was any possibility that I could have foreseen you would get yourself locked in a cupboard.’

‘A wardrobe! A wardrobe with pungent dresses!’

He picked up the fallen chair, righted it, dumped it down harshly and threw himself down upon it with a petulant flap of his coat-tails. ‘A wardrobe then! Good God, girl. I have a lot on my mind. My father and cousin have been murdered.’

I stamped my foot. ‘Better things to think about than me, you mean!’

I had gone too far. The anger faded from his face and Mr Bertram gave me a look of complete incomprehension. ‘What are you talking about, Euphemia?’

I found myself gulping air in a most unladylike manner as I tried to compose myself. ‘I thought we were in this together.’

‘Together?’ The blankness of his tone pierced through me.

‘A team,’ I said quietly. ‘For justice.’

Mr Bertram threw back his head and laughed. ‘You are the most unusual maid, my dear. But really, it wouldn’t be seemly for us to be, as you put it, a team.’

‘Because women don’t get involved in these matters?’ I ventured.

‘That and because of the disparity of our stations.’

I was about to respond that this didn’t bother me one bit, when reality washed over me like cold water. I had been behaving like my father’s daughter – maybe even like my mother’s – but to him I was not the respectable daughter of a rural vicar or the estranged granddaughter of an earl – I was a maid with upstairs responsibilities. That I had no one to blame for this but myself was the hardest part to bear.

I swallowed hard and curtsied. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I forgot myself.’

Mr Bertram coughed. ‘I don’t mean to say you haven’t been helpful, Euphemia. I do appreciate your help. I know little of the world below stairs and your insight has been most valuable.’

I curtsied again. This was it. No apology for what his brother had done or the danger in which I had been placed. Mr Bertram reached inside his trouser pocket. I quailed. For one awful moment I thought he was going to produce a shilling.

‘The thing is, Euphemia, it turns out it was nothing to do with the servants at all. I’ll tell you this, but mum’s the word until I officially let the cat out of the bag.’

I sat down on the bed and folded my hands neatly in my lap. I couldn’t help glancing at the door occasionally, but Mr Bertram seemed to have no fear of interruption. Hopefully, this time he would intervene if someone tried to put me in a wardrobe again. It had finally sunk into my befuddled brain that I would need this man’s help to get away from his brother and sister.

Mr Bertram leaned forward on his seat. ‘You see, the thing is, it turns out both Richard and George were siphoning money off the old man’s bank. I’ve spoken to the family solicitor. He took a bit of persuading, but he eventually told me because I’m my father’s executor and will have to sort out the mess that George and Richard had been siphoning off the funds. He never let Richard work in the armament business. Seems the Pater never entirely trusted him. It explains why he was always so ragingly furious that I wouldn’t go into it. Richard had high hopes though that my father would let him in. Especially if he pulled off a deal of his own. He and George were using his mother’s name to trade on. It’s all a bit unpleasant. I won’t bore you with the details; suffice it to say this company wanted more than Richard could borrow from the bank without anyone noticing. So he took what he could and speculated. Lost the lot.’

‘So he killed George and your father to cover his tracks?’

‘I don’t think that was it. From what I could get that clam-faced solicitor to say, my father already knew. He was dealing with it, but holding the whole incident over Richard as a guarantee of good behaviour – essentially doing whatever the Pater wanted.’

‘I can see he would not like that. But why would he kill George?’

‘No.’ Bertram paused. ‘Richard is ambitious. He wanted to be in parliament. There were two people between him and the parliamentary seat and now there aren’t.’

I had little doubt that Richard had killed his father. It all fitted very neatly, but I was equally sure he had not murdered George. My inner demon prompted me to be quiet, but my conscience urged me to speak.

‘I don’t think you have it quite right.’

‘Oh really?’

‘I think your brother did murder your father. He almost admitted as much to me, but I don’t think he killed George. I think he took advantage of the situation. I think the butler did it.’

‘Holdsworth?’

‘Mr Richard is going to blame him too.’

‘Holdsworth? Why? He’s been with us for years.’

‘Did you know that your last maid, Lucy, left because she was with child?’

Mr Bertram blushed. ‘No, I did not. I had no idea. I cannot discuss this with you!’

‘Suitable topic of conversation or not, it’s true. Lucy died in childbirth. The babe survived. The grandmother has it. Apparently, gossip in the village says she petitioned someone at the hall for aid but was refused.’

‘Of course, I’ll see to it she gets help, Euphemia, but …’

‘Lucy was Holdsworth’s niece.’

‘Ah,’ said Mr Bertram.

‘But you may be right,’ I added quickly. ‘Richard might have killed both men.’

Mr Bertram gave me an appraising look. ‘Much as your conscience prompted you to tell me this I suspect it would also suggest that murder cannot be condoned even by a righteous man.’

I hung my head. ‘No,’ I agreed softly. ‘But Richard is going to blame both murders on Holdsworth!’

‘That doesn’t surprise me in the least. My brother is as amoral as he is stupid. He never thinks things through properly.’

‘I think he is cleverer than most people give him credit. He certainly has cunning.’

Mr Bertram rose with the air of a man bent on decisive action. ‘I feel sorry for Holdsworth, but I will not conceal what you have told me. I have enough evidence from the solicitor and with his imprisonment of you to open the inspector’s eyes to Richard’s true nature. I will send for the inspector now. He can join us at dinner and Richard will be revealed for what he is.’

‘No, don’t,’ I blurted out. ‘That’s such a dramatic plan it’s bound to go wrong.’

Mr Bertram raised an eyebrow. ‘I think you can leave me to handle such matters, Euphemia. I must ask you to remain in the attic. I may need to call upon your testimony. I will ensure Richard and his twin are in my sight at all times. You will not be in danger.’

‘Mr Bertram, please, I don’t think this is the wisest course of action.’

‘You will have to let me be the judge of that,’ he said and closed the door quietly behind him.

A thousand thoughts rushed through my mind and none of them were welcome. Mr Bertram’s plan suited his sense of the dramatic, but Mr Richard was a wilier character than he gave him credit. I feared Holdsworth would end up charged with both murders. I could not let that happen. I grabbed a paper and pen, scribbled a short note and, despite Mr Bertram’s command, I left the room.